#not your usual pirate story I can assure you

[mayalutara]

What sorts of things or aspects do you like to get to know about a character and their story? Like, if you were to make some sort of form or layout, what criteria or questions would you ask?

[chaoticbardlady99]

She’s Not Acid Nor Alkaline (Astarion x F! Pirate Captain OC) Chapter 2

Synopsis: The Heroes of Baldur’s Gate experience their first battle at sea in their adventure to bring Karlach back from the Hells.

CW: mentions of violence, NSFW cause these are two horny mofos (not a lot though- the next chapter is gonna be spicy as hell though)

Author note: I’m sorry this took so long! I am finally not horribly depressed and not sleeping at all due to work stress! I’ll be posting more for this story, starting a Master Vampire reader x astarion fic, and I have a lot of chapters written for my Trans Female Tav, Keeley, and Astarion that I am so excited to post! My goal is to get everything onto my new AO3 sometime this week! Oh and part 4 of I Wondered If I Could Come Home is almost complete 😈

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated! Thank you for your patience!

Part 1:

Chapter 2: Valkur’s Aasimar

Calypso is forever grateful to Lucifer for taking over the night time duties so Calypso can actually rest. It doesn’t make the early morning wake up any easier, but it helps. She loves her cabin and she loves the peace it provides.

The bed frame is built into the wall so that she doesn’t slide around everywhere as the ship continues to sail and there’s a washtub nailed down in one corner. Her desk and map table are equally as glued to the floor.

Calypso watched (and was an unfortunate victim of) her mother’s lack of ‘safety’ precautions when she was a captive on her ship. She was often run over by her mother’s bed or her desk- left for hours underneath them- when her mother had no use for her.

It’s been 60 years since Duke Ravenguard helped Calypso secure her freedom, but there had still been 90 years of torture and misuse. If her mother wasn’t absorbing every last drop of power from her bones- she was starving her, beating her into submission, waterboarding her, etc, etc. It’s not a reality that Calypso misses.

The soft glow of the morning sun outlining the shadows of Astarion’s face is a much better world to wake up in.

If Lucifer helps make waking up easier, then Astarion does not help- in fact the man makes it damn near impossible to leave her bed at all. She doesn’t want to have to untangle her limbs from his or wait for another 8 or 9 odd hours before she can be like this with him again.

Astarion had managed to keep her in bed later than usual over the last five days. The minute she so much as moves a muscle- Astarion has her underneath him writhing and begging for release or he’s fucking into her slowly, stealing all the air out of her lungs. It’s invigorating to say the least and her body sings under his attentive touch.

The more she learns about him, the more Calypso adores him. Astarion had opened up about his life pretty quickly after a bad trance. Supposedly one of his victims’ faces had been replaced with hers and he handed her over to Cazador. He was struggling to accept that the reality was different- that Calypso is well and truly alive in his arms. The man had been borderline inconsolable in the aftermath of the twisted memory, but Calypso had managed to coax him out of the fog and back to her.

Astarion even experienced Calypso at her worst- jealous. He learned very quickly that she wasn’t going to deal with that. When he had knocked on her door with his tail between his legs, Calypso made sure to answer and let him in wearing her skimpiest outfit- a nude, see through corset bralette and a pair of lacy nude panties. His apology ended with him eating her out on top of her map table- one of her maps needs to be replaced entirely after the affair.

She always made sure he actually wanted to engage in these activities with her- especially after learning about his history. Astarion assured her that he would let her know if he didn’t or if he needed to stop and he did. Astarion had only wanted to pleasure her that night and the rest of the night was spent just enjoying each other’s company.

Astarion will spend time with her throughout the day as well and his company is very welcome. Lucifer is usually taking his turn to sleep throughout the morning and into the evening so Calypso doesn’t have to worry about the two of them bickering.

Astarion has begun to ask her questions about the ship, how to be a Helmsman, commands, language, so on and so forth. He’s a very good student- picking it all up impressively fast. Calypso has let him man the ship (under supervision of course) as they made their way to the first stop.

Caer Callidyrr isn’t Calypso’s favorite doc to stay at, but they need to dock The Chimera and take a smaller ship into the Hells. The Chimera isn’t large, but it won’t be able to navigate safely through Stygia. Only Calypso and Lucifer will be traveling with the group of adventurers. With Callidyrr being only hours ahead of them, Calypso is confident they will make it before sunrise- provided there aren't any unexpected obstacles.

Which always seems to happen no matter how many times Calypso plans her routes out or how careful she is to avoid crossing paths with the Cult of Umberle or the Cult of Water. Now there are at least 8 Cult of Water ships heading in their direction.

Calypso isn’t paying attention to the frantic looks on the faces of Astarion and his companions as they realize they are about to be engaged in their first open water battle. She wants to reassure them (more so Astarion) that it’s going to be just fun, but there isn’t any time for that right now.

“I need Chain shots loaded- NOW!” Calypso shouts and her night crew sprints up from below the deck to join for the coming battle.

“They are chasing us at full sail, Calypso,” Lucifer’s voice holds an edge of aggression, “I’d prefer to not have a full blown battle on the Sh-“

“Yes Lucy,” she says with a wave of her hands, “I’m aware of what you would prefer and I’m working on it.”

Calypso climbs up the stairs and leans over the railing of the helm.

“Alright- we need the ship to come about! Wizards, warlocks- basically anyone who can cast gusts of wind- take position on the quarterdeck ,” she shouts, the crew shouts in understanding.

“Anyone else,” Lucifer yells, “split yourselves into two groups- I want some of you below deck readying the canons and the Chase gun! The other half- ready your bows and arrows and be prepared to fire when we are 3 fathoms away from the other ship!”

Lucifer looks up at Calypso and gestures to their guests- she raises an eyebrow.

“They all know what their capabilities are,” she states, “if they wish to travel on this ship then they need to protect it too.”

The looks of absolute dread on all of their faces is almost comical. They really have no faith in her! How hurtful.

“Well- then you heard the Captain,” Lucifer says with far too much gratification, “get to your assignments.”

“Careful, Lucy,” Calypso warned, “you sound so happy I may make you go below deck to help and let the Dragonborn be my first mate.”

Tav beamed, “I’m so glad I’m your first pick.

Astarion pouts up at Calypso and she flashes him a teasing grin before blowing him a kiss. Calypso stands on the rail and addresses the crew one final time.

“Oh,” Calypso clears her throat, “and may I remind you sorry lot that dead men tell no tales- so let’s try to make it out of this one alive- savvy?”

Everyone races to their positions. The laughter and the energy is infectious. Calypso isn’t worried a single bit and she watches the tension ease from Lucifer’s shoulders. He rarely thinks she takes anything seriously, but Calypso does. She is equally as protective of her crew and her guests- it’s not about her or the ship’s safety for her. Calypso has a special group of individuals aboard her group- her main crew consists of runaway slaves from Calimport, ex-Lolth sworn Drows who remain below deck until the night time and operate the canons, Half-Orcs who have been ostracized, Dhampirs who were abandoned at birth (Calypso would come across them and the crew worked together to raise them), etc. They aren’t a ragtag group of scummy pirates- they are all survivors who are standing together.

Well, except for the contract workers. Fuck those entitled pricks.

She jots back to the Helm- waiting for the exact moment to turn the ship.

The minute red and green flares go up in the air- the ship goes flying forward with the assistance of the many magic users casting gusts of wind on the sails. Calypso turns into the sudden rush of air allowing the ship to circle into position where it can slam the side of the other boats.

Calypso closes her eyes and takes a deep breath- letting the smell of the ocean water fill her senses. She imagines a storm surrounding the ship hurtling towards them- the waves thrashing them around and consuming them whole.

The thunder cracks the peaceful sound of the air before the dark clouds even begin to sweep across the sky- the water underneath her rumbles it’s war cry and Calypso allows Valkur’s power to consume her- like him, she can commandeer any ship, walk through water, control the weather, navigate through every storm unscathed, call upon Orca’s, etc. The best part though? No ship she sails on is able to sink- ever.

Then she hears Wyll scream, “HOLY SHIT!”

She looks over with a smile- her good friend, Hesjing, must have missed her enough to make an appearance. Or he’s just really hungry. Most likely he is really hungry and her targets make for easy prey considering they end up floundering in the ocean.

The massive Sea Wyvern goes flying over their heads and laying chaos to the ships- their flags going up in flames and the chaos keeps them from changing direction in time.

“NOW!!!!!”

The ship lurches forward in the water with the support of the extra wind and Calypso’s magic as Calypso prepares to ram into the 4 ships in the back of the line.

The bow crashes with an ear shattering noise through the first, second, and third ship. Hesjing takes one of the ships down in the front of the line. The world is full of smoke and flames- Calypso barely sees the four remaining ships beginning to form a circle to trap them in.

“GRAB ON TO SOMETHING!”

The command roars through the air as it’s repeated by the whole crew upon the deck. She takes one glance at Astarion- trying to remind herself not to get caught up in whatever emotions he is feeling.

Calypso is surprised to see the pure adrenaline in his posture and in the shadows of his face. There isn’t a single ounce of fear to be seen. She can’t help the smile that crosses her face. Poor Tav looks absolutely green and is holding onto Astarion’s arm for support. She’ll have to make sure to pick up something for sea sickness otherwise the Dragonborn may detest her forever.

The screams shattering through the air is the only thing that keeps Calypso from being lost in thought. One of the other ships had managed to turn towards them and was going to hit them very very hard. The ship will be fine- much like her powersake, Valkur, any ship she sails is indestructible. However, that means the ship will pass through the boat and they are going to have a battle on deck.

Calypso jumps over the Helm- yelling to Celeste nearby to take control of the Helm momentarily. She doesn’t check if Celeste goes there, she just keeps racing until she hits the deck.

The ship is barreling at them much faster than Calypso thought and she messily says a spell in Thaumaglossia (Celestial spell casting language). Both ships are being pulled up and to the side ever so slightly by a massive title wave- the captain of the other ship makes eye contact with her and she can see the fear as plainly as the whites of their eyes.

Magic flows through her fingertips and the tidal wave passes over them and engulfs them in the water- an air tight bubble surrounding The Chimera while they watch the enemy ship be demolished by not only a tidal wave, but the pack of Orcas that followed it.

It’s a gruesome scene- the pirate ship popping back up underneath another enemy ship and adding to the carnage. The Orcas leap and flip through the air with screaming cultists in their mouth.

The last two ships had been graciously taken down by Hesjing, who then proceeded to inhale one of the Orcas on his dive back down to the depths of the sea. The Chimera totters along the capillary waves as the Crew cheers loudly.

Calypso releases a sigh she didn’t realize she was holding and nearly stumbles to the ground when a large hand slaps her on the back.

“Excellent work as always Captain!” Toothless Tosh shouts out- everyone cheers in agreement.

“Oh yes, it was a very impressive display as always,” Lucifer says goadingly- his eyes flitting around her form, “so much so that drinks will be on the Captain tonight- hm?”

“You rat bastard,” Calypso mumbles under her breath, causing the man to laugh, “fine! But only because you actually hurried your asses up this time!”

The crew disbands with laughter- returning to their previous spots and helping to make sure everyone is injury free. Some of the less magically inclined individuals begin to pass out the rations for the day. Honestly she feels like she could fall over and fall asleep. It takes a lot of thought, magic, and concentration to be able to perform that many high power spells at once. For example- the Orcas did not show up on their own accord, they showed up because Calypso’s magic called out to them when she asked it to. She does feel poorly about Hesjing running off with one.

The sound of approaching footsteps and grumbling from a certain seasick Dragonborn fills Calypso with glee. Wherever Tav is, Astarion usually is.

The poor man is still tinted green on the tip of his scales, but luckily, he doesn’t have to utter a word.

Lae’zel, Shadowheart, Gale, and Wyll are smothering Calypso in questions- some she barely has any answers too. For example- how does she summon Orcas and a Sea Wyverm. Her answer? She has no fucking clue. However, she does appreciate how impressed they are.

Eventually everyone disbands to get their rations for the day. Calypso is thankful that Farview is maybe only 6 hours away and they’ll be there before the sun falls. They are running low on food and Calypso prefers to not go hungry if she can help it- especially with a crew of hangry individuals. They are all the worst people she has ever met when they are hungry- it’s great for raids.

“That was quite the show of strength, my Dear,” her lover’s melodic voice flows through her ears, “I can’t decide if I’m afraid or turned on.”

She smiles cheekily at him with an eyebrow raised, “why not both?”

“Hmm, how erotic,” Astarion teases, “should I expect to be tied up while we’re at it?”

“Perhaps, I am full of surprises, you know.”

“Oh- I am very well aware.”

Calypso can’t help it- her face always hurts when she is around Astarion (in the best way possible). Everything about him makes her smile and her heart sing. It’s proper gross if she’s being honest with herself. She never pegged herself for a smitten school girl- at least not in her adult years.

“How much longer do I have to wait to keep your attention for longer than 5 minutes at a time, East?”

Despite his teasing tone, she can sense the impatience in his tone. She tuts at him.

“I’m afraid another six hours, North,” Calypso says with an exaggerated pout, “you will have to wait several five more minute increments longer.”

The man groans and grabs Calypso’s hand- dragging her off to her cabin. The moment the door is closed- Astarion’s lips are on hers hungrily and his expert hands are already rubbing her clit, a finger and then two sliding in as soon as she’s ready- which she finds very quickly when it comes to Astarion. A hum of pleasure rolls through her body as he coaxes moans and her orgasm out of her. Her own hands have fumbled their way into his pants and she uses his precum as lube- rubbing her hands up and down his hard cock. The moans and curse words that tumble out of Astarion’s mouth are absolutely divine.

Calypso knows this is all they have time for- they would never leave if they actually had sex- and Astarion thankfully respects that, but Valkur preserve her- it’s going to be a very long six hours.

[definitelynotafurinasimp]

Can I get Candice, Yae Miko, and Eula with an Adventurer S/O! that fights with 3 swords. kinda like zoro from one piece

Them reacting to their s/o fighting with 3 swords

Characters: Candace/Yae Miko/Eula x gn!reader

Warnings: none

a/n: I don’t know, can you?

Also, sorry if I got some thing about the character's personalities wrong, I may be a bit rusty.

PS: god damnit, I oversaw the adventurer part, I hope what I wrote is also ok for you if not, just say so and I'll try again...

Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Candace

While seeing you be able to wield three weapons at once was certainly impressive, Candace seemed almost oblivious to it, putting much more importance on keeping sure you didn’t accidentally get hurt in the midst of the fight, be it by the enemy or one of your own blades.

“Don’t worry, I’m sure I’d be the first one to figure out if I had any injuries”, you assured Candace with an amused grin, otherwise silently observing her look for any wounds, the fallen creatures’ blood making it a bit more difficult for her to spot any.

“That could be your adrenaline talking. I know first-hand that that’s not always the case”, she answered sternly before finally relaxing once she was done, her face clearly betraying her relief as she put on a small smile.

No matter how many times you or someone else remembered her that you yourself were a veteran of many fights and duels, your continued existence on this world being a somewhat reliable indicator that you had not perished in any of them, Candace’s tendency to worry about you after fights would never vanish.

“Seems like you really are unscathed”, she stated before pausing for a second, “But if you ever get hurt-”

“-I’ll tell you immediately”, you cut her off with a small giggle, seeing her nod in affirmance not long afterwards.

While some might have grown somewhat irritated by Candace’s persistence in getting overly worried for you, you couldn’t help yourself from finding it adorable.

And with that, you stretched yourself for a bit before clapping your hands together in satisfaction. “Well, that should be it, let’s head back to Aaru village.”

Yae Miko

Yae Miko was always on the look-out for ideas for the next big hit, sure, there were also many concepts her writers would hand in, but in recent time, most of them turned out to be rather lacking. Fortunately for Miko and her publishing house, watching you battle multiple foes with not one, nor two, but rather three swords, turned out to be a surprising source of inspiration.

“Are you okay Miko? You have been staring into the void for some time now”, you asked her, somewhat worried by the strange silence she’d usually fill with a comment or two.

“I’m far more than just fine, my dear”, she responded, her use of a pet name somehow putting you slightly on edge, only for you to let out a silent sigh of relief when she continued, making it clear that it wasn’t part of one of her strategies to tease you. “Say, how would you incorporate someone wielding three blades at once into a story?”, she asked you.

“I don’t know, maybe… having a pirate fight with three swords?”, you suggested, somehow managing to catch her off-guard. Miko had thought of many options, but a pirate?

“Why exactly a pirate?”, she couldn’t help herself but ask a bit further, suddenly finding herself very interested, only to be met with a slight shrug.

“Stories about outlaws seem to be pretty popular right now, and with the horrible storms around Inazuma finally ending people seem to get more interested in sea related things”, you explained your reasoning, Miko listening closely.

“…and I think it would be pretty cool”, you added in what was barely a whisper, causing the Guuji to let out a small laugh before grinning at you.

“Good answer, you deserve a treat for that”, she chuckled.

Sure, pirates. How didn’t she think of that?

Eula

Seeing someone swing around a sword was nothing new to Eula, it basically happened whenever she entered the Knight’s training grounds. Every once in a while, she’d get to spot someone wielding two blades at once, something even she had to admit was impressive. That being said, when she first noticed you carrying around three swords, she thought at least one of them to be a spare one, only to find herself surprised when it turned out not to be.

“Why three?”, Eula asked simply after watching you obliterate a group of Hilichurls, causing you to instantly turn around before putting away your swords, staring at her with a confused look.  “Wouldn’t one sword be enough to defeat most enemies?”

You nodded.

“Then why use three?”, she questioned, causing you to give her a big smile before answering in a manner most typical of you.

“So, I can show off”, you proudly stated, making her let out a sigh in turn. If she didn’t know better, she’d continue to think you were nothing more than some kind of show off idiot, not that you weren’t one, but the rest of your personality did a good enough job at making her chose to let it slide.

“Anyway, let’s get going. There’s a special meal being sold at Good Hunter right now that I’m sure you’re going to love”, you mentioned after seemingly having just remembered it before excitedly grabbing her hand and starting to pull her back into the cities direction, leaving Eula to silently resign herself to her fate, knowing all too well that her complaints wouldn’t do much to stop you.

//Thanks for reading, please consider reblogging it if you enjoyed my writing

[ronearoundblindly]

Ro's Monthly Edit

April 7th, 2024 - May 5th, 2024

In case you missed any of the new posted content this month, here's a handy-dandy list with short excerpts and links to all of them!

Warning: while none of the snippets are themselves explicit, a good number of the writings this month were 18+ only. Please read all warnings at the beginning of each post, and minors, please stick with works included in the Light Masterlist.

*I've only added excerpts of the two dirty headcanon asks that were written in a narrative/story style. The rest are on the list linked below.

Various Dirty Headcanons (see full list) featuring characters: Steve Rogers, Ransom Drysdale, Jake Jensen, Lloyd Hansen, Johnny Storm, Ari Levinson, Jimmy Dobyne, and Curtis Everett

Big Girls Don't Cry, from It Had To Be You (explicit) CEO!Steve Rogers x assistant/co-CEO!Reader

Steve sees you shiver and scrambles to find the blanket, tucking it around you but not giving you space to hide your face. He cups your cheek so you can't cover your eyes either, thumb sweeping across the wet streaks left behind, asking if you're ready to talk to him about it, but you shake your head. "I love you," you do say. "I just hate you a little right now."

Dirty Water, from Sun, Salt, and Shield (explicit) Steve Rogers x deep sea mermaid!Reader

Even in the very low light of damp room, he could see the lavender of your stare drop to his crotch. "You sing too?" Steve's an idiot. He didn't understand yet, so that dumbass actually began humming 'You Are My Sunshine' because nothing else occurred to him. Then he noticed your tail glowing beneath the scales. Then he realized you were pressing yourself to his legs. Aaaand then Steve Rogers looked down your body to witness his knee disappearing in a spongy spot where the armoring swelled apart. Oh god.

Untitled Ask, from Sun, Salt, and Shield Steve Rogers x deep sea mermaid!Reader

The most heart-warming thing Steve teaches you is the hug. So simple. So reminiscent of your first meeting. If you lay your head on his chest, your face can remain underwater to breathe and hold onto Steve indefinitely, and he's tried. The longest he's gone is five straight hours of just you two holding each other, brushing his thumb over your cheek, giving you soft back rubs, getting gentle back scratches from you, and loving every second. Sometimes he just talks to you, even when he knows you can't understand most of the words. It's shocking how much gets across by emotion and intonation alone. You squeeze him a little tighter when he's telling you a sad story, and you rub your forehead into his sternum when he laughs at something.

Pirate & Pin Cushion, part two (see JJ Masterlist) Jake Jensen x gn!ops!Reader

“Don’t worry, PC, they got you the good stuff. Heavy duty meds. Nothing but the best.” “PC?” you croak. Jake smirks warily. “For Pin Cushion. Eh, I’m test-driving it,” he shrugs. “You smile pretty.” Pink floods Jake’s cheeks. “Thank you?” Using all your might and concentration, your hand moves to his. “You got thick arms.”

Pirate & Pin Cushion, finale (see JJ Masterlist) Jake Jensen x gn!ops!Reader

“I’D KNOWN YOU FOR TWO WEEKS,” you explode, bolting out of your own seat. “Yeah,” Jake squeaks, “I know.” “Two weeks, and then you taped me saying ‘I love you?’” “But, like—“ his usually deep timbre pitches super high “…did you?” “Why would you just sit on that, Jake?!” “You weren’t exactly sober.” He shrugs.

Lease, one-shot (see SR One-Shots Masterlist) Steve Rogers x best friend!roommate!reader

“You don’t have to put photos,” Sam assures, “and you can stick with your first name only. I swear to you, man, this’ll be good for you. Get you out there more. Help me out here, Tagalong!” He turns to you for support. To be fair, you did quite literally tag along with your parents for years to the VA, and it stuck. Why it sticks as a grown-ass adult? You’ll never know. You just don’t mind Sam Wilson saying it because he means well and never uses it in public. “Uh, nooooo.” Sam’s face falls. “What?” You look at Steve and grimace, clicking your tongue. “He’s not ready for that,” you conclude. Steve jumps out of the chair, arms wide with victory. “THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING!”

No Promises, part one (explicit, darkfic) (see LH Masterlist) Lloyd Hansen x rival assassin!Reader

Easy pickings is what this guy is. All Lloyd has to do is make it look like the middle-aged, fake-tanned Pillsbury Doughboy down there had a heart attack…which might actually happen at the rate his target is shoveling antipasto down his gullet. Lloyd wipes his own mouth in disgust. The women have the right idea though, especially the one in the yellow bikini. His target looks like a desperate and lonely man, whether flashing around wealth or not, so leech away, ladies. Enjoy the free ride while it lasts.

No Promises, part two (explicit, darkfic) (see LH Masterlist) Lloyd Hansen x rival assassin!Reader

Lloyd keeps his steps forward into the room slow and casual, though his ire is obvious. He stops halfway across the carpet, unzips his leather jacket, and tosses it onto the foot of the bed. He seems surprised when you strut over without hesitation; he hasn’t handed over any weapons, but you haven’t asked for a reason. Lloyd’s reputation is cocky, commanding, and curious—in that order—so he won’t start speculating till it’s too late. Indeed, what possible harm could you inflict wearing this lil’ ol’ thing, huh?

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[vatican3]

Do you have any weird or funny stories from working at the escape room?

People do a lot of confusing, frustrating things at the escape room. Often before they are even in the escape room. The escape room I manage is also inside of a mall, so a majority of the people we talk to are not going to book a room but are curious. Though we do get a lot more walk-in business than standalone escape rooms; these people are not "good" at escape rooms, but the thing about the mall-going general public is that you can say everything short of "you should not book this escape room" and they will anyway.

A lot of the time people walk up and seem to be confused by the concept of an escape room. They hold me hostage for 5-20 minutes explaining to them exactly what it is (and I assure them at least twice, because they keep asking, that it is not a VR thing, no, it's not on the computer, it's in real life, it's not AI, I don't even know what that would mean). Sometimes people show up to book, or worse yet, having already booked, and still seem to have no idea what an escape room is. Today a man walked up and said "This is all laser tag, right?"

A woman once asked if she could bring a charcuterie board. A group of enthusiasts once told me going into the room that this was their 58th escape room, and on their way out informed me it was their 66th. People constantly walk up and ask if we "really have escape rooms".

A lot of the stuff that drives me crazy isn't stuff that's actually very funny or interesting. One thing is that we have bathrooms in the back that you have to be walked to because we have about a billion doors and if you walk in the wrong one someone is going to be very unhappy and it's going to be me. Everyone ever shows up needing to use the bathroom. Why didn't you piss before you got here? This is an hour long experience? And it's always the groups of 8 people that are 5 minutes late already that need to go to the bathroom and it's ALL of them EVERY SINGLE TIME. And then our times are off, etc. etc. we're on a schedule here and nobody seems to understand that.

Anyway, the interesting people just seem like aliens, usually. They are unfamiliar with basic concepts in bizarre and jarring ways that you didn't even know existed. The escape room brings out kinds of stupid yet-unthought-of by mankind. My beloved once ran a group in our casino themed room that said, at one point about halfway through, "they have you spending most of your time in this damn room" as though the escape room could take place anywhere else. I once ran a group in the pirate themed room that was making overtly flirtatious, nigh sexual comments toward their talking animatronic parrot guide. A young man shit his pants in the casino once.

I will leave you with a series of events that happened to me in quick succession one day while I was at the front desk:

1) A man runs up to the front desk, panicked and sweating, and says “I’m supposed to be meeting someone here for the 4:25 Casino. It’s under the name Christine?” To which I say: We don’t have that booking, our 4:25 casino is a group of 7 and they’re already in there. He walks away.

2) A group of 4 people walk up and want to book but they are confused about what an escape room is (I cannot stress enough that this is not cheap--it's about $37/person, so around $148 for 4, and people still do this on a whim). They ask what’s available and I tell them that they can do the storm themed room right now or come back at 5:30 and do the alien or pirate themed one. The girl says “When is [wizard-themed room] open?” I say: It’s not. (if i had any wizard bookings I would have mentioned that). They decide to book the 5:40 pirate room.

3) The guy from before is back. This time with Christine. They discover that they both thought the other one made the booking and neither of them double checked, I guess? They say they drove a considerable distance to get here and would still like to play a game so they ask what we have free. They’ve already done the alien themed one so I tell them: they can do the 5:50 casino or do storm right now. They decide to book the casino.

4) Earlier in the day I had received a call from the person that was supposed to be the 2:30 wizard room group of 6. She told me she was running late and wanted to reschedule. I said okay, the only time we have left is 5:50 is that okay? She said yes. Now her and her family are here wearing matching sweatshirts. She walks up to the desk and says, verbatim, “we have tickets for 1:50 I think. Are there any earlier showings?”

[run-me-through-but-not-like-that]

More Than a Safehouse

Request: Izzy Hands X Rich S/o

Summary: When the crew of the Revenge need somewhere to lay low, Izzy finally has to come clean about a few things.

Izzy's patience (and will to live) was running thin as he watched the captains argue back and forth. They wouldn't admit it, but they were obviously panicking. As usual, the two of them had managed to get into to trouble, Izzy was losing track of who it was with this time.

Long story short, the crew needed somewhere to hide out for a while. To lay low. Edward had suggested Jackie's, Izzy had pointed out that everyone around there would recognise Blackbeard instantly and would happily sell them out, Stede had also reminded him that he had a good chance of losing his nose if he went back there.

Of course, Stede didn't really have any knowledge of hideaways or contacts he could go to for assistance.

And so, it fell upon Izzy's shoulders. "Fucking hell, fine," Izzy interrupted them, already knowing he was going to regret this. "I know a place we can go."

Yeah, he was already regretting this, the two captains looking at him curiously.

"Really, Iz, where?" Edward asked, seeming to relax now that there was a possible plan on the table. He assumed that his first mate was aware of some pirate safe house, those things were normally left to him to sort out after all.

"Doesn't matter, just let me handle it okay? I'll give Buttons the destination," Izzy assured them, thinking that giving them as little information as possible would be best. He would explain more once they arrived, he didn't need to spend the whole journey answering questions.

"And this place...it's safe?" Bonnet asked, clearly sceptical of the places Izzy might frequent.

"Don't worry, Bonnet. It's safe, I'm sure you'll fit in just fine," Izzy rolled his eyes before leaving the captains' cabin. Neither Stede nor Edward knew what he meant by that.

They crew weren't given anymore information than the captains. Simply told that they were heading some place safe where they could hide out for a little while. It was fair to say that nobody was very confident when they found out that it was a contact that Izzy knew, assuming they would all he holed up in some shitty little safehouse in some shitty little pirate town. They weren't looking forward to it.

So when the ship docked in front of some large, well-kept estate by the sea, everyone was confused.

"Are we...in the correct place?" Stede asked carefully, eyeing the home that brought back memories of his past life. Surely the wind had taken them off course.

"Obviously," Izzy rolled his eyes as they disembarked the ship. As if Bonnet had no reason to question this.

"You got some fancy friends, Iz?" Edward asked playfully, but there was a sharp curiosity in his eyes.

"Something like that," Izzy shrugged. The anxiety that had been building all week was now swirling around in his gut.

He just had to reach the door, once you opened it, he could cope with this bullshit.

"You don't come from a wealthy family, do you?" Stede asked, eyes wide at the thought.

"Of fucking course I don't. Not everyone gets into piracy on a fucking whim," Izzy snapped slightly.

Stede frowned but went quiet, he couldn't argue with that too much.

The rest of the crew curiously followed Izzy and the captains through the estate. It was well kept but there seemed to be no workers around, nobody staring suspiciously at the clearly out of place crowd. That was probably a good thing.

Izzy marched up to the front door of the main building, the crew following up the steps. They all noticed how he let out a tense breath, straightening out his waistcoat and tie, before knocking on the door. The crew was silent for once.

They waited for a moment, sharing curious and confused glances, before the large door opened.

As soon as you opened the door, a bright smile broke out over your face, seeing the familiar man. "Israel!" your cheeks hurt from how hard you were smiling, though it faded a little as you noticed the crew of people behind him. "You brought friends?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him. This wasn't like him at all.

Izzy shifted, looking a little guilty, and cleared his throat. "You know I wouldn't do this if it wasn't important, but we need a place to hide out for a while." Well it wasn't the greeting you were used too, but at least he was here.

You glanced around the group of new faces, wondering which face correlated to which name from Izzy's letters. Your gaze landed on the bearded man dressed head to toe in leather. You certainly knew who that was.

"Blackbeard causing trouble again?" you asked, looking back to Izzy.

Edward frowned a little, not many people were so comfortable with his presence, never mind having the gall to talk about him like he wasn't even there.

"Bonnet this time," Izzy informed you, not bother to hide his annoyance. You just laughed. Clearly, Bonnet was the blonde dressed in laces and silks, you had read enough complaints to put those pieces of the puzzle together.

"Well, you're lucky I like you. I'll house your little crew," you didn't mind housing his strange new crew if it meant he was visiting as well.

"Ah, thank you, we really all appreciate it," the blond man spoke, stepping forward as he addressed you. Izzy rolled his eyes at the captain. He just knew that he was going to be a pain in the ass as soon as he met you, assuming you were like him.

"Bonnet, I presume?" it was only polite to ask no matter how blatant the answer was.

"That's right. And you are?" Stede asked.

"Just call me Y/n, all of you," you smiled, addressing the whole crew. They just nodded, wondering if they should introduce themselves. They might have been in shock. "Now come on in, I suppose," you welcomed them inside.

"One more thing," Izzy stopped you before you could step aside and allow them in. "Our ship," he knew he didn't need to say anything more, you would understand.

"What ship?" you asked, tilting your head to the side.

Everyone other than Izzy frowned, looking back to the very obvious ship at the docks. It could easily be seen from the house, you had definitely seen it.

"Darling, you don't have a ship. That beauty right there is mine, construction finished just recently. I thought a summer spent at sea might be a nice change," you told them as if it was something they should already know. "And if anybody comes around asking questions, that's exactly what I'll tell them," you assured him with a smile.

Understanding settled over everyone. Well almost everyone, but the others would explain it to them later.

Izzy had to bite back a small smile. "Thanks," the crew couldn't believe what they were hearing, Izzy thanking somebody sincerely.

"Oh don't be ridiculous, come inside already, I'm sure you've had a troublesome journey," you didn't need the thanks, happily inviting them inside.

You moved out of the way of the door, calling for someone in the back to close the door behind them.

"Iz, who the fuck is this?" Edward asked quietly as they all followed you inside and through the house.

"A friend," Izzy sighed, knowing plenty more questions were on the way.

"Friend," Lucius mused. "Yeah, right," he laughed to himself, earning a glare from Izzy.

You led the crew into the lounge, telling them all to make themselves comfortable. They did, finding various places to sit, still feeling plenty confused and unsure of what was going on.

"Don't say that, they'll wreak havoc," Izzy warned, the familiarity between the two of you not going unnoticed among the crew.

"As if you don't," you teased, before warning, "if you put your muddy boots up on my table again, I'll beat your ass."

Izzy smiled at you, shaking his head. The crew stared at you both. "Only did that because you made me try on that stupid frilly shirt," Izzy reminded you, he had only done that out of spite but you knew that.

"It was your colour! And I had no use for it, thought you could have it if you liked it," you scoffed.

"I didn't," he rolled his eyes, cringing at the memory of the godawful shirt. To be fair, you aren't even sure where it came from but it was a deep green and Izzy suited green.

"Yeah, not really your style. Might be this guy's though," you hummed, gesturing towards Stede, who straightened up a little at suddenly being acknowledged. Izzy just sneered, making you turn back to him. "Oh don't worry, love. My gifts are only for you," you reminded him, earning a faint blush.

The crew was gawking at their first mate now.

"Anyway, can I get you all anything to drink?" you clapped your hands together, looking over the crew.

"Rum?" Edward cocked an eyebrow.

"'course. Got a supply just for Israel. Prefer brandy myself," you nodded.

"I'll have a brandy," Stede spoke up, sharing your preference. He was still getting used to the rum.

You just nodded. Rum and Brandy it was. "Iz, give me a hand?" you asked, knowing you couldn't carry all those glasses by yourself. He just nodded before following you out of the room, glad to be out of the spotlight and get a moment of quiet with you.

"Did you know about this?" Stede turned to Edward as soon as you were both out of the room. Everyone was looking at them now, also wanting an answer, some sort of explanation that would make sense.

"No...no I didn't," Edward shook his head in disbelief, looking around the lounge.

"Iggy has a lover and you didn't know?" Lucius questioned, honestly surprised. He didn't think Izzy could hide anything from Blackbeard.

"We don't know if they're his lover," Edward scoffed.

"They very clearly are," Lucius rolled his eyes. The captain couldn't really be in denial about this.

"Even I can see that," Wee John added with a nod.

"That does seem to be the case, love," Stede agreed, though he also wondered how Edward didn't know about this.

"Guess this is were Izzy disappears too on those rare vacations he would take," Edward muttered. Izzy rarely took time away from the ship, but now that he thinks about it, they always had been around these waters when Izzy took those breaks.

"Wait. Are they Izzy's Stede?" Frenchie asked, causing a few murmurs from the rest of the crew. Edward rolled his eyes while Stede blushed.

"How did they even meet?" Lucius' face scrunched up. They were an impossible pair!

"I don't know!" Edward snapped, "ask them!"

Before anymore tension could arise, you and Izzy returned with bottles of drink and glasses. You served the crew, most taking the rum.

"Of course, you're all invited for supper, I'll just have to throw something together at such short notice," you offered, handing Izzy his glass of rum.

"You're already spoiling them," Izzy muttered into his drink.

"I've a giver," you huffed, pouring your own drink. "Anyway," you turned back to the crew, "I'll have rooms prepared for you all as well."

"Izzy will have the room beside mine and Stede's. Captains and first mate, you understand," Edward informed you, as if he was your captain.

"Oh...I understand but-" you began to explain but were interrupted by Izzy.

"That won't be necessary, captain," Izzy assured him.

"Iz?" Edward's brow furrowed.

"I already have a room here," Izzy explained with a small shrug.

"We'll take the room next to yours then," Edward concluded with a shrug.

"My room isn't by the guestrooms," Izzy stared at his captain, as if willing him to understand. Surely Edward was just being difficult on purpose now.

Edward frowned. Stede looked at him, wondering if he should offer some sort of explanation. Usually Stede was the oblivious one.

"Iz sleeps in the master bedroom, Mr Teach," you informed him simply.

Everyone looked between the two of you and Edward, the latter of which simply nodded before sipping from his drink.

"Iz, love, will you please sit down. You're making people anxious, just relax," you sighed. It reminded you of the first time Izzy had stepped foot in the house, awkward and not knowing what to do with himself. Standing as if he couldn't touch the furniture.

Izzy nodded before turning to the armchair that was positioned in front of the fireplace, the chair that was currently occupied by Lucius.

"Move," Izzy ordered harshly, making you smirk into your drink. Izzy could be a creature of habit.

"Excuse me?" Lucius raised an eyebrow, as if taunting him. Wondering how far he would go in front of you.

"That's my chair," Izzy told him bluntly.

Lucius hasn't been expecting that answer. Perhaps it was partially shock but Lucius just nodded and he stood up, letting Izzy sink into his usual seat.

You sat on the wide arm of the chair as if it were the most natural thing on the planet. You sipped on your glass as Izzy filled you in on why they needed a safehouse in the first place, withholding no details which surprised everyone.

Some of the details make Stede cringe and he was there! But you didn't flinch, just nodded along, watching Izzy intently as he told their tale. The little conversation felt somewhat intimate, nobody felt right to interrupt, only awkwardly enjoying and refilling their drinks.

It would be fair to say that supper was pretty awkward.

You had insisted that Izzy sit at the head of the table even when he argued that 'you should this time'. You sat on one side of him while Edward sat on the his other, opposite you with Stede by his side.

The crew slowly became more comfortable, chatting among themselves. You and Izzy quietly shared conversation, as if in your own little world, ignoring Edward's intense gaze.

Once supper was finished, you showed everyone to the guestrooms, letting them divide them up as they saw fit.

-

As soon as Stede had fallen asleep, Edward crawled out of the comfy bed and crept out of the room. He was sneaking towards the top of the stairs when he dumped right into Lucius.

"What are you doing?" Edward asked, squinting down at the man.

"What are you doing?" Lucius shot back accusingly, "want to know what the fuck is going on around here?" Edward just nodded, not above admitting his curiosity, especially since Lucius was doing the exact same thing as him. "Well, it sounds like they're downstairs, are you coming?" he asked, pointing towards the stairs with his thumb.

Edward rolled his eyes, scoffing slightly, but nodded.

The two men crept down the stairs, thankful that they didn't creak. As they reached the bottom of the stairs they could hear the faint sound of a piano coming from a room they hadn't been in yet.

Slinking over to the door, they peered inside as subtly as they could. Inside the room was lit by candles and at the piano sat Izzy Hands, of all people, his fingers dancing over the keys.

"He's plays-" Lucius gawked at the evidence of Izzy having any musical talent.

"Shut up," Edward silenced him. He knew Izzy could play piano, he had mentioned it at one point but it wasn't like he had much opportunity to play.

"And you said you were rusty. As beautiful as ever, my love," you praised, coming up behind the man and wrapping your arms around him, resting our chin against his shoulder. "I've missed you," you cooed, pressing a kiss just behind his ear.

Izzy let out a soft sigh before turning around on the piano bench so that he was facing you, with you standing between his legs as he gently gripped your waist.

"Fuck, I missed you too. Always do," Izzy confessed.

Edward and Lucius shared a quick glance before staring back at you both.

"The letters are never enough, are they?" you sighed. Though you adored his letters, kept hold of all of them. "And yet you still never let me come with you," you tried to sound playful but there was an accusation in your words.

"No," Izzy stated firmly, his grip on your waist tightening slightly. "It's too dangerous, this is the life you deserve, not mine," he insisted, vaguely gesturing around the room.

You just sighed, knowing he was unmovable on this topic, you had argued about it plenty of times. "You'd tell me if you were in real trouble, wouldn't you?" you asked.

"I'm always in trouble," he shrugged, pulling you a little closer.

"You know what I mean," you rolled your eyes, but still began to play with his hair.

"I'd tell you. Don't worry, the trouble we're in now will pass, just need to lay low for a while. Doubt anyone will come looking here," Izzy assured you.

He had been in bigger trouble before and you knew that. You dropped the subject.

"You didn't tell your friends about me. I'm offended," you pouted playfully, bringing your hands to cup his face.

"They aren't my friends," Izzy scowled, making you laugh. "Just want to protect you. Shouldn't have even brought them here but we had no choice," he explained himself. Deciding not to add that your relationship was none of their fucking business. He wanted this one thing to himself.

"I know," you soothed, running your fingers through his hair, "at least I get to have you here with me for a while."

Izzy smiled up at you softly, brining his hand up to the back of your neck before pulling you down into a kiss. Your arms laced around his neck as you brought your body into his.

Lucius shook off his shock. "Told you," he whispered, earning a glare from Edward.

-

You smiled as Izzy let out a satisfied sigh, sinking down into the mattress beside you, pulling the silky sheets up around his waist. You both lay facing each other, faces inches apart.

You lent in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips and you ran your fingers through his damp hair. He still smelt like jasmine from the bath you both took.

"I'm sorry if I've been...off," Izzy sighed, eyes fluttering shut as your forehead touched him.

"It's alright. I know you struggle with these things sometimes," you assured him.

Izzy had always been hesitant to accept nice things, luxurious things. Didn't think he deserved them, knew he didn't need them. You were sure that having his crew around and able to witness him in such an environment must have made him uncomfortable.

"I mean, yeah, but it's...really fucking weird in front of the crew," he confirmed quietly.

"Don't worry, I won't pounce on you when they're around," you promised teasingly.

Izzy chuckled a little, eyes blinking open again. "You know what I mean."

"I know, darling," you smiled, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone, "I understand, it's okay. You just let me know if anything makes you uncomfortable that I can change, okay? I just want to make you happy. Promise that you'll let me know?"

"I promise, love," Izzy nodded before turning his face into your touch, pressing a kiss to your palm.

"They seem nice. Edward and Bonnet are just how you described them," you said, earning a small groan from Izzy. "I like the crew. They're strange, sure, not your typical pirates, but I like them," you wondered if Izzy knew they were safer, if that's why he risked bringing them here, he never would have brought Blackbeard's old crew here.

"They keep fucking staring at me, I hate that," he grumbled, earning an amused smile from you.

"Just because they're trying to understand," you reminded him. They must be beyond confused and definitely surprised, you couldn't blame them for being curious about who you were and how their first mate knew you. "Trying to understand how I got lucky enough to bed the big bag Israel Hands," you teased as you pushed him down onto his back, moving quickly to straddle his hips.

"Alright," Izzy chuckled, a light blush forming on his cheeks, as he gripped your hips. "Pretty sure they're wondering how I got you, love," he corrected, looking up at you with a soft, adoring gaze.

You considered yourself the luckiest person in the world to be the one who gets to see Israel Hands let his defences fall.

"Well, I bet you're pretty mean to them," you hummed disapprovingly, though still smiled.

"They're stupid twats," he insisted petulantly.

"Exactly my point, love," you laughed, light and fond. "They can't believe you can be so sweet," you teased more, leaning down to plant a light kiss to his lips.

Izzy rolled his eyes as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Alright, that's enough of that," he huffed before flipping you over.

You gasped slightly but laughed as you back hit the soft mattress, legs wrapping around Izzy's waist to keep him there. He smiled at you as you placed a hand on the back of his head, pulling him down for a hungry kiss.

-

The next morning, the breakfast table was set and you and Izzy sat in your usual spots, easily falling into your routine when he visited. Both sat at the end of the table, chairs pulled a little closer to each other, eating in your robes.

Izzy wasn't a big fan of flashy fabrics, so you had gotten him his own collection of more muted options. The simple but soft grey robe looked nice on him.

Stede and Edward were the next up and the first to join you both, having already dressed. Stede had to force himself not to stare at Izzy. Clad in a robe, looking relaxed as he ate, his attention solely focused on you.

It made no sense to the Gentleman Pirate, the two of you were similar in some ways, at least in background apparently. Both appreciated finer things. So why did Izzy like you so much but despise him?

Edward was just pleased to see that there was a normal amount of cutlery. A knife, a fork, and a spoon. None of that weird fancy shit he couldn't remember.

"Fuck yeah, marmalade," Edward mumbled appreciatively, smearing a generous amount onto some toast and taking a bite.

The four of you ate while Edward kept looking between you and Izzy, like he was trying to solve some grand mystery. "So, pretty big house," he commented, getting all of your attention.

"Yeah, family money," you explained vaguely with a small nod, your distaste nearly matching Izzy's.

"Swore their family line would end with them," Izzy snorted.

"They were shit parents, I'm not immortalising them," you scoffed, picking at your breakfast, "just me left and then...nothing."

"Bleak," Stede muttered.

"Yeah? I hear you've got similar parents, are you going to give them the heir that they care about so much?" you asked.

"Already have I suppose," Stede sighed, distracting himself with his cup of tea.

You nodded in understanding. "I wouldn't give them the satisfaction. I've already destroyed their legacy and I won't let another one continue," you shrugged.

That was followed by a bit of an awkward silence as you all continued to eat. At least until Edward huffed to himself.

"I don't get it, Iz," Edward threw his hands up, done with this little act. "I thought you hated all this fancy shit. Soft clothes and good food," he looked to his first mate, honestly confused.

"I don't hate nice things, Edward," Izzy rolled his eyes.

Of course he didn't hate comfortable shit and slightly indulgent food, you knew he had a pretty big sweet tooth after all. Everyone enjoys that stuff. That shit just wasn't suitable on a fucking pirate ship.

"You hate Stede because he's all fancy but you like them!" Edward insisted.

"They aren't a twat about it," was all the explanation Izzy gave.

Yeah, you had money but you weren't an absolute twat that abandoned your kids to be a fucking pirate, you didn't pretend to be somebody else. You were were who you were. And yeah, Izzy didn't like rich fucks, but you won him over. You just weren't a twat like Bonnet.

Stede just pouted at the insult, while you just laughed to yourself. You were far too used to and far too fond of Izzy's crassness.

Thankfully, the rest of the crew slowly started to file in, putting that conversation to an end.

-

The crew's vacation couldn't last forever, even though they had made themselves comfortable on the estate and had grown fond of you. They mostly only got proper time to get to know you during meal times, since you and Izzy would normally disappear the rest of the time.

Today was the day they were leaving, heading back out to sea.

You and Izzy had headed back to the master bedroom after breakfast to dressed. You frowned a little as you finished tying his necktie, brushing your thumb over the ring. The first gift you gave him that he accepted.

"You know...a summer at sea really does sound enticing," you knew it could prompt an argument but you had to bring it up again. You would only regret not doing it.

"We've talked about this," Izzy sighed, gently taking your hand in his.

"It's different now, safer with this new crew, you said that yourself." Technically he has said that this crew was soft and useless but you spoke pretty fluent Israel Hands, so you were pretty sure that meant the crew was friendly and safe (a part from raids, of course).

"I can't risk it," he shook his head, looking as if it pained him to say it.

"Just the summer...we can go from there," you suggested. A bit of a trial run. "Please?"

"Don't...don't do that, you know I can't say no to that," Izzy had to look away from you, you knew he couldn't deny you when you pleaded, when you looked at him like that.

"I'll work hard. You've taught me all the knots, I could help in the kitchen. You know I'm not useless. I won't get in the way, I'll hide wherever you tell me to if there's danger," you promised, "please, love?"

Izzy sighed, looking at you properly again. He could admit that Bonnet's crew was much safer for you to be around, he wouldn't have to worry about you being around them. He also knew that you wouldn't treat it as a vacation. In fact, you would probably insist on working and earning your keep aboard the ship.

Maybe now was the right time...better than any other at least...

"...I'll have to ask Edward. If he agrees...then fine," Izzy finally agreed, putting a bright smile on your face.

You combed your fingers through his hair, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Izzy sighed into the kiss, untensing as he returned it. He might not have to say goodbye just yet. He just hoped he wasn't spoiling himself with all this time with you. He might be able to let you go at the end of the summer.

[writingwhimsey]

Congratulations on your milestone!!!!! Very much deserved!! Could I possibly request 4 from the SFW list with Hideyoshi, Mitsuhide, and Arthur? Thank you, love ❤️

Thank you so much! And here you are :)

ikesen & ikevamp

Hideyoshi, Mitsuhide, and & Arthur

Comforting MC/reader when missing original time

No warnings just sweetness!

Hideyoshi:

He notices immediately that something is wrong. He asks you to tell him what is wrong and if there is anything he can do to help make it better.

At first, you don’t tell him because you’re afraid of worrying him, but eventually you confess.

As you tell him you are just missing your original time and some of your family, you assure him you wouldn’t change your mind and that you are perfectly happy with your decision to stay in the past with him. Just sometimes, there are things you miss.

Hideyoshi gives you that warm smile and assures you he knows. He then makes you a warm comforting bowl of rice porridge and has you tell him stories about your time. He asks you to describe the things you did, what you liked and what you didn’t like. 

He asks you about your friends and your family, and anyone else who was important to you.

He then comes up with the idea for you to write a letter to all the people and places you miss. Though they will never read it, it does help to in a way tell those people that you are safe and loved and happy.

Then he spends the night holding you close as you tell him more about your former life.

He tells you he will listen and hold you any time you feel you are missing your time and to never worry about hurting his feelings. He knows you love him and is that much more determined to make your life with him a happy one.

Mitsuhide:

This man knows what’s wrong before you even do. You have to tell him nothing. He knows when you are a bit melancholy exactly what it is.

He has already secretly reached out to Sasuke to find out different things from your time that he you are likely to be missing. He also asks you to describe some of these things yourself, knowing that talking about things helps you. More importantly, he asks you for your favorite dishes.

The next thing you know, you’re returning home from working in the castle one day to find the room you and Mitsuhide share decorated in some of your most favorite things from the future. Things you didn’t even know were possible, but somehow he got them for you. He even had some of the castle seamstresses recreate some of the clothes you have shown him. Then a familiar aroma tickles your nose and you notice your favorite dish. Mitsuhide had asked Masamune to create the dish for you, giving him the your description and Sasuke’s and even reaching out to a certain pirate to find the ingredients that would be harder to come by.

“Little mouse, you have certainly given up a lot to be with me. I will make sure to give you anything you should need so long as I can always see that beautiful smile.”

Arthur:

He knows something is off when you don’t respond to his usual flirting. You seem to be down. Our great detective immediately gets to work figuring out the problem and when you finally admit that you are feeling a bit homesick for your original time…his heart does race just a bit.

You assure him that you do not regret your decision to stay with him and are happier than you’ve ever been. Just that sometimes you miss some people from your life and some things from the future that aren’t available here.

Once he is assured, he sets about doing what he can to help you through this. He decides the best course of action is to cuddle you while you tell him about things and people you miss. He then has the idea to create a story about what you would be doing right now in your time and which of your friends/family you would be spending time with. The things those people would be doing and the jokes you would share, etc. It helps and this becomes something you two regularly do whenever you begin to miss your original time.

[iverna]

Given The Choice (32/?)

... in which Emma adapts to life among smugglers, Regina struggles with life among outlaws, and Killian shares a bit more of his past.

~ 10,100 words | read on ao3

Post-Neverland AU where Pan did not escape Pandora’s Box and Emma tries to come to grips with her strange new life featuring pirates,  parents, and flying monkeys. Catch up here, or on ao3!

Note: due to recent Jason-related events in the fandom, I’ve changed the quartermaster’s name to Wesley Carswell - same guy, different name!

Blackbeard’s attack has had one positive side effect: Killian has proven himself to Ria and the crew, and the lingering tension on the ship has dissipated. Wesley Carswell no longer looks uncomfortable when Emma wanders up on deck, in fact he always has a smile and a teasing comment for her now, and Killian is no longer doing grunt work. He’s often in the company of one or more of the crew or conferring with Ria, sharing experiences. Emma wonders whether he realises how easily he slips into the role of advisor. He did the same in Neverland.

The only problem is that with the new camaraderie come questions. Such as how a lady from the royal court knows so much about sailing.

Lynch is the one who asks, when some of the crew shares a late lunch on deck the day after the attack. From his smile, his interest is entirely benign, but the question catches Emma off-guard. “It’s hardly part of a lady’s education, is it?”

“I—well,” she says, trying not to look flustered, “you know, I actually had a pretty good education…”

Killian laughs. “I don’t think you can count that as education, milady.” All eyes turn to him, and he goes on, “Her husband was an officer in the Royal Navy.”

Emma breathes a small sigh of relief. That sounds good. She vaguely remembers watching a Jane Austen movie once where the guy was a naval officer. An officer and a lady-in-waiting, that makes sense… right?

Janssen’s wife, a tall, no-nonsense woman named Inga, raises her brows. “A Navy man? How’d you end up here?”

With Hook and a band of outlaws, is what she means. Emma shrugs with a smile, back on balance now. “Long story.”

“Was an officer?” Carswell asks.

“Yeah, he, uh, retired,” Emma said. “After he married me. He didn’t want to be away at sea all the time.”

Inga smiles. “And now, here you are. You must miss him.”

“Yeah,” Emma says, smiling back and carefully not looking at Killian. “Yeah, I miss my whole family.”

“We’ll get you back there soon enough,” Lynch assures her.

“And I hope your husband appreciates it,” Carswell puts in, mock-stern. “And doesn’t send the Navy after us.”

Emma laughs, shaking her head. “He wouldn’t.”

“He’s far too besotted,” Killian puts in. “All he’ll care about is having his beloved wife back.”

She just about manages to hold back the dirty look she wants to throw at him. He’s enjoying this far too much. They need to get off this subject, not keep going on about the non-existent feelings of her non-existent husband.

It doesn’t help that he never looks better than when his eyes are sparkling like that, and she’s been thinking about him far too much lately, instead of thinking of something useful. Like her non-existent husband.

“What was his name again?” Inga asks.

Emma feels her heart trip, and casts around for a name while she says, “Sorry, what?”

“Your husband,” Inga repeats. “What did you say his name was?”

Emma didn’t give a name. She really should have thought of one. She has pretended to be married more than once in her career, but her usual go-to name is Justin. That doesn’t seem very… fairytale.

“Oh. Uh, William. Will.” She almost winces as she says it. This is Henry’s fault, with his talk about Keira Knightley and Pirates of the Caribbean. And she’s blaming Killian, too, for throwing her off her game.

“What’s he like?”

“Oh.” This should be easier; her fake husband is a fairly solid person in her mind. Tall, brown hair, brown eyes, devoted or distant depending on the situation, likes dogs and hiking and cuddles on the sofa. The kind of man you marry.

General “you”. Not Emma specifically. Emma specifically finds him a bit boring, which is exactly the point, because it makes him versatile and relatable.

“He’s great,” she says, trying to get into the mindset of a married woman who loves her husband, and struggling for words. “Kind, and… dependable.”

She makes the mistake of glancing over at Ria, then, to find the other woman watching her with a thoughtful look in her eyes. Emma doesn’t let her own gaze linger, but keeps looking around as if unconcerned even as she fights back her chagrin. She isn’t selling this. How the hell do people describe their partner?

“He’s a good man. A good father. Like I said, he retired so he could be there for us.”

“If that isn’t love,” Killian puts in lightly, jokingly. “Giving up the sea in favour of a life at court.”

He says the last word with a dramatic grimace. There’s a round of rueful chuckles, most of the crew shaking their heads as if they would never do such a thing. Emma thinks of the Jolly Roger, and swallows hard.

God, she needs to get them off this subject. “Yeah,” she says, looking at Inga and Janssen again. “Speaking of which, how about you two? How’d you meet?”

It’s the right question to ask. It turns out to be quite the story, which Inga and Janssen are happy to tell, amid the heckling and joking of the crew.

Emma breathes a very careful sigh of relief, and settles in to listen.

 *  *  *

 Killian, naturally, doesn’t let it go. When the others are back at work, he wanders over to her, purposely casual. “So, tell me,” he asks in a low voice, a glint in his eye. “Who is William?”

Emma narrows her eyes at him. “Don’t start. You enjoyed that way too much.”

He doesn’t look the least bit contrite. “Guilty as charged. I’m just curious why you chose that name.”

“A character in a movie,” she says, giving in. “Pirates of the Caribbean. It’s—anyway, one of the characters is called William. Will.”

“A movie… a story about pirates?”

“Yeah. Sort of.” She can feel herself getting defensive—she doesn’t usually rely on movies for her cover stories, and it definitely won’t do for Killian to start thinking she just has pirates on the brain. “Henry loves it, and he’s been quoting it, and it was the first name that came to mind.”

“Ah.” He gives another short chuckle. “It was my brother’s name, too.”

She feels her eyes widen. “What?”

“Liam,” he says. “Short for William.”

“Oh.” She doesn’t quite know what to say. “I didn’t know that.”

“Aye.” He looks at her more closely then, and seems to note the sudden loss for words, the odd tension. He grins, just a little too brightly. “A good thing you didn’t marry him.”

She thinks she knows the answer, but she asks anyway. “Why?”

But he doesn’t say anything about wanting her for himself. “Because he was stubborn and overbearing. You’d have thrown him out inside a week.”

A surprised laugh escapes her. “Yeah? Was he that bad?

He makes a face, but his expression has lost that exaggerated brightness, more comfortable again. “Aye. The worst. Though I suppose it served him well, to keep me in line.”

She lets her eyes widen in exaggerated astonishment. “You needed keeping in line?”

“All right,” he grumbles, giving her the gentlest little shove. “No need to oversell the amazement, Swan. I was a terror, I fully admit it.”

“Was?”

“Was, am…” One eyebrow pops up. “Will be.”

She bursts out laughing. “Yeah, I bet he had his hands full.”

Killian nods ruefully. “That he did.”

She can see the fondness behind all the irreverence, and she gets it. She never had a brother, but she often wished for one. Or a sister. Just… someone. Family. Someone on her side. From the sounds of it, that’s what Liam was for Killian.

“He sounds like a good guy,” she says softly.

“The best. Liam is the reason why I ended up in the Navy. He got me a commission, helped me with my studies… I owe him everything.” He clears his throat, then flashes another grin. “In fact, now I think about it, you could do worse.”

She wants to know more, but it’s clear that he’s done talking about Liam—and the grin is more genuine this time. The fact that he’s making jokes rather than rebuffing her feels like a victory.

So she goes with it, lightly slapping the back of her hand against his chest. “Stop trying to set me up with your brother. I’m married.”

He laughs, and it’s that genuine laughter that she so rarely gets to see, the laughter that makes his head tilt back and his eyes crinkle. “To poor old Will, aye. My apologies. I seem to keep forgetting.”

She makes a face at the reminder of her performance earlier. “Be honest, how bad was it? I really should’ve—I thought I had it figured out, but—I don’t know. They put me on the spot.”

“It was fine,” he assures her. “Though you might want to work on describing him. That did not sound like a woman in love.”

“I know. I just couldn’t think of anything.”

“Well, not to worry,” he says lightly. “Perhaps you two are simply going through a rough patch.”

She shoots him a narrow-eyed look, making him laugh again. “I’m being quite serious, love. It’s probably what they’ll assume, if you keep calling your husband ‘kind’ and ‘dependable’.”

“What’s wrong with kind and reliable?” she asks, even though she already knows he’s right.

“Because love means passion,” he says, “and caring, and knowing the other person. It’s not kind or perfect, sometimes you want to strangle them, but—” He cuts himself off with a shake of his head. “I’m merely pointing out that there’s no passion in dependable. No romance.”

Emma manages a nod, trying desperately not to let on how winded she suddenly feels. Her knees are a little weak. Killian Jones getting passionate about the topic of love and romance might be more than she can handle.

She casts about for a way to get them off the subject, realises that they were originally on a different subject, and reaches for that. “I don’t even know anything about Navy officers. What do they do after they retire?”

“They marry a beautiful woman, apparently.” Killian winks. “Lucky bastard.”

It’s her turn to give him a shove. “You saying that being married to me is a full-time job? Thanks.”

“It might be,” Killian mutters, and she shoves him again, and he laughs. “All right, all right.” He considers it. “Let’s say he made his fortune at sea, and bought a small estate to raise a family.”

“How do you make a fortune at sea?” she asks. “I mean, other than, y’know.”

“My way?” He grins, then sobers. “Much the same way, really. You take it. From pirates, or smugglers, or someone else’s navy.” His voice takes on a cynical note. “It isn’t robbery if it’s endorsed by the king, you know.”

“That’s—” She’s about to say that’s not fair, but then she thinks about it. About her own experience with the justice system, and the foster system, and all kinds of other perfectly legal systems. The bribes she’s witnessed, the deals, the shakedowns. “Yeah, that sounds about right.”

He looks surprised at her agreement. “I don’t think a princess—” that last word is so quiet that he’s barely more than mouthing it “—is supposed take that kind of view, love.”

She makes a face. “Think there’s a lot of things I’m not supposed to be doing.”

He grins again, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “I won’t tell anyone.”

She should probably roll her eyes, or shove him away again. But she can’t bring herself to do it, not when she’s just learned a bit more about him.

Liam. His brother’s name was Liam, and he was stubborn and loyal and rode herd on his troublemaking little brother.

So she smiles at him, and hopefully he knows everything she means by it when she says, “Good.”

 *  *  *

 Regina doesn’t like the castle. For one thing, it isn’t hers; for another, it’s in ruins, and though she’s done a bit to help fix it up, there’s only so much she can do if she doesn’t want to spend all her energy on repairs. Which she doesn’t. Because it’s not hers.

And because without access to her vault and her books, magic is frustratingly difficult. She can summon a fireball no problem, but it’s not like she memorised spells for fixing walls or plumbing. Much as she hates to admit it, she’s never been very good at working without instructions.

Besides, Zelena is out there, and it would be monumentally stupid to spend all her magic on repairing the castle when warding and protecting it is more important.

As she has explained to Grumpy at least twice now, not that it has stopped his snide comments.

Her room is fine, now that she has fixed most of the holes and restored the window panes and cleaned the whole thing, but it’s just that: a room. Everything else is shared, and she doesn’t care for that at all. She can’t just go down to the kitchen when she feels like baking. She can’t seem to go anywhere without running into one of the dwarves or Granny or a Merry Man.

She still doesn’t know why they’re called that. None of them seem very merry to her.

And for all of Snow’s talk about being in this together, Regina is alone more often than not.

It doesn’t bother her. It’s not like she wants to hang out with the dwarves, or Snow and Charming and the sappy looks they give each other, or Blue and her sanctimonious looks, or Robin and his snarky comments and not-so-merry men.

But when she walks in on a group of them sitting around the big table in the hall, playing dice and drinking and laughing, she feels a pang somewhere deep inside.

Because of course they didn’t invite her.

Snow looks up, and Regina can’t tell if she’s feeling guilty or if her smile is always that bright. “Regina! Come join us?”

“Oh, no.” Regina is already backing away. She can see Grumpy glowering at her, Robin frowning, one of his men—John, she thinks—giving her a calm, assessing look. She’s not going to inflict her company on them. She’s not going to sit there awkwardly while they all chat and laugh, at a loss of what to say. She never knows what to say. And she doesn’t want to talk to them anyway. “No, thank you.”

She’s sick of the castle, and everyone in it. She needs to get out—away from the looks and the chatter and the constant reminders that she doesn’t belong. She never belongs. Snow is somehow already fast friends with Robin and his people, just like she’s always friends with everyone. It’s like a kind of magic that Regina can’t access.

She’d blame the villain thing, but Hook managed to befriend them all to the point where Snow and Charming miss him, at least a little. And it’s not that she’s never been invited, either.

No, it’s something about her, specifically. The thought makes her gut twist.

She shakes the feeling off as she strides down the hallway towards the castle entrance. It doesn’t matter. She’s not here to make friends. She doesn’t need friends. What she needs is to get the hell out of this castle.

Her instinct is to head for the stables, but she doesn’t have a horse here. She doesn’t have a horse at all anymore. Her gut twists again as she thinks of Rocinante. Another death—another murder—and for what?

She shakes that thought off, too. So she can’t go for a ride, fine. She can walk. Out in the forest, where it’s quiet, where she can be alone.

She has reached the yard when there are footsteps behind her, and a man calls, “Hey! Your Majesty! Regina!”

She turns. It’s Robin, of course, and he’s frowning at her again. ”Are you okay?”

“Fine,” she snaps.

He raises his eyebrows. “Clearly.”

“Since when do you care?” she challenges.

He stares at her. Then he sighs. “Frankly, I don’t know why I bother. Where are you going?”

“That’s my business,” Regina informs him.

As usual, her unfriendly tone has no noticeable effect on him. “It’s not safe to wander off alone.”

“Thanks for the concern,” she says acidly, “but I’ll be fine.”

“If you’re leaving the castle, at least take someone with you,” Robin insists.

“That would defeat the purpose,” she mutters.

“Why? What are you up to?”

The suspicion makes her hackles rise. She hasn’t done anything wrong. She hasn’t done anything except help, in fact. Not that anyone seems to notice. “Nothing. I just want two minutes without someone accusing me of being up to something, or… Look, it’s not like anyone’s even going to miss me, so if you’ll excuse me…” She sweeps past him.

At least, that’s the idea. The effect is ruined when he pivots on his heel and falls into step beside her, and his longer legs mean that she can’t shake him off without breaking into a run. Damn him.

“Maybe they would if you gave them a chance,” Robin says. “Why do you push everyone away all the time?”

“I don’t,” she snarls. “I don’t need to. They stay away all on their own.”

“And you’ve never wondered why that might be?” he asks mildly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” she demands.

He shrugs. “It means that if you don’t like being alone, you could try being nice.”

She bites back the diatribe about all the times that she tried and it bit her in the ass. “I’m plenty nice,” she bites out, glaring at him.

“Yeah, I can you’re just overflowing with warmth and friendliness,” Robin says drily. “Why wouldn’t anyone want you around?”

To her utter horror, she can feel tears pricking at her eyes. To cover it, she hisses, “Exactly. So I won’t make you endure it.”

And then she calls up her magic—the magic she can access, the magic she has mastered—and whisks herself away into the forest. Long legs or not, he can’t follow that.

Somehow, it doesn’t make her feel any better.

 * *  *

 As the Serena Hawk sails on, Emma finds herself at loose ends once again. Killian is all but an honourary crew member now, and Henry has learned that there are cats aboard the ship, so between trying to befriend them and hanging out with Jim, he has plenty to keep him busy. Which leaves Emma as the only person aboard with nothing to do—other than tidy the cabin and work out, neither of which are activities that take up much of her day.

But she’s the wife of a Navy officer. She can have a little ship expertise. And she did okay helping Lynch during their escape from Blackbeard.

With that in mind, she goes to talk to Carswell.

She finds him hunkered on the deck, discussing something with Janssen who, she has learned, is the ship’s carpenter. Killian is standing nearby, offering the occasional opinion in between his own work.

“Mr. Carswell?” she asks, and the quartermaster turns and looks up at her.

“No, no, none of that. Call me Wes.” He flashes a smile. “Please.”

It’s hard not to glance over at Killian then, given the flirtatious tone of the request, but Emma just smiles back. “All right. Wes. I wanted to ask you something—”

He sits back on his haunches, lifting a hand to shade his eyes against the sunlight. “Ask away, milady.”

“Is there anything I can do? To help? I just feel useless sitting around all day.”

“I thought that’s what fine ladies do.”

She scoffs. “I’m not a lady.” It’s out before she can think better of it, before she can remember who she’s supposed to be. “I’m a lady-in-waiting,” she goes on, recovering. “I’m used to—chores.”

She really hopes he doesn’t ask her what they are.

“Fair enough.” He raises his eyebrows. “Actually, you might be able to give Lynch a hand. Literally. Not a lot he can do at the moment, with the arm and all, but he knows what to do.”

“Sure, yeah.”

“Just…” He leans forward a little, dramatically conspiratorial. “Don’t mind him if he tries to put on the charm. Don’t believe a word of it.”

Janssen bursts out laughing. “Yeah, ‘cause she should take advice about that from you.”

“Aye, she should,” Wes says with a grin and a wink aimed at Emma. Beside him, Janssen is shaking his head at her with a grimace.

Emma laughs. “I’ll be careful.”

Lynch, to her slight relief, does not put on the charm. He’s perhaps a few years older than her, a stout, bearded, slightly hawk-nosed man with a straightforward, easy-going manner. He’s the ship’s cook—as well as an expert sailor, as he assures her, but it’s his cooking skills that he’s most concerned about.

“If we don’t do it,” he says mock-grimly, “Aileen or Janssen might, and then we’ll be in for it.”

So Emma once again finds herself fishing off the side of the boat, and gutting fish under Lynch’s direction. It’s nice to have a job to do, even if she’s not the biggest fan of fish. For the first time since she came aboard the Hawk, she doesn’t feel like she’s in the way as she sits on deck while everyone goes about their own tasks.

Killian is nearby, working in the rigging with Janssen. Emma is busy trying to keep her eyes away from him, so she’s staring out at the sea when the ship dips and she catches sight of something out there. A dark, triangular shape is breaking through the surface of the water, not very far from the ship. Even as Emma watches, another two show up nearby.

“Lynch,” she says, trying not to betray the way her heart is suddenly pounding. “Is that—sharks?”

“Hmm?” He looks over, thoroughly unconcerned. “Oh, no. Dolphins.”

“Dolphins?” Emma all but scrambles over to the railing. Another dark fin cuts through the water, then another, but Lynch is right: they aren’t the sharp triangle she remembers from Jaws. Moments later, she catches sight of a sleek grey body emerging from the waves, a fine mist of water as the dolphin exhales. There are at least five of them, moving smoothly through the water as if they’re part of the waves.

“Hey, kid!” she calls over to where Henry is crouched with Jim. “Look! Dolphins!”

Henry scrambles to his feet and takes one hurried step before he seems to remember the “no running” rule, and walks as fast as he can to the railing.

The dolphins have come closer by the time Henry reaches her. One breaks through the water and leaps, and Henry lets out a yelp. “Look!”

Emma feels a smile stretch across her own face. She has never seen dolphins in person before. “I didn’t think they came so close.”

“Oh, yeah,” Lynch says, his tone far less impressed. “They’ll do that. They like the waves we make—and the company.”

As if to illustrate his words, another dolphin leaps out of the water, half-turning as it does to splash back into the waves. “Mom!” Henry exclaims. “Did you see that?”

“I saw it, kid,” she assures him.

“They’re saying hello,” comes Killian’s voice from beside her as he joins them. He’s breathing hard from working, his eyes bright, and somehow he seems larger than life in that moment. He has left his coat in the cabin, and while his shirt is so loose that it shouldn’t show off his physique, the way the fabric drapes over his arms is very distracting. Not to mention the way he never buttons the damn thing properly, and the glint of the necklace he wars keeps drawing her eye down to his chest.

He goes on, “And probably hoping you’ll share your catch.”

He’s looking at Emma as he says that last, but she’s lost. Is he calling himself a catch? But he doesn’t look like he normally does when he spouts innuendo at her. “What?”

“The fish,” he clarifies.

“Oh.” That’s right, she’s been fishing. “Yeah, well,” she rallies. “I don’t share.”

He grins at her. “That doesn’t surprise me.”

“But what if they’re hungry?” Henry asks.

“They can catch their own fish, trust me,” Lynch assures him. “This lot just wants to play and show off.”

Killian gets back to work, and Emma reluctantly turns her attention back to hers, but Henry stays at the railing, cheering when a dolphin leaps from the water and shouting reports about their antics. When they fall behind, he’s disappointed, but sits down nearby and starts peppering them with questions about dolphins. Emma is almost no help, but for once, she’s almost glad of it, because Killian is. And when he’s answering her kid’s questions, she’s got the perfect excuse to look over at him.

It’s all kinds of appealing, too, him going on about dolphin behaviour while hauling on ropes, muscles flexing under that shirt of his.

Not that she’ll ever, ever, admit that.

“Why’s it called a school?” Henry asks.

Killian lifts his eyebrows. “Where else would they learn how to be dolphins?”

Emma tries her best not to laugh; Henry groans, though he’s smiling. “No, really.”

“I’ve no idea,” Killian says. “It’s simply the term people use. Like a murder of crows, or a gaggle of geese.”

“Oh.” Henry makes a face, presumably at the idiosyncracies of the English language, and falls silent. For a while, the only sound is the wind and the ocean, the creaks of the ship and the now-familiar crackling sound that the ropes make as they stretch, and the occasional comment from Lynch.

After a while, Henry says, “Hey, Killian.”

Killian twists around to look at him. “Hmm?”

Henry is barely holding back a smirk. “Why did everyone forgive the dolphin when he did something wrong?”

Killian looks confused for the briefest moment, before catching on. “Enlighten me.”

Henry’s smirk becomes a full-blown grin. “’Cause he didn’t do it on porpoise!”

Killian rolls his eyes with a good-natured groan as Henry bursts into delighted laughter. Lynch and Emma chuckle, and Henry looks around at them all, so proud of himself for his dumb joke. Emma exchanges a look with Killian, sharing a moment of amused pride.

The silent understanding flares between them, that connection that seems to keep happening where they’re somehow on the same wavelength.

It’s the kind of moment she would—and arguably should—have with Neal. Except Neal would say something, some wisecrack about how Henry gets his terrible sense of humour from her, or how they need to work on his jokes.

Killian just shakes his head, chuckling, and says, “Well played, lad.”

Henry beams with pride. Killian turns back to his work, and so does Emma, silently berating herself. She shouldn’t be comparing him to Neal at all. And she’s not, not really.

It’s just making it clearer to her why those moments with Neal always made her want to pull back, to break that connection before it could break her. The impulse is there with Killian too—it’s there with everyone—but it feels different. It’s habit, not instinct.

Maybe the problem isn’t just with her after all.

Mentally shaking her head at herself, Emma pushes the thoughts away and stabs her knife into a fish.

Gutting the fish they caught is a gross job, but she doesn’t mind. Life at sea, she has found, requires you to change or leave behind any ideas of “gross”. There’s no shower, no mirror, and very little privacy. Her hair is a lost cause; she has braided it back to keep it out of the way and under control in the wind, and she’s doing her best not to think about it. Or how she probably looks in general.

She spent enough time living rough that it doesn’t bother her—or at least, it shouldn’t. It’s familiar. It doesn’t matter.

But she can’t help feeling a little self-conscious at times, especially when Killian’s around.

Which is ridiculous.

If a little grime puts a guy off, she reminds herself firmly, he isn’t worth it anyway.

Besides, since when does she care whether Killian is put off or not?

Since Neverland, a little honest voice at the back of her mind answers.

She scowls at it.

Across the deck, Wes breaks into song. The crew does that on occasion, singing to keep the rhythm as they work on the sails, or simply because they want to. It’s something Emma never thought about; without radios or mp3 players, the only way to have music is to make it yourself.

The one Wes is now belting out is a rowdy song about a young man and his drunken adventures. Various other crew members join in the chorus—and this time, for the first time, that includes Killian.

Emma does her best to take it in stride. He certainly does, still focused on his work as he sings along almost off-handedly. She had no idea he could sing, but he carries the tune well.

He’s got a nice voice for it, too.

For the first time in a long time, Emma wishes that her mother were here. No, not her mother; Mary Margaret, her friend. The first woman Emma met who she could actually talk about boys with—not that she herself did much talking, about anything, but she could have.

Because she would really like to talk to someone about this. This man who explains things to her kid and makes dumb dad jokes and gives up his ship for her and sings drinking songs with a voice like that.

She probably still wouldn’t talk to Snow about it if she were here. But she can’t help wishing that she could.

Wes is still singing; the young man in the song has made his way to the bedroom window of a nobleman’s daughter, and there’s a punchline about her father wondering about the size of his daughter’s boots. Henry wrinkles his nose as Lynch whistles and some of the others laugh. “Why did she get bigger boots?”

“Ah.” Killian abandons the chorus and smirks conspiratorially. “Because they aren’t her boots, they’re the young man’s. But her father is blissfully unaware that he’s in the room with her, you see.”

Emma’s first thought is that things like this are surely lost on a kid Henry’s age; her second is that she should probably have stopped Killian from explaining it.

But Henry’s eyebrows rise, and he says “oh” in a way that makes her realise it’s too late to try and preserve his innocence. He might not know exactly what the young man in the song is up to, but he clearly knows it’s more than just a sleepover.

Regina is not going to be happy. Learning about dolphins is well and good, but learning about this… oh, boy.

Then again, maybe Henry simply recognises the insinuations from everyone’s comments and looks back in Storybrooke. It’s not like Regina herself is exactly blameless in that regard. Maybe she shouldn’t have made so many damn comments about Emma and Killian.

Serves her right.

Wes finishes the song with a flourish, catching Emma’s eye as he does. He grins, winks—and begins another song, which prompts Lynch to bark out a laugh as he recognises it. The cheerful tune belies the words, which tell the story of the prettiest girl in the village who stole and then broke the singer’s heart.

And Wes is singing it to her. That much is obvious, from the way he keeps grinning at her in between pining looks. Emma tries and fails to fight back a blush. Of all the dumb, ridiculous…

Lynch takes the cue—or maybe the challenge—and throws a little drama into his performance as well, batting his eyelashes at her. Even Inga, keeping the rhythm by tapping her foot on the deck, sends her a few dramatically lovelorn looks in between bouts of laughter.

Once Killian realises what’s happening, he gives an amused little laugh—and joins in.

It’s embarrassing. It’s like being in a damn Disney movie. But they’re joking, and having fun with it, and it’s… nice. Even with Killian, there’s none of the lingering heaviness she might have expected during a song about unrequited love. No, he seems to be treating the whole thing as a joke, playing up the drama, and enjoying himself.

And that makes it easier for Emma to give in to the part of herself that isn’t embarrassed, the part of herself that likes having a bunch of people sing to her. Maybe it’s the fairytale part, the one she usually tries to suppress or ignore, idealistic and even romantic and everything life has taught her not to be.

But she’s in fairytale land now, quite literally. And she’s not Emma Swan. She’s a lady from the royal court, who is probably used to this kind of thing.

So she laughs, and shoots Wes and Killian wry looks that make them grin, and blows Inga a kiss that has everyone cheering, and enjoys the moment.

 *  *  *

 She has to go belowdecks a little while later to help Lynch cook the fish they caught. It tastes better than she expected, and she takes her own lunch back up on deck, along with portions for Henry and Killian.

Henry takes his food and wanders back over to Jim, who begins telling him a wild story about the time he and the others escaped from the Navy.

“Don’t take it personally, love,” Killian says with an amused smile, glancing over at the two boys. “I gather the lad has always loved fairytales.”

Emma laughs. “Smugglers escaping from the Navy? You’ve got a weird idea of fairytales.”

“It’s close enough,” Killian assures her. “It seems that Jim has yet to learn the difference between embellishment and lie.”

“Oh, there’s a difference?” Emma asks, smirking.

He levels a look at her that says that he knows she knows. Chuckling, she asks, “You think he’s making it up?”

“Of course he’s making it up,” Killian says. “A group of smugglers, taking out a Navy boarding party and then running? Impossible. What he could get away with is a story about a bumbling lieutenant who failed to find their hidden compartments, and was persuaded to let them go. What likely happened...” It’s his turn to smirk. “I’d wager that a bribe blinded the lieutenant to said compartments, and both parties went on their way satisfied.”

Emma has to laugh. It sounds about right, and she’s spent enough time around Neal and others like him that she knows that’s exactly how these things go. “Doesn’t sound nearly as impressive, though.”

“No, indeed. One of many reasons not to become a smuggler.” He winks.

“Might have to tell that to Henry,” Emma says wryly. “He sure seems impressed.”

Killian grimaces theatrically. “Well, if he considers it as a career, we might have to set him straight. If he comes out of this with the ambition to become a smuggler, Regina might murder me.”

“Or me,” Emma says. Then she considers it. “Or both of us.”

“I thought she might be inclined to blame me, but thinking about it, you might be right,” Killian agrees. “Best to avoid it. Perhaps I ought to tell him some stories of my Navy days, chasing down foolish smugglers.”

She smiles at that. “Is that what you did?”

He shrugs, unconcerned. “Not often, but I can spin a better tale than our young friend.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet.” Emma bites back a request for a real story from his Navy days. He rarely even mentions that part of his past, and asking him about it feels personal in a way she should probably avoid. Yes, she’s asked him before, but that was when she didn’t know him as well. Back when they were simply tentative allies. Now…

She’s been trying not to think about it. About him. But it’s hard not to when she’s lying in her hammock and can hear him breathing a few feet away. It’s a little pathetic, actually, just how much of her thoughts he takes up. They aren’t even spending all that much time together at the moment. It just feels like she’s constantly seeing new sides to him.

Or rather, frustrating little glimpses of those sides that have her curious for more.

“I think he’s a bad influence,” she says wryly, trying to get her own thoughts off that track and back to the conversation. “Henry can’t wait to get back to the others so he can tell them all about our dramatic escape from pirates.”

Killian makes a face. “Dramatic indeed. Some stories need no embellishment, I suppose.”

“I think I prefer it when the stories are made-up,” she says. “That whole based on real events thing isn’t so great when the real events are happening to you.”

“Aye.” Killian gives a rueful shake of his head. “It isn’t nearly as fun from this side, I must say.”

She laughs. “Yeah, I’ll bet.”

It’s not until he smiles back at her that she realises he did it on purpose this time, bringing up his past. Not his Navy past—that, he’s still close-mouthed about—but his past as a pirate. That’s something he’s been doing more and more, and she has wondered why. She can’t help thinking that it’s a test, to see how she reacts. To make sure that she knows who he is.

No trickery.

She swallows. But she can’t help seizing the opportunity. “So that’s what you did, huh?”

“Aye.” He makes a face as he reconsiders. “Well. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“I was better at it.”

She rolls her eyes at the ego display, but smiles. “Right. Of course.”

He shoots her a smug grin. “I have the gold to prove it, love.”

“Uh-huh.” She returns the smirk and settles back against the railing. “So, tell me how to be a better pirate than Blackbeard.”

“I never went after smugglers, for starters,” he says. “Bloody stupid, trying to run down vessels made for outrunning the Navy.”

“Makes sense. So who did you go after?”

“Merchant ships, mostly,” he says. “Those flying Navy colours.”

She arches her eyebrows. “Isn’t that riskier, attacking ships that are under Navy protection?”

“Oh, aye.” His grin widens as he warms to the topic. “But that was the point. To hit the king where it hurts—his royal coffers. Riskier, aye, but also far more rewarding.”

Emma can just imagine him in a tavern somewhere, impressing some girl with tales of his exploits. She isn’t that girl—she refuses—but she can’t resist asking, “And what about the Navy?”

“Oh, we tangled with them a few times, too.” He says it with a defiant sort of pride. “And sent them running.”

She smiles. “And how much of that is... embellishment?”

He shakes his head. “Embellishing is for when you’re trying to impress someone, love, and I know better than to try and impress you.”

“Really,” she says, with a tone and expression that should tell him exactly how much she believes that.

He grins again. “Well, perhaps not. But I know better than to try and do it with lies.”

Because she’d see through them. And, she suspects, because it would be dishonourable, but he isn’t big on admitting that. “Good,” she says, refusing to dwell on why exactly it’s good. “So… how many?”

He looks startled. “What?”

“How many ships?” she asks. There’s a challenge in her voice, and she knows it. But she feels like he challenged her first, by bringing up his past. So she meets his gaze, calm and curious, and waits to see if he’ll answer.

He does. “Thirty-four in all,” he says evenly. “Three of them Navy ships.”

Emma has no point of reference, but thirty-four ships sounds like a lot. And she doesn’t want to ask, but the question comes out anyway. “Did you sink them all?”

He shakes his head. “We sank two of the Navy ships and left the other derelict. I don’t know what became of her.”

There’s no apology or regret as he says it, but it inches onto his face afterwards, much as he tries to stay stoic. Emma has no point of reference for this either, but the numbers seem odd. “What happened?” she asks, playing a hunch. “After the second one?”

She catches the surprise flashing across his face at that; a rueful smile follows. “I realised that the men on those ships were men like me—men who thought they were serving a noble cause. Men who had no real choice but to be there.” He shrugs casually. “They hardly deserved to die for that.”

“Ah.” Emma has no idea what to say; he’s right, of course, but now her mind has snagged on no real choice. Together with other comments he’s let slip, it makes her wonder how exactly he wound up in the Navy in the first place.

She’s starting to understand why he rarely talks about his past in detail. She thought it was out of shame or a reluctance to admit to or revisit his crimes, but that’s not it. He doesn’t shy away from that. But there’s a lot of pain hidden behind those easy words, that determined smile.

He’s so open about everything else that it’s a bit puzzling. He’s not a man who’s scared of how he feels, nor of admitting it, but this… this is different somehow.

She understands all too well that the past can be painful; her own is hardly a picnic. It’s just never stopped her from talking about it.

She’s not really sure, now she thinks of it, why that is.

“I was hell-bent on vengeance, for my brother,” Killian goes on. “It’s not an excuse, of course, but that’s what drove me at first. I lost sight of things for a while. Or rather, I simply didn’t think it all through.”

Emma nods. That much, she understands. Killian is smart as a whip, but she knows how aggressively single-minded he gets when he’s riled up.

“And as I said before,” he goes on, in a light tone that tells her he’s determined not to let this conversation get too heavy, “a pirate crew demands treasure. So all things considered… we focused on taking merchant ships. I won’t pretend no one ever got hurt, but it was never the object. We took their cargo, not their lives. Of course,” he grins, and it’s only a little too bright and determined, “that had the added bonus that they were alive to talk about me.”

“Which I’m guessing they did,” she says, smiling back.

He gives a thoroughly unconvincing humble shrug. “They did indeed.”

“So you get a reputation,” Emma says, nodding, “which makes the next time easier, because if people are scared of you, it’s easier to convince them to surrender?”

“That’s about it, aye.” His grin is more genuine now. “You were right about having it in you. You’d make a good pirate captain.”

“Thanks,” she says drily, “but I think I’ll leave that to you.”

 *  *  *

 As the crew settles in to the new routine after the attack, Emma finds that Wes has discovered a new hobby: flirting with her. Mostly, it takes the form of teasing and elaborate courtly compliments—or at least, his idea of courtly compliments. Emma has a suspicion that the gentlemen at court aren’t supposed to be this forward, and from the way Wes smirks, he knows it too.

Thankfully, Emma has plenty of experience with keeping guys like him at a distance, and she’s never shy of an answer. Spending so much time with Killian has really helped to hone her wits, and it’s fun, shutting Wes down and getting laughs from the rest of the crew while she does it.

And to her mild surprise, Killian shows no sign of jealousy.

A few days into the voyage, Emma is ambling along the deck when she catches sight of Killian and Wes, standing on a clear few metres of the deck. Both have their cutlasses out, and as Emma watches, they clash into a bind, but their movements are slow and telegraphed.

“No,” she hears Killian say as she approaches, “you use the short edge, turn it into the—” He breaks off and looks at Emma. “Emma! Just the woman we need.”

She eyes him warily. “Oh, yeah?”

“Aye, you remember the trick for levering your opponent’s sword from his hand?”

She nods, still wary. “Is that what you guys are doing?”

“Trying to do,” Wes says ruefully. “I can’t get my head around it.”

“If you have a moment,” Killian says, “would you mind helping me demonstrate?”

Emma agrees, feeling unaccountably proud of herself at being good enough at this to show it to someone else. Killian runs through the move with her a couple of times, before pairing her off with Wes and having him do it, with Killian watching and correcting his stance.

“Thanks,” Wes says when he’s finally got the hang of the move, sending Emma’s blade skittering across the deck. He winks at her when she has retrieved it. “If you want me to show you a few moves, you know, return the favour...”

Emma winks back. “How about you show Hook, and I’ll watch you guys and make sure you’re doing it right?”

Killian bursts out laughing. So does Wes, shaking his head dramatically, and that’s the end of that.

“You’re hell on the ego, milady,” he says, still chuckling.

Killian pats him on the shoulder in feigned commiseration. “You get used to it.”

As Wes heads off to talk to the captain, Emma hands Killian back the blade. He takes it, and then he grins and nudges her shoulder with his arm. “It appears you have another admirer, love.”

She makes a face; Wes is a charmer, and she knows exactly what he means by all his little grins and comments. “I wouldn’t call it that—and what do you mean another one?”

He frowns as if it should be obvious. “In addition to me.”

Her heart gives a frankly stupid little flutter at that, and she laughs to try and cover the equally stupid smile that wants to spread across her face. “Oh come on, that’s—”

But she cuts herself off, because what is it? Different?

It is, and she knows it—Killian can be every bit as charming as Wes, but it’s not a fling he’s after, and there’s a hell of a lot more depth to the way his eyes linger on her. But knowing that and saying it are two very different things.

“Ridiculous,” she finishes. “He’s just—that’s just how he is, I think.”

“Oh, aye,” Killian agrees, and it occurs to her that she kind of just said exactly what she didn’t mean to say. “You’ll find that with sailors. Perhaps I should have warned you.”

Emma laughs again. “You’ll find that with men. Trust me, I don’t need to be warned.”

He inclines his head, still looking amused. “A fair point.”

She notices movement at the corner of her eye, and looks over to catch Ria looking right back. The captain is still talking to Wes, and she makes no acknowledgement, simply keeps talking to her quartermaster like she didn’t see anything.

But it makes guilt flare inside Emma. Guilt, and the heavy, hot feeling of being caught that she’s all too familiar with.

Ridiculous. She wasn’t doing anything. They were just talking. That’s allowed.

She ignores the little voice pointing out that she’s been telling herself that awful lot lately.

 *  *  *

 The forest isn’t as comforting as Regina hoped. It’s the best she can get, given the circumstances, and it’s good to get away from the castle. She was right about that.

And she was right about nobody missing her, too. Nobody asks her where she went when she makes her way back.

She goes again the next day, and she can already see it becoming a new habit, her daily—or almost-daily--escape.

The problem is that it leaves her with nothing but her own thoughts for company. And she keeps coming across things that make her think of Henry. A deer running across a clearing in the distance. A rabbit burrow. A cave. A fallen tree that looks perfect for climbing.

Henry would love it here, and her heart aches with the thought. She’d give anything to have him here. She’d even let him explore that gross-looking cave if he wanted.

She’s sitting on the fallen tree, staring at the endless leaves and branches and undergrowth, when she hears a twig snap. One, then another, and another. Something, or someone, is approaching, and not being very careful to avoid notice.

Regina gets to her feet, gathering magic to her.

Moments later, she lets it go again, because there’s more rustling and a figure comes into view. A small figure, movements clumsy, eyes wide under a mop of dark curls.

“Roland,” she says, and the boy starts and almost falls as he comes to a stop.

There’s no more noise. So he’s alone. That can’t be good.

“What are you doing out here?” she asks, keeping her voice as light and friendly as she can, and flashing a smile for good measure.

Roland just stares at her, and she knows she has to be careful. She’s never really interacted with the boy before, so he barely knows her. The look he’s giving her is a mixture of fear and irrepressible curiosity.

“Did you come all the way out here by yourself?” she asks. “Are you running away?”

Roland shakes his head, sending his curls flying. “There’s a rabbit,” he says. “I wanna see the rabbits.”

The ‘r’ sound gives him a little trouble. It’s kind of adorable. In fact, he’s adorable all around, with those curls and big dark eyes and the dimples that flash when he smiles.

He got those from his father.

Regina pushes away the thoughts of Robin’s dimples and feigns thought. There’s no way Roland is out here alone with Robin’s blessing, or indeed his knowledge. She needs to get him back home. “I see. You know, I’m pretty sure I saw a rabbit’s burrow earlier. Do you want me to show you?”

Roland’s eyes grow wider.

“Come on,” she says, holding out a hand as she takes a step towards him. “I’ll show you.”

Roland still looks unsure. “Papa says I can’t go with strangers.”

“And your papa is right,” she says. “But you know me, don’t you? I’m a friend of your papa’s.”

She’s stretching the definition of “friend” to breaking point with that; she’s pretty sure that Robin doesn’t like her, and their relationship is more like “mutual tolerance for the sake of the cause”. But Roland is all of five. There’s no way he’s noticed that.

“And you know my name, right?”

“Regina,” Roland says, with a nod and another one of those half-mangled r’s.

“That’s right.” She gives him another encouraging smile. “So we’re friends, too. Come on, I’ll show you where the rabbits live.”

She can’t help noticing as she says it that this is exactly the kind of thing she’s warned Henry about. Stranger danger. Don’t ever go with anyone unless you know them. It’s the kind of thing an Evil Queen would do, lure children to come with her under false pretences. It’s the kind of thing she has done, come to think of it.

But Roland really shouldn’t be out here alone, and there’s no one else around. Her only other option is to just grab him and return him to his father, and that would terrify him.

Luckily, Roland nods. “Okay.”

He takes her hand as she reaches him, and she begins leading him back towards the castle, keeping up a steady stream of talk as she does. She tells him about the rabbits, asks him what other animals he likes, and whether he’s seen the birds nesting in the stables. Within moments, Roland is chattering away happily, and she has a moment of pity for Robin. His son is clearly the kind of kid who will just forget all the warnings as soon as he sees something interesting, or gets an idea in his head.

They haven’t quite made it to the road yet when she hears a voice. A familiar voice: loud, male, and strained with worry. “Roland!”

Roland comes to a stop, eyes widening again. “Uh oh.”

Regina tightens her hold on his hand a bit, just in case. “That’s your papa, isn’t it? I think we’d better tell him where we are.”

Roland looks reluctant, but Regina says, “We don’t want him getting lost, right?”

That clearly hasn’t occurred to him. He nods.

Regina draws breath, and shouts. “Robin? Over here!”

Robin is rather louder than his son as he comes crashing through the undergrowth, breathless and pale, eyes wide. “Roland--bloody hell.”

He falls to his knees before his son and snatches him into a hug. “Where the hell were you?”

“Papa!” Roland complains, little arms pushing at Robin’s shoulders. “Let go.”

“Not bloody likely,” Robin says, letting out a deep breath. Then he looks up at Regina. “What happened?”

“I don’t know.” She’s immediately on the defensive, casting around for the right words to justify herself, to explain. She feels like that a lot around him. She doesn’t know how he does it, but she hates it. “I was just out—for a walk. And Roland showed up. Alone. I figured he probably wasn’t supposed to be.”

“Definitely not.” Robin gets to his feet, still holding onto Roland.

“Papa!” Roland squirms. “Let me down!”

“What did I tell you about going into the forest alone?” Robin asks, his voice taking on a stern tone that Regina knows well.

Roland shakes his head, lips pressed together. “Down!”

Robin is unmoved. “I’ll let you down, but you hold onto my hand, and not one word out of you.”

“But I wanna see the rabbits!”

“Then you should have asked someone to go with you,” Robin says. “No wandering off alone, you know that. Come on.”

Roland’s lips quiver, but he seems to know that tone, because he doesn’t try to argue any more. He lags slightly behind his father as they walk, steps dragging, but Robin says nothing, just keeps a tight hold of the boy’s hand.

“Thank you,” Robin says, turning back to Regina. “I swear he was right there, and I turned my back and he was gone. I don’t know how he does it.”

“I’m pretty sure kids have some kind of magic like that,” Regina says, a wry smile coming to her face before she can stop it. “It gets better when they get older.”

Robin raises his eyebrows. “You have a son, don’t you? Snow mentioned as much.”

“Snow needs to learn to mind her own business.” She snaps the words as the mention of Henry brings pain boiling back up.

“Well, for what it’s worth,” Robin says, a note of impatience in his voice, “she mentioned it to try and explain your behaviour.”

Regina feels her eyebrows rise. “My behaviour?”

“This,” Robin says, gesturing at her. “The rudeness. The way you snap at everyone all the time. The things they all make allowances for, not that you seem to notice.”

“I am not—” But she is, and she knows it. She’s being rude to him right now, snapping at him for asking a simple question.

What does he mean, making allowances? No one ever makes allowances for her. They just make demands.

“No?” Robin says, still sounding a little impatient. “You reckon they all treat you the way you treat them?”

That gives her pause, and she hates it. Because he’s got a point, and that’s even worse.

“Of course not,” Regina says, doing her best to sound disdainful. “They’re far too good for that.”

As clapbacks go, it’s pathetic, and she knows it. Good isn’t an insult, in fact if anything she’s just called herself out for not being good.

Well, big newsflash there.

For a moment, they walk in silence, Regina trying to think of a better retort, Robin giving nothing away.

Then he says, “I don’t know what happened, but I gather it’s a painful subject. I’m sorry I brought it up.”

He apologises like it’s nothing, like it costs him nothing. After all the times they’ve butted heads, all the glares, that comes as a real surprise. She’s so surprised that she almost forgets that it really is a painful subject.

She doesn’t know how to respond, so she just keeps walking in silence. Robin is silent, too. After a minute or two, she can’t take it anymore.

“He’s in another realm.” She swallows, and shrugs. “I’m his adoptive mother. He wasn’t born here. He’s—when the curse brought us all back here, it left him behind. He’s with his birth mother now. Emma.”

“Snow and David’s daughter,” Robin says, nodding as the pieces fall together. “I didn’t know—that sounds complicated.”

She smiles again, like her heart isn’t broken. It’s a well-practiced smile, and she hates it. “We were figuring it out.”

“Right.” He hesitates for longer this time. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right.” It’s not all right, but the last thing she wants is this man’s sympathy. Or anyone’s, for that matter.

She hopes he’ll drop the subject, but he doesn’t seem to be done yet. “What’s his name?”

She smiles despite herself. “Henry.”

“A good name,” Robin says, nodding.

“He ran away a lot,” she says, to get them back on track. And then, more quietly, “From me.”

She has no idea why she says it. She doesn’t know why she’s talking about this at all, except that he’s asking, and listening, and it’s not like she can say anything to lower his opinion of her. It’s weirdly freeing.

“Ah.” Robin doesn’t look like he understands, exactly, but there’s no judgment in his eyes either. “Roland doesn’t run away, really. He just gets these ideas in his head, and it’s so exciting that he forgets about the danger. And the situation being what it is...” He trails off.

“You have to be a little stricter,” she says, nodding. She can’t judge anyone for being strict with their kids. She was, with Henry—too much so, probably. Or at least for the wrong reasons. “Sometimes it’s hard to keep them safe.”

“Yeah.” Robin smiles at her—an actual smile, not one of the sarcastic smirks she usually gets. “I’m very glad you found him. Thank you.”

Suddenly uncomfortable, she manages something halfway between a nod and a shrug. “Of course.”

He’s still looking at her, so she arches an eyebrow. “What?”

He shakes his head. “Nothing. You’re just something of an enigma, that’s all.”

She doesn’t like the sound of that. Enigmas are things to be figured out, and she does not want this man to try and figure her out. “Excuse me?”

“I’m just having a hard time reconciling this woman with the Evil Queen,” he says. A hint of a smirk tugs at his mouth. “Or with the woman who yells at me every time I make a suggestion.”

“I don’t yell at you.”

He laughs. “No? What do you call it?”

She huffs. “You started it last time.”

“I don’t think I did,” he says with a smug grin.

“See, that right there,” she says, pointing, “that’s what I mean by starting it. You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re haughty and conceited,” he shoots back. He’s still grinning.

“Enjoying yourself?” she asks acidly.

“Yes, actually,” he admits, and he doesn’t look abashed or the least bit sorry. “It isn’t often I get to tell a member of the aristocracy exactly what I think of them.”

“You could tell Snow. She’s a lot more forgiving than I am.”

“Yes, she’s very gracious. I like her a lot. And I have in fact told her so.”

She rolls her eyes, annoyed and at the same time feeling strangely… light. “Of course you did.”

They bicker until they get back to the castle, because Robin has an answer for everything and Regina can’t let that stand, and it takes her until they get there to figure out what the odd feeling in her chest is.

When she does, she scowls harder than ever, especially when Robin leaves with a cheery wave that’s not quite insouciant enough to prove.

She’s stuck in Misthaven, without Henry, without her things, with Snow and Charming and a whole host of do-gooders.

She is not enjoying herself.

*  *  *

Tag list - I think this is everyone who’s actually interested in this fic and asked to be tagged, but let me know if you want to be added or taken off! @optomisticgirl​ @mariakov81 @courtorderedcake @spartanguard @winterbaby89​ @kday426​ @sals86​ @superchocovian​ @pirateherokillian​ @scientificapricot​

[galixywolfdragon]

I don’t usually post my writings but I worked hard on this story for a DND project thought I would throw it here if you have any crit would love to hear it

Captains log #368

The sea is calm as usual no storms have been seen as of yet. Rations are running somewhat low course has been altered to stop at an allied port. The crews morale is high the frequent game nights and music has seemed to motivate them to work harder, individual meetings will happen next week. Only one crew member has stood out, my first mate. She is asking about my origin, it’s possible our conversation last Tuesday piqued her interest.

I know you read my logs Reia so the rest of this log is for you. It’s natural for you to be curious about your captans past after all the past often predicts the future so I’ll tell you, but I ask you not to share this entry with the rest of the crew, this story stays between us. Now where to start, I had been serving the gods for as far back as I can remember. I’m sure there was a time before and I remember a little of it mostly a bright light and a lot of pain as if my body was ripped apart. But the thought is fuzzy and I feel ill when I try to remember to far back. I served as a general servant for the god of language but I was quite low in her court so I always got stuck with the dirty work. But it was always fulfilling getting a little pat on the head if I did a good job. On one of my missions I was sent to a human port city to investigate some stolen cargo to assure it had no forbidden knowledge inside. When I was disguised as an ant investigating a crate it was suddenly sealed and loaded onto a ship when I tried to escape I discovered I was stuck, I even turned into my human form to try and pry the lid open but I was too weak. I thought of transforming into something bigger but there would be complications with possibly getting mixed into the box so I decided to sit and wait for help.

I sat in that box for three days since I require neither food nor water I was alright, every waking hour I threw out prayers to my goddess. But the days came and went with no sign nor acknowledgment from her so when I heard a sailor come below deck I screamed at the top of my lungs for help. Luckily he heard my pathetic cries for help and called his crew mates to help me from the box. Unluckily I had been loaded onto a pirate vessel. They arrested me and brought me before the captain she was incredibly intimidating, she held an air of command that silenced all brought before her. Except me I suppose because the moment I stepped foot in her quarters I demanded that I be returned to my goddess immediately. She laughed at me ( I am surprised she didn’t slap me for my rude behavior ) and said “First off, I am the captan of this vessel and I do not take orders from a lowly stowaway like yourself. Second this ship don’t fly, sorry kid your “goddess” will have to retrieve you herself” I tried to say something but she interrupted me “Kid you had better not complain, compared to how we usually treat stowaways your getting the royal package” I had the gall to ask what she meant and she nonchalantly replied “well we usually hang them and send their corpse overboard but I don’t think the gods would be very pleased if I killed off one of their creatures.” “Then what are you gonna do with me?” I asked stupidly “simple you are now a cabin boy I’ll see to it that one of my crew teaches you how to do the work” “A cabin boy?” I stuttered “it’ll be good for you, better then being fed to the fish” before I left she called “oh yeah and you can call me Captain Poinya!”

That’s all I have time to write for now Reia I I’ll write more later, but for right now I need to hit the hay.

Date xxxx time 23:00

- Captain Arc of the Heavens Scale

[shenanigans-in-rannice]

SECRET OF THE DISAPPEARING HAT (short story)

It is well-known that many people love Halloween. People in Rannice were no exception.

Winstons put up decorations in Green Carnation at the beginning of October, then held a few costume parties in the following weeks. The best party was the one Winstons prepared in cooperation with Christine and Erin Carter. It was held at Ivy Farm. This only made some people more assured that Erin and Christine were witches, but they didn`t care.

The party was a spectacle. There were different Halloween-themed snacks (Bailey made around half of them). Erin and Christine were dressed as pirates. Some adults and older children were running around to ensure everybody felt welcomed. People were chatting, eating, and admiring each others costumes. The farm tour was finished, but some guests were still hanging out with the animals in the barn, supervised by Toni Morgan, one of the farm workers. Bailey and Winona (Fox`s oldest daughter and a professional foster parent) supervised the children to give their parents a break. Sherlock was lying under the table, hoping somebody would drop a few fries or a piece of a cookie. That dog was crazy about food, and this was a holiday for him as well.

Presently, Bailey had Winona`s daughter Emma up on his shoulders while he was trying to juggle the ball. He was usually able to do it, but carrying a five-year-old made it more difficult.

They set up a stage for the band and invited people to show off their skills while the band had a break. Right now, there was a woman making animals out of balloons, and a bunch of kids gathered close to receive them.

Hinton, James (her husband), Fox, and Elizabeth (his wife) were chatting with Olivier. It was a surprise that he was there since he usually avoided public gatherings. He was never really a people person and preferred to hand out with his lizards, chameleon Sprinkles, and bearded dragon Cucumber. Later, Bailey found out he only dropped by to bring some juice. A few moments later, voices rose in the crowd of children under the stage. A few adults hurried close to see what caused the commotion.

Christine got there first. She recognized the little girl who was the cause of the noise as one of the children who regularly attended the childcare program at Ivy Farm. “What`s wrong, Yasmine?” she asked.

The girl sobbed and pointed at her head. “Somebody took my hat!”

“Your witch hat?” Christine asked.

Yasmine nodded. “I cant do magic without it.”

“Did anybody see Yasmine`s hat?” Erin, who joined them, called out.

All of the kids shook their heads.

“Somebody stole it,” Yasmine insisted. “They didn't want me to do my magic, so they stole it!”

Erin looked at Bailey and gestured at him to come closer. “He`s a detective,” she explained. “He can help you find out what happened to your hat.”

Yasmine looked up at him. “You don't look like a detective.”

“Well, I can`t be too obvious. How would I solve mysteries if everybody knew I was a detective?” Bailey pointed to his Halloween-themed sweater and kneeled. “This is my party outfit. Do you remember when you last saw your hat?”

Yasmine looked around. “I had it when I went to get some snacks, and I still had it when I watched the balloon lady.”

“Not true,” another girl dressed as a detective joined the conversation. She was a few years older than Yasmine and was holding a younger boys hand. “You put it down to try on Penny`s crown. Right there, on the bench. Its gone now, though.”

“And what`s your name, Detective?” Bailey asked.

“Finley, and this is my brot- I mean, partner, Janez.”

“Okay,” he said and got up. “So, Finley, you say you saw the hat on that bench over there? Do you remember at what time that was?”

“Four hours ago!” Janez exclaimed.

Finley rolled her eyes. “Shush, J, you cant tell the time yet. It was around twenty minutes ago.”

“Good. Have any of you seen anybody acting suspiciously?” Bailey questioned.

“Mickey tried to take my hat away before,” Yasmine said. “Maybe he stole it.”

Bailey surveyed the crowd of kids. “Which one is Mickey?”

“He`s a ninja,” Janez explained.

Bailey looked at four ninjas waving their plastic weapons around. “Um, which one?”

“With the blue belt,” Yasmine elaborated.

“Well talk with him and ask if he saw your hat, okay?”

The three kids nodded and made their way to the cluster of ninjas.

“Mickey?” Bailey called, and the boy turned around. “Yasmine here is looking for her hat. Have you seen it?”

“Nope,” he said, shaking his head.

“You tried to take it!” Yasmine exclaimed.

“But I didn`t!”

“Hey, what if you and your ninja friends help us look for the hat?” Bailey suggested. The hat was probably just misplaced, and if he got more people looking for it, they were bound to find it sooner.

Finley tugged on his sleeve. “They aren`t detectives like us,” she whispered.

“I know. But there`s more of them and they can do the boring stuff while we look for the clues,” Bailey whispered back.

The ninjas spread out to question people while the detectives went to look for clues. After some inspection, Finley spotted a piece of the feather that used to be attached to the hat. They walked around the spot where they found a feather, but there were no other clues.

“Maybe Sherlock can find it!” Janez suggested.

They tried, but Sherlock attempted to eat the feather, so they gave up. Yasmine was on the verge of tears. Bailey consoled her with a cookie before they continued the search. Thankfully, ninjas rushed back to them.

“Somebody told us the hat went that way!” Mickey pointed to the barn. “

The hat went there?” Bailey questioned. “By itself?” One of the ninjas shrugged.

“Maybe it was the wind.”

They made their way toward the barn. Bailey and detectives went to the right, ninjas to the left.

Janez spotted another feather, and they hurried to catch it before the wind blew it away. The hat was still not visible. They walked around until Yasmine excitedly waved her arms. “

My hat!” She charged forward to get it, but as soon as she touched it, something hissed from the inside, and she ran back to Bailey. He went to pick up the hat. As he looked inside, he spotted one of the cats living on the Ivy Farm.

“Hi, little buddy,” he whispered, gently picking up the hat. “Little Watson decided to sleep inside,” he told the young detectives.

Janez took off to inform ninjas about this development. Watson seemed content in Baileys arms, and they returned to the rest of the people.

“We found a thief,” Bailey told his friends. “He admitted his guilt and promised to better himself."

Christine and Erin laughed and took a few photos.

Bailey took the cat out of the hat before handing the now-empty hat to Yasmine. She ran to her parents to tell them all about it.

“You have done very well today,” Bailey addressed little detectives and ninjas, and they, satisfied with the praise, returned to playing.

[justmoreocs-writing]

Darkened alleyways were a staple of the city. No place for anyone to wander alone, least of all in the middle of the night. And yet, that was exactly what A.J. was doing. High above, shining brightly silver through clouds and the constant smog of the city, the moon acted as her compass point. As long as it stayed in sight, she knew there was a way back should she need it. Knew that she hadn’t strayed too far into the darkness of the city’s underbelly.

Movement out the corner of her eye set off every internal alarm A.J. had trained herself to listen to. Still, she wasn’t quick enough. An arm pinned her own to her sides, forced her back flush against the chest of her assailant. The cold sting of metal against her throat was an unnecessary yet habitual threat.

‘The Labyrinth ain’t a place for a nice young lady to be walking alone,’ a voice whispered.

‘Good thing I ain’t a nice young lady then, isn’t it?’ A.J. countered, shifting ever so slightly. A saccharine smile slipped easily onto her face when her attacker was in view, however limited.

No matter how many people were scared of William Yates, renowned criminal king of the back alleys, he would always be Billy to her. Her friend who told her stories of highwaymen and pirates when she couldn’t sleep. The boy who had helped her fight off her own nightmares, as if that might help stop his own from creeping up on him.

The knife was removed in an instant, the arm across holding her close lingered though. ‘Amy, I’m serious.’

A.J. quickly stepped away from Billy. In the dim light of the alley it was still easy to see how blond his hair was from a day in the sun; a day pretending he wasn’t the young man so many were afraid of. In the light of day, he was just another person living his life. Even this late, it was possible to make out the blue of his eyes as they skittered across her face, checking for signs of distress. His expression, usually a mask of cold indifference that was occasionally more threatening than any violence, was that of grave concern.

‘So am I,’ she assured him. ‘Or do you forget who trained me?’ She cocked her head to one side, noticed him flinch ever so slightly. Everyone knew Bruce. It was impossible not to, and the reminder of her tutor in all things self-preservation was not one he needed. ‘Anyway, who’d do anything if I threw your hat into the ring?’

Billy groaned, slipped his knife safely back into the sheath on his hip. Still, his eyes were watchful around the back alleys, taking in everything. ‘Pretty sure my name alone doesn’t stop a knife in the back.’

‘But they’d feel really bad about it.’

‘Amy,’ he complained, but she heaved a sigh; held her hands up in mock surrender.

‘All right,’ she conceded. ‘Next time I want to see my best friend, I’ll leave a message with your secretary. How’s Ramsey doing?’

A soft scoff, a little of the tension having ebbed away from the line of Billy’s shoulders, was enough to assure her she’d gauged the situation right.

‘You know, getting a secretary wouldn’t be so bad,’ Billy said, nodding briefly down the alleyway, allowing her to walk a little ahead of him. ‘They’d be able to get rid of people I didn’t want to see, right?’

‘You can do that all by yourself,’ she teased, glancing back at him knowingly. But, before he could even attempt to defend his criminal honour, she turned her attention to the lighter in her pocket. ‘You’re not too busy to go for a walk with your friend, are you?’

‘For you Amy, never,’ he assured her, moving to walk a little closer to her side, all the while giving her the space she needed. And she needed this now more than before. Needed to be with someone simple, someone who understood. Because despite everything Billy was that for her. Someone that she didn’t have to act around, and she hoped she was that kind of respite for him, too.

[dungeonsiieegee]

A Merchant

This is a small story about my own accidental pirate crew-

The Seal Crew!

The seal crew started off with just the Captain- Boot Albrecht.

He/They pronouns.

Boot was a simple person, their dream was to become one of the best merchants. They started off their journey alone only sailing with a bunch of Seals. Boot is a passive clumsy person, a chaotically organized individual. They have no Devil fruit or haki as of now but- they are a pretty good sharp shooter only when it comes to that!

I will slowly be adding the rest of the crew- each member has two roles!

Some cannon characters will be introduced I will let you all know when and when something is not mine ^^ also I mostly write in Wattpad!

Thanks for reading!

————————

“You know- smacking your face into the barrel isn't going to get me to feed you any sooner" Boot hummed out, stepping over wet, whining, blubbery masses- their arms holding onto a wooden crate filled with homemade soaps that they picked up from a previous island.

Boot tucked the crate securely under his arm, his free hand grasping the wooden ladder as he descended to the bottom part of his small ship. The boards creaked under his feet dipping and weaving through his merchandise, trying to find the perfect spot to store the excess soap.

Setting the crate down, their eyes flickered over the bars- his fingers twitched, carefully picking up one of the hygiene products- each one carefully wrapped up in a reusable washcloth. The corner of his mouth twitched, fondly remembering her.

——

Early that morning, Boot had just arrived to the island. It was small population, the most populated it had been was around the five hundreds.

They left the their ship at the docks setting out to explore.  A wagon dragging behind them to carry anything that caught his eye back to the ship.

Nothing stood out to Boot, he walked past each stand browsing contently, replenishing some of their food at a stand that sold a variety of dried goods.

Boot dug a few beris from his pocket, gently placing them into the keeps hand, saying a small thank you as he continued to look around.

It was the smell that caught their attention, followed by the array of colorful cloths wrapped around what Boot assumed to be soap- and they were correct.

An old woman sat alone at her stand, tired eyes looking away at nothing in particular, not wanting bare the sight of watching people pass her by with out a second thought.

She smoothed her apron, attempting to look unbothered. She gave up calling people to come check out her wares, her voice wasn't as strong as it used to be.

"Hi there" Boot spoke out, giving a small wave.

Her gaze slowly trailed over to their voice, a soft smiling entering her face seeing Boot standing at the edge of her stand, his skin littered with freckles, a scar smack dab in the middle of their face, red from its usual sun burnt complexion, hair messy the cowlick that lived on the back of his head sticking up far into the air.

"Hello dear.. how can I help you? Are you interested in buying anything? Everything you see- I've done myself"

"Iam" he gave her a smile back, picking up one of the bars inspecting it. They unwrapped the clothed from the bar, revealing a marbled white and yellow bar. Boot brought the bar closer to their face and gave it a sniff, "Pineapple and...."

"A secret my dear" she chuckled out, giving them a wink, "but I assure you- it's some of the best out there"

"Aha- I don't doubt it- I haven't come across any with this texture or smell...Tell me about yourself" Boot wrapped the bar in its cloth once again, not returning it to its place but, instead putting it aside, fingers roaming over other crates as he waited for her to start her tale.

Her name was Lottie.

Her family was one of the older generations on the island- all soap makers with her being the last one. The generation ended with her, she never married or had any children to pass it along to.

The business used to be more active- people would wait in line to get a bar or two but, now. She was lucky if one person stopped and gave her the time of day.

The cloths were never apart of the family business, she decided to add it. Lottie had made the time to make each and everyone of them not one was the same as another. Staying up late, missing out on anything 'fun' just to make sure her products were top quality.

Outside of soap- she didn't have a life again, Lottie didn't have children, or any family members left on the island but, she was content with this fact.

If she made one sell a day that was good enough for her, that meant her life and passions weren't as silly as people made her feel it to be. If she had a chance to restart her life, she would choose this again and again with the possible adjustments like being able to get her soap to off the island just so the world knew a little about her efforts.

Boot hummed as they listened, giving out small comments and compliments here to there.

"You'd want to get your products off the island... that's what you'd change?" Boot asked, his brows knitted together as he held a new bar to his face, trying to piece together what exactly they were smelling "Is this one cherries?- I wasn't aware that cherries grew out in this region"

"They don't usually..." she trailed off, her face contorted in thought, "I'll let you know this one secret but- you'll have to lean close"

With out hesitation Boot leaned forward as much as he could so Lottie didn't have to, his elbows resting between the crates while his brows raised in question.

"Lay it on me Lottie, I'm intrigued"

She simpered, the wrinkles by her eyes and mouth more prominent now that Boot had leaned in, "I grow them"

"You grow them?" They questioned a grin slowly etched  in their face, "Well Miss.Lottie I have to say- you're one hell of a gal that's impressive- I won't pry to know how but, I admire that fact" Boot paused, rolling back up to their full height.

Lottie sheepishly looked away her hand covered her mouth as she giggled softly, her face turning a slight shade of pink.

"How much for it all?"

Lottie stopped giggling in an instant and froze, "ah well-... surly, you don't mean that" she brushed off Boots question with a heavy sigh, " Now I appreciate your company but, please don't joke around with me in that matter love"

"Oh- I'm completely serious Miss.Lottie" , Lottie gave Boot a look from the corner of her eye only to be met with his hand holding out a small wad of Belis, "I'm kind of a merchant- I'd like to make your dream come true- and help sell your soap but, not with out keeping a few to myself."

Lottie stared at Boots hand. Her eyes suddenly starting to burn with tears, her old worn hand hesitantly reached up to grab the wad, she couldn't bring herself to do so.

Boot leaned forward softly gripping her wrist placing the money in her palm, placing his hand over hers, making eye contact, their smile never leaving,

"This should be enough for the whole stock...and if you wish to retire- live your golden years work free, it's your chance to" Boot pulled away starting to load their wagon by grabbing one of the crates, "I'll send you a portion of the money and pictures of places your soap has made it"

Lotties face was dripping with tears she couldn't bring herself to look at the young adult. She was worried that this was all a joke- surly it was a joke.

"Miss.Lottie" Her face tilted up to Boot who had placed a hand on her shoulder crouching down closer to her eye sight, "Your products are far beyond amazing. I'm glad I was able to come to this island to meet you"

The dam broke.

Lottie wrapped her arms around Boots neck pulling him into the hardest hug she could muster in her age, spouting many thank yous to which Boot replied with a sheepish laugh, reassuring her that it was not an act of  pity but, genuine interest.

——-

Due to Boots actions, Lottie refused to let Boot leave with out taking a few extra items. Some being fresh fruits and vegetables from her large hidden green house which Boot was able to peak into. She had even given them a freshly sprouted chili plant.

Lottie broke her own walls, passing down two of her recipes to Boot so they could make some soap of his own if he ever wished to. They tired their best to get Lottie to stop gifting him things though it was a failed attempted.

Boot stayed to chat a while longer after he had loaded their wagon up with the creates and goodies, happy that he packed a rope to help tie down anything that threatened to fall out.

The stars had come out by the time he left, Lottie stayed in her doorway, waving goodbye until his figure disappeared from her sight.

——-

The sound of loud barking broke Boot from his trance down memory lane.

They rolled their eyes upon the view on top of the deck, "So y'all managed to knock over the barrel- bunch of brats" they chuckled out, couching down to pet the top of one of the many seals heads, the blubbery creature, answered with a snort blowing wet strings of fish oil on to his pants.

Boot cringed deeply, "oh yummy- I definitely wasn't planning on wearing these for the next two days" Boot joked sarcastically, shaking his head standing to his full height once again.

"I gotta check the log post- the next island should be... Echeveria... said to be a giant succulent- pretty cool huh guys?" Boot voiced to himself mostly but, also out to the seals to which of course, none of the seals responded with an actual answer, "a weeks trip..."

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Cords and Zip Ties part 1

I made this, I'm not sure exactly if it makes sense as a story, but here, have it anyways. Should I do a part 2?

Word count: 1,116

rating: SFW

Warnings: BDSM is implied, and mentions doms, and sex dungeons.

Summary: Shit cord management leads you and King to bond over shared fetishes while filling Kaidou and the other lead performers with dread.

It's been six months since a portal opened on the floor of your bedroom, making you and the contents of your room fall into the best pirate's lair. You quickly figured out you had been isekai'ed into the One Piece world, Kaidou thankfully offered you a choice. Join his crew or die.

A lot of things from your home ended up in this world as well, one thing you were grateful for is your computer set up had made it too, and it still had wifi. You knew you'd need to hide it, or Queen would want to dissect it.  So you were rather paranoid about keeping it hidden while still using it. But things never go as you plan, you forgot it was supposed to be a secret, and accidentally volunteered to do the spreadsheets for King's annual financial report in front of King, Jack, Kaidou, and Queen. 

"Are you sure, that's a big task that usually takes all four of us to do every year?" King cautioned.

"Yeah, it'll be no problem for me, as long the data on the monthly reports is correct it'll be a breeze with my spreadsheet software."

"spreadsheet software?" Queen echoed, "wait, that means there's hardware behind."

When the realization of what you had just done hit you, you froze.

"Didn't you say your culture was more 'technologically advanced' than ours?" Kaidou mumbled.

King crossed his arms and glared down at you as he growled, "You've been hiding something from us, haven't you?"

You pressed your index fingers together and looked at the floor as you admitted that you have been hiding your computer out of fear that they'll take it.

Queen looked at you with wide eyes, and said, "No way, I don't know enough about your culture's circuitry. Taking it apart immediately would be a waste especially if it can be used to make our lives easier. I wouldn't even know if it would be compatible with our snail tech."

"It doesn't use snail tech of any form, everything about it is inorganic and manmade."  You admitted.

The four men looked intrigued, and Queen asked, "can I see?"

You looked over at King, who usually had your best interest in mind since you were friends. He merely shrugged apathetically and nodded his head, silently promising you that he'd beat up Queen if he did anything that even so much as upset you. Kaidou prodded you with a meaty finger and grumbled that he wanted to see it too. You gave a questioning look to Jack, who nodded his head solemnly. You sighed, "fine, but I'm warning you, you're going to hate my cord management system."

"It can't be that bad," He retorted, "I'm not picky about that sort of thing anyway."

"Hold your judgment until you see it," you assured him, "it's awful, I have to unplug everything to untangle it once a month."



You led them into your room and flipped on the light, illuminating the tangled mess of chords and rainbow lights. You and King watched Queen's upper lip curl back in disgust. "no, no, the fuck is wrong with you? I'm unplugging everything and helping you get a cord storage system." He shrieked, biting down hard on his cigar as he marched into your room and got on his knees in front of your desktop. Kaidou huffed, " I wasn't expecting it to have so many colors."

You stood nearby making sure he doesn't misplace or break anything, absent-mindedly biting at hangnails that were bothering you. you looked over at King to see him leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, silently judging both of you.

Queen tugged on your shirt and held up your wireless devices making you explain what they were, did, and how they worked.

"NoNoNo NO, let me get this right," Queen's voice progressively grew more shrill with his irritation, "at least half of your equipment is wirelessly connected to your computer."

When you confirmed his statement he screeched, "Then how is it this bad! Why are there so many cords!" When you just shrugged apologetically, he sighed, "go find me something to hold these together in place." And went back to neatly placing each appliance aside with its cord wrapped around it.



You cleared your throat, rather embarrassed it was worst than you remembered it being. You looked up at Kaidou, who was sitting with Jack on the other side of the computer from Queen, and both of them were watching him work between taking swigs off Kaidou's gourd.  "Sir, you wouldn't happen to know where the zip ties are kept, would you?"

"You think I know where shit is in this place? I just live here, if I want something I order people, who know where stuff is, to go get it for me."

You looked to King and pleaded, "please tell me you have some zip ties."

King stared at you rather thoughtfully for a few short moments before sighing, "Yes, come with me, they're in my room." King pushed himself off the door frame as you approached, showing his back to you.

Knowing full well what he used those zip ties for, you hummed, "my old dom had a whole other room for that stuff... Well, it was actually his whole basement.

King took a step and stopped. He looked over his shoulder down at you, his pink eyes were wide in surprise. King echoed, "A whole other room?"

Kaido slapped his hand on his forehead and groaned, "oh please, for the love of the gods, don't give him any ideas."

Queen huffed, "Yeah, he already wears a gimp mask in public, that's bad enough."

Ignoring both of them, King sidles on up to your side, wrapping both his wing and his arm around your back. He urged you halfway down the hall before muttering, "So tell about this room, yeah?"

You giggle, "oh you're gonna love this," and you go into detail about the dungeon.

Meanwhile, in your room, Kaidou, Jack, and Queen could hear you until you got down to the end of the hall. Kaidous's expression soured as he growled, "god damn it, King's going to monopolize the craftsmen for the next two months to build himself a sex dungeon, isn't he?"

Jack quietly nodded his head, not wanting to think about the ideas you're putting in King's head. Queen tossed down a charging cord, and said, "but who would have guessed (y/n) would be into the same stuff as that pervert?"

Kaidou snorted loudly and huffed, "that was a surprise, they're so.... normal, I guess that's what they mean when they say, don't judge a book by its cover."

Should I do a part two?

Support me on Kofi and Patreon

[rrasado]

• Paternal Wishes •

This is for the fatherless girlies out there 😔-/HEAVYLHJ My dearest genshin anon I wish you knew how many fatherless jokes I made behind the screen as a I typed this piece, as a Diluc kinnie I have bullying rights ok-

⚠️ Mentions of Death ⚠️

Taglist: @luvielle @citirusu

Diluc is a callous man, that was probably a wayward adjective most can silently agree on when it comes to describing the Ragnvindr Master. But when he found a special someone to settle with a decade ago everyone collectively agreed that something changed within him. It wasn’t an obvious effect of domestic life nor was it a fatigue specially gotten when tending to your family rather, a relieved glint within his gaze whenever his attention was unoccupied by his usual work.

Then came the day that another close beloved left him behind, the grief reopened past wounds that no one dared remind besides his ever elusive “brother”. The fire his vision ignited became dangerously desperate, it wasn’t the mighty flame that stretched its blazing wings across the air but an avian who departed from its flock too early, desperately flying away to try and find its kindred within the cruel night’s wind.

The line of nostalgia came to a halt when he snapped his gaze away from the candle light, sighing as he averted his scarlet gaze back to where you sat, a bright youngster who couldn’t keep their nose out of a book and Diluc didn’t mind this one bit. The Ragnvindr blood had always been a dominant gene, and you proudly showed off the bright red locks you inherited from your dear father, but your smile and the way your eyes glinted with excitement was unmistakably gotten from your passed parent. Something Diluc had always said he moved on from, but white lies can’t go against burning red, right?

And if he endured that grief to this day then what more would you have to bear should he also fall into the clutches of an untimely death. Such a pessimistic line of thinking made him question how late it was but realistically speaking who do you have left besides him? Sure you were well loved by the people of Mondstat and you have your fair share of friends your age, and he knew deep within his heart that your Auntie Jean wouldn’t neglect you with his wishes but then again she was in the same risk of deathly peril as he was. Barbara? A respectable role model for his child one he wouldn’t mind you looking up to as both an Idol and a familial figure.

“Papa? Do you wanna read?”

Diluc snapped out of his trance, your youthful voice brought him back to reality after staring off into space for a minute too long. You seemed to have taken it as him eyeing your fairy tail book and after working for so long today maybe he wanted to consume something more fictitious rather than the mundane paperwork? That’s what you thought at least.

The older redhead only replied with a dry chuckle, standing up ever so slowly before approaching your much smaller figure and hoisting you and your book up in order for him to slip into your seat— garnering your figure to make rest on his lap. His words of assurance towards your question managed to tug a smile on your expression.

The book you held was a special gift from Lisa for your last birthday, a beige leather book that had a compilation of children’s fairy tales. The current story you were reading was that of a Fairy kingdom where the royal heir goes on adventures with the aid of a holy songstress, an other worldly pirate, a northern toy maker and a benevolent kitsune. Meeting all these people reminded Diluc that perhaps you had a brighter future compared to what his intrusive thoughts entailed. You were currently at the part where the royal heir had finally returned to their kingdom not knowing that their father the King had grown ill.

Diluc grimaced at the scene especially when your innocent mind pointed out how much it sucked that the Heir wasn’t able to spend much time left with their papa. In an attempt to stop you from going down a dimmer line of thinking like he did, he took the reins and began reading for you. You’ve always been unconventionally bright, perhaps you just got it from both parents, something he’s simultaneously cursing and thankful for. And so on he read with the gentlest tone he could muster lest he fail his attempt.

“Even when the fairy king became one with the flowers… He’d always watch over his child, from young royal to a proud monarch. Plucking a flower from the ground is rather… iffy but, know that the absence gives new space for something only the royal child can make. One day you’ll make something of your own and when you do, many people will be there to cheer you on” “Really?” “Of course sweetheart.”

Soon enough you finally retired to your quarters, book clutched within your arms as Diluc pulled your thermal blanket over your figure. He softly shut the mahogany door before turning on his heel to trudge back to his office, passing by the foyer’s open window where he had a perfectly good view of the star littered sky above. Deep down he wished it was him instead of his beloved, he shook those thoughts away allowing his gaze to linger a little longer whilst his thoughts slowly drowned back into the plane of what ifs.

His comrades, his family, his allies, he truly hoped that one day you’ll have your own chosen kindred just like him, ones who wouldn’t allow your hopes and dreams to fall and shatter on the ground into unfixable pieces. That was wishful thinking— even with his current efforts, the world as is was crueler. He ought to send a more realistic wish, one where he hoped that one day you would have people to help you pick up your pieces. A young flame as bright as yourself can pull it off… This was a fact he can count on even beyond the grave. 

“Dawn always comes… and until then, sleep well, dear.”

[peachy-rambles]

Pirate Techno and ocean god philza, where philza gets hopelessly endeared to this terrifying pirate because he doesn’t hunt magic creatures or disrespect the ocean like most pirates. While Techno is not understanding why the ocean is always smooth for him or why most dangerous sea creatures leave him alone

Anon, did you read my mind because only a few hours before you sent this, I was gearing up and forming thoughts about a pirate AU!

Techno is one of the most feared pirates roaming the seas. He's fucking massive, towering over everyone and is frankly very terrifying. He's scruffy (as pirates are), with a beard and a long mane of pink hair. He also wears an eyepatch due to one of his eyes not working/missing and has a massive scar on that side of his face going over his hidden eye. No ones ever seen him with his eyepatch off so they don't know if he's missing an eye or it just doesn't work, and they don't know how he received the scar (there's lots of rumors and stories, but Techno never comments or gives hints). He seems mostly human (besides his height, which no human could ever achieve that height), but he has tusks potruding from his mouth that hint at his non-human heritage.

(He's a bear, ok? He is not a twink in the slightest, he's a massive fucking bear pirate)

Techno is an incredibly impressive fighter, capable of dual weilding swords (as well as being able to dual weild a sword and a pistol, although he favors swords more), and is merciless, earning him the nickname "the Blade". It's said that you never want to meet the Blade in battle, not if you don't want to die a bloody death.

Many assume that because of his great reputation, Techno is the captain of the ship that he sails on, but he isn't. The Captain of the ship is in fact a pirate named Puffy and Techno is her First Mate.

They work well together, Techno having joined Puffy's crew years ago under mysterious circumstances. He has great knowledge of the sea, knows the best places to sail and what places to avoid, not to mention owns countless stories and old books/maps from explorers past (including info on buried treasure they once hid away). Again, no one knows how or why Techno joined and why he's so knowledgeable, he's just a giant mystery. Literally.

With all the mystery surrounding Techno and his terrifying appearance/reputation, people would be shocked to learn that Techno actually has quite the gentle soul. He is quiet and shy, usually standing in the back of the crowd and observing. He respects the ocean and all of it's creatures, including the magical ones. He'll go out of his way to help baby sea turtles make their way to the ocean after just hatching on a beach, or will ignore the familiar flash of a mermaid's tail in the water (despite knowing a live mermaid could sell at a very hefty price).

He doesn't let others see this side of himself, not even Puffy or their crew, and keeps up the facade of the mysterious terrifying Blade.

One night, Puffy and their crew come across another pirate ship and a battle breaks out. It's just their luck that a massive storm hits at the same time, and it quickly turns into a fight for survival.

Somewhere in the chaos of it all, Techno is knocked off the ship and falls into the dark ocean depths.

It isn't until after Puffy and her crew manage to make a hasty retreat from the other ship, attempting to find smoother waters, that they realize Techno is missing. They search long and hard, but they're never able to find him and assume he's dead.

But he's not.

Techno is, somehow, alive and wakes up on the beach of what he assumes is a deserted island. He immediately sets the work, making himself a little shelter by a group of trees and exploring the island for food and fresh water.

He is unsuccessful and he goes to bed hungry very paranoid The entire night he stays awake, unable to fall asleep because he can't help but feel like he's being watched the entire time.

The next day, he goes out searching for food and water again, but fails. He has no such luck the third day and he is getting desperate because he knows he needs to find fresh water soon.

The fourth day when he wakes up, he is startled to see a pile of fresh fruit and a glass bottle with what he assumes is water sitting innocently next to him in his shelter.

Techno comes to the natural conclusion that he is not alone on this island and someone has been watching him, and for some reason left him food. Techno considers the fact that maybe it's poisoned, but he hasn't eaten or drunk in days and he knows he needs it. He eats the food and drinks the water, and it's the best thing he's ever tasted (SO much better than the food they ate on the ship).

He doesn't die, or feel sick afterwards, so that's a plus.

With newfound energy, he goes explorint that day and is finally able to find a small river with fresh water on the island, along with some native fruits.

Several days pass, and Techno continues building on his shelter and makes some attempts at fishing, but he isn't exactly the best.

When he wakes up to a huge pile of fish the very next day, he's somehow not too surprised.

This continues for a while, Techno searching the island and exploring more and more each day. One time, after Techno attempted (and failed) to hunt down a wild hog, he walked back to his shelter only to find the very same hog in front of it, dead.

Techno examines the animal, and realizes very quickly that a human didn't take it down. No, a creature or a monster must have, judging from the bitemarks on the back of the hog's neck.

Techno is now very concerned as to who or what exactly was also on this island with him.

He knows building a raft would not be a good idea, that he's most likely drown or starve at sea if he made his out there on a little raft. It was better to stay on the island, where there was food and water, and hope someone found him. In the meantime, he started to create weapons - simple things like small knives and spears.

Whatever was on this island, if it decided to hunt Techno down, he wasn't going to go down without a fight.

After completing the spear he made and lamenting on how he missed his swords one night, old rusted sword appears in his shelter the very next day. Perhaps once it had been beautiful, but now it was dull and fairly useless to him.

Techno is just completely confused at this point and maybe loses his mind a little bit.

He begins talking to himself out loud, speaking about how he misses human contact and would like to just have someone to talk to about all of this.

He does not at all expect a voice to answer him back.

"You can talk to me, if you want."

Techno quickly grabs his spear and keeps it held tightly in his hands, "Whose there?"

He glances around, trying to find the source of the voice but all he sees is the beach and the trees from the forest.

"Where are you? Come out!" he demands.

".....I would prefer not to."

'Prefer not to?' Techno mouths to himself before letting out a growl, "Why not?"

There was only silence, until eventually the voice said in a much quieter tone, "...I'm shy."

Techno is dumbfounded and can only let out a, "Heh?"

He tries getting more answers from the voice, but it doesn't respond, whoever it was seemingly gone.

Techno doesn't sleep that night, wondering if any of that had been real or simply all in his head.

The next day, he doesn't leave his shelter and instead merely sits there, waiting.

Until, eventually towards the end of the day...

"....You didn't go out today."

Techno glances around, but again he sees nothing but beach and trees. Not a single person in sight.

"Nope, I didn't," he says with a sigh.

"Why not?" the voice asks.

"I was waiting for you," Techno responds back simply.

".........Oh."

Techno waits a few moments for the voice to speak more, but when it doesn't, Techno decides to ask a question.

"Are you the one who gave me the food and water?"

"Yes."

"And hunted the boar?"

"Yep! A big strong man like you needs lots of meat to survive, right?"

Techno pauses, unsure how to process that statment before clearing his throat and asking, "You gave me the sword as well?"

"I did! Did you like it? I tried to find the best one in my collection!"

"It was rusted and dull, but I appreciate it, I guess," Techno admits.

"My collection" so whoever this was had a collection....whatevet that meant.

"Oh. I could-I could...give you another sword if you like! I know how much you like your swords!"

"....What do you mean by that?" Techno asks and let's out a sigh when there's no reply.

When he wakes up the next morning, he indeeds find a sword. It's not the best, but it isn't dull and seems to be well taken care of, so there's that at least.

"Thank you," he says outloud and is surpised when he hears a quiet, "You're welcome," in response.

Days continue on (Techno figures he's been on this island for about a few months). Most days, Techno finds himself talking to the voice. It never stays for very long, but it's....friendly, at least.

"Are you real?" Techno asks one day, lying down next to his shelter and looking up into the clear light blue sky.

"What do you mean? Of course I'm real," the voice replies, letting out a quiet chuckle (it's light and sweet, the sound falling sootbingly onto Techno's ears)

"Well, I can't see you, for one," Techno says, "For all I know, you could just be a figment of my imagination."

"I'm real," the voice says, their voice clear and strangely assuring.

"Then, could I see you?" Techno asks.

".....I don't know."

The voice is silent the rest of that day. As well as the day afterwards, and the day after that. A whole week passes by before Techno hears the voice again.

"I don't want to scare you," it admits.

"Why, do you look scary?" Techno asks. He's working on another spear (his last one broke the night before) and casually listens as the voice speaks.

"To most, yes."

"You gonna elaborate on that or just keep being mysterious?"

Silence.

Techno sighs, "Mysterious it is then."

The voice continues to talk to Techno once a day, but it doesn't go back to the subject of it's appearance or showing itself to Techno. Techno doesn't push either. Instead, they just casually converse, the voice asking what Techno is doing that day and Techno replying.

Sometimes, Techno will talk about his and Puffy's crew, some adventures they went on and the treasure they found or silly mishaps that happened to them.

Sometimes, the voice brings Techno their own treasures from their "collection" - pieces of gold, old enchanted books, jewelry and sometimes just random things from the ocean like a pretty shell or rock.

Techno appreciates it all and grows a whole little pile or treasure in his shelter.

And sometimes, when they're talking, Techno will catch a glimpse of....something hiding behind a nearby tree or rock in the forest - a flash of gold here or the very tip of a swishing tail there.

Whatever it was, it wasn't human.

Techno tried not to worry too much about that and never mentioned anything to the voice, worried he might scare them off again by mentioning their appearance.

One night, when Techno is just beginning to drip off to sleep, the voice appears for the second time in the same day.

"I like you, Techno," the voice says, "A lot. Do you-do you like me?"

Techno thinks the question over before nodding, "I think so, yeah. I mean, I don't know you that well and you're kinda just a voice, and I don't know if you're real or not, but yeah you seem nice."

The voice laughs, seemingly endeared by Techno's words. "That's good, I'm glad. Good night, Techno."

"Good night."

The next morning, Techno wakes up and finds the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen laying there next to him, watching him warily with bright blue eyes.

They have long blond hair with a crown seemingly made out of coral atop their head. Massive golden wings potrude from their back, completely smooth and sparkling in the early morning light, looking as if seemingly made of silk.

Then there was the tail.

The creature has no legs and instead has a long thick fish tail of some kind, beginning at the bottom of their torso and unable to fit completely in Techno's shelter, extending out into the beach outside.

"....Hi, Techno," the creature says, in the voice that Techno had become so familiar with in the last few months.

"Hey," Techno says and reaches out, placing his hand on the side of the creature's face, cupping their face gently in the palm of his hand, "You're a whole lot prettier than I imagined."

The creature flushes a pretty pink color, almost matching the coral it wears atop of their head.

Techno suddenly realizes how close their faces are to each other and the creature seems to realize it too before they move closer, placing their lips on Techno's in a kiss.

Techno kisses back, pulling the creature closer to them and enjoying the little pleased chirps they make as he kisses them.

They eventually seperate, Techno lying back down and the creature placing their head on Techno's chest, seemingly content to lay there in Techno's arms.

"I'm Philza, by the way," the creature says.

"Philza. That's a nice name-" Techno starts to say before his eyes widen and he remembers where he's heard that name before and who exactly it belonged to.

Philza.

Philza, the ancient ocean deity that supposedly ruled the seas and was the protector of all the creatures who lived in it, who called it home. Philza, who was said to be a terrifying monster and could strike fear into the bravest men, who devoured the hearts of men and could sink even the sturdiest of boats in the blink of an eye.

Philza, whose name had been forgotten and lost for centuries, was nothing more than an old legend - a myth.

Except, apparently not because Philza was currently curled up on Techno's chest, pleased chirps escaping him as he reached out to place his hand in Techno's, intertwining their fingers.

Philza, an ancient and all-powerful deity...and Techno had just fucking made out with him.

[viking-raider]

Hoist the Colours - Part I

Summary: Your father is given a governorship of a Caribbean island and you accompany him on the voyage, a new start, for the both of you. But, it doesn’t go as either of you planned, or well.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 8,841

Warning: Pirate!Henry, Fluff, Angst, Mention of death, Violence, Language, Kidnapping, Ransom

Inspiration: It’s Henry and Pirates! I got the idea after watching Pirates of the Caribbean one day!

Author’s Note: I wanted to post something new to treat the fandom. As always, thank you to the lovely @wondersofdreaming​ for helping me along with my stories.

The room creaked and groaned, swaying back and forth at a quick and nauseating pace, the booms and cracks coming from outside the door were muffled by the thick wood. He pushed you into the corner, panting, sweating and bleeding heavily.

“Henry.” You whimpered, trembling with fright and adrenaline.

“Sshh, it's all right.” He wheezed, breathing labored and sat down on the bed that was in the corner. “Here, look at me, my love.” He said, forcing a smile as he cupped your cheek in his shaking hand, leaving a bloody print with it. “We'll be all right, my sweet. The men are strong and capable, they'll rid the ship of these mongrels.”

“It doesn't seem like it.” You fretted, biting your lip and glancing at the barred door as something very heavy struck it.

Henry chuckled and kissed the corner of your mouth, you could taste the blood from the split on his bottom lip. “We've encountered worse on these seas, I assure you.” He groaned softly. “But, I must tell you, of all the treasures and gold I have plundered in my lifetime as a Pirate, you are the greatest of them all.”

3rd August 1686

It was a sunny morning in London, the sea air sweeping over the city, keeping it cool as Londoners and it's other residents went about their daily business. You stood on the balcony of your parents' home, taking deep breaths of the sea air and could hear your maid bustling about your room, packing your things for the voyage you and your father would be taking the next day. Your father, Thomas, had been appointed Governor of the newly colonized Lockemirth Island in the Caribbean, and you were to accompany him, with no other prospects for staying in London, and after the death of your mother the year before, he felt the both of you needed a fresh start in the world, and the governorship was that opportunity.

“Miss?” Your maid called, appearing in the balcony doorway.

You turned towards her, lifting a brow. “Yes, Jane?”

“Everything you've asked me to pack has been so.” She informed you, bundling the sides of her skirts and bowing softly to you.

“Thank you, Jane.” You smiled softly at her, saddened that you would be leaving the place that had been home all your life, away from your friends and all the seasonal events that kept London busy.

You doubted there would be such high society events like London's, on a teeny island in the Caribbean, expecting and loathing the boredom and loneliness that would no doubt fill your days there. Sighing and softly closing your eyes for a moment, you stepped back into the house as sweaty movers appeared in your room to collect the crates of the things you would be taking with you on the voyage, and taking them downstairs to the foyer, to later be moved to the storage haul of the HMS Kilmartin.

“Ma'am.” One of the movers tipped the brim of his sweat stained and worn flat hat, as he and the other mover muscled the heavy wooden crate out the double doors of your room.

“Sir.” You nodded your head politely to him, then they were gone, grunting and groaning down the spiral staircase. “I shall miss this place, Jane.” You sighed, sitting down on the edge of your bed and stared out the window. “I heard the island region is prone to hurricanes, that kick up tremendous winds and rain, capable of flattening everything in its wake.”

“Gracious.” Jane gasped, sweeping the dry packing straw that had fallen to the floor, while things were being packed into the crates. “Sounds frightening.”

“It does.” You agreed with her, a knot of fear in your stomach at the thought of being caught in such a storm.

What would you and your father do, if such a storm hit the island whilst you were there? Even worse, what if one happened, while you were still sailing to the island? It would undoubtedly cause the ship to sink, taking you, your father and everyone aboard down with it!

“And the pirates, Miss.” Jane added, after a moment of silence.

“No pirate is stupid enough to attack a ship of His Royal Highness, King James II.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at her. “It would be a grave mistake on their part, the King doesn't suffer pirates, nor does my father for that matter. It's part of the reason he was appointed Governor of the island, to prevent pirates from getting their greedy and filthy hands on it.”

“Like they did with Nassau.”

“Of course.” Jane nodded, shyly.

You sighed again, but deep down you were concerned about the pirates, your father had mentioned only the night before that one of the royal ships had been attacked and boarded by pirates on their way to Port Royal. They had taken most of the cargo and killed several of the crew members, before finally returning to their own ship and vanishing on the horizon. You tried to soothe your own fears by repeating the same you told Jane inside your mind, that no pirate would attack a royal ship. But, it barely eased that fear and anxiety.

If anything, it made it worse.

The next day, Jane woke you earlier than usual and helped you dress, before you went downstairs for one more breakfast in the house. Your father was already sitting at the table, a steaming cup in front of him and the daily newspaper in his hand. He set it down as you entered the room, standing to greet you with a smile and gently kiss your cheek, before you took your seat at the table and Jane laid out your breakfast before you.

“Thank you.” You smiled at her, picking up a fork.

“Are you ready for our voyage, my dear?” Your father asked, sipping his tea and regarding you over its rim.

“As I can be, father.” You replied, picking up your own cup of tea. “How long will it take?”

“With good weather and wind, hopefully no longer than seven weeks.” He informed you, setting his cup down on its little saucer. “With terrible weather, it could be as long as three months.”

“Let's hope it is the former, instead of the latter, then, shall we?” You smiled over at him, nervously.

“Don't worry about the journey, my sweet petal.” He said, smiling at you in a way parents did, when they were trying to be reassuring, while also hiding their own fears and worry.

“All will be well.”

You didn't argue with him.

Besides, your father had far more sailing experience than you did. He had once been a member of His Royal Majesty's, King Charles I's Royal Navy, reaching the rank of Captain, before meeting your mother, retiring and trying his hand in politics, quite successfully, at that. You on the other hand, had never been on a boat, unless you counted the little rowboat James Turner took you in to cross a small river to a picnic spot he had set up for you, during last year's social season, with Jane as chaperon. You had wondered then, as he half struggled to row the vessel, why you were doing so, when there was a small, and perfectly useful, foot bridge not ten meters away from the small dock he had pushed off from.

But, just like now, you didn't argue or question it, he wanted to be romantic, and your father was trying to be protective and reassuring.

Your father took his pocket watch out, the highly polished gold cover popping open, its soft ticks reached you as he frowned down at it, then snapped it shut again and tucked it back into his pocket. Heaving a sigh, he downed the rest of his cooled tea, neatly folded his half read newspaper and rested back against his chair, quietly regarding you across the table, while you finished your breakfast.

“Edward, have the carriage readied, we must leave in no more than twenty minutes.” He called out to his servant, before rising to his feet.

He bowed politely to you and left the room, you knew where he was going, to your mother's rooms. Your father had shut up her rooms the day of her funeral, not wanting a single item inside to be disturbed out of the places she had put them in. She had been sick for some time, but in the last month of her life, she had gotten far worse. Your father employed every respectable doctor London had, even the physician the King himself used. But, all of them had a different diagnosis and treatment for what supposedly ailed her, and none of them worked, most of them only made her worse. So, she wasted away until there was nothing left of her, but skin and bones, and she passed away. Your father was understandably distraught and brokenhearted by her death, only mechanically doing his obligations, always standing, motionless, in her dark and tomb-like rooms, as if he stood there long enough, time would rewind and bring her back to him.

There was no doubt in your mind, that's where he was going, to say one last good-bye to her, before you both set sail for Lockemirth, for what would likely be several years, if not forever. You had already sneaked into her room, during the night, taking a ruby necklace that she loved to wear, as a token to remember her by and to feel as if, in a way, she was accompanying you both on the journey.

“Are you ready, my dear?” His voice asked as he descended the staircase to join you in the foyer, lifting a graying brow at you.

“As I can be, Father.” You replied, stomach clenching inside your corset.

He smiled at you, fingertips gently brushing your cheek, while Edward opened the front doors. “Into a brave new world, my loving daughter.” He said, looping his arm with yours and escorted you out into the rising morning sun, the family carriage already waiting for you both, door open and horses patiently standing at attention.

Your father helped you inside the carriage, then followed after you, rapping his knuckles on the door to signal the driver to move forward. Both of you watched as the beloved house slowly disappeared from view, soon falling away to the wharves of London harbor. The sea air was even stronger on the wharves, mixed with the strong scents of seaweed, fish, the unwashed bodies of sailors long at sea and hot tar. The HMS Kilmartin was easy enough to spot on the wharves, its masts standing tall amongst the others, rocking in the gentle swell of the waves coming off the ocean, it glittered in the rays of the new day, showing off its blue, white and gold paint job, it was immaculate. It gave you a great measure of relief to see it, it seemed infinitely more steady and reliable than the other ships in the harbor.

“Shall we find out if you have sea legs like your dear father?” He teased you, as you approached the gangplank leading up onto the deck.

You tried to give him an amused smile, before following him up the swaying plank, but you weren't truly amused at the prospect of finding out if you were prone to seasickness or not. You dearly hoped you wouldn't be though, all you needed was this voyage to be even longer and more miserable then it already would be without you losing your stomach with every movement of the ship.

Stepping onto the deck, you clutched your father's arm tighter and planted your feet against the unaccustomed sway. Your father chuckled and helped you steady yourself, standing there for several long minutes to allow you to acclimate, then started forward again, slowly, baby step by baby step. A pair of doors swung open and a man appeared out of them, dressed completely in Royal Navy attire, giving away his station as the Captain of the ship.

“Sir Thomas.” The Captain smiled at your father, striding over to you both with the confidence of a man walking on land, instead of on the swaying deck of a ship. “This must be your lovely daughter.” He smiled at you next, sweeping off his hat and bowing to you.

“Indeed, sir.” Your father smiled, looking at you with all and more pride. “My dear, this is Captain Davis.”

“My lady.” Captain Davis greeted you, taking your offered hand and kissing it. “It is a pleasure to have you aboard my ship.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Captain Davis.” You replied, feeling a warmth creep into your cheeks.

Captain Davis's smile broadened at your words, before letting your hand go and looking back to your father. “We have your cabins ready for you, sir. The things you've asked to be taken into them are already there, awaiting you both.” He explained to your father.

“So, shall I show you to your cabins?”

“Please, lead the way, Captain.” Your father nodded and gripped your hand tighter, following Davis into a dim passageway and down a small set of stairs, to the second level of the ship.

“Sir Thomas, your cabin is here.” Captain Davis said, leading the way down a narrow hallway and motioned to a door on the left. “My lady, your cabin is just through there.” He pointed to a door across from your father's. “I do hope the both of you find comfort in them. If you are in need of anything, please inform myself or my Chief Mate, Mr. Gray.” He instructed the both of you.

You and your father thanked him and entered your respective cabins. Your cabin was narrow in length and just wide enough that your fingertips, with your arms stretched out from your sides, barely touched the walls, it reminded you of your closet at home. Sighing, you approached the bed to one side, it was built into the side of the ship, for obvious reasons, with a feather mattress laid into that, and a lip, to keep the bed's occupant from being either rolled out or tossed out with the ship's movement, no matter its speed and the type of waves it was sailing through. There was a porthole across from the bed, where you could only see the side of a ship that was docked beside the Kilmartin.

At the other side of your room was a heavy and deep chest, a chest full of your things, clothing to change into, toiletries and some other home comforts to keep you company, like a book or two. Sighing, you sat down on the bed and stared out the porthole, to what teeny strip of blue and cloudy sky you could see at the top of it.

“I already miss home.” You frowned, chewing on your lip.

It was three weeks into the voyage to Lockemirth Island from London, and you had, more or less, gotten your sea legs; as your father put it. You had only spent the first day and a half hanging over the railing of the main deck, spilling any substance you put in your body, that wasn't already there to start with. All things considered though, you found yourself rather enjoying the life on board the ship, watching the crew go about their duties, pulling and tying ropes as thick as your arms, climbing the rigging like monkeys in trees; you marveled at their ease of doing it without falling or getting tangled up. You would join your father every evening or morning for a row around the main deck, keeping each other company and sane on the long journey.

But, on the second day of the fourth week, as you woke and dressed that morning, something felt different, off to the normal air and movement of the ship. Frowning, you made your way to the top side and heard all the noise and ruckus that was going on. You had grown used to all the noise that came with the ship, but there was more of it, frantically yelled orders and every crew member was in a manic rush to and fro, carrying this and dragging that, not even looking or uttering their usual greetings to you.

It frightened the wits out of you.

You quickly found your father in Captain Davis's quarters, both frantic as the crew, but also angry. Angry at each other, something else or both, you couldn't tell, but you knew the look of fear on your father's face, you had seen it only in times of great peril and strife.

“Papa, what's the matter?” You asked, moving forward to rest your hand on his arm, trying to give him some type of reassurance.

He started, feeling your warm touch on his arm, his billowing sleeves rolled up to his elbows. “My petal.” He gasped, blinking as if it was the first time he had ever set eyes on you. “You should go back down to your cabin, Petal. It's not quite safe for you, just now.”

You frowned at him, increasingly concerned. “Why?” You asked, blinking at him and glancing down at the map on the Captain's vast desk.

“My--” He paused and let out a harsh breath through his nose, a clear sign he's annoyed and at a stalemate for what to do and say. “It's nothing to be concerned with, my Petal. The dear Captain believes he saw an...unfriendly...ship on the horizon this morning.”

“Is it a pirate ship?” You let out in a rush, eyes wide with alarm.

“Of course not, Petal.” Your father chuckled, shaking his head at you. “It was flying the colors of a French flag.”

“It's easy enough for a pirate to fly a false flag in place of their own, until they get close enough to fly it, and at that point, it would be too late for us to escape their guns or their attempt to board us.” A man standing on the other side of the desk said, pessimistically.

“Mr. Gray!” Your father roared, slamming his fist down on the desk and causing several small, lead figurines to jump and fall over. “I would request you holding your tongue with such talk in front of my daughter.” He growled, dangerously.

“Bad luck to have a woman aboard, as is.” Mr. Gray continued, ignoring your father and glaring at you with unmasked distaste.

“It seems the only bad luck on this ship, Mr. Gray,” You hissed back, jaw stiff. “is your attitude.”

Your father repressed a snort of proud laughter into his fist, covering it up with a clearing of his throat. “Be it as it may, Mr. Gray. My daughter is on this ship, and if there were anything of luck to be had, it would be with her.” He told the First Mate, but smiled adoringly at you. “You have nothing to fret over, my Petal. All will be well. That French ship was most likely just sailing back to her home port with merchant goods.”

He took your hand from his forearm and escorted you to the open door of the Captain's quarters. “Didn't you start that lovely needle point work, just yesterday?” He inquired, stepping out of the quarters with you and closing the door behind him. “I simply can not wait for you to finish and show it to me, my dearest.” He told you, sounding most interested and desperate to see the finished product.

“I did.” You nodded, still uneasy about the information you received.

“Then, go back down to your cabin and work on finishing it.” He brought you to the doorway of the passage that led down to your cabins. “I'll be down shortly and we'll take our customary round about the deck. How does that sound?” He asked, grinning at you sweetly, too sweetly.

“Of course, Father.” You acquiesced with a soft sigh, you could tell he was overwhelmed with worry and frustration and didn't wish to add to it, so you conceded, bowing your head obediently to him.

“That's a dear girl.” He smiled at you, kissing your forehead, then returned to the Captain's quarters. “So, who do we think it was?” He asked, leaning against the desk and surveying the map, the knocked over figurines having been put back in their places.

“This time of the year?” Mr. Gray replied, stroking his smooth chin. “It could be anybody. Actual French, the Spanish, but more than likely, pirates.”

“Oh, come off it, Richard.” Captain Davis huffed, mopping his sweaty face with his handkerchief.

“I'm serious, Godfrey.” Gray huffed back at him, angered that his word wasn't being trusted. “It's hurricane season in the Caribbean, the Spanish and French, unless on official business wouldn't be sailing out here. We only are because we must get the new Governor and his daughter, to Lockemirth, or we too would be anchored in London Harbor. The only people crazy enough to sail in these waters are those and pirates, that know other ships will be anchored in harbors, or trying to reach harbor before a storm brews in, so they could take advantage of their desperation.”

“It was sailing clear in the other direction, Richard.” Davis answered, shaking his head at his First Mate's paranoia. “That was at first light this morning. If it was a pirate seeking advantage, we would have seen the change of course and reappear in our wake.”

“That was four hours ago.” Thomas replied, pressing his lips together. “They wouldn't have been able to stay in our wake and out of our sight for that long, in fear of losing us.” He explained, trying to be rational with the two of them.

“Sir Thomas is correct, Richard.” Davis agreed, dropping into the chair behind his desk. “They would have been re-spotted in some capacity. They have not been, so it can only be a French ship returning to her port, most likely a head of any storms that might form.” He said, pressing his fingertips to his thumping and sweaty temples. “I have Mr. Michaels on watch duty, he'll tell us if another, or the same ship, is spotted in our wake. So, until then, gentlemen, I recommend not wasting your energy and strength of fretting about it.”

Looking at each other, Sir Thomas and Mr. Gray nodded their heads at the Captain and excused themselves from his quarters, returning to their usual morning places. Your father came down to your cabin and after answering several of your worried questions, the pair of you went up onto the deck and started doing your rounds about it, the crew was in less of rush and panic, now that Mr. Gray had given them orders to ease their distress, greeting you and your father as you passed by them.

The two of you were having lunch together with Captain Davis, when Mr. Gray came barreling into the room, out of breath and only making the smallest apologies for barging in without knocking or ceremony. Captain Davis wiped his mouth and dropped his silk napkin beside his plate with a deep air of irritation, then pushed his chair back and stood.

“What is this about, Mr. Gray?” He demanded, rounding the table to stand face to face with him.

“The ship, sir.” Mr. Gray wheezed, gulping thickly and trying to regain himself. “The French ship has been spotted again, six leagues behind us, Sir.” He informed his Captain, taking a deep gulp of air into his burning lungs.

Captain Davis's head snapped over his shoulder to your father, who was instantly to his feet and going out the door with Davis and Gray. You looked out the large bay window behind the Captain's chair to the endless and sparkling track of ocean and sky, but saw nothing in it, but choppy waves. Jumping to your feet, you rushed out of the room, catching your father's coat tails as he ran up the staircase leading to the upper deck, where the helm was stationed. Captain Davis snatched a folded spy glass from the helmsman, extending it to full length and spied out over the ocean, where Gray was pointing his finger, supposedly where he had seen the ship in question, not moments before.

You watched Davis's stiff shoulders slowly melt, making your anxiety spike, knowing if there was nothing of alarm to be seen, his shoulders would have stayed stiff, but they relaxed, like he was in agreement that there was something trailing behind the ship, and it was nothing good. You looked up as your father looked back at you and saw the same language of Davis's body, in his face.

“There's still no evidence the ship is sailed by pirates.” Davis said, handing his spy glass to your father. “There could be any number of reasons for her to turn back.”

“Why are you acting as if nothing is possibly afoul?” Gray asked, his teeth gritted as he tried to hold his temper with his commanding officer.

Captain Davis did not reply, his unfocused eyes stared off in the direction of the quickly growing black spot, you could now see, on the bright horizon, chewing on his lip as he tried to come up with something to do, some action to take against not only the possibility of the ship being indeed French and either in need of their help or sought to harm them, or if it was a pirate ship sailing under a fake French flag for evil pretenses, such as boarding, plundering and scuttling them.

“Captain!” Gray roared in his face, patience lost. “Orders!”

Davis snapped out of it and his face turned into an expression of hardened steel. “Let out the sails, catch as much of the wind as we can, try to get ahead of them as much as possible, but run out the guns in case we can not!” He snapped, then pushed aside the helmsman manning the ship's wheel.

Gray rushed to the railing overlooking the main deck and shouted the orders down to the crew, who paused for a moment, looking at each other as alarm and the urgency of it set in, then started running around to fulfill the orders. You stood frozen in place, you weren't part of the crew, those orders meant nothing to you in the slightest. So, you knew not what to do with yourself, other than stand there and watch that black spot steadily take the shape of a ship, and a mighty looking ship it was, even at such a distance, you shuddered to think what it would look like even closer still.

Your father clapped shut the spyglass and turned towards you, he looked ashen as your eyes met, his Adam's apple bobbing as he gulped down his own anxiety and fears, getting a handle on his resolve like a hand snapping closed around something valuable. He blindly held the closed spyglass out to the helmsman, who took it, and strode over to you with deep purpose, catching your elbow in his hand and turning you down the stairs.

“Sir Thomas!” Captain Davis yelled out, catching your father's attention. “Take her into my quarters, she should be safe there!” He said and the two men nodded heads at each other and your father helped you down the stairs and into the Captain's quarters.

“Papa?” You huffed as he escorted you inside, then turned on his boot heels and started out again, without a word to you. “Father!” You snapped, annoyed with him, and truly frightened.

“My Petal, fret not! All will settle down.” He told you, stopping in the doorway. “Once we out run that ship.”

“And if we do not?” You asked, brows lifting at him.

“We will.” He replied, sounding as if he was trying to convince both of you of that fact, before going out, closing and locking the quarters behind him.

Huffing and shaking your head at the door, you paced the room, trying to calm your nerves. Your father never lied to you, so if he said the Kilmartin would outrun the ship, then that's what it would do, and when it did that, it would no longer matter if the ship had good or ill deeds as its intentions against your ship, they would be lost behind and likely give up the chase. Sighing, you sat down on a padded bench under the long window at the back of the ship, staring at the ship that grew closer still.

Within the hour, the ship was considerably closer to the Kilmartin, so close, you could see the little dots of crewmen scurrying about the rigging. It did nothing to ease your anxiety and fear, if anything it made it worse, and knew your father had to be feeling the same way. With another hour or two, the ship would no doubt be alongside yours, then the real trouble and anxiety would set in.

What would they do?

What did they want?

All questions that kept circling your mind as you watched the gap between the two ships narrow more and more as time passed.

You hadn't realized you had dozed off, lulled by the rock of the ship, until you heard a loud boom and a splash of water, making you jerk and gasp. Your eyes snapped out the window and a strong dizzy spell made the room spin a full three hundred and sixty degrees, before steadying on the sight of the ship that had been chasing the HMS Kilmartin for the last several hours, you could see the bow of the ship now, clear as day, as well as the ship's figurehead, a lion's head with a rose in its mouth.

The noise that you had heard was the ship firing one of its cannons as a warning shot, an aggressive suggestion to stop trying to run and yield to them. But, you could tell by the pull of the ship, it hadn't let up an ounce of its speed, still trying to outrun them. You watched two more sails drop into place on their masts and knew, in that instant, that the pursers hadn't been using their ship's full strength to overtake the Kilmartin, they had been toying with them, the whole time.

The ship gained considerable speed in only a few minutes, leaning slightly to the starboard as it was maneuvered to pull alongside the Kilmartin. You jumped up onto your feet and looked out the windows to the side of the ship, watching as the ship slid into place beside yours, you could see the open cannon ports and the guns in place, ready and waiting for the ship's captain to give the order to open fire.

The doors to the quarters burst open and you yelped, startled, but sighed, seeing it was just your father. He gave you a half sympathetic smile, but his expression was agitated and frantic, sweat pouring from his brow and his usually immaculate clothing disheveled. He strode over to you, pulling you bodily away from the windows, eyes darting between you and the ship outside them.

“Get away from there.” He snapped, hastily. “It isn't safe.”

“I thought we were to out run them.” You said, gripping his hands in yours.

“So, we thought we would, but it seems these people are not to be underestimated.” He replied, squeezing your trembling hands. “Stay away from the windows, and no matter what you hear and what happens, do not come out of this room, until I come for you. Do you understand me?”

“If you--”

“Do you understand!” He barked, hotly.

You drew away from him, surprised at his temper towards you. “I do.” You replied softly, brows creasing.

“Good.” He nodded, letting go of your hands and left you locked in the Captain's quarters, yet again.

It wasn't twenty minutes later another shot rang out, this time from a musket, instead of a cannon. You weren't sure what ship it had been issued from and weren't sure it even mattered, it wasn't a good sign by and by. Your heart was hammering against your corset strings, there was a battle coming, even you knew that much. You dared to peek out the window again and regretted it, as the guns from both ships opened fire. Yelping, you dropped to the floor and scurried over to the Captain's desk, taking cover underneath it.

There were reports from cannons, muskets and pistols, mixed in with shouts of orders and insults, the screams of the injured and dying, the shattering and splintering groans of wood as cannonballs ripped through both ships. It felt like forever since the battle started, soon joined with the resounding clang of metal as the men from the other ship managed to board the Kilmartin and a battle of swords broke out. This was all the worst case scenarios that your father and the Captain had been trying to avoid since first spotting of the ship that morning and all you could think of was the image of your father laying on the deck bleeding to death or already being dead.

You peeked at the door from over top the desk, not willing to come out of your hiding place, once you heard the sudden and unsettling silence that fell between the ships. Had the crew of the Kilmartin won at defending their ship, or had the other ship won? Maybe, neither ship won and they had all killed each other! What would that mean for you, being the only one still alive? You couldn't sail a ship on your own, even if you knew how to. Did that mean you would be left here to starve or feel the mercy of whatever the sea and weather threw at you. Maybe you would get lucky and another ship would pass by, investigate why two ships were motionless in the middle of the ocean and would save you. Or the ship would be pushed in the direction of some spot of civilization, saving you that way.

But, the more your mind came up with these possible scenarios and questions, the more and more outlandish and infinitely impossible they became.

Sir Thomas, your father, and Captain Davis watched as the ship not only dropped two more sails, but also lowered the French flag it had been flying since it had been spotted that morning.

“Please, not a red one.” Thomas muttered under his breath. “Please, not the red.”

“What's the matter with a red flag?” A deckhand, who had been standing behind him asked.

Thomas half turned to him, lifting a brow at him. “New to a ship, I'm supposing.”

“Aye, sir.” He nodded, looking even more nervous.

“Pirates flags are signals to those the pirates are pursuing.” Thomas replied, pushing his jaw forward. “A black pirate flag means that anyone who surrenders will be allowed to live. But, a red pirate flag means, 'no quarter given'.” He explained, but saw the naive look in the green deckhand's eyes.

“In layman's terms, no matter what, everyone on board will die, despite them surrendering peacefully or not.”

The deckhand's face drained of all color, as the true gravity of the situation struck him, before he bolted for the railing and vomited over the side. Thomas shook his head at the boy, turning back towards the gaining ship, just in time to see the pitch black flag unfurl at the top of the main mast, baring a white skull with a red rose in its mouth, letting out the teeniest amount of tension from Thomas's body. He and Davis exchanged looks with each other, the same thought going through their minds at seeing the black flag, instead of the red one.

A moment later, as the ship pulled alongside the Kilmartin, a musket shot went off, whizzing past Thomas and Davis, and struck the green deckhand between the shoulder blades, knocking him over the railing and into the ocean with a splash. Thomas looked across the small gap between the ships, his eye meeting the eye of the man standing beside its wheel, as he lowered the smoking musket from his shoulder, a smug and unapologetic expression on his face as the crew of the ship lined the railing closet to the Kilmartin, their own weapons loaded and ready for whatever was to come next.

“Surrender now!” the musket wielding man shouted across. “No harm will come to you or your crew!”

Captain Davis took a step forward, resting his hand on one of the handles of the ship's wheel, grasping it so tightly his knuckles turned bone white. “I haven't surrendered to a pirate's demand in the twenty years I've been a Captain.” He hissed, under his breath and between clenched teeth.

“I don't bloody intend to now.”

“Captain, we can not afford to fight these men.” Gray hissed back at him.

“This is His Majesty's Ship and it shall stay that way.” Davis snapped, turning his head to glare at his First Mate. “Pirates be damned!” He roared out loud, turning his venom back to the other ship.

“Fire!” He ordered aloud.

There was a momentary lull, before the firing started, blast after blast of cannon fire from blew the ships' decks and the firing of muskets on deck. Men taking cover between shots to reload their guns, then popping back up again to return fire. The splashes of missed shot and dead bodies falling into the raging sea between the ships, splinters of wood rained down on top of them as balls smashed through railings, masts and hauls. A scurry of men on the pirate ship climbed the rigging with ease, grabbing onto loose lines to swing across the no man's land between the ships and boarded the Kilmartin, pulling their swords and cutlasses, cutting down any poor fellow in their way, before they themselves could pull their metal, and swept through the deck.

The Kilmartin was soon overwhelmed after that, forcing Captain Davis to wave a white flag and surrender to the organized and clever pirates. A gangplank was laid between the bobbing ships, but no one crossed it, instead, a tall and bearded man stepped forward, his hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, he wore a dark brown jerkin over a billowing white shirt and tight leather pant; lifting a brow and tilting his head at the assembly of the remaining Kilmartin crew, before settling his piercing blue gaze on Davis.

“You are the Captain of this ship, I presume?” He asked in a deep voice.

“I am.” Davis replied, not hiding his disgust with the man, whose clothing was stained and spotted with the blood of his men. “Who might you be, then?”

“I'm the Captain of the Crimson Jersey.” He replied, jerking his head towards the other ship.

A low murmur went through the Kilmartin men, their fright became even more profound hearing the name of the ship that had attacked them, side eyeing each other and their captures. The Crimson Jersey was one of the most feared Pirate Ships on the high seas, there was only one other ship feared more than the Crimson Jersey and that was Black Beard's Queen Anne's Revenge, and even Black Beard had a measure of respect for the Captain of the Crimson Jersey. While the Captain of the Crimson Jersey, Henry the Red, rarely left people alive from his attacks on their ships, he was well known for attacking well off ships and taking either people or materials as captives, until a set ransom was met, if the ransom wasn't met, then he would kill the captive or keep the materials to sell to the highest bidder at one of the Pirate Ports.

“We have nothing of value on the ship.” Captain Davis said, narrowing his eyes at the other Captain.

“Then, what is the HMS Kilmartin doing out so far from her beloved port?” Henry the Red asked, lifting a suspicious brow at Davis.

“His Majesty the King has ordered us to sail to Port Royal to retrieve the Governor there and bring him back to London, for personal commendation.” Davis told him, lying easily to the Pirate Captain's face.

“It must be some commendation for him to order it this late in the year, the threat of hurricanes are quite common about this time.” Henry replied, sensing Davis's lie, but his eyes moved to Thomas, noticing his shifty behavior and the way he kept trying to subtly look towards the doors of the Captain's quarters.

“Is there something bothering you?” He asked, stepping closer to Thomas. “Like a secret you know.”

“I know nothing of what you speak.” Thomas replied, glaring back at the man.

“Is that so?” He replied, a knowing smirk on his lips. “Then, you'll have no quarrel with me going to have a look.” He said, striding over to the locked doors of the quarters.

“Don't!” Thomas suddenly shouted, his resolve breaking away to his fear of the pirate finding you inside.

Henry turned back to Thomas and laughed at him, more than sure now there was something of great value inside. Taking a step back, he kicked the doors open with a crash of his big boot and entered. At first, he didn't see anything of value inside the room, but he didn't get deterred easily, especially when there was the prospect of treasure involved. He searched the room and as he neared the desk, saw the hem of a dress underneath it and grinned, knowing now what that treasure really was.

“Well, well.” He cooed, stepping around the back of the desk. “Who do we have here?” He laughed, watching you draw yourself further underneath the desk.

Bending down, he reached underneath the desk and grabbed a hold of your arm, yanking you halfway out before you sank your teeth into his meaty forearm. He hissed as you broke his skin and the copper-y taste of his blood touched your tongue, but his vise-like grip didn't relent, he only gripped you tighter and finished dragging you out of your hiding place.

“Oh, feisty and pretty.” He chuckled, surveying you with an unguarded eye. “I like that.” He smiled, then grunted as you stomped on his foot. “Watch yourself, wench.” He hissed, knotting his hand in the back of your hair and painfully jerking your head back, making your vision swim. “Try such a thing again and you'll lose something precious to you.” He warned, then dragged you out of the quarters.

“Let her go!” Thomas roared, taking a step towards you both, only to be stopped with a punch to the gut.

“Father!” You shrieked, jerking against Henry, only to be yanked backwards against him and his free hand wrapped around your throat.

“Father?” Henry mocked, smiling between you and Thomas. “Is this your dear daughter?”

“Let her go.” Thomas wheezed, straightening himself up. “I'll give you anything you wish, just please let her go.” He begged.

“She's all I have left in this world.”

Henry grinned at your father and turned his face into your hair. “I'm sure you would give me anything in the world to have her back.” He whispered against the skin of your temple. “So, tell me, what is it you're willing to give me for her back?” He asked, looking at your father from the corner of his eye.

Thomas floundered, his heart racing as he held your terrified gaze. “I'm on my way to take my station as Governor of Lockemirth Island, in the Caribbean.” He gasped, trying to get a hold of himself. “That is the purpose of the HMS Kilmartin being at sea. Once there, I will be in command of a very large sum of money and goods, I will give you half of it, for her safety and return.”

Henry pursed his lips and clicked his tongue as he considered the offer, then shook his head. “Three fourths of it.” He demanded, twisting a lock of your loose hair around his finger. “No less, Governor.”

Your father floundered for another moment, before his shoulders dropped and he nodded his head. “Fine.”

“Excellent.” Henry grinned, gripping your arm again and pushing your forward, towards the gangplank bouncing up and down between the ships.

“Wait, no!” You shrieked, turning and trying to get back to your father. “Father!”

“It'll be all right, Petal!” He shouted back, blocked by three of Henry's men.

“You can't!” You protested, pushing back against Henry as he hustled you forward.

“I can and I am.” Henry laughed, grinning at you, then tossed you over his shoulder and stepped onto the gangplank.

“Papa!” You screamed, flailing on Henry's shoulder.

Your father shouted your name back, but it was lost in the wind. The pirates disembarked from the Kilmartin and back onto the Crimson Jersey, careful that the Kilmartin crew didn't try to storm them and try to return the attack, in an attempt to rescue you. Once everyone was onboard, the gangplank was drawn back and the ships were separated.

In no time, the HMS Kilmartin was starting to disappear in the dying light of the horizon.

Henry kicked open the door of his quarters, then kicked it closed again, before setting you down in front of his desk. He crossed to one side of the room, plucking a bottle of dark green glass from a table, uncorked it and poured a brown liquid from inside of it into a goblet, tossing it back and poured himself another.

“You monstrous swine!” You growled at him, sneering at his broad back.

He turned towards you, lifting his glass in salute. “Aye!” He laughed and downed his drink again, before pouring yet another drink. “You'll be kept here, in my quarters, with me.” He informed you, sipping this glass.

“I would rather rot on deck.” You barked at him, upper lip twitching with disgust.

“Oh, that can be arranged, if my lady wishes it.” He chuckled, swirling his drink. “But, I must inform you, pet.” He set his drink down and approached you, pinching your chin between his thumb and index finger and tipped your head back to look up at him. “It's been several months since my men have set a foot on land, so it's been many a month since they've had the pleasure of a woman's warm body.”

You gulped, your stubbornness starting to fail you.

“While I am far more educated and in command of myself, my men are not.” Henry continued, seeing the blooming realization and fear in your eyes. “So, you can take your chances with them, which you will have none, or you can stay in the relative safety of my quarters.” The register of his deep voice lowered. “Here, my men know better than to enter and anything inside is purely mine, under my protection.” He let go of your chin and strode to his door, yanking it open.

“Your choice.”

You stared at him, gulping and biting into your lip, but didn't move from the spot he had dropped you in, seeing the validity and safety of staying where you were at. A smile crept over his lips and he slammed the door shut again, seeing you had made your choice to stay in the safety only he could give you on board. He moved back to the table, pouring a drink into a second goblet and held it out to you, but you didn't move or say a word. He shrugged his shoulders at you and downed it instead, before taking up his first one around to his desk, settling himself in the high backed chair, to do the needed paperwork that came with piracy.

“Sit down.” He ordered you, motioning to a chair beside you. “Now!” He barked, when you didn't move.

Huffing at him, you pulled the chair sideways and dropped down into it, refusing to look at him or acknowledge his presence. None of which bothered him in the slightest, he was content in the quiet privacy of his mind and work, not paying you all much mind, other than making sure you stayed where he told you to be. After sundown, a soft knock sounded at his door and, at Henry's permission, opened to a crew member, who entered with a silver tray laden with food. He set the tray down on his Captain's desk, nodded his obedient head at him and left. Henry picked up one of the plates on the tray, then pushed the tray towards you.

“If you wish to starve, that's on you.” He commented, when you didn't move. “But, don't whine about it later.” He told you, tearing off a chunk of bread and popped it into his mouth.

Rubbing at his eyes in the dim candle light, Henry stacked his papers together and put them in the bottom drawer of his desk, locking it up with a key that hung around his neck, then stood. He toed out of his boots and crossed the room, hanging his sword and pistol on a hook by the door, removed the brown leather jerkin he was wearing over his shirt and hung it up on the same hook, then locked the door with the same key that was around his neck. He turned and regarded you, still sitting, motionless and sulky, on the chair in front of his desk and rolled his eyes.

“The stubbornness of women.” He huffed to himself, going to a set of heavy curtains to one side of the room.

“The ilk of men.” You growled back at him, angry eyes burning holes into his back.

Henry laughed, jerking back the curtains to reveal a bed behind them, then turned around to grin at you. “Something we agree on, pet.” He chuckled, amused, then sighed and reached behind his head, tugging loose the tight leather string that tied his hair back and shook his head, setting free a mop of dark cinnamon curls, that softened his look considerably.

“Lay down.” He ordered, jerking his curly head to the large, curtained bed.

You snorted at him. “No.”

“That wasn't a question, pet.”

“Don't call me that.”

“I'll call you what I want, now lay down.” He barked at you, eyes hardening.

You turned your own hardened eyes towards him, but didn't budge.

Growling deep in his throat, Henry took several long strides towards you, yanked you out of the chair and back over his shoulder, unphased by you beating on his back to be put down, then dropped you, bodily, onto his bed. With you where he wanted you, Henry turned towards the large bay window behind his desk and made himself comfortable on the cushions there, stuffing one of them behind his head, before dozing off.

You laid there, surprised he hadn't tried to force himself on you or the very least crawl into bed beside you. You half expected him to wait until you fell asleep to try something, but his soft snores soon reached you. Biting your lip, you sat up at the edge of the bed and looked over at him, he was laying half propped up, the quarter moon illuminating one side of his face. He wasn't faking, he was actually asleep. Sighing, you laid back again, your mind spinning, trying to work up the nerve to steal that key around his neck and escape. But, where would you go, once you did have the key and the door open? You had a ship full of his men, on an open ocean, where the ship had already put countless miles between you and the Kilmartin.

Perhaps, you could buy your time, until and in hopes, they made port, to wait for your father's word he had the ransom, then steal away, finding safety somewhere in the port until your father and the Crown could rescue you.

“Pirates.” You huffed, then drew the bed curtains closed, not wanting that bloody pirate to be the last face you saw before you managed to fall asleep.