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spinster-sisters · 3 years

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Sailor's Wife. psh

Pirate au

TW: ngl this gets kind heavy right in the beginning then it gets kinda soft right at the end so like idk. dom seonghwa, sub reader, degradation, use of the word whore(also wench cuz like pirates), oral, edging, possessiveness, breeding kink. oops, manhandling.

Normally i try my darndest to not get too wordy but for this I let it happen.

@xiuminswifeforever this ones for u. also this got a little carried away but heyyyyy what can ya do.

Also @multidreams-and-desires @a-soft-hornytiny and @eonghwa may possibly probably will enjoy this to so have at it

Perhaps you should be more understanding with your husband Seonghwa. After all, your ship had a name and a reputation to uphold, which would not be possible without the efforts of both him and your captain Hongjoong. But you were still stuck on a ship at sea, without much to do. It had been 4 days since you last made port, and it is likely you wouldn't dock for at least another 10. And with your husband ignoring your needs for the sake of maintaining perfect order on board as First Mate, you were feeling a little stir crazy.

Of course as the First Mates wife, and notable figure amongst the crew you had your own reputation to uphold as both a devoted wife and skilled sailor. So when you and your closest confidantes on board tried to blow off some steam by dipping into the bottles of rum during broad daylight on the top deck of the ship, your antics turn more than a few heads among the lower-ranking members of the crew.

It's true that Seonghwa had been neglecting you, instead spending the hours of the night pouring over maps and charts with the Capitan. And San and Wooyoung had always given you all the attention you missed. So in your slightly inebriated state, your place on Wooyoungs lap touseling his long hair felt more than natural.

The three of you were causing quite a ruckus, laughing, shouting, knocking over barrels and crates, and other general tomfoolery. It was only a short while before your Husband came bursting through the door on the far end of the deck (Capitans Quarters) scanning the ship for the cause of the disturbance.

Once he found it his eyes narrowed. He stalked over to your happy gathering, which had only briefly acknowledged him, with furry radiating of every step. Once he stood glowering before you, you finally gave him your attention.

"Seonghwa! Darling! How nice to see you!" You called, still on Wooyoungs lap. You swung your arms out to him and gestured for him to come to you but he ignored it. The slightly shrill cry of your voice had once again attracted the attention of the crew.

"We don't pay you to gawk. Back to work all of you!" Seonghwas powerful voice carried over to the men, who sprung into action, heads turning quickly away. Seonghwa turned his hard stare back to the three of you.

"I want all three of you off this deck, in your quarters in the next 5 minutes," he began low and growling, "or so help me God I will throw you overboard myself!" As he carried on his voice grew in both anger and volume. But the three of you, foolishly perhaps, did not heed his warning.

"Oh, come on now Seonghwa. Don't be such a hard ass" San remarked giggly. Seonghwas gaze snapped to the man and opened his mouth to speak but Wooyoung interjected.

"We were just showing your lovely wife a good time," he spoke with a lopsided smirk, hand coming down to your thigh. And the Frist Mate followed the action with dangerous eyes.

You stood from your spot on wobbly feet, taking a step closer to your husband, and took the front lapels of his long sea-worn jacket into your hands and practically hung on the man.

"Come now, Seonghwa. Won't you find it in your heart to be lenient with your darling little wife," you pleaded jokingly, batting your eyelashes. Seonghwa was not amused.

He took your wrist into his hand and with a strong grip, he pulled you away from him so quick you almost toppled to the floor, but not before he yanked your arm back with equal strength, leaning down to be right in your face as he spat.

"I do not see the darling wife you speak of, all I can see is a drunk ship wench without the mind to Do. As. Shes. Told. Now go back to our room and hope with all your might you sober up before I get there."

As his speech concluded he pushed you away again, this time in the direction of the stairs that led below deck. You were practically in shock as you bowed your head and stumbled to wooden stairs, the distant yells of your husband now directed at the other two men. taking the stairs down to the first floor where there were 7 small rooms for the officers aboard, including you and your husband's room at the end of the short hall.

Now perhaps you were drunker than you realized because the gentle swaying of the ship with the waves had you practically falling over with every step and by the time you reached your room you had all but collapsed onto the bed, drifting in and out of consciousness with the tides.

Perhaps, Seonghwas words had been empty threats as when you finally awoke (unfortunately sober) you could see the dusk sky shining through the small window at the back of the tiny room. Your head pounded when you sat up, but the uncomfortableness of your day clothes was undeniable.

You slipped out of the hard leather of your coat and boots and pulled the linen shirt over your head. After removing your ragged pants from your body you moved to pull your soft nightgown over your head but stopped when the door open. Ready to scream at the person who disturbed you in private you only stoped when your eyes landed on your cross-looking husband. You scoffed at the man in the door and turned your back to him.

"Oh no darling, you can't run away from me this time," he said rounding the bed to stand behind you, "your actions today were absolutely inexcusable, no matter what marriage you benefit from" he growled at you.

You scoffed again and whipped around to face him, still completely bare.

"Darling? Who on earth could you be talking to, certainly not me. As I recall I was nothing more than a ship wench." You spat his own words back at him.

"Don't try to be smart," he snapped at you, taking another step closer, " Today you behaved like nothing more than an attention-hungry whore, and if you expect me to set that aside simply as your husband you are far from wrong darling," his voice spoke dangerously even.

"Perhaps I have a right to be starved for attention! As you seem certainly more than willing to leave me alone for days on end," you returned with equal venom. This seemed to shock Seonghwa, though his anger did not lessen he remained quiet.

"What kind of husband leaves their wife for days on end without so much as a touch! Perhaps I should go find Wooyoung? As I know he would be more than willing to give me the kind of attention you have been denying me,"

As soon as the words left your mouth you knew they had been a mistake, you opened your lips to take them back but Seonghwas hand caught your throat in an instant, catching your breath.

"You want me to act like a husband? Perhaps I should treat you as a husband should treat their wife when they say such things," he glowered, eyes sharpening with rage.

He released his grip on your neck only to push you back onto your creaking bed. As you caught your breath Seonghwa tossed his own coat away from him and loosened the ties of string keeping the top of his shirt together, but not removing it completely. He climbed onto your exposed body, keeping you trapped beneath his weight. He ran one lean hand from your neck down to your breast and groped it with rough hands. You moaned in pleasure, finally, your body practically screamed. He scoffed at you.

"You want to be treated like a wife yet you sound like such a whore, crying out for me at the slightest touch, perhaps I should teach you how to appreciate what you are given."

He moved away from your body before wrenching your legs apart. You blushed madly at how his words and touch had affected you, your cunt was already sopping wet at the idea of your husband finally putting it to use.

"Tsk, so desperate. Have a taught you nothing?" he grumbled to himself.

"Sorry, sir" you whined. He meets your eyes for just an instant, showing him that you had not forgotten all of your manners with him. He wasted not another moment before pulling your hips twords his head and licking up your dripping folds. A strangled cry left your lips.

Just as he set to work, licking and sucking all of the places on you that he knew to be useful. His hand returned to your breast, kneading the flesh between his long fingers with a rough grip.

You were at his mercy. Your body was his to toy with and he knew how to play you well. His tongue dove into your slit, further than should be possible, using the muscle to open the neglected hole and taste the essence now running down his chin. He lapped away at your cunt, taking all he wanted from you while you lay there limp and twitching with the occasional cry of ecstasy.

His fingers pinched the hard bud of your nipple and pulled on it, bringing a cry from your lips. Normally cries like these were reprimanded, but you had a feeling your husband wanted the whole ship to know exactly what he was doing to his wife.

You were coming closer and closer to the orgasm you so desperately needed. Your body was reacting to every touch with increased sensitivity as it hadn't been used in so long, and Seonghwa was oh so skilled at pulling these feelings out of you, the fire burning in your belly was twisting and reveling, begging to be realized.

You cried out again, feeling you're about to get that sweet sweet release you so craved.

When it all stopped.

You cried out again but this time in strangled desperation and confusion. You locked eyes with your husband and plead you were wrong about what is happening.

Seonghwa simply pulled away, unbothered, he stood from the bed and you felt your heart shatter as he moved across the floor. He picked up a rag and wiped his face clean before turning back to your still panting figure.

"Remember, when you married me you gave your sweet, soft body to me. And now any pleasure it receives is mine to control. I want you to think about what you just experienced and learn to appreciate all that I give you. Now, I am going to return to my duties, and when I come back if I believe you have earned it I will treat you like my wife, and not some common whore."

And without another word, he left.

You laid their flabbergasted and unmoving for what felt like hours. As the sunset behind the horizon, you pulled your body up into a sitting position with your legs cradled to your chest. You don't dare act on the burning emptiness in your core, as you truly felt you had learned your lesson.

The minutes ticked on. Occasionally you heard the sound of feet coming down the ladder from down the hall and your stomach lept, but every time they continued down to the lower deck for the crew. Your mind wandered to your wedding day.

It had only been 4 years since that day. It was before you had joined the crew, but Seonghwa who you had known since your childhood had already been called to the sea by his friend and now captain. He had asked you to marry him the day before he left on his first voyage and you waited for him without a second thought. Once he returned months later he had already been made First Mate and you only had a week before he would be out at sea again. On the day of your wedding, you were scolded by your parents for allowing a lawless pirate to take you, but your father gave you away regardless. By the end of the night, you were already miles out to sea with your new husband and he showed you for the first time how well a wife could be treated.

Needless to say, you rediscovered your appreciation for the man.

So when the door finally opened once again, you only gazed at Seonghwa with stars in your eyes. He approached your side of the bed and took your chin into his hand, aiming your face up at his.

"Have you learned your lesson?" He asked. You nodded.

"Yes, sir," you spoke with a creaky voice. He cracked the smallest hint of a satisfied smile.

"Why don't you lean back, my darling"

And so you did. You fell back onto the blankets and watched as your husband finally pulled his shirt over his head and rid himself of his distressed pants. He climbed over you and took your head in his hand again and muttered,

"Now remind me, sweet girl, who's are you," he asked in a firm guiding voice.

"All yours, sir,"

"Wonderful, should I take what's mine then?" He asked in that same tone.

"Please sir," you replied.

Seonghwa leaned down to connect your lips in one sweet kiss that lasted only a moment before pulling away his demeanor changed. Hands ran down your sides pulling your legs to wrap around his thin waist.

"My darling wife, waiting so patiently for me," he mused. The tip of his cock teased your wet entrance, only pushing in the slightest bit but you clenched instinctively regardless.

"Maybe it has been too long," he chuckled darkly in your ear, "I almost forgot how eagerly you wish to be filled," he chided taking the lobe of your ear between his teeth. Your breath hitched, scared to make /the wrong move that would bring this all crashing to a halt.

In one fluid motion, Seonghwa pushed the rest of his length into you to the hilt. You whined desperately at the slightly painful stretch and screwed your eyes shut as the pain morphed into the sweetest pleasure.

"Ready, my darling?" He mumbled into your ear, a slight smirk in his voice.

"Please,"

And so he began. Pulling all the way out before slamming back in with the same force and speed. You cried out again.

Every time his hips met yours for that brief moment you relished in the feeling of being completely filled up by him. His length was long and he used it well. He knew your body well enough to know exactly how to angle your hips to be hitting your more sensitive places inside you every single time he thrust.

You clung desperately to his broad shoulders, allowing your body to become plaint again and for lewd sound to tumble past your lips into his ears. Each sound seemed to give him newfound strength, picking up speed and force every time.

"Oh, my sweet wife, letting me have my way with her," he mumbled, gripping your hip for leverage, the other hand gently caressing your body. "So desperate to be filled," he chuckled. You whined in agreement, pulling yourself tighter to his body as your sensitive walls clung and stretched around him.

"I could fill you up even more darling, would you like that?" He asked, panting slightly at the exertion.

You nodded blindly.

"I could fill you up with my cum, fill you up with my child," he groaned at the thought, "oh you would love that wouldn't you darling, letting me put a child in you," you clenched around his cock once again as he punctuated his words with one, particularly hard thrust into your special spot.

"Yes, sir" you replied breathlessly "please, fill me up with your child," it came out as nothing but a whisper, "want- want your baby,"

"I know you do darling, don't worry," he groaned. You were clenching around him madly and your orgasm was fast approaching. His grip on your hip and turned to iron and your body was convulsing.

"What kind of husband would I be if I didn't give my wife a baby,"

At those words, your body began to convulse. You finally felt that sweet really you had been denied for so long. Your eyes rolled back and your cunt was clenching frantically as the waves of pleasure came over you so strong you lost control of your limbs, crying out weakly Seonghwas name. Seonghwa kept his steady pace all the while until he himself was thrown over the edge.

You recognize the feeling of thick ropes of cum pouring into you. Seonghwas own cries had increased in volume as he emptied inside you. It took several seconds, but when he had finally milked the last of his orgasms from your body he pulled away.

You lay spent but completely content on the bed before him with what could only be described as a dopey smile. He always looked so beautiful when he came and even coming down yourself you had to admire the gorgeous man you married. He cracked his own smile at your face and leaned to give you a lingering kiss. And your eyes dropped closed.

"Go to sleep, darling, ill take care of you in the morning."

#ateez smut #ateez reactions #ateez scenarios #ateez au #ateez timestamp #seonghwa smut #seongwha timestamp #seonghwa scenarios #seonghwa headcanon

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unknown-writing · 3 years

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Comforting their stressed s/o

Summary: Their s/o has been dealing with familial issues, causing them to break down easily. The boys try to figure out different ways to make them less stressed out

Warning(s): Toxic family members, mentions of depression, mentions of suicidal thoughts(reader), mentions of force throwing up(reader), alcohol consumption

A/N: Been dealing with a lot of bullshit from petty grandparents. I deserve some comfort. Minors DNI

After a while of dating Luffy, you noticed that he was able to sense your emotions of the day depending on the mood you’d wake up in. If you weren’t sad, you were ok and stable. if you woke up /extremely late and sad/..He knew he had to be near you, and protect you from everything that could remotely make you the /slightest/ bit of even worse Sad.

He doesn’t fully get it at first, he tried to just make you laugh, because to him, laughter was the best cure for most sadness that he came across in people. But after a while, it became clear of what you were dealing with, so he started changing his tactics on how he’d make you feel better.

This week was especially hard on your mental state. He could tell that you were walking on egg shells everywhere you went. Your parents had somehow found you living with him and disliked the idea of their Precious Daughter with a bunch of Low Life Pirates. Granted, they weren’t too bad this time around after the last time Luffy snapped at them....Or so he thought. He hadn’t actually realized the way they treated you through different methods.

Every little thing you did would either irritate them, or anger them. Not that you /personally/ cared about how they’d feel. This was your home now, so you made your own rules on how you lived. That is, until they started getting more violent with their words, hitting you where they knew it’d hurt the most. Going after every little wrong thing about you in whispers from behind the crew.

Luffy blinked when he watched you stand up to go somewhere else. You were dead silent, not even a sniffle of a cry would leave your lips. That worried him. “Y/n-san??...” He’d call out. No response. That got him to panic and get up to follow you, telling Chopper to follow him as well. This startled your parents, seeing you just, walk into the ship to get to your bedroom so you could just...Keel over. /You were done/. But, you didn’t hear Luffy or Chopper following you not that far behind

The three of you went into your bedroom, and the two boys stood there. You snapped, falling on your knees to just...Cry it out. You’ve been holding it in for the past week now, you normally didn’t snap like this but, you couldn’t help it. This got Luffy to run towards you and hug you tightly...Very tight, he didn’t want you to hurt yourself or feel alone. His body just moved on his own.

Seeing this, Chopper panicked, leaving the room to grab some medicine to help calm down your nerves, and request some calming tea from Sanji. While he was doing this, Luffy kept you in his arms, holding you in his lap so you felt secure and safe, even if it was for a short amount of time until you stopped crying.

It honestly took him a lot longer to realize what was going on at first. In the beginning of your relationship with him, you had to tell him bluntly of how your mental state worked, and that sometimes, you just needed certain stuff to be repeated until you were mentally safe again.

But this time was different than the others. It seemed like Zoro refused to let you do anything too stressful (without babying you...He learnt that the hard way), so that way it wouldn’t affect you mentally so you could stay stable enough to know what was happening, or so you won’t hurt yourself.

For the last few months, your family was boarded the ship in the guest bedroom. Your mother, father, and grandmother were traveling together but, their small ship got raided by bad pirates and burned at sea so, Luffy had saved them despite your fair warnings that they where “No Good Assholes” or that “They Should Just Drown.” He didn’t quite get it at first.

Until their nagging at certain stuff was starting to get on his nerves. “Why can’t we just throw them overboard!?” He’d sometimes complain, followed by a, “We can throw them overboard on an island! We’re not that heartless!” from Nami. She was right, and got did that drive Luffy nuts.

Zoro didn’t pay much attention to how everybody else had felt with your parents and grandmother. He only focused on you and how you felt, constantly staying close to you whenever you were alone, sensing that you were uncomfortable being alone with them for very long. “Honestly y/n...You eat too much! How are you going to find an attractive young man for a husband if you eat like a pig?” Your mother said one time, which made quite a few of the members go silent.

That was your last straw for you. You stood up, tossed the food at her face, and then stormed off angerly, annoyed with how much they’ve been going after you for every little fucking detail you’d do, finding ways to somehow make you feel small.

“H-Hey! Y/n!” Zoro said while chasing after you, worried that you’d harm yourself after the past stressful few months at sea with your family. He was slightly too late though, as he hears you throwing up the food you’d just ate in the bathroom. That’s It. He was /pissed/.

The crew had separated from the family, leaving them alone with Zoro after he came out, pointing his swords at them, “Thanks to you, y/n had to throw up her food because of your comments towards her. She should not have to risk her health to please you! Now, GET OFF OUR SHIP!” he shouted, tossing them overboard in a blind rage. “Zoro!! We could’ve waited until the next Isla--” “SHUT YOUR YAP NAMI! THEY SHOULD BE THANKFUL I’M NOT KILLING THEM MYSELF!” Zoro cuts off Nami.

After that, Zoro went back to you, seeing that you needed him even more so than ever. He held you in his lap on his bed and allowed you to just, cry it out. Something that he knows you’ve been holding back because of your folks being with them. “I love you y/n..Don’t ever do that again ok? They’re gone now, you don’t need to risk your health to please them anymore...Let alone Us.” He says while you start to fall asleep in his arms.

Sanji knew you had an awkward mental state. He was able to sense anybody’s feelings being the emotional one out of his brothers, but even so, he was way more in-tune to a woman’s than a man (aside from his crew. Because they’re precious to him).

So, he knew that you were really struggling to keep it together ever since your judgmental, and abusive parents had joined the crew (not by choice really). This man tried everything in the book to try and make your experience a little easier to handle, but he knew that these tricks would only work for so long. He felt helpless after a while.

You and your parents were arguing again, for the third time /today/. Quite frankly, they were starting to get on everybody’s nerves. But, something you had shouted at them concerned Sanji, and worried everybody else, “WOULD ME BEING DEAD BE BETTER FOR YOU TWO TO JUST...ACCEPT ME FOR WHO I AM!?” You snapped.

They went silent, which didn’t add anything better to this argument, if anything, you read that as a strong “Yes It Would.” from them. You stood there and then chuckled, “Fine....Get them off of my ship.” You told Luffy, which made him chuckle and grab them to throw them off the ship and on the Island they were boarding on for food and other supplies as well.

Sanji knew something was up when you just /chuckled/ and then walked away to go back to your room. He followed you there, making sure that you didn’t do anything harmful...Thankfully he was there to stop you from hurting yourself, you held the bottle tightly in your hand, drinking from it, knowing you were a light weight.

“Stop y/n-san...” Sanji spoke as he held your arm to stop you from drinking. This irritated you but, you did as he commanded anyways. Sanji then removed the bottle from your grip, you watched him remove it from you as if it was in slow motion. Only to start sobbing quietly, having forced yourself to learn to cry softly so your folks couldn’t hear you be sad.

Sanji only stayed there to help you let it out, hugging you firmly in his lap on the kitchen floor, he cooed you softly and rubbed your back, making you feel extremely safe after what happened. “I....I-I’m sor--” You hiccupped, only to be cut off, “Shhh. Don’t be y/n-san. I’m here, we’re all here for you.” He repeated, cooing you until you’d fallen asleep in his embrace

#tw// depression #tw// suicidal thoughts #tw// suicidal attempts #tw// alcohol consumption #tw// abusive families #tw// throwing up #tw// abuse #luffy x reader #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #one piece x reader

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manchesterau · 4 years

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my thoughts after reading my policeman: SPOILERSS of course!! (ignore spelling or grammar mistakes) (this is very ramble-y and not as in depth as it could have been sorrryyy lol, if you want specifics send me an ask after reading this)

okay...so i read the book in 3 days....which....im very proud of myself bc it takes me so long to finish books but that’s not why you are reading this.

im not going to lie to you...i liked the book. i love angst, and this had plenty of it and i liked it. if you like books such as: harry potter, six of crows, red queen, red white and royal blue you will not like this book. i know many people found it boring, which yeah i can see that, but i didn't find it boring at all. but mostly because i love boring books but that's beside the point.

the book flowed easily, there isn't a bunch of raunchy sex scenes that ive seen people say it has (i...the things ive read idk what book they even read????) and Tom does has backward views on marriage and what it means to be a wife. but he is not overtly sexist or misogynist or abusive, or subvertly those things either. to be frank he's a scared gay man in the 50s trying to not get caught and thrown in jail. that's literally it. (ill go more into detail on him later). but if you want to read this book i recommend you go in knowing that there will be homophobia (the word queer is used as a slur....3 times or 4 but no more than 5), expect outing, expect not supportive characters, and remember to have some compassion (more on this later).

next i want to go into characters: starting with tom, then Marion, then Patrick, and then the other characters. so if you are planning on reading this book or just dont want to be spoiled them....don't read the next bit.

Tom:

I'm going to get this out of the way.........Tom (who we never get to know outside of the two-point of views we are presented with, and who is being played by Harry) is a police officer in the 50s UK. to be frank when the rumors first went around I was mad like a lot of people were, which is funny because when we got those pictures of harry reading the book before all the speculation we were....happy, that he was reading a book about a gay man. now...I don't care honestly. I could call out the hypocrites (i won't) and honestly I'm hypocritical myself. I use to watch shows like svu (if you were to turn it on right now I wouldn't turn it off) and I enjoyed watching svu. I know and have seen a lot of mutuals, people on my dash enjoy cop shows like b99, or who like actors who have played the character of police before. so it would be hypocritical of me to be mad at him (this is just my single black opinion) and then go and turn on svu (which I don't do anymore).

I'm not saying that no one can be mad, I'm not saying that the anger people have at him playing this role is bad or not needed or valid. all I'm saying is.....is that I don't care. I got angry over this months ago, and all that anger I felt I don't have anymore, and I can't tell you why. Harry is playing an abusive demented husband who traps his wife in a simulation, and then he will play a gay policeman trying not to face persecution..........and that's that. nothing I can say will reach him, he's playing these roles and there is nothing I can do. will I watch them (pirating of course) yes.

anyways let's get back to tom's character (do not use my opinion to silence other black people I will find you....don't do that shit weirdo): tom is......tom?? like I literally was expecting the worst when I read this because of what other people had to say. but as I'm reading him through the eyes of Marion (his wife) and through the eyes of Patrick (his...true love, fuck the 50s I hate the 50s) one word came to mind constantly: scared. Tom is very scared that he will be found out and his life will be ruined. His family knows about him, which is why I think his father (more on him later) pushed him to be in the national service (where he was a cook, which disappointed him). you don't realize his family knows and then his sister says something and then you go 'wait....THEY KNEW???' and then you will go 'oh so that's why-'

tom does have old fashion views that you would expect of any man at that time (gay or not it's the 50s and gay men are still capable of saying sexist shit). when asked by Patrick if women should still work after having a kid he said no it's the men's job to provide, Marion said she would like to keep working, he said no when they do have a baby (they literally never did, and idk why he thought he could be intimate with her for that long to produce a baby lol). that's....the most sexist thing he said in the whole book (there maybe some small things im forgetting but nothing that really stood out). that's it. I know it's not small and that was a legitimate issue in the 50s but yeah. Just in case you were apprehensive about Tom's character being a raging woman-hater, no,....he just wasn't a true feminist yet (???? I don't know that's like..the most this book says about an issue women were facing at this time). It's still bad what he said (you'll see how Marion justifies it in the book and both Patrick and her don't agree and try and challenge him on his view).

i dont want to go too in depth but it is very obvious from the beginning he has no and i mean ZEROOOO interest in her at all (you can tell when it hits him that he needs a wife and he starts to act a littleee different but it's not romantic at alll).

i feel like my review on tom is shit but like!! we don't really get to know him without bias from Patrick and Marion. I think Harry will play a wonderful Tom (even tho he doesn't not fit the description for Tom...at all....like at alllll).

To summarize Tom: very scared gay man from the 50s who is trying to do everything he can to not be found out. his family knows, even he knew at a young age, and yes he does quit being a police officer but it doesn't happen as soon as id like but then again he wasn't one for that long if you pay attention to the years.

Marion:

😑

i just...if yall could see the notes i made on her.....

To summarize Marion: SHE IS LIVING IN LALA LAND, TOM LITERALLY SHOWS HER NO ROMANTIC INTEREST AT ALLL, AND WHEN SHE METS PATRICK FOR THE FIRST TIME SHE FREAKING NOTICES THAT HE'S ALL BLUSH-Y AND SHIT LIKE...GIRL.....

this is a note i wrote that sums up her and tom's relationship (which is more like friends then anything romantic i mean god their honeymoon was horrible and he proposed to her....nvm 😑)

listen...i can't lie and say i didn't feel sorry for her up until the end when she (spoilers: she outs patrick to his employer which ends up with him getting arrested). after that...ive never hated a character more in my fucking LIFEEEE like oh my god i was pissed

all she does is have fantasies about him being romantic with her (holding hands, hugging, etc) and none of them come true...BECAUSE HES GAYYYYYY i really....the author could have done a better job because there were so many damn red flags.

she's fucking annoying and whiny and yeah it sucked to be a woman in the 50s but you literally outed someone your husband was in love with and thought that you could just go back to being married like he's not devastated and instead of telling what you did you stayed unhappy and made your husband thing that at any point they were coming for him too.......*****

Patrick:

PATRICKKKKK

Patrick and tom deserved a fighting fucking chance i hate the fuck 50s fuck you 50s!!!! I absolutely LOVEDDD his pov and seeing Tom through his pov like it was just so damn refreshing seeing the world through his eyes and how he navigates his queerness in the society they live in. (the dichotomy between a proud gay man and a scared maybe proud but fear overrules that (talking about Tom here) gay man).

There was a lot more to say on how gay men were being persecuted at this time than how women were treated in this particular book. There were some little things here and there about what was expected of Marion as a wife and of a girl/woman at that time but it wasn't the focus.

I loved seeing the way Patrick navigated through his world of art and creativity. And how Tom seemed to fit right in with him.

I hate the things the author made Patrick go through (outed, sent to prison, stripped of his job, and later on in the present day he has had 2 strokes in his 70s). it felt a bit much but it's not too distracting (Patricks pov takes place in the past as he writes in his journal).

Patrick and Julia (more on her later) are my two favorites in the whole book (Tom is third bc he's a very multi-facted character, Marion is not even on the list) and I wish we got a lot more of Patrick's pov.

Other characters!! (speed round bc this is wayyy too long):

Syvlie (Tom's sister): SYVLIEEE IM MAD AT YOUU I WAS ROOTING FOR YOU WHYY WHYYY

Julia: JULIAAAAA QUEEENNN (you'll see why i love her at the end)

Tom's parents: his father is abusive point-blank. or at least i think he's abusive (verbally). as im writing this i am now realizing that the way Tom's mom reacts to him (sometimes crying) is bc they knew he was gay omg wow.

tom's dad is very much a man's man guy?? Picture a sexist man from the 50s....now picture him with a gay son.....yeah, I'm not surprised Tom went into national service then to the police force. you can tell he didn't want anyone to find out about Tom so he pushed him to do what he thought best and Tom went with it, scared.

overall: please do not go into this book expected things to be all flowers and rainbows...this is a book about two gay men in the 50s yall.....

there is something to be said about the tragedy that is in a lot of queer stories, I'm more interested in how white these stories are (that's a rant for another time). but I don't mind my policeman, and i think stories like this should be told. because this actually happened (here is a link to em forster's story where the author takes inspiration from, he really had an affair with a policeman!!! who had a wife!!!).

the ending is bittersweet, and i couldn't help but curse for what could have been. Marion could have not outed Patrick (which she instantly regretted), she could have gotten a divorce (she even contemplated it), they could have been more secretive, Julia could have not said what she said. I think Patrick and Tom were sadly doomed from the start, I just wish they had more time together because I loved seeing their love (the little glimpse we got) bloom into something bigger than them.

thank you for reading!! here are random screenshots of my notes as i read this lol enjoy!!

can’t*

#*#my policeman #godd this book...i cant wait for the movie #mp

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magma-queen · 3 years

Note

“If you don’t gimme the remote, I’ll have to tickle you!” Hardenshipping >:333 I really love your writing.

Awww!! Thank you! Your kind words mean a lot to me! Here you go! I hope you enjoy reading!!

This was one of those times when Maxie was in an extremely cuddly and clingy mood. And when this happens, he wants Archie all to himself without any distractions.

“Archie, I demand cuddles.” He said, walking up to the couch with a blanket in his arms.

Archie cracked up. “Well of course, yer highness. Come here.”

He opened his arms up and let his husband curl up next to him. However, Archie was a little bit distracted, watching a Pokémon battle on tv. So, Maxie felt a little neglected.

“Archieeeee….”

“Mm? What’s the matter, babe?” Hearing him whine at him was not a normal sound to his ears.

His arms went around him and he snuggled into his side. “You’re not paying attention to me..” He whined, nuzzling him.

“Of course I am, Max. *kiss*

“Then could you please turn the tv off? I want to sit here cuddling with you with no distractions..”

Archie rolled his eyes. “Babe, the tv isn’t hurting anything. I’ll give ye as much attention and affection as ye want. Ye know that.”

Maxie clung to him tighter. “Tv off.”

“Max, no. I was watching this.” He replied.

He reached across Archie’s lap, looking for the remote. “Give me the remote.”

“Uh, not gonna happen, Max.” Archie laughed. “I’ll turn it off when I’m done, then I’ll be all yours to snuggle, kay?”

Maxie kept reaching for the remote, but couldn’t find it. “Where the hell did you put it?”

“Not telling.” Archie snickered, making his husband pout. “Oh my god.. the great Maxie is pouting?! Ohoho this is too good.” He kisses his cheek. “Listen, babe.. it’s almost over.. can ye wait just a few more minutes?”

“Fine..” He grumbled, giving up and laying back down in his lap.

About 30 minutes later…

“Archie. You said it would only be a few minutes. It’s been half an hour!” He pouted again. “Alright, that’s it.. give me the remote!”

“But I’m not done yet!” Archie hid it behind his back, chuckling at his lover’s attempts to look for it.

“If you don’t give me that remote, I’ll have to tickle you.” He warned, smirking at him.

Archie glared back at him, and he saw the mischievous gleam in his eyes. “Ye wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.” Maxie replied, poking him in the side.

“Maxie, no!” Archie pushes him away.

He pinned him to the couch. “Maxie yes!” He exclaimed as he dug into Archie’s sides, making the larger man squirm.

“W-Wahahait!! Mahahahax!! Don’t-! Ahaha- st-stohohohohop!!!” He didn’t quite realize what he just said, and why his husband just evilly smirked at him.

“Don’t stop? Alright.. if you say so!” With that, Maxie shoved his wiggling fingers up Archie’s armpits, getting him to howl.

“AHAHAHAHANOHOHOHOHOHO!!!” He hollered, trying to throw Maxie off of him. “AHAHAHAHA- MAHAHAHAX PLEHEHEASE!!! DOHOHOHOHON’T!!!”

“Are you going to give me the remote?” He asked, slowing the tickling so he could answer. “If not, this continues.”

“Hahaha- Max! No! Hehehehahaha- I wahas wahahahatching ihihihihit!!” The other man cackled when devious fingers found his neck. “C-CUT IT OUT!!”

He grinned. “Fine, then.” He went back to torturing his husband. “Coochie Coochie coo~”

“NAHAHAHAHAHAHOHOHOHO!!! HAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAP!!!”

“Mm~ I love your laugh so much.” He smiled.

“HAHAHAHAHA!!!! MAHAHAHAX I’M GOHOHOHONNA KIHIHIHIHILL YEHEHEHE!!! AHAHAHA- NOHOHOT THERE!!!”

Maxie was squeezing his sides. “Where? Here?” He squeezed them harder. “Or how about here?” He chuckled, squeezing his knees next. “I know your knees are a bad spot.”

“FUHUHUHUHUHAHAHAHAHA!!! STAHAHAHAP!!! I CAHAHAN’T TAKE IHIHIT!! YEHEHEHEHER KILLING MEHEHEHEE!”

“My god. You might be the most ticklish person I’ve ever met… you’re so cute. And.. You know what to do to get me to stop.” The redhead replied, his sneaky grin ever so big. “Remote, please.”

Archie managed to push him back to the other edge of the couch, then he pinned him down while catching his breath.

“Wha- h-hey!! Archie!!!”

“Yeah.. heh.. I knew exactly what to do to get ye to stop, and that was to overpower ye!” He growled, staring down his husband like a Pyroar who just caught its dinner.

“G-get off of me!” Maxie protested.

Archie grabbed the remote from behind him, and turned their tv off. “There~” He smiled. “It’s off. Now… ye wanted some alone time with me, didn’t ye? But ye thought ye could just attack me like that, huh?”

The redhead was getting really nervous now. “A-Archie- d-don’t-“

“Hehehe… ye made a very big mistake, Max..” He kisses him on his forehead. “Now he’s after ye.. do ye know who he is?” He positions his hands on Maxie’s sides.

He already started giggling his head off. “N-no! Ahaharchie don’t!! I-I’m sorry!”

Archie took no mercy on him, he slipped his hands into his sweater and attacked his sides. “He’s the tickle monster!” He growled after removing Maxie’s glasses and placing them somewhere safe.

“N-NOHOHOHO!! AHAHAHARCHIHIHIE!!!” He squealed, twisting his body left and right to escape his fingers. “NOHOHO!! ST-STAHAP!!”

“Ye set yerself up for failure when ye started tickling me! I literally know all of yer tickle spots! It’s like ye wanted this to happen, silly!”

“NOHOHOHO- I- AHAHAHA!!! STAHAHAHOP IHIHIHIT!! I’LL KILL YOHOHOHOHOU!!!”

“Hey, yer the one that started it, Maxie..” He chuckles. “And I’m the one that’s gonna end it!” He lifted his shirt up and blew a raspberry on his belly.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA-!! AHAHA- AHARCHIHIE! NOHOHOT THAHAHAHAT!! ST-ST-STAHAHA-“

*inhale* “PFFFFFFT-“

“FUHUHUHAHAHAHACK!!! STOP IHIHIHIT!!! HAHAHAHAHEHEHEHEHEHEE!! N-NO MORE!”

Archie giggles along with him. “Yer laugh is so cute, Max..” He then snuck his hands up to his armpits. “Tiiiiickle tickle tickle!”

“OHOHOHOHO GOHOHOHOHOD!!! STOP!!! NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE PLEHEHEHEASE-“

“C’mon, Maxie!” Archie teased. “Where’s that precious smile?? Huh?”

Trapping his hands underneath his arms, he covered his face in embarrassment. “I AHAHAHAM SMILING YOU IHIHIHIDIOT!!!”

“Tsk tsk tsk… name calling… that’s beneath you, Max.” He removed his hands from his armpits and grabbed one of his ankles. “And for that… imma pull out the big guns..”

“D-DON’T YOU DAHAHARE!!!” Maxie warned.

The Aqua leader traced his finger on the side of his foot, as a warning.

*Snort* “St-Stop!!”

“Nah.” He put Maxie’s ankle in a headlock and spidered his fingers at it.

“NOHOHOHOHO GOHOHOHOD NOHOHO!!! NOT THAT!!! ANYTHIHIHIHING BUT THAHAT!! ARCHIHIHIHIHIEHEEHEEEHEE PLEHEHEASE!!”

“Tickle tickle tickle tickle tickle!! Coochie Coochie Coochie coo!!”

Maxie fell back on the couch and cackled hard, tears streaming from his face, red as it could be.

But then Archie grabbed one of his toes, that made him let out a high pitched shriek.

“NO! ARCHIE NO!!” He squeaked, beating weakly at the man’s back. “N-Not my toes! Please have mercy!!”

His husband didn’t listen. He tickled the soft spot underneath his toes, making him howl in laughter. Following that was in between his toes.

“OKAYOKAYOKAY STAHAHAHAHAHAP!! PLEHEHEHEASE! IHIHIHI TAHAHAP OUT!!!”

“This isn’t a wrestling match, babe. It’s a tickle fight. And yer losing!!”

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! ST-STAHAP!! PLEASE!! IHIHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T- *snort* BREEHHEHEHEHEATHE!!!”

Archie laughed hysterically at his reaction, but finally let his ankle and foot go when his laughter turned silent. He pinned him down again and kissed his cheek. “I love ye, Max..”

Maxie pushed his face away.

“Aw, c’mon Max! Yer not mad at me..”

“Yes, I am.”

Archie raised his eyebrow and gave him a grin. “Ye started it.”

Maxie’s face turned red, blushing and trying to avoid eye contact. “Y-yes.. I did..”

Archie wrapped his arms around him and buried his face into his neck, kissing him.

“Mmm~ I love ye so much. Please don’t stay mad at me.”

Maxie was trying extremely hard to hold back laughter, but he couldn’t. “Archie, stop it… y-your beard tickles..”

“Oh? Does it now? Ye still love it anyway..” The Aqua leader purred at him, nuzzling his beard at his neck more.

“I s-said stop!” He giggled, squirming away from him. “Please! Ihihit tickles!”

“Are ye gonna forgive me, hun?”

“Yehehes! Yehehes okay???” Maxie snorted. “Y-you’ve tickled me enough…”

Archie stopped nuzzling and looked down at him, completely in love.

“Why are you looking at me like that? Because if you tickle me again, I’ll destroy you.” He playfully sneered.

“Oh, no.. it’s because yer so cute.”

“Shut it.. I’m not… The great Maxie isn’t cute.”

“Heh, I say otherwise, Max..” The pirate smiled, kissing his cheek and tickling under his chin.

“N-No-!” He giggled. He pushed his face away, but Archie pinned him back down and gave his neck more nuzzles and kisses. “Ahahaharchieeeee!”

“Hehe, I love yer laugh so much.. *kiss* I don’t hear it often enough. Guess that means I should tickle ye more.”

“NO.” He snorted, smacking a sneaky hand coming up to his ribs.

They laid there for a good while, and Maxie finally got what he wanted. He was on top of Archie’s chest, half asleep, purring like a Skitty while Archie pet his head and ran his fingers through his hair.

“Archie..?”

“Mm? T’s the matter, Max?”

*blush* “I love you.”

“Awww, I love ye too, hun.” He giggled, pressing their noses together, and giving him a passionate kiss on the lips. “Ye happy I gave ye the snuggles ye wanted?”

“Very much so.” The Magma leader chuckled. “Let’s stay like this for the rest of the evening..”

“Wouldn’t wanna be doing anything else..” Archie replied, holding him close to his chest. “Always gonna wanna cuddle me hubby. Because ye deserve all the cuddles in the world.”

That comment made Maxie blush even harder. “That’s.. really sweet of you to say..”

“And I meant every word.” Archie said, pressing one more kiss at Maxie’s cheek.

#Pokemon #Anonymous #ask #asks #Hardenshipping #maxie #archie #Tickling #Fanfiction #Fic #my fic #my fics

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sailtoafarawayland · 3 years

Text

The Chicken Debacle

Summary: There’s nothing Emma loves more than watching her husband work up a sweat, but being right certainly comes in a close second. In which a hot day, a flock of fowl, and a naughty Emma work together to make good use of some patio furniture.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Humor, Pregnant Emma, Pregnant Sex

Many thanks to all of my lovelies over on the discord - a truly inspiring bunch who prompted my muse to take what was a rather frustrating real life situation and turn it into something a bit more fun, and a bit more naughty.

AO3 - FF

The Chicken Debacle

“You're not going to help?” Killian asked, eyebrows darting up in surprise as he swept his arm across the backyard, gesturing toward the small flock of chickens currently digging through the garden and flower beds.

Emma caught the edge of her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks warming as she bit back a smile.

“Nope, sorry, babe,” she shrugged, running her hands down the large swell of her stomach, “I probably shouldn't be chasing chickens seven months pregnant. Besides, I'm not the one who forgot to shut the latch on the gate.”

His eyes narrowing at her accusation, Killian looked as if he were about to argue, but finally sighed and started toward the closest chicken, the heavyset, yellow fowl bobbing her head suspiciously as he drew near, her feathers ruffling as she shook herself and pecked viciously at the ground – readying herself for a fight, Killian imagined.

“I'll keep you company though,” Emma called out, grabbing her iced tea and laying back on the lounger – smothering a laugh behind her hand as her husband leaped toward the chicken only to have it kick up a cloud of mulch in his face and dart between his legs, making for the nearest bush.

“I'm very grateful indeed,” her husband quipped as he turned and reevaluated the situation, casting his eyes around the yard to see if there was anything he could use to ensnare the unsuspecting birds. “Enjoying your iced tea, Swan?”

“Yup, delicious,” she purred, enjoying the way the hot sun was glancing off the sheen on his chest, the summer hot enough that even the smallest amount of activity outside was enough to make them both sweat. “Perfect for a hot day – oh, our little one just kicked!”

A look of genuine contentment washed over Emma's face as she rested her free hand on her belly, her hair falling to frame her cheeks as she whispered something he couldn't hear to the child growing within her – and just like that the frustration fell from his shoulders, replaced with a love so deep he wouldn't begrudge his beautiful wife anything, not even the opportunity to hold something as trivial as the chicken gate over his head, but...that didn't mean he couldn't make his Swan work up a sweat of her own while doing it.

Emma had just looked up from the gently undulating swell of her belly when she saw Killian standing in the middle of their yard, his fingers folded around the edge of his shirt as he lifted the hem up and over his body, his abs and pectorals flexing as he tossed it to the ground nearby, shoulders rolling as he stretched and eyed the closest chicken with a determination Emma recognized immediately– those poor birds were in for it.

She watched as he lunged forward, his sneakers shifting in the grass as he chased the chicken toward a corner of the fencing, just managing to snatch it by the leg before carefully folding its wings in and lowering her over the fence back into the run, the only sign of a bruised ego some few ruffled feathers.

He rounded on the next bird, a smaller one that Emma liked to call Cinnamon – although they were pretty sure she'd never laid, and were somewhat concerned she didn't seem to know she was a chicken at all, preferring to spend her time stubbornly following around the chipmunks and squirrels that frequented the yard. While she wasn't the smartest of the bunch, she was quick, and Emma had to bite back a chuckle as Killian stumbled more than once trying to get near her – eventually giving up and moving on to the larger fowl digging in the raspberries.

Emma enjoyed the cool slip of iced tea down her throat as she feasted on her husband – his skin glistening in the sun as he moved, each hard line and muscle calling out to be touched, stroked, lavished with the sweep of her tongue as she slid her palms over the ridged planes of his stomach, moving lower until she could curl her fingers around the waistband of his shorts and slowly peel them down, her nose parting the thatch of dark curls that surrounded his thick, glorious –

“Ha!” Killian let out a triumphant yell, drawing Emma's mind back to what he was doing, two rather disgruntled looking hens fidgeting in his arms as he hurried them back to the pen and plopped them over the fence.

Her eyes were locked on her husband as he paused to catch his breath, his biceps curling as he ran his hands through his inky mop of hair, a curtain of it falling once more over his face as he bent and tightened the laces on one of his shoes, giving her an eyeful of just how firm and perfect his ass was in those particular shorts – if her husband wasn't made in the image of the gods, then she wasn't sure there ever was such a thing.

The straw she'd been sucking on finally let out a loud gurgle as she drained the last of her drink, her cheeks flushed as Killian turned around and shot her a look that said he knew exactly what she was thinking, and indeed, as she shifted on the lounger, she could feel her desire slick and wet between her legs – but there was still one chicken left to catch – Cinnamon, and her pirate wasn't one to give up before the job was done. She set the glass down on the patio, her fingers brushing against the firm coil of the hose they used for watering the garden, and as she watched Killian sprint across the yard after the last, stubborn bird, she got a perfectly wicked idea.

He'd made a few passes around the yard, Cinnamon dodging into the raspberries when he rooted her out of the garden, but no matter how quick he was, she was faster, her beady eyes never leaving him as she pranced through the grass like a tiny, cheeky dinosaur, always just out of arm's reach. It wasn't until he paused mid yard to catch his breath that Emma struck, the hose already primed and ready as she pulled the trigger and let a spray of cool water douse him, his muscles tensing as he jumped out of range and spluttered, wiping the rivulets of clear water from his eyes, his hair plastered to his head.

“Oh, you'll pay for that, Swan,” he promised, stepping forward with a dark intensity that had her scooting back on the lounge chair, her hands raised in front of her to ward off any tickling he was likely make her suffer.

“You looked so hot,” she begged, her voice rising an octave as he drew closer, droplets spraying from his hair as he shook his head and graced her with a sinful smirk, “hot and thirsty...I just thought – ”

She was about to scream, her body already on edge at the mere thought that he might tickle her, but then he stopped, both of their heads swiveling to the garden shed where they could here the clamor of something knocking and a plaintive bock that sounded for all the world like it was coming from the bottom of a well.

“Well, your punishment will just have to wait, love – that's too good an opportunity to pass up,” Killian grinning, walking swiftly to the shed where Emma could just see the fluffy bottom of Cinnamon framed by two flapping wings, her head stuck in the open neck of an old water can.

Triumphantly, Killian picked up both the bird and the can, soothing her with quiet sounds as he coaxed her free and dropped her back into the pen with her sisters, her soft orange feathers looking only a little worse for the wear as she rejoined the flock with a confused warble.

Emma's heart thumped in her chest as her husband finally turned his attention back to her, no more chickens to distract him, and advanced across the yard, the ripple of his muscles as he moved making her core clench and her nipples harden beneath her tank top – fuck if she didn't always want him, and pregnancy hadn't done anything but make that need more sharp, more constant.

“Killian,” she pleaded, licking her lips as he strode toward her, that same determination she'd seen earlier now focused entirely on her. “You could have gotten heat stroke. It's got to be ninety – ”

She yelped as his large hands gripped the bottom of the lounge chair and pulled it closer, its wheels grating against the patio as she held on, her bare foot running along the side of her leg in anticipation.

“You were quite right, love – I was getting quite thirsty.” Letting go of the chair, he kept his blue gaze locked on hers as his palms traced the firm lines of her calves, pressing deliciously into her muscles and sliding up towards her thighs as he leaned closer, “and now that you've sated that need, I can focus on more important matters.”

“Oh?” she breathed, every other part of her brain shutting down as her body screamed for him to touch her, to take her right there on the lounge chair, “and what would that be?”

“Well, a bit of hard labor always makes a man hungry, Swan,” he growled, his hands swiveling to press against the inside of her knees, her legs falling open on the lounger as he filled the space between them, his fingers deftly pulling the adjustment on the side of the chair and carefully lowering the head rest so she was nearly flat, her view of him suddenly blocked by the roundness of their child – it was the only thing she missed, being able to see him so sinfully enjoying himself between her legs.

“And I intend to enjoy every last bite of my dessert,” he finished, his fingers making her jump as they brushed against her inner thigh, pushing the light fabric of her shorts and panties to the side as he exposed her. “I knew you'd already be sopping wet for me, love...”

Emma whimpered as she felt the welcome press of his stubbled cheek against her leg, his breath hot against her damp folds for only an instant before the sensation was washed away by his tongue lightly dragging through her arousal, her back arching as he curled the tip of it around her clit, just barely nudging beneath its hood to tease the sensitive nerves within.

“Oh my god,” she hissed, her fingers wrapping tightly around the edges of the lounger as she pushed forward, desperate to have his mouth sealed over her, sucking and licking and making her feel as if she could shatter with one flick of his tongue – knowing she would. “Killian, please...”

“Now be a good girl,” he whispered, pulling back as she writhed closer. “I intend to savor this, just as you savored watching me chase those bothersome fowl around the yard.”

“You shouldn't have forgotten to lock the door,” Emma whined – why she was arguing, she wasn't sure, after all, it wasn't talking she wanted his mouth occupied with.

“Ah, but I didn't let the chickens out this morning,” he chided, licking a stripe along her leg before returning to her drenched folds, teasing along the edges of them as he drank down her essence. “I was dropping Henry off at work, if you recall.”

“Oh!” Emma gasped as his tongue slipped into her, stroking another wave of wetness from her walls as his lips massaged her flesh – oh, that was right, she remembered it now, letting them out, dropping the lid to the feed bin on her foot and forgetting to latch the gate. “Oh my god....fuck...Killian, please...”

She could feel his grin against her as he pushed her legs wider, the top of his head bumping against her belly as he moved up. The flat of his tongue licked straight through her wetness and encircled her clit, his lips pursing as he sucked on her small, swollen nub, his scruff razing her thighs and countering the overwhelming roll of pleasure that was spiraling between her legs.

“So delicious, Emma,” he moaned between her sharp gasps, leaving her only a moment's relief before he returned to making her crumble around him, alternating between sucking and laving her clit, his fingers reaching between them to slide into her tight sheath, her walls grasping and pulling as soon as he entered, eager to be filled. “I could feast on you like this all day...”

Something between a cry and a scream fell from her lips as she clutched the lounger, the pleasure building in her core spiraling and writhing and threatening to pull her apart as his rough fingers stroked her swollen walls, his tongue darting down to swallow every drop of arousal that was slipping from her, his breath fast and needy against her hot flesh – and then with a rough press of his fingers and soft flicks of his tongue, she was falling, tumbling, breaking apart around his mouth as her orgasm rolled through her like a storm.

She eased her hips up without realizing what was happening, Killian's strong hands caressing her flesh at the same time he slipped her shorts from her body, leaving her half clothed in their backyard, her mind still spinning from his incredible mouth, the sounds of the outdoors and the cars in the distance only just filtering back to her.

“That was...”

“I know,” he smirked, tossing her shorts to patio as he hooked his fingers into his own and drew them down over the impressive length of his cock, its swollen thickness bobbing against his stomach with urgency, “and now that I've eaten, I think we can move onto taking care of my other needs.”

“Killian,” she rasped, her words muffled against the material of the lounger as he gently lifted and guided her, turning her still reeling body over so that her hips were raised in the air, her sopping folds open and framed by her pale thighs as her face rested against the cushion.

“Yes, love,” he hummed, drawing a groan from her as he ran his cock through her folds, coating it in her arousal before slapping it cheekily against her bottom. “Is there something you wanted to say, perhaps?”

“I left the...accidentally...” she mumbled, coherent thought fleeing her as she felt the thick press of the head of his cock against her pleading center, her folds parting around its velvet roundness as he slowly entered her.

“What was that, darling?” His hardness slid unhurriedly into her, his strong hands holding her achingly in place as she sought that burning fullness that came when he was in her completely, but her walls pulsed longingly around just the tip of him, anticipating when they would be stretched to their limit.

“Fuck...Killian, please, need you in me...all of you,” she begged, wriggling against his grip as he grunted and gave her a few shallow thrusts, the swollen head of his cock so close to that sensitive, ribbed place inside of her that would scream with pleasure as he rolled over it.

“Aye, I know what you need, Swan, but you won't get it just yet...” He pulled out slowly, his fingers grasping her full bottom and squeezing as he watched his cock slip from her, only the flushed, glistening edges of her folds still brushing against his sensitive flesh. “Not until you admit what you did.”

“I forgot,” she hissed in a rush of air, pushing hard against his grasp, his nails almost certainly leaving red marks in her pale skin as she struggled to slide herself back onto his hard length, needing it like she needed to breath. “I left the gate open for the chickens to get – get out...”

“There we are, Swan,” he crooned, his grip easing as he swatted her on the bottom and leaned forward, a keening whimper falling from her mouth as he lodged himself completely within her, her nails dragging across the cushion as she rolled her hips to adjust to his girth. “Now was that so hard?”

She would have laughed if she didn't think she would cry from how amazing it felt to have him buried inside of her, every inch of her core throbbing around him and begging to be stroked by his beautiful cock.

“Very hard,” she breathed, squeezing his member inside of her and reveling in the deep groan it pulled from his chest, a mischievous smile twisting her lips. “Are you mad at me?”

“Never, Emma,” he whispered, his words ghosting along her back as he leaned over her and placed a reverent kiss to her shoulder, his hand trailing along her body until it came to rest against her swollen stomach, drawing small circles against her taut skin. “There's nothing I love more than indulging the beautiful...” He thrust roughly into her, her cry of pleasure lodging between his ribs like the most exquisite knife as he withdrew “...forgetful...” Another drive of his hips buried him in her once more, her body trembling as her walls clung desperately to his cock “...mother of my child...”

A wavering cry hung between them as he sunk deeply into her again, stilling for only a moment before his hips snapped back and he set the punishing pace she was craving, greedy, desperate pleas falling from her lips as he pistoned into her, his skin burning with a heat that roared from deep in his gut to blaze along every inch of his body.

Emma clung to the lounger as Killian filled her over and over again, his member caressing the most intimate parts of her and pulling from her noises she'd only ever shared with him, her panting breaths lost amid the slap of their skin meeting, the back of her thighs stinging from the scrape of his hair as he pounded into her, whispering things into the air that had her core throbbing with sinful pride.

It didn't take them long, the hot sun beating down against them as he roared over her, her upper body limp and clutching the cushion beneath her as he finally came, the vicious pulsing of his cock sending her over that beautiful horizon once more, her tight sheath squeezing him as he washed her insides with his release, their bodies shivering and trembling together as those last waves licked their skin – electric and burning and perfectly right.

His cheek was rough and hot against her back as his cock finally softened and slipped from her, pulling a last whimper from her lips as her wet flesh was left cool and exposed, everything throbbing pleasantly. His fingers traced soothing lines along her legs and sides, a soft chuckle reverberating against her back.

“Something funny, pirate?” she murmured, her back starting to ache even though she felt too boneless to move.

“It just occurred to me that I may very well find the chickens loose more often after this...lovely afternoon interlude.”

“I make no promises,” she quipped.

“I've have always said you've a little bit of pirate in you, Swan,” he rumbled, pinching her bottom before gently rolling her to lay sideways on the lounger, his arms pulling her close to his chest.

“Well, more than a little,” she reminded him, drawing his calloused palm over her stomach, their not-so-little pirate rolling happily against them both as they soaked in the warmth of another lazy afternoon. Everything was bathed in that burnt, hazy afterglow that comes with summer, nearly tempting them to fall asleep – at least until something moving across her field of vision had Emma's eyes springing open, her mouth opening in surprise.

“Is that...Killian, did you check that the latch was actually shut after you put the chickens back in?”

Her husband's stubble scraped her skin as he peeked over her shoulder and watched the slow march of fowl making their way around the edge of the garden, scratching and pecking and looking far more recuperated from their last encounter than he currently felt.

“Bloody hell...”

END

Tagging: @justanother-unluckysoul @kmom0f4 @the-darkdragonfly @teamhook @zaharadessert @xarandomdreamx @jrob64 @wefoundloveunderthelight @tiganasummertree @pirateprincessofpizza @lfh1226-linda @alexa-fangirl-forever @alifeofdreams @superchocovian @donteattheappleshook @hollyethecurious @caught-in-the-filter @snowbellewells @itsfabianadocarmo @stahlop

#Captain Swan #CS fic #cs fanfic #emma swan #killian jones #sailtoafarawayland #humor #pregnant emma #the chicken debacle

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lassieposting · 3 years

Note

💘💘💘💘 + ghasdug

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

So Skug says they stowed away on the same ship, but this is...not exactly true.

He stowed away on that ship, because he was running away from home and he was a snobby little lordling who'd never had to fend for himself a day in his life, so the furthest ahead he'd actually thought to plan was "they won't want to turn around and drop me off once they're underway".

Ghastly was not stowed away at any point during that trip. Ghastly was signed on for the journey as a deckhand, because Ghastly's mother told him he needed to, and it had to be that particular ship. Ghastly gets seasick, and did not want to go to sea in the slightest. But Ghastly's mother has visions and so Ghastly does as he is told. Apparently there was something important waiting for him on that ship.

Anyway Skug pops out once he thinks they're far enough away from shore that they'll leave him be rather than take him back to port, and he is incredibly mistaken. The captain is in favour of turning him around right there and then, because he's clearly some rich lord's brat, and whoever his father is will probably pay handsomely for his safe return. Ghastly manages to talk the ship's crew into letting him stay on, provided he pulls his weight like the rest of them.

Needless to say, even before they're attacked by pirates, that voyage is a rude awakening for poor Skug, and good lord does Ghastly hear all about it. He has blisters. His feet hurt. This shirt was expensive and now it's all sweaty. His hair is in his eyes all the time. He's tired. The guy in the next bunk snores. Some of these people look like they have lice. He didn't realise he'd be doing manual labour, this is servant stuff, how dare they.

Ghastly does. Not realise at that point what he has let himself in for.

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

Poor Ghastly gets to pine for years. Baby Skug isn't a great boyfriend. He's less invested - he loves Ghastly, but they have two totally different outlooks.

Ghastly is ugly. He's always been ugly. He's got a face he believes only his mother could love. He's never believed he'd find someone who saw past that or loved him regardless. So as soon as he gets Skug into bed, he's over the moon and ready to commit. He's like 17, and would absolutely settle down there and then given half a chance.

Skug, on the other hand, was a weird-looking child who only recently grew into an attractive adolescent and he is loving it. For the first time in his life, girls are noticing him. He doesn't want to settle down, he wants to play the field and sow some wild oats and have fun. So there are periods of exclusivity with Ghastly, interspersed with periods where Skug basically drops him to chase after the latest pretty bit of skirt.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

Ghastly's smitten by the time they make it back to Ireland - Skug is a bit soft and allergic to hard work and a pain in the arse, but he's flashy and charismatic and funny and pays attention to him without gawking at his face (past the initial "good god, what happened to you?") - but Skug is well and truly settled into living with Ghastly's family by the time he actually gives Ghas the come-on.

where their first date was and what it was like

They went to the local tavern and got drunk, and then rode home in the pouring rain once it kicked them out at closing time.

When they got home, Ghastly's parents had long since gone to bed, but that wasn't necessarily unusual - once Skug, who has a considerable allowance, is old enough to start drinking, Saoirse institutes a rule that if they're not home by the time she and her husband turn in for the night, she'll leave blankets in the barn and they can sleep there instead. She's not having them barging in, wasted, at all hours of the day and night, waking her up after a hard day's work.

So they put the horses away and give them a quick rub down, and Ghastly is trying to look anywhere but Skug because Skug's shirt has gone kind of see-through and poor Ghastly is an awkward, horny teenage boy, but he keeps shooting him these furtive glances over the horse's back and Skug notices because Skug notices everything and lowkey teases him about it. "Want me to sit for a portrait? It'll last longer," sort of teasing, and Ghastly tries to laugh along but he's also vibrant red because he's been caught staring, so obviously Skug realises something's up

And he's precisely as tactful about it as he ever is about anything, and jokes, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you wanted me," and Ghastly's ears burn and he doesn't deny it quick enough and now Skug's eyebrows are inching towards his hairline and Ghastly panics because like, he's ugly, Skug is going to be disgusted or laugh at him and he can't cope with either, so he just? Freezes?

But like. Skug was a weird-looking, unfortunate child who very recently grew into an attractive adolescent, so he fucking thrives on attention. So his response to this awkward not-quite-a-confession is actually a moment of silence while he mulls this new information over (this feels like an eternity to poor Ghastly) followed by an early attempt at using The Hot Voice and, "If you want me, have me."

So, they end up having sex in the hayloft on the blankets Ghastly's mom left out for them. Ghastly has never even been kissed and doesn't admit that he has no idea what he's doing until he realises Skug is expecting him to take the lead. He also blurts that he loves Skug when he nuts, so like. It's your typical painfully embarrassing virginity loss.

It can't be all bad though, because Skug's up for doing it again.

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

So in my endgame-ghasdug AU, they get back together post-TDOTL. Ghastly survives being stabbed, but the blade nicked his spinal cord, so he's in a wheelchair for quite a while, and then has to do A Lot of physical therapy to relearn how to walk. Skug shows up at the hospital/facility where he's recovering every day unless there's an emergency, because Ghastly is very depressed and struggling with survivor's guilt over Anton and doesn't see the point in doing his physio because it hurts and he's exhausted and he shouldn't be alive anyway. And Skug annoys him into doing it, mostly by heckling him from the other side of the room, because he's not great at the whole emotional support thing. Ghastly will mutter, "Christ, I want to hit you," and Skug will tell him, "Well, if you come over here to do it I won't even duck." And if Ghastly gets his ass up and uses the walking frame support thing to cross the room, well, then Skug will take a punch like a man and be happy about it because Ghastly walked.

They also talk a lot during this period. Ghastly feels like shit, and he reminisces a lot about the good old days and how he never saw Ravel's betrayal coming and memories he has of Anton, and sometimes that veers into memories they share from when they were young men. And Skug, at this point, is old enough and has been through enough to admit that he wasn't great to Ghastly when they were boys. He was flighty and selfish and high-maintenance, and he would've hated to be treated the way he treated Ghastly. And he tells him that, at one point - that he's sorry, and if he could go back and do it differently, he would, assuming Ghastly was daft enough to be willing to put up with him a second time.

And Ghastly laughs and tells him, "I'd still have you now, you stupid bastard."

who proposes first

Ghastly. They're 19/20. Skug thinks he's joking.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

Neither - they don't announce it, but it's not exactly a secret either. Ghastly's parents notice pretty much straight away, but other than a few parental pointers on what is and isn't appropriate, it's not really a topic of conversation.

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

Skug's sister Confelicity accepts the first proposal she gets at the age of 16, because she's desperate to get out of their parents' house and away from their toxic relationship and controlling behaviour. Their father disapproves and refuses to attend the wedding (and, of course, their mother is not allowed her own opinion), and Carver is out of the country, so Skug stands in to a) pay and b) give away the bride. He takes Ghastly for moral support, because he doesn't like most of his relatives and also doesn't like the groom (Thurid Guild - their relationship doesn't improve when Confelicity divorces him a few years later to marry a baronet). While they're watching the couple say their vows, Ghastly murmurs, "We should get married."

Skug is right in the middle of his hoe phase and does not realise Ghastly's serious.

who’s more dominant

Generally, Skug. He is one hell of a force of personality and Ghastly does get steamrollered quite a bit, although he does eventually learn how to say no. Skug always gets things his way, always does whatever he likes and be damned to the consequences, and Ghastly is always there with a handful of the back of his shirt, pulling his ass out of whatever fire he started.

In bed, though, it's Ghastly.

how into pda they are

As teenagers, Ghastly's mother has to reprimand them occasionally for being too all over each other, but teenagers be rabidly horny. As grown men, they're just sort of casually affectionate. Comfortable with each other. When they're relaxing in camp after a day of travelling, Skug will lean against Ghastly to read a book or put his head on Ghastly's leg while they chat. They can have a silent conversation just by reading each other's faces. They'll nudge each other when something reminds them of an in-joke. They have that easy intimacy that comes with having known each other forever.

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

As boys, Ghastly has a particular flowery meadow he likes to take Skug to for picnics, because he's a romantic. Skug at that age is considerably less so, and more interested in whether they can screw there without getting caught.

In the modern day, they go to see old movies. Ghastly was very into the early films of the late 1910s and the 1920s, after the war finished. He associates them with a time where he finally got to just set up his shop and live the life he always wanted to live. Skug hasn't seen most of Ghastly's favourites, because he spent that period of history fighting the truce and then spiralling into a black hole of trauma and misery, but he got very into the noir detective era to the point that he's still clinging to the aesthetic like 80 years later, so they'll alternate who picks the movies and catch each other up on their favourites.

who’s more protective

They've both spent their fair share of time fretting in the chair beside a hospital bed. After Ravel's betrayal, though, it's Skug. Ghastly retires as soon as he's considered fit to make the decision, and decides he wants to go back to Dublin to reopen his shop and just sort of try and forget Roarhaven exists. And Skug is absolutely adamant that he gets to do it. There's a lot of interest in Ghastly for a while - groundbreaking healing magic was used to fix what should've been a permanent injury, people want to know if he suspected Ravel, they want his advice on how to rebuild after Devastation Day. He's more approachable than China, and a lot more popular. But he can't cope with it all, and anyone who tries to hassle him in Dublin will have Skug to deal with.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

The first night Skug stays at Ghastly's family home. Ghastly is an only child, and his family isn't wealthy - their house doesn't have a guest room. It's sleep with Ghastly or sleep on the floor, and Little Lord Priss isn't going to be sleeping on the floor.

Honestly, he's relieved there isn't a spare room for him. He's never really slept alone before. Like most children of very wealthy families back then, he grew up in a nursery with his four oldest brothers and sisters, and when he was too old to live with The Children, he shared a room, first with Carver and then with Francis. The thought of being on his own in a strange house is pretty intimidating.

He moves to his own bed as soon as they get him one, but he stays in Ghastly's room, and he's perfectly happy with that.

(Ghastly is less happy. He's very much crushing on Skug and he's terrified he'll say something incriminating in his sleep.)

who steals whose clothes and how often

Skug gets to steal Ghastly's clothes for a year or two after he moves in with Ghastly's family. After that, they're built too differently. Ghastly is built like a brick shithouse of muscle. Skug is lean and toned and tall. When they're younger, he can more or less wear Ghastly's clothes as a nightshirt, but after Skug's final growth spurt, Ghastly's clothes don't sit right on him at all, and he's gotten too vain and fashion-conscious by that point to just wear them anyway.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

Ghastly is fussy about his tea. Plenty of milk, two and a half sugars, leave the teabag in.

Skug just inhales it black, which Ghastly thinks is an abomination.

if they ever have any children together

Ghastly thanks his lucky stars every day that they have a 0% chance of accidentally spawning a skuglet. One of him is plenty.

He's very involved with Skugbab when he comes along, though. He's godfather and a very present uncle.

if they have any special pet names for each other

Skug doesn't do nicknames, and would rather not be given them, either. Ghastly gets away with "Skul", primarily because he's the only one who's known Skug since he was all of 16, but also because "Skulduggery" is a mouthful when all your blood is rushing to your downstairs brain and it's his own damn fault that he didn't think of that before he picked it.

if they ever split up and / or get back together

So many times. They're on and off again more frequently than Saracen's clothes. Every time Skug spots someone new, he ends it with Ghastly to pursue them, and then comes back when he loses interest or it doesn't work out.

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

Ghastly's family home is an old farmhouse on the outskirts of Dublin. It's simple, but cosy, and Ghastly's dad is incredibly houseproud, so it's very well-looked-after. Skug prefers it by miles to his own palacial, but cold and unwelcoming, family home, and he tries to replicate the vibe later on with Wifey. It's pretty small compared to what he's used to, so it sort of feels like they're all living on top of each other, and he has to get used to not having any servants and drawing his own water to heat his own bath etc, but he's loved there, and that makes all the difference.

what their names are in each other’s phones

They're both old-ass men about some things, and this is one of them. So no emojis or anything - they're "Ghastly Bespoke" and "Skul". How romantic.

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Ghastly wakes up first: he's used to rising early to get started on his chores. Skug is absolutely not a morning person at this point in his life and Ghastly frequently has to turf his ass out of bed by pulling his quilt off/dumping water on him/yelling in his ear.

Reversed with modern day ghasdug: Ghastly still wakes at a sensible time, but damn it he left the army a century ago and now he likes a lie in. Skug never really stopped being a soldier and still has most of his military habits, so he's up with the sun.

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

Ghastly is the big spoon. Skug likes to be Held.

who hogs the bathroom

Skug. The boy is vain as all fuck. There is a grand total of one cloudy looking-glass in Ghastly's family's home and Skug spends a good chunk of the morning hogging it to fuss with his hair and peacock at his reflection. Ghastly is under strict orders Never to mention this to Fletcher.

#skulduggery pleasant #ghasdug #sp headcanons #long post

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cant-think-of-anything · 3 years

Text

Pirate AU (Part Nine)

Kamala sought out Grace as soon as she returned back to their own ship.

It wasn’t a difficult task, Grace was always lurking down near the lower levels when Kamala tried to find her. She desperately needed to talk to her before Tatiana recovered, before Tatiana tried to get into her daughter’s head as she always did.

“Grace!” She called, making her way down the winding pathways.

Before she could shout again she caught a glimpse of her, sitting cross legged on one of the empty beds that was meant to belong to a military official. Like most things in their life, the ship was stolen.

“What do you want?” Grace sighed irritably.

“You can’t be enjoying this,” Kamala said softly, approaching the girl carefully.

“Why wouldn’t I be? They deserve it after all.”

“Oh? Alastair Carstairs deserved to be jailed and sent to trail?”

Kamala was worried about him too. She knew the London government wouldn’t take mercy on a dark-skinned foreigner, especially one with a vague backstory that could easily crumble upon closer examination.

Grace stiffened, discomfort seizing her face for a moment. “If that’s what it takes.”

“I know you think that your mother is right, that these families deserve to suffer. But Tatiana lies.”

“They killed my family,” Grace hissed. “Why should I have mercy?”

“Tatiana may not be responsible for her husband’s death but she certainly played a role in her son’s death.”

Her eyes went wide. “Jesse?” Suddenly there was no hostility in her voice anymore. Just pain.

“Before I joined Tatiana I tried to dig up information about her. She let Jesse become sick and she let him die. Some sort of crude point to the Herondales, that if they wronged her they would have blood on their hands. And when that wasn’t enough she went after their children. Please Grace. I’ll prove it to you if I have to,�� She gently laid a hand on the younger girls shoulder. “But don’t let your mother take another child’s life.”

~~~

Alastair inwardly groaned when he heard the door open once more. It had been doing that all morning, or at least, he assumed it was morning. He wondered if all prisoners were told so little about their situations. Even more unfortunately a rather unpleasant man was questioning him.

“Where were you born?” Charles Fairchild asked, his bright red hair giving Alastair an intense headache.

“Paris,” He responded, which was true enough.

Charles gave him a skeptical look which he leveled with a glare. Honestly were all English people so dim-witted?

“I would like to speak with my sister,” Alastair said before Charles could question his place of birth further.

“You are in no place to make demands.”

Alastair smiled lightly. Careful not to reveal anything true, he leaned forward. “Aren’t I? Fairchild, the youngest of the two is known to frequent scandalous places but the eldest is a reserved politician with a lovely fiance. So why was said eldest Fairchild seen multiple times near a bar reserved for rather improper activities among the youth? I could dig deeper if I wished but I don’t believe either of us want that.”

Charles had turned an alarming shade of red. At least he matched his hair now.

“So,” Alastair said tilting his head to one side. “My sister?”

~~~

Cordelia’s first choice for any venture would’ve obviously been Lucie, but she found herself quite amused in Ms. Lightwood’s company.

“You seem to be quite distracted lately,” Cordelia started, her voice low but clear in the chatter of the London streets. She’d been beyond relief to get a permit to visit her brother earlier in the morning, but she felt nerves build up thinking of what was to come.

“Haven’t we all?”

“Not in that way,” Cordelia responded, grinning when Eugenia’s face flushed.

“And you are an exception? Is staring at Lucie a hobby of yours then?”

Cordelia sputtered, and Eugenia laughed.

“So I was right! Delightful. Tell me all about it darling.”

Cordelia’s face heated up. She knew she wasn’t being subtle with her yearning but she hadn’t expected someone to pick up on it quite so fast. “I don’t know what to say about it-or to her. The timing of it all seems horrendous. I don’t even know how she feels about me. We’re friends aren’t we?”

Eugenia snorted, “Oh you’re certainly more than friends. I don’t see you wistfully gazing at me or Thomas.”

“You and Thomas seem to have your own people to gaze at,” She retorted, smiling when Eugenia stopped talking. She wanted to ask but she also didn’t want to push.

“We’re here,” Cordelia said, instead regarding the building with distaste. “Stuffy nobles and their stuffy rooms with their-” She broke off and looked guiltily at Eugenia. “I apologize.”

Eugenia simply looked amused as they stepped inside, following the person leading them to the jail room. “Don’t apologize. I’m rather tired of it myself. I wish-”

She was cut off by their guide opening the doors and saying “Five minutes. That’s all.”

Cordelia pushed past him, running to where her brother glanced up from his book, a half amused, half worried look on his face. Where he managed to get a book in prison was beyond her. She wrapped her hand around the metal bars.

“What do we do?” She whispered, horrified by the desperation in her voice. “How do we get out of this?”

Alastair didn’t respond for a moment, brief concentration flickering over his face before he responded, “The trail will be private. I have an idea but you’ll need to create a distraction for me.”

“Distraction? Of what kind?”

“Anything that will take their eyes off me.” Then he stopped. “But please Layla, do try not to destroy the entire city in the process.”

She glared at that, flicking his arm lightly though inside, she felt a bit of worry dissipate. “Fine. I will. Will you be alright? This prison seems rather cramped.”

“There are worse.”

“I suppose so.” Her voice went low. “Did they hurt you? On the ship?”

“No. They didn’t.”

Cordelia wanted to believe her brother but Alastair had mastered the art of spinning stories to soften both his pain and hers. Before she could push any further she felt Eugenia’s hand grip her shoulder. Cordelia nodded, pulling away from the cell.

“A distraction. We can manage that.”

~~~

Lucie tapped her fingers anxiously against the counter she was seated on, the repetitive noise drowned out by the chaos that was Christopher’s lab. She wasn’t entirely sure why she had come down to her cousin’s laboratory but she quite enjoyed it. There was something soothing about the disorder. Thomas had accompanied her, now sitting next to Chistopher, anxiously watching the controlled fire.

“Christopher!” She called, waiting for him to glance up from his notebook where he was furiously scribbling something down. “What would be your advice,” She started, choosing her words carefully, “to someone who needs to confess something, but isn’t sure how to go about it?” Thomas looked up as if he too was interested in the answer.

Christopher put down his pen, tilting his head. “This is about Cordelia?”

Lucie choked, nearly slipping off the counter. “Why- why would you-”

“I thought everyone knew,” He said, giving her a perplexed look.

Lucie had no response to that. She stared at the ceiling, willing her face to stop flaming. The door swung open and it took every ounce of her will to not run out of the room when she saw Cordelia and Eugenia step in.

“You’re here!” Cordelia exclaimed, smiling.

Lucie just nodded faintly, glaring at Eugenia’s knowing smile.

“We needed to get something, do you think you could help us?” Cordelia asked, looking at Christopher.

Christopher lit up, listing off ideas rapidly. Lucie smiled and crossed over to where her friends were seated, listening to him talk excitedly.

“Do you need help?” Lucie asked, once they had all reached a general consensus.

Eugenia and Thomas had to return home, worried that their parents would notice such a lengthy absence but Cordelia and Lucie opted to stay with Christopher.

When he shook his head, Cordelia piped in “Explain it to us then? My brother talks often about criminal forensics and I would like to recognize at least some of the words he uses.”

“You wish for me to tell you about it?” He sounded surprised, causing an uncomfortable twinge in Lucie’s heart.

It was often that when Christopher talked of science or her of writing, their friends would cease to pay attention, Thomas being an exception. To have someone care about something you cared for… Lucie smiled to herself and nodded.

“We would.”

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno @barbra-lightwood @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @foxglove-airmid

#listen to your friends when they speak about their intrests challenge #@the rest of the charecters that aren't here because i make the rules here #this was orginally supposed to be five parts #we're close i promise #joshwood #thomastair #lucelia #lucie herondale #cordelia carstairs #kamala joshi #eugenia lightwood #thomas lightwood #alastair carstairs

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elizabeethan · 4 years

Text

On This Night

Emma Swan’s life falls to shambles suddenly one night, and Captain Jones is there to pick up the pieces.

Rated E for smut and some violent stuff

Also on Ao3

Check out other stuff I’ve written

Warning: This story contains a few very brief and minimally detailed descriptions of gore (blood), threats of sexual assault, domestic violence, and miscarriage. Nothing is graphically described but it's there. This fic also depicts Baelfire and Walsh in a very negative light so if you’re not into that please move on!

A/N: while watching the CS movie long ago, I noticed that jmo/Emma has a scar on her chest above her left breast which you can see pretty clearly in this gif set. I wondered how she might’ve gotten it, and then created an entire universe in which Emma is a bar maid and somehow got into trouble one night, and Killian comes to her rescue. Then I wrote this prompt, and ouatxxxxx said she wanted more, so the rest is pure self-indulgence.

Tagging: @courtorderedcake @kmomof4 @stahlop @klynn-stormz @laschatzi @emelizabeth88 @lfh1226-linda @kday426 @profdanglaisstuff @elisethewritingbeast @timeless-love-story @captain-emmajones @gingerpolyglot @ebcaver @ilovemesomekillianjones @teamhook @superchocovian @itsfabianadocarmo @tiganasummertree @gingerchangeling @jrob64 @onceratheart18 @xhookswenchx @winterbaby89 @swampmedusa @ultraluckycatnd @dancingnancyy @love-with-you-i-have-everything @shireness-says @snowbellewells @hollyethecurious @ouatpost @ouatxxxxx @donteattheappleshook @cocohook38

Emma tries very hard to keep her head down and get her work done each night. Being a barmaid in a skeevy tavern isn’t easy and Emma always feels the need to stay on her toes as she works around the raucous crowd of sailors and pirates. She’s seen things get out of hand before, and she isn’t ignorant to what goes on in this area, so she always has her guard up.

She maneuvers her way around the dark and muggy tavern carefully, avoiding sticky hands attached to slimy men, handing out mugs of ale to paying customers and being shouted at by the ones who won't toss her a coin. Her job shouldn't be difficult— it isn’t, in fact. But when some pirate ships make port just outside the tavern’s doors, she never fails to see the rise in aggressive and discordant behavior from her customers.

Granny normally tries to calm her down, reminding her that the pirates will leave soon and the tavern’s crowd will be back to its usual fishermen and honest sailors, but it hardly ever works. Emma can’t help feeling nervous that someone will step out of line and that she’ll be powerless to prevent destruction of the tavern or harm to herself or the other bar maid, Ruby.

She continues on with her night, handing out bread and ale to anyone who pays her, until she notices a familiar face. Though she didn’t catch him coming in, the dark and brooding man sits in the corner surrounded by other women she’s seen in the tavern before and laughing loudly enough to draw the attention of the other patrons. He looks as handsome as he usually does, wearing black leather and kohl under his eyes to make the bright blue pop from across the small room. She reprimands herself for always noticing, but he fills the tight outfit flawlessly, the muscles around his shoulders clearly defined through the leather and the hair on his chest peeking through the many open buttons.

She watches him discreetly throughout the night, continuing her work and avoiding the hands of the patrons until the crowd begins to dwindle. As it does, she notices that he stays put, continuing his games but dismissing the women who were keeping him company.

She gathers some of the refuse from the busy night and carries as much of it as she can out the back door, reveling in the cold bite of the air outside of the stuffy building. She hasn't been still all evening, and takes a moment to lean against the brick wall and close her eyes, breathing deeply despite the wretched smells surrounding her.

“Well, hello there,” she hears from beside her, and she wants to kick herself for hoping it’s him. Instead, her eyes fly open to see a slight, tall man leering at her threateningly. She’s frozen, the blood in her veins turning to ice in response to the man’s spine-chilling presence.

“Sir,” she nods in greeting, trying to sneak by him without triggering an angry response that she’s grown so accustomed to from the men who frequent the area.

“Where do you think you're going?”

She clears her throat, freezing again as his arms cage her against the brick wall and he smirks again. “Just trying to get back inside, sir.”

“I like when you call me that,” he says.

“I have just a bit more work to do this evening, I should be getting back.'' She attempts to be forceful, showing him that she isn't interested, but she has a feeling it isn’t working.

“You're not going anywhere until I tell you you are,” he insists, and she feels a bit of moisture hitting her face due to just how close he’s standing to her.

“I—” she starts, but she feels his hands grabbing her arms below the shoulders and she gasps in response, fear grasping onto her. “Sir, I can’t, I have a husband.”

“I don’t give a damn about your husband. One man can’t claim a woman who looks like you.”

Tears begin to sting at her eyes as he takes a small dagger from the side of his leg, holding it up to her throat threateningly before she feels a menacing hand trailing roughly down her side. “Please,” she begs softly through a sob. He puts his hand against her mouth and hisses to silence her and she takes her opportunity, biting down on his salty flesh.

He shouts, and the knife slips from her throat. “Stupid bitch!” he screams at her, spitting at her and shaking out his hand. “And you got blood on my sleeve. You idiotic wench.”

Stunned, Emma flounders quickly away from him and reaches for the door, but he grabs her by the wrist again and pulls her towards him. She lets out a loud cry, feeling a sharp sting on the skin of her left breast as he tugs that same arm, and she thinks she must have truly bungled her escape from this monster. She tries to accept her fate, crying some more as he forces her to the ground, until he’s suddenly off of her and on the cobblestones before her.

She hears shouting followed by the sound of a fist contacting the man’s face and thinks a bone may have cracked at the impact. She chooses this moment to scurry away on her hands and heels, dragging her frock below her.

“Swan,” she hears eventually. Her eyes are open, she thinks, but she can’t see much of what’s going on around her. “Swan, he isn’t here anymore.”

When she finally sees him, she’s panting as her eyes make contact with his, and the bright blue grounds her just slightly. “We’ve got to go, love. You're bleeding everywhere, we’ve got to get you cleaned up.”

She isn't sure what kind of sound escapes her throat when he takes her hand in his, pulling her up onto her feet as she stumbles into him. She can hardly stand up, even with him supporting her weight, and she wonders what has happened to the strong, independent Emma she left inside the tavern. “Not Granny,” she tells him weakly, and she thinks she hears him scoff before a wave of nausea washes over her when they try to walk.

Stilling, she takes a deep breath and he tugs on her once more. “Come, love. We can go to the ship if you'd like, but we have to move now. You're bleeding quite badly.”

She whimpers as he tries to get her to walk once more, feeling dizzy and even more disoriented, and before she knows it, he hoists her into his hold and is carrying her through the streets until they make it to the gangplank of his ship.

Somehow, he manages to get her down the ladder into his quarters without dropping her or alerting any member of his crew that she’s even aboard. He takes a clean cloth from beside the basin and wets it before dabbing it against the skin of her chest and drawing a shout from her at the burn. “Hush, love,” he says softly, and she knows his goal is to soothe her rather than keep her quiet. She certainly feels less intimidated now than she had when the smarmy man hissed threats at her

“You need sutures,” he tells her after a few moments of silence. Her skin has gone numb at the feel of the burning liquid pressing to her, and she realizes he’s using rum to cleanse her wound. She wishes she could drink some. “I could do them now, if you'd like.”

“Okay.”

As he cares for her, she guiltily lets her thoughts wander to the first night they met. It was months ago, perhaps years by now, and he continued to request ale from her all night, tipping her handsomely. She was taken by him immediately and almost allowed herself to bring her guard down, but the ring on the chain around her neck continued to weigh heavily upon her heart to remind her of her responsibilities.

When she found out that he was not a naval captain, but rather a ruthless pirate, she felt conflicted. Growing up an orphan, she’s always wanted to travel the realms and seek adventure, but falling pregnant, marrying the father, and then losing the baby all in a matter of months made her too scared and traumatized to do much of anything aside from advance her career as a wench in a tavern by the port.

Meeting the Captain mere months after marrying and then losing her baby was a blessing and a curse. Each night he comes to the tavern, he shares brief stories of his latest adventures and it fills the hole of wanderlust in her heart as she falls for him again and again. However, each time she sees him and listens to his tales of splendor, she’s reminded that she can never have him.

As quickly as the thoughts of leaving her loveless marriage come to mind, they leave her, and she forces herself to move on from her feelings for the handsome, gruesome pirate.

And despite the decision she made all that time ago to stay faithful to her husband, she feels something in the pit of her stomach as the captain stands before her and carefully stitches her up. She can’t help but wonder if she made the right choice. It isn't as if Captain Jones even propositioned her to come away with him, not outwardly, but she always wonders if she would have done something differently if he had.

“You shouldn’t be out on your own late at night like that,” he says, finally breaking the soft silence between them as he finishes up his work on her skin sliced by the slipping blade. He had blessedly given her a few swigs of rum as he worked, so she felt the warmth rushing through her at the feel of his hand sweeping some hair away from her wound.

“I had to take out the waste,” she tells him softly, grabbing for another swig of rum and allowing the burn in her throat to distract from the burn on her breast.

“It’s too dark and secluded. If I hadn’t heard you shouting…”

“How’d you know to come outside, then? I thought you were busy with your many women?”

“I watched you walk out the back alone, then saw some bloke follow you and when you didn’t come back in, I figured I’d better check. Glad that I did.”

“Yeah,” she agrees. She is, too.

He fastens a bandage to her skin, gently tugging at the ties as the fabric loops under her arms to secure it tightly over the injury. “Are you alright, Emma?” he asks tenderly, lifting his hand as if he might touch her. He hardly ever calls her Emma.

“Yes, you’ve seen to my wounds very diligently, Captain,” she smiles as the rum warms her.

“That’s not what I mean,” he answers impatiently, clearly unappreciative of her lighthearted tone.

“Oh.”

“This evening could’ve gone quite differently.”

She nods, understanding his meaning. He isn’t searching for vindication or thanks; he’s worried about her.

“I need to get home,” she suddenly realizes. It’s far past what was meant to be the end of her shift, and now that she’s regained her wits, she realizes that she never properly closed the tavern, and that her husband will likely be looking after her soon.

“Let me walk you,” he practically demands. After what’s happened, she doesn't want to argue, but logically knows that she must.

“I can’t.”

“I won't walk you to your door, just far enough to know you’ve made it safely.”

He understands her.

~~~~

When she’s home, safely guided by the deadly pirate captain who first entertains her with blithe conversation and then watches from around the bend as she walks through the door, she’s met with exactly what she was expecting.

He’s drunk.

He shouts at her for being home late. He chastises her for the soiled garb, telling her that they can hardly afford to replace it. He accuses her of being drunk, despite the soft daze from the rum having long worn off during her stroll.

He notices the bandage and becomes irate.

“You truly do have absolutely no respect for me, is that it? You’d run off behind the tavern with a man and allow yourself to be mutilated like this?”

“Bae, it wasn’t like that. He followed me and he attacked me.”

“I’m not interested in your excuses, Emma. You were in an alley alone with a man, and you got what was coming to you for being unfaithful.” She feels the tears coming back, burning her eyes and the back of her throat as her bottom lip quivers. “At least tell me it was Granny who stitched you up and not that man.”

She shakes her head weakly, swallowing the tears back desperately. “It wasn’t that man,” she tells him ambiguously.

“So it was Granny, then,” he says slowly, his eyes drawing narrow as he stares into her glassy eyes.

She swallows. She’s a horrible liar despite being able to tell when anyone else is lying, and if there’s one thing he knows about his wife, it’s when she isn’t being truthful. “It—” she starts, but he cuts her off.

“So it wasn’t Granny? Who the hell was it, then?!”

“Bae—”

“Who did you let near you, Emma?!”

“It was simply a kind passerby who helped me in my time of need, Bae. I’m sorry.” She’s lying. She thinks he may know it.

“So it was a man. You allowed a man who isn’t your husband to touch your flesh, and you expect to come home to no consequences?”

“Bae, I’ve,” she chokes, begging, “I’ve had a very difficult evening. Please, can we talk about this in the morning?”

“We’ll talk about it when I want to talk about it!”

“I’ve never been unfaithful—”

He cuts her off, not with his words but with his open palm clouting across her face.

She gasps, slowly reaching her hand up to the burning flesh of her left cheek as tears slide down easily. “Get out of my house. Go back to that man, you harlot.”

“Bae,” she cries out, her voice completely shot and pathetically weak.

“Can’t give me a son, can’t stay faithful— the only two things a woman needs to do— you’re worthless. My father was right about what he said when I married you; you're nothing but a greedy orphan. Get out.”

~~~~

She wanders the streets for a while before finally making her way back towards the tavern. She knows it to be closed by now, but she also knows which window Ruby leaves unsecured due to the broken lock, so she can sneak inside and spend the night.

Everything hurts her. Her cheek is throbbing and hot against the cool air and her chest is burning and stinging through her sutures, but what hurts the most is her broken spirit.

She feels so defeated. She had been thinking about leaving her husband for some time, simply because she was unhappy with his mood and his drinking and his endless verbal assault on her, but also because he serves as a constant reminder of the child she’d lost not long before she was due to give birth to him. Beyond all of this, though, he’s never struck her, not until now.

She tries to jimmy the window open with little success due to her maimed chest shooting pains into her left arm and lets out a sob of frustration. If she doesn't get inside the tavern, she’s unsure of how she’ll be spending her night. Surely she isn’t immune to another attack in a dark alley.

“Swan?” she hears from far behind her, and she jumps up and spins around to meet the owner of the soothing voice. “What the bloody hell are you doing?”

When she meets his eyes with hers, despite him being several feet away, she feels stinging tears once more, but she isn’t sure why. When he steps towards her and takes her hands in his, she knows it's because of the relief she feels, like a tidal wave crashing into her and carrying her to safety. “What’s happened?” he asks, reaching a hand up to her swollen cheek.

She chokes out a sob, dropping her head in defeat as she allows the tears to fully take her over. Seemingly without a second thought, he winds his hand behind her head and draws her close to him, pulling her against his chest and holding her tight. He hushes her gently as he had earlier, and she feels safer in his arms than she has in months.

“He threw me out,” she finally chokes out. “He was drunk and angry with me and he told me to leave.”

“And he struck you, love?” She nods against his chest, feeling moisture mixing with the hair there, realizing it’s from her tears. “Do you need a place to stay now, then?”

“I was going to stay in the tavern but I can’t get the window open,” she says quietly, still clinging her arms around his waist and refusing to consider the fact that she’s doing exactly what her husband had accused. She’s standing here, taking comfort from a man to whom she is not married. A man she could love easily if she so allowed. She’s unfaithful.

“Come with me, would you? I’ll keep you safe.”

She sniffles hard against his chest again and shakes her head. “I can’t. I don’t want him to find out.”

“Then where will you sleep? I’m not letting you sleep on the floor of Granny’s.”

He’s right. Even if she could get in, there’s no way for her to get upstairs where the beds are without a key, so she’d likely end up on the cold hard floor anyway. And Bae did throw her out of her own home. Where else is she supposed to go?

“I’ll sleep on a chair, or on a rug, or something,” she finally concedes.

“Absolutely not. I’ll stay on the floor, you will take my bunk.”

“Killian—”

“Emma,” he insists, pushing gently on the front of her shoulders so that he can finally look at her in her eyes. He almost never calls her Emma. “You’re taking the bunk, and that’s final. I’ll not have a fair maiden sleeping on the floor of my ship.”

“I’m hardly a fair maiden,” she argues weakly.

“Fairer than any I’ve ever seen”

When she looks up at him, finally lifting her head to meet his eyes with her own, she almost lets herself believe him.

~~~~

“We had only lain together once,” she says into the darkness. It feels like several hours have passed since he found her in the street, but in reality she thinks it’s been under one.

“Hmm?” he asks from the floor, rolling towards her and bringing the heavy blanket with him. It may be nearly spring, but the air still bites at night, especially on the water.

“Bae and I. I laid with him one time, and I became pregnant.”

He’s silent for a moment, then says, “I didn’t know you had a child.”

“I don’t.”

“Oh.”

They’re quiet again for a few moments as she focuses on calming her breath. “He attempted to do the right thing and marry me. But a few months later, I lost the babe. A boy.”

She thinks she hears him gulping. “I’m sorry, lass.”

“Is it horrible to say that I... I’m glad I don’t have a child to worry about now?” she asks with a breaking voice, tears springing to her eyes once more.

She hears him stir, and in the moonlight streaming through the windows of his quarters, she sees him sitting up, turning towards her. “No, Swan,” he says. “It would’ve been dangerous for a wee lad.”

“Sleeping here on the ship tonight?”

“Living with your husband.”

“Oh.”

He’s right.

~~~~

She wakes alone in his quarters, the blanket he slept under neatly folded at her feet. Her cheek feels less swollen, but it still throbs and the burning in her chest hasn’t gone away.

She isn’t expecting to see him so soon after she’s woken up, but a few brief moments later, Killian’s back in the room with some bread and fruit. “Morning,” he mumbles, handing the food to her and turning back to his desk.

“Thank you.”

“Aye.”

He sits down, apparently very engrossed in his logs as he pours over them. “For everything,” she clarifies.

He looks up at her, his eyes like steel and his jaw clenched tight. She wants to touch his rough, stubbled cheek to sooth the tension, but she stays put.

“Aye,” he finally returns. She thinks his face is softening, but he looks back down at his logs and stays silent.

After she’s finished her breakfast, and when it’s clear that he isn’t interested in talking, she moves the blankets aside and stands, thankful to have food in her belly as the dizziness she feels likely would’ve been worse. “I’d best be off, then,” she tells him with a soft smile that he doesn’t return.

“And where will you go?”

She shrugs. “Home, I gather.”

His shoulders collapse and he drops the page he was looking at, staring up at her with his jaw agape. “You can’t be serious.”

Emma looks around the room awkwardly before answering, and says, “surely I am… I live there.”

“That’s also where your husband lives, love. The man who assaulted you not twelve hours ago, do you not recall?” he asks condescendingly, and she can feel the heat of his anger from across the sturdy desk.

“Of course I recall,” she answers, reaching a hand up to tenderly poke at her left cheek. “But you’re right, he’s my husband. I have responsibilities. We all can’t just go traipsing around for a living.”

He scoffs, clearly offended but she isn’t sure why. This isn’t the first time she’s poked fun at how he makes his living. “He’s abused you now, Emma! What more of a reason do you need to leave?”

“He’s my husband,” she says weakly, not believing the excuse herself.

“He’s a rat bastard who lay a hand on you after learning that you’d been attacked in the streets. You needed sutures last night! Was he not the least bit concerned?”

“Of course he was concerned!”

“With your well-being?”

He stands from his noble chair and she hears it scraping back against the wooden floor before he takes several steps around the desk until he reaches her.

“Killian,” she starts as he touches her cheek with his own finger, but she has nothing else to say.

“Let me check on the sutures, would you? We need to ensure that they aren’t infected.” His voice has softened considerably and his movements against her cheek are so featherlight that she barely feels them. She nearly has whiplash from the change in his demeanor, from angry with her and her husband to tending to her wounds.

She nods in approval, realizing that over the last 24 hours, he’s been the only man to ask permission to touch her. Perhaps in her lifetime, if she were to really think about it. He removes the bandage that he’d fashioned last night, poking gently at her tender skin and looking at it pensively. “Looks sore,” he points out, and she chuckles.

“It is.”

“I don’t understand you, Emma,” he says, moving back towards desk and taking out some type of salve. He removes the cover and scoops some out, applying a thick layer onto her wound with gentle fingers.

“How do you mean, Captain?”

“I mean… I don’t understand how you could desire to be back in such a position. One in which you could be hurt again, perhaps more severely.”

“I don’t believe it’s of your concern. And I never said I desired it.”

“It’s become my concern. You made it my concern when you told me you were going back to the beast who struck you. And you’re so stubborn that I'm powerless to prevent it from happening again.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes as he continues to work the salve into her flesh. “And what would you have me do? Live in the streets?”

“No, I’m sure we could find a place for you here.”

She balks at him because surely he can’t be serious. Her thoughts are drawn immediately back to when they had newly met, when she thought that if he had offered, she may have left with him on his pirate ship and run from her vocally violent husband. But he never offered, and she never asked.

Is this an offer?

“I’ll need to be going,” she says again, her voice just above a whisper. He refuses to look her in the eye as he ties on a clean bandage to cover her wound once again.

“If you—” he starts, cutting himself off. “If there’s anything… I won’t be leaving port for some time.”

It sounds like an offer. Of what, she isn’t sure. She isn’t sure she cares.

“That doesn’t seem very lucrative, sitting in the same port day in and day out without anything to pillage,” she says lightly.

“I’m the captain. I can do as I bloody well please.” She giggles at him, though she doesn’t think he was trying to be funny. “I’m not leaving just yet.”

“Okay.”

“I’m sure I’ll see you again, at some point.”

“In the tavern,” she tells him. He nods.

He takes her hand in his once more as she walks towards the door and says, “you don’t deserve this.”

~~~~

“So she decided to come back,” he says through her as she walks over the threshold.

“Hello, Bae,” she responds weakly. He doesn’t stand from his place at the table, continuing to eat as if nothing has changed between the two of them.

“I see you’re still a harlot, haven’t learned your lesson. Who’s changed your bandages today?”

She swallows as she walks towards their sleeping area, hoping to change out of her bloodied dress. “It was going to become infected.”

“Right.”

“Bae,” she starts, her voice gaining some strength. “You struck me.”

He places his utensil down gently, so gently that it frightens her, and turns her head towards her. “I did.”

“Perhaps…” she starts, unsure of how to continue. She started off strong, but she feels her weakness taking over by the second. “Perhaps it won’t happen a second time?”

He stands slowly, threateningly, showing her an ominous smile on his way up and speaks in a frightening tone. “It will happen a second time, and a third, and a forth, so long as you continue to behave so deservingly.”

She doesn’t deserve this, she tries to remind herself.

She stays quiet for some time, retreating under his threatening gaze before he seats himself back at the tables and she says, “okay.”

She moves to the bed and changes her clothes, tears falling as she does so. Then she grabs what few trinkets she can carry without being seen by him, but it isn’t much. Nothing feels quite important enough.

“I need to be off to work,” she says just above a whisper.

“Fine.” He doesn't question her decision to leave hours earlier than she needs to.

“Goodbye.”

~~~~

Ruby let’s Emma stay with her in the tavern all day as she prepares for the evening crowd, baking bread and cleaning mugs. She doesn’t ask why she’s here, but Emma has a feeling she may already know without even having the details.

Granny returns from the markets and immediately asks Emma what the hell she’s doing here so early. Neither of them ask about her bandage or her bruised cheek. She’s lucky to have these two strong ladies in her life. Not only because they give her work when she needs an excuse to leave the house, but also because they’ve provided her with friendship and a sense of family that she lacks in her own home.

She never knew her parents, and growing up an orphan on the streets by the harbor hardened her. She counts herself lucky, though, to have met Ruby and her Granny, as it allowed her to turn her life around. She struggles to maintain her pessimistic outlook of the world when she’s with her best friends, even despite the trials she’s gone through.

Ruby was there for her when she found herself pregnant by a stranger. She spent one night with Bae when he was a patron of the tavern, and the resulting pregnancy was a shock, but he did the right thing and married her. She never loved him, and through bouts of depression during gestation, she grew to resent him. When she lost the baby a mere eight weeks before he was expected, she hated Bae for it. It was almost as if he was relieved to have been saved the hassle of providing for a child. Ruby was there for her then, too.

She’s here for her now.

“It was Bae, wasn’t it?” Ruby asks her as the afternoon wanes into evening and a crowd begins to fill the tavern. “Your face and your chest, Emma, was it Bae?”

She nods, then shakes her head confusingly. “My face, yes. This was some dolt out in the alley.”

“Out here?” Emma nods. “I’m sorry, sweetie. Do you know who it was?”

“I believe it was the one you call Walsh.”

“He won’t be back,” she promises. Emma believes her. She also believes that the damage Killian did to his nose may also be a deterrent.

“Thank you,” she laughs. “I’ll be glad not to get sutures again any time soon.”

“Did Bae suture you before or after he whalloped you?”

She realizes her mistake immediately. Ruby won’t let her casually brush past the pirate captain nursing over her wounds, that’s for certain. After all, Ruby was here for Emma when she met him, and could see immediately the way that she felt about him. “It wasn’t Bae who helped me, it was… it was Captain Jones.”

Ruby slams her hand against the bar, dropping the rag she was using to dry the mugs. “Captain Jones?!” she hisses too loudly, bumping Emma’s shoulder with hers.

“That’s me, love,” she hears, his cocky and assured voice approaching them from across the tavern.

“This man, Emma?” Ruby asks her, moving her brows up and down and bumping her shoulder again. She leans in close and whispers, “I’ve been telling you to get after him for eons!”

“I’m a married woman!”

“Hopefully not for long, hon. I mean, look at you.”

“Ruby,” Emma threatens weakly.

“An ale, if you please, ladies?” he asks once he’s close enough. “Evening, lass.”

She can see him taking stock of her appearance— perhaps checking on her old bruise, perhaps checking for new ones— as he waits for his ale. It’s almost intimidating, but a part of her also feels more cared for now than in her past two years of marriage.

“Good evening, Captain. Can we get you anything else?”

“I wouldn’t mind some company later on, if you feel so inclined to prattle,” he says boldly. It isn’t the first time he’s asked to keep her company after her shift, but it is the first time he’s done so with Ruby around.

“Emma isn’t too busy this evening, are you? You were such help all day, getting the tavern ready to open, surely you can take a break now.”

Emma shoots Ruby a menacing look at her suggestion that she take time off, as well as her hinting at Emma having been here all day when she normally doesn't come until later. Killian knows this, and she’s sure he’s putting the pieces together quickly.

He leads her through the crowd easily, pulling her towards the corner near a window to his usual seat and pulling a chair out for her. She sits slowly, never breaking her eyes from his as he moves to his own chair and plants himself in it, safely settling himself between her and the door.

“Alright?” She nods. “I’m glad to see you.”

She nods again, shrugging as she bites her bottom lip nervously. “I spent the day here.”

“Good.”

“He didn’t even notice. That I’d left.” He sighs. His hatred for her husband is clear, as it has been since they’d met and she told him she was married, but she thinks now he has a valid reason for it. She thinks she may have reason herself.

“He’s a bastard, as I’d said this morning.”

“I can’t— Killian, I’m frightened. I’m scared to leave and I’m scared to stay.”

“Let me help you.”

“Killian.”

“I want to help you,” he says again, taking her hand in his and looking deeply into her eyes. “Let me help.”

“How?” Emma thinks the tone of her voice must convey the level of hopelessness she feels.

“However I can, whatever you need. If you want to stay, I’ll stay; I’ll keep you safe. If you want to go, come with me.”

She scoffs, but feels her heart begin to race. It isn’t as if she hasn't considered this fleetingly. In fact, she’s considered it seriously. She’s never been happy with her husband, and Killian has always posed as a possibility for escape. When she met him shortly after she miscarried, she didn’t know he would be so fundamental in dragging her out of the hole of dark sadness she had buried herself in. She hasn't given herself the freedom to truly consider being with him until now. Now that he’s offered.

“I’m scared,” she whispers into the loud darkness of the tavern. She’s seen him threaten other patrons and drink in excess and flirt endlessly with other lasses, and a part of her has always felt unsure of him. But in this moment, and over the last several hours when he proved himself to be someone who truly cares for her, she’s more certain than she’s ever been. She’s terrified, but he makes the feeling melt away when he slips closer and touches her aching cheek once again.

“All I want is your safety and happiness, Emma. I’ll do whatever I can to ensure that, whether you think that’s going back to him or leaving.” The intensity of his stare intimidates her. She doesn't miss the flicker of pain in his eyes as he suggests that she may want to go back to her violent husband.

“I don’t want to go back to him,” she tells him with certainty. “I thought I had a responsibility to stay, but… you were right, about me not deserving this. He said I did, but I think that isn’t true.”

“Of course it isn’t true,” he breathes out, drawing his brows close together and giving her a pained look, shaking his head.

“I want to leave,” she finally admits, both to him and to herself through tears. “I want to go.”

“I want to help you.”

“Okay.”

~~~~

Ruby lets her leave her shift early. She says again that she deserves it for coming in early, although Emma hardly did a thing when she was here all day.

Emma lets Killian lead her back to his ship, and on her way, now that she’s of sound mind, she sees a trail of blood droplets in the streets and on the gangplank and knows it must be from her. She had no idea how badly she had been bleeding last night, and wonders what would have happened to her if he hadn’t stopped Walsh in his tracks and then expertly cared for her wounds.

When they arrive on the ship, his first mate looks confused and asks his captain what’s going on. Killian responds menacingly, telling him that he requires privacy and brushing aside him to lead her down into the captain’s quarters once more.

Being here now feels different. Things between them feel solidified, and she feels such joy at the prospect of being with him on their journey through realms.

He sits her down gently on his chair and she feels special, powerful, sitting in the captain’s throne. She looks over his maps and logs and wonders what sort of adventures he’s been up to aside from the few he’s told her about. She sees the journal of his treks and longs to pour over it.

Killian laughs lightly as he walks back over to her with two glasses and a bottle of rum. “Anywhere you’d like, Swan,” he says, gesturing to the map she was peeling over as he starts to pour.

“Anywhere?”

“Aye, I’ll set a course and bring you wherever you please so you can start a new life. You won't fall into harm's way while you’re in my charge and I can drop you safely if you like.”

Something has just shifted between them, a flame sparking in her mind in response to his words, and she realizes what a fool she’s been.

All this time, she thought he was bringing her along with him on his pirating adventures. She thought he meant to make a life with her. In reality, he simply means to transport her and drop her off, likely never to see her again.

She thought for certain that he had felt as she has since they met. That he wanted to be with her, now that she’d made her choice. She didn’t even consider the possibility of him simply doing this to help her, then leaving her behind to continue his life of piracy.

“Oh,” she says weakly, making to stand from his chair. She feels her heart racing faster and faster as her hopes are dashed to further disappointment.

“Swan?”

“I don't— um, I don't have any idea.” Her eyes swell with tears once again, she’s unsure if she could even count how many times this has happened in the last day.

“Well sit, love, we can find a place for you and begin plotting the course tonight.”

“I don’t know.” She feels so pathetic, letting herself cry in front of him again after he’s made it clear that he has no desire to be with her as she thought he had. She worries over her lip as her breathing quickens and she holds back a sob as he stands too, forcing her to turn back towards him.

“Swan, what’s happened? What’s wrong?”

��Nothing,” she chokes. His gentle hand moves to wipe the tear that has fallen onto her bruised cheek and she flinches.

“Love,” he starts, and her heart clenches at the name that she thought meant more than it does. “Tell me what’s happened here.”

He’s so tender with her. She feels more tears falling at the realization that she isn’t anything special. He’s likely been treating all of the women he’s come across the very same way. A very small part of her throughout the months of knowing him thought that he was sending away the loose women who chased him for her, but she knows now that he likely enjoyed their company.

The thought of running has terrified her since she met her husband. She never wanted to be with him, married him out of obligation, but she knew she couldn’t leave him and live here on her own. He was far too dangerous, she’s learned. But the thought of leaving with Killian gave her strength. Not only because he could provide her with an escape, but because she knows how fiercely he protects that which he loves. She simply thought that may have been her.

“I’m fine, I just,” she chokes again. “I thought…”

She can’t find it in herself to get the words out. She feels so foolish in this moment that admitting to him what she thought was between them makes her stomach churn. All at once, she allowed herself to finally feel the love she harbors for him, only for it to be ripped from her grasp. As he leans down close to her and gently kisses the sore flesh of her battered cheek, she cries harder. “Thought what, darling? You can tell me anything.”

She may have believed him yesterday, or last night, or even this morning, but now she knows this isn’t true. He doesn't truly feel anything for her, only cares enough to help her flee her abusive home life. “Nothing,” she settles on.

He sighs, kissing her sore skin once more just over the faint bruise before he laces his fingers up through her hair and pulls her head close to his, their foreheads touching softly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his lips so close to brushing hers that she feels another sob wracking her. “I want nothing more than for you to be happy, Emma. Whatever that means to you, I want to give you joy and security and contentment. Please just tell me how. Please tell me what’s caused you such anguish just now so I can fix it.”

She sniffles, his speech giving her the strength and ferocity to respond in truth. “I would’ve been content to be with you. I don’t want to be dropped off at some foreign realm by myself, I need you, you dullard.” She pushes herself away from him, angry now for reasons she can’t explain to herself, and makes for the door. He follows closely behind, but not so closely that he startles her.

“Bloody hell, Emma, stop!” he says, placing his hand on the door to prevent her from opening it but moving away from her quickly. Memories of the night before flood her again and she’s glad to have him away from her as she considers the way that Walsh caged her against the wall and forced her to be still.

“What?!” she demands loudly.

“I told you I want your happiness! I would put whatever you want above anything that I could ever desire, no matter the pain it would cause me to let you go, you maddening woman. Bloody hell,” he shakes his head, “are you honestly daft enough to believe that I wouldn’t happily live out the rest of my days with you by my side?”

“What?”

“I love you, you absolutely barmy thing,” he says frustratedly, turning from her and moving towards the desk to take a swig of his rum.

“What?” she asks again.

“If you’d wanted me to drop you in some realm and leave you be, I would have, but it would have killed me,” he tells her through his glass, tossing back another sip.

“You love me?”

He sighs deeply, sinking into the chair that he likely saves for his crew. He still isn’t looking at her, choosing instead to stare down into the dark liquid in his glass as he nods and says, “aye.”

She’s calm. The turbulence of her emotions in the last ten minutes has taken its toll on her and she thinks she can do nothing but walk back to the chair she had left and take her own glass in her hand. She intakes a breath, choking the rum down and feeling it slide over her burning throat.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he finally says. His voice is nearly inaudible in the quiet room, drowned out by the sound of the waves lapping against the ship. She finally cocks her head and looks at him, confused and begging for an explanation for his words. “You’re in a tough stop, lass. I shouldn’t have put that pressure on you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not in a tough spot.”

“You only left your husband this morning. I’m perceptive enough to know that me telling you how I feel now is far too convenient. I don’t wish to manipulate you.”

She chuckles, leaning back in the chair to make herself comfortable. “I left a loveless marriage and a violent home this morning. I had left my husband the moment I met you,” she tells him contently.

“What?”

“Killian, I never loved him; I told you we only got married because I was with child.” He appears stunned, looking at her with his jaw slacked open and his tumblr of rum likely close to falling from his hand. “As soon as I met you, anything that I ever could have felt for him was just… gone.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, that’s so. And I thought, since I’d finally left him and you were taking me to your ship to look at maps and make charts, that we were going to run off together, leave all this behind, traipse around a pillage for a living,” she laughs, as does he, “but you said you would bring me somewhere and drop me off, and I thought you must not have felt as I do.”

“As you do?”

He sits up in his chair, as does she, and they lean as close as they can to one another across the oak desk. “I love you,” she says to him now that she’s finally able.

Killian stands from his chair with haste, nearly knocking it onto the floor, and walks to her swiftly, leaning down to take her face in his hands and kissing her with such fervor that she loses her breath. His strong hands hold her firmly, grounding her through her torment of the last few hours and carrying her home. His lips massage hers with a gentle passion that she’s never felt before; not from any man and not from her husband.

He pulls her closer, one hand remaining in her hair and the other trailing down her waist to drag her body up towards his. She lets out a soft whimpering moan as his tongue traces along her bottom lip, the heat erupting in the pit of her stomach making her clench her thighs together as she stands, seeking to be as close to him as possible. The slight throbbing she feels against her leg through his tight leather britches heats her cheeks, to the point that she doesn't even feel the ache of her bruise anymore.

“Emma,” he breathes into her mouth. “Thank the gods.”

She giggles lightly and bites playfully on his lip, drawing a low growl from his throat before he pounces on her again, tugging her impossibly closer to him. She drags her hands up along his chest, enjoying the feel of friction against her palms as she grazes the hair covering his firm skin, and she lets her tongue glide against his again until she feels the fire in her belly roaring.

“I want you,” she says boldly against his mouth, and he groans again, turning her around and hoisting her up onto the desk so that he can rest his hips between her knees. “I want you so much, Killian, I love you.”

“Gods above, I love you,” he bites out as his hands find her rear and tug her even closer to him so that she’s perched on the edge of the surface and grinding her hips against his. “I want you so badly I can scarcely breathe.”

“That’s because we’re kissing.”

He laughs against her mouth, kissing her chastely once before pulling away. “You always have such high spirits, love. It makes me feel so joyful to be around you.”

As she looks into his eyes, she sees that he means it— that he’s meant everything he’s said tonight.

“We can’t both be broody, can we? The world can only handle so many brooding pirates.”

“I suppose you’re right,” he answers softly, biting his own bottom lip as his eyes trail to hers. “Do you consider yourself a pirate, then? Does that mean you’re coming along with me?”

“Of course it does, you fool. There’s hardly anything keeping me here.”

He smiles, a sweet, innocent thing as his eyes light up and make him look a decade younger. “Then we shall leave come sunrise, my love.”

She returns his grin at the prospect of leaving this awful harborside town and her wretched excuse for a husband. A pang of sadness strikes at the thought of leaving Ruby and Granny, the only family she’s ever known, but she thinks she may be able to convince Killian to bring her back for a visit.

“We’ll have to find a way to pass the time until sunrise, then, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do you mean to tell me you don’t find plotting courses and studying maps to be entertaining?”

“Why should I? Isn’t that why I have you?”

“That’s the only reason?”

She drags her hands up his chest again, sneaking under his vest at his shoulders and then sliding up into his thick hair. “I suppose you’ll just have to prove me wrong.”

His mouth plunders hers once more, kissing her with a strong mixture of love and passion and animalistic desire. She hasn't felt so turned on from just a kiss in her entire life, and the way that his hands roam her covered body and his tongue dances through her mouth has her panting within mere moments.

A hand slides under her dress and for a moment, she freezes, remembering the man in the alley who had attempted the same motion. He falters at her obvious stuttering, pulling back and placing a hand on her cheek. “I’m sorry, love. You alright?” She nods her forehead against his. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m fine,” she says breathlessly. “I’m… I feel safe,” she tells him with a soft smile.

He kisses her again, soft and sweet. “That all I want, Swan,” he tells her.

“I love you,” she whispers, her cheeks flaming as she’s finally able to say it aloud.

He kisses her again, holding her so closely that her chest feels tight, but it feels good. It feels as though he’s holding her together. “I love you.”

His hand slips under her skirt again, slower now, and she feels relaxed at the feeling of his skin against hers. She hooks her ankles together around his waist and squeezes him closer to her, loving the feeling of his hips pressed against her own. In response to her movements, his hands slip under her rear and he lifts her easily, resting her weight against him as he walks them through the room.

“You’re certain?” He asks her as he steps slowly towards his bunk with her in his arms.

“Yes,” she tells him, continuing to kiss him through her words. “More certain than I’ve ever been.”

“Gods,” he murmurs, dropping her on her back against the mattress and taking in the sight of her laying before him as she blushes.

“What’s wrong, Captain?” she asks innocently.

He scoffs out a laugh, leaning in close to her while resting his body weight against hers comfortingly. “Each time you call me that, it goes straight to my cock.”

She laughs as her blush deepens, reaching her hands back up into his hair and pulling him back down to her for another kiss. “Show me,” she finally says.

He bites her lip in response, groaning into her mouth again and soothing it with a soft lick of his sinful tongue. “You’re a bloody siren,” he tells her as his hands wander.

“Undress me, Captain,” she insists in a whisper, taking the reins as she’s driven by her need for him.

Hips lips trail down her neck, biting and licking over her tender skin, but he’s careful around the injured skin above her breast. “Gladly” he mumbles against her flesh.

His hands wander farther down her body, meeting her eyes with his to ask permission as he reaches towards her laces and loosens them before he tugs her heavy dress down and tosses it to the floor with a soft thud. She revels in the feeling of his fingers finally meeting her skin as he pulls at her shift, gently grazing along her ribs while his lips continue to work along her neck.

She glides her own hands down his front, scraping her nails along the coarse hair of his chest until she reaches the fastened buttons. He groans again as she tucks her hands into his silky top and tugs at his buttons, forcing them to pop open and sending a few to the ground in a clatter.

“Minx,” he says, dragging his mouth along the side of her jaw until he reaches her earlobe and nibbles.

Her hands play with the hair on his stomach, desperate to slide lower into his britches and discover where the trail leads, but his own fingers distract her. They’ve found their way to the apex of her bare thigh, ghosting dangerously close to the most sensitive part of her that’s throbbing for him. “Please,” she begs breathlessly when his fingers threaten to dip into the flood of arousal between her thighs. “Touch me.”

“It would be,” he starts, sliding his fingers through her folds torturously slowly, “my pleasure.”

The pressure that he finally applies to her clit gives her a start, squeezing her legs around his hand. “Relax, darling,” he hums against her collarbone, dragging his mouth down to her right breast, carefully staying away from the left, a licking lightly over her nipple. “You’re so tense. You’re alright.”

She nods against the pillow, plunging her fingers into his hair and pulling him up so she can see his face. She stares into his ocean blue eyes and she knows she’s safe. She’s home. “I love you,” she whispers into the night.

He restarts his movements against her, leaning down to press gentle kisses just above her tattered heart, the very one he’s put back together. “I love you, Emma,” he says as he works her up, higher and higher. She’s a writhing mess under his weight, moaning and whimpering at each move of his expert fingers. His mouth finds its way back to her hardened nipple, licking and sucking at it until themixture of sensations threaten to end her. She feels him rutting his hips against her thigh as he moves her toward her release, and the hardness against her only serves to excite her more for the main event. As he whispers sinful praise into her skin, his fingers dance inside her and his thumb rubs tight circles over her until she shatters.

He carries her through it, kissing his way up her chest and neck until he reaches her mouth. Their lips meet chastely, then his travel up her face to her ear and he whispers, “good girl.”

His words make her clench harder around his fingers before he slides them out of her and sucks them into his mouth, cleaning them with a wicked smirk on his face and humming appreciatively. “I’d love a better taste.”

“Would you please fuck me now, captain?” she asks with an innocent lilt in her voice that she thinks may drive him mad based on the way his breath catches. “You can have a taste next time.”

He thrusts his leather-covered hips against hers, making each of them groan as she reaches her fingers down to the laces hastily. She tugs them loose, pulling on his trousers so that his rear is almost exposed before he hoists himself up and removes them altogether.

He’s aligning himself with her in an instant, tracing his cock along her wet folds and touching his forehead to hers before he plunges inside. She didn’t get a look at him once his trousers were off, but she doesn't need to see to know that he’s well endowed. The stretch she feels in response to him is close to being too much, but when he pulls out slightly and slides back in, she revels in it, planting her feel firmly on the mattress and curling her toes into it.

“Gods, Killian,” she whimpers, pulling his head impossibly closer to hers as she links her fingers back into his hair.

“Bloody hell, you’re impeccable. You feel so perfect around me.”

She nods against his forehead before he moves to kiss her neck, thrusting in and out of her with gentle force that drives her mad. “So good, Killian, don’t stop.”

He grunts as he thrusts some more as she squeezes around him, seeking more friction and tilting her hips slightly to feel the pressure of his pelvis against her clit. She can feel every detail of his cock gliding against her walls and it’s maddening. He holds her hips higher in the air against him before his hands stroke down her thighs and lift her knees. One leg slides higher along his hip and the other slips over his shoulder, increasing the depth of his thrusts, before his thumb finds her clit once more and presses gentle and firm circles until her mouth hangs open in a silent scream.

It doesn't take either of them long, their yearning for one another the driving force behind their arousal. “Are you close?” he asks, kissing her deeply as she nods against his mouth.

“Please don’t stop, Killian, that feels so good, don't stop,” she begs.

“I won’t, I promise. Come for me, Emma.”

He quickens his thrusts and his movements on her clit as she squeezes her fingers around his hair and her walls against his cock. She comes with a shout, louder and higher pitched than she may have ever heard from her own mouth. When he finally spills himself into her, the sensation of him throbbing inside her simply intensifies her feelings as she continues to ride out her high.

He stills, both of them panting heavily as his hands roam her body slowly and mindlessly. As they come down together, he continues to press soft kisses against her neck and whisper loving praise into her ear. Her foot starts to go numb atop his shoulder the longer they stay stunned in their places, but she can’t find it in herself to care enough to move. Emma feels her eyes drifting shut at the feeling of his weight firmly upon her, reaching his goal of making her feel safe and happy and loved.

Her leg falls from his shoulder as finally slips out of her, and she pouts up at him playfully, dragging a smile from his lips as he stands to reach for a cloth to clean up. He hands her one as well, kissing her forehead before tossing them away and joining her back in bed. He holds her back to his front, tightly tucking her in close to him and kissing her head, whispering, “sleep now, my love. You’re safe and you’re loved, and come morning we’ll be off to whatever realm you desire.”

She slips blissfully to sleep, dreaming of the adventure she craves and of the man she loves.

~~~~

She wakes just before the sun, alone, the feeling of the cool sheets beside her setting stones in the pit of her stomach. She takes in a breath quickly, sitting up in bed, disoriented, when she hears his deep voice.

“Morning, darling,” he says to her from his desk. She sighs in relief, collapsing back onto the pillow and grinning as she shuts her eyes against the slowly rising sun.

“Come back to bed,” she murmurs into the dimly lit room.

He chuckles. “Though I’d love to spend the rest of my days in bed with you, I promised my lady love I’d whisk her away come sunrise, and to do that, one must first plot a course.”

“If I promise to do it later, will you come back to bed now?” she asks as she rolls to her side to look at him.

He laughs aloud once more, writing down one more detail before standing and walking to her to lean down and press a gentle kiss to her lips. “Are you rather good at charting, Swan? I thought you said it was boring.”

She giggles, reaching her hands up to link her fingers around the back of his neck. “No, I said I'd rather do other things. But I am a fast learner.”

“You are a rather shrewd thing, aren't you?”

Emma hums in agreement, kissing him once more. “I think you’re the only one who’s noticed.”

“That isn’t true, love.” He emphasizes with a kiss. “Would you like some breakfast?”

“After,” she growls, pulling him lower until his weight rests on hers. “Would you like to go back to your charts, or is there, perhaps, something else you’d rather work on?”

He nips at her bottom lip playfully, running his hand up along her waist until he can squeeze her bare breast. “I’ve just finished the charts, darling,” he tells her as he licks along her jaw. “Let me simply bring them to Mr. Smee and I’m yours for the day.”

“Only for today?”

“Today and every day for as long as I live, my love.”

And so he was.

~~~~

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madlymiho · 4 years

Note

Hello luv. Could you pretty please do headcannons for how Akainu would react to his wife dressing as a sexy pirate for halloween? Perhaps a little nsfw pinishment from the admiral? Thank you!! Happy Halloween!

Hey there! Last but not least! 💙 I’m finishing my Halloween batch with some kinky thing here, but hey, this is not a very safe for work blog anyway! 😂

Thanks for your patience, and I hope you’ll enjoy it!

non-gender neutral request (female reader)

Warning: STRONG NSFW

Spookyvent last request!

Akainu

• First of all, you must know that Akainu doesn’t really give a damn about Halloween in the first place. It’s a celebration for peasants, and pirates, and as the good marine he has always been, he finds utterly stupid to dress-up as someone else, especially when the main purpose of the evening would be to collect candies, drink odd beverages, and scare people

• Of course, he has never hidden the fact he doesn’t appreciate Halloween, and as his wife, you know probably more than anyone else what could trigger him during such an unwelcome party. He’s already so pissed off only seeing decorations within town, he certainly won’t allowed his marine squad to participate to this non-sense!

• Yet, as you know him on a more private level, you also believe that provoking his wrathful temper might be a good idea for you to have some fun... After all, Akainu is definitely a busy man, and you’re somehow tired to spend most of your nights by yourself, while he’s finishing to work in his office, or simply because he’s away. And to gain his attention, well, playing a trick on the dedicated night for that could be perfect

• Of course, Akainu doesn’t plan to leave his office earlier that day, so it’s quite easy for you to know where he can be. You make sure to hide your costume under your longest coat, even if it might intrigue a few soldiers on your way to his office. Even though, they know who’s your husband, so no one would really pay attention, preferring to quickly rush away if you go there to scold him for whatever reason - Akainu yells a lot, they don’t want to witness that and have troubles later

• Once you’re entering his office, he only greets you with an annoyed look, mostly because he’s busy and he sometimes disapproves your lack of patience concerning your needs. Though, as soon as you drop down your coat, exposing the naughtiest pirate costume you ever found (not need to say how it follow your curves perfectly), Akainu almost drops his cigar right onto his papers

• The surprise is immediately replaced with another emotion ; a wide anger spread over his features, as he looks at you with the most wrathful stare, clenching his fists and standing back up. He barks at you some questions, what the fuck you are doing, that it’s a shame you’re dressing this way, he’s busy, working, and he doesn’t want to be interrupted! Though, even if he keeps yelling at you, he doesn’t look away from your appetizing boobs squeezed so nicely with your pirate dress

• It’s definitely a brat/dominant game which starts when you know that you have somehow manage to catch his attention. Akainu loves power, he loves control, and he hates pirates. You have all the best cards to whisper that you’ve been nothing but a very bad girl, trying to sneak up into his marine bastion, only to get busted by the most powerful of them... and as you seem so sensual, so horny as well, honestly, he has a hard time (literally) resisting your siren call

• Still pissed off, you manage to come closer, already on your knees because you really can’t expect him to show any kind of tenderness right now. And even if his fists are clenched, even if he peers down at you with threat written in the back of his eyes, you don’t hesitate, and unzip his pants, feeling the bulge under your fingers. You quickly get to work, throwing him the same horny look as you take his cock right inside your mouth

• For sure, you’re definitely ready for one of the most intense and brutal sex session of your life. Akainu is pissed, but somehow he gets caught to the game, hips starting to thrust as his fucks your mouth, admiring the gag sounds coming out of your throat, ignoring the fact you’re crying a little bit ; you have been a bitch, and bitch shall be punished for her bad behaviors, he wouldn’t go easy on you since you want it so badly

• Of course, after he made sure to make you cry a little bit, he immediately slams your belly onto his desk, pulling up your dress, only to notice that you don’t even wear panties. God dammit, he can’t help but snarl that you’re just a pirate slut and he’ll show you how he takes care of people who doesn’t respect his laws. Without any warning, he just takes you, right there, slamming his hips so hard that you see the stars for a moment

• He’s not making love to you for once, he’s not even paying attention to your gasps and whimpers, he only wants you to earn your punishment. Hair pulling, slaps on your rear, arms pulled behind your back as he forbids you to move, he’s not even in the mood to see your face, he just wants to satisfy his most primal needs, until he would force you to get back on your knees, only to plaster your face with all of his cum, since you don’t deserve to have it inside

• After such a chaotic moment, the only tender gesture he has for you is the pad of his thumb brushing your cheeks for a moment, until he zips up his pants and goes directly back behind his office. He still has work to do, and you’re still bothering him, but Akainu, right before you go (after you wash your face with some tissues), catches your hand and places a soft kiss on the top of it, gently asking you to remain discreet, and that he’d try to come bed very soon

#one piece headacanons #one piece imagines #akainu one piece #sakazuki one piece #one piece akainu #fleet admiral sakazuki #one piece writing #one piece imagine #one piece headcanon #one piece fiction #one piece fic #not suitable #ns.fw #lemon #one piece hcs #one piece #thewildomega #queued

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minetteenfers · 3 years

Text

Lucky Cat - Day 1: Bad Luck (Adrien AUG-reste 2021)

Here is Day 1: Bad Luck of @adrienaugust!

Read, kudo, comment, or bookmark the fic here! (RATED E)

Captain Chat Noir was merely nine years old when he was tossed overboard from his father’s galleon for disobeying orders. Some said that he was born from bad luck and so he was given the name, Chat Noir due to the superstition of black cats. Having a polydactyl black cat on board a vessel was good luck and so he hoped being named after such would bring him some. But no matter how hard he tried, nothing seemed to bring him it.

He sighed and fell back into his wooden chair, bringing his mug of grog to his lips as his good luck charm leaped onto his desk. The sliding of his black cat’s paws along the maps and parchment made him curse. He grabbed the brass candle stick before it could fall to the floor and start a fire on the ship.

“Bastard cat,” Chat Noir cursed and brought his cup to his lips, taking a long drink and cringing at the less than favorable flavor. “God, I cannot wait to get to port, hm?” He scratched beneath his cat’s chin with a smirk. “Ladies, food, drink… supplies and a nice bath. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for a nice warm bath and a warm bed with a wench in it.”

“What would any of us give, Captain.” Nino, his quartermaster, walked into his quarters to talk to him.

“What say you?” Chat Noir brought his boots down from his desk onto the wood deck and leaned onto his desk, trying to ignore how the sea made their vessel shift and bob. The weighted golden hoops in his ears only did so much to help with his sea sickness.

“We’re arriving at port soon, Captain.” Nino brought his mug of grog to his lips and sat down on Chat Noir’s bed.

“How soon?” Chat Noir ran his fingers behind Plagg’s twitching ears and scratched before a mouse distracted the aloof cat and made him run off. Chat Noir peered up at Nino with interest, finishing his drink.

“Few hours.” Nino shrugged, unsure of how soon they would be there exactly. He could only guess, which Chat Noir had taken into account.

“Gather a log of supplies that need to be replenished until then for me.” Chat Noir gestured for his friend to go away to do his duties.

“Yes, Captain.” Nino nodded and left Chat Noir alone.

Chat Noir sighed and stood up, walking over to a wooden chest to get ready. He crouched down and opened it, taking in the items that filled the inside. From clothing to treasures that he had gathered along the way as a pirate. When he was nine years old Captain Fu had found him floating on a bit of wood in the middle of the ocean. He had saved him and given him the very name he was known by. Of course, tales had broken out as he had aged. None of them pretty.

He was known for pillaging, plundering, and more unpleasantries, but those that truly knew him… which were few… knew that he wasn’t as they said. Yes, he set vessels aflame but only those that had wronged him or those he cared most about, and he had never murdered anyone. He merely would place them on an island, plunder their vessel, and then set it ablaze. Sometimes, he would simply use the element of surprise and take what he needed before leaving. Occasionally, he would tell a simple fantastical story to get what he needed, using empty threats to accomplish it. But he never murdered a man, woman, or child.

He lived by the power of vote as most did within piracy, letting every man have a chance to speak and give their case. Nothing on board was done without putting it through vote and booty was split equally amongst his crew. Most captains would take a higher cut, but he never wanted it. He’d rather stay an equal to an extent, which many did not agree with.

Chat Noir quickly went to work getting ready to go ashore, throwing on an elaborate outfit made from fabulous emerald silks and black fabrics. He rarely dressed up due to the amount of water that sloshed across the deck and along his feet. Most of his men went barefoot and wore a mishmash of clothing depending on what they had scavenged from vessels.

He focused on getting ready, trying to not think about how many more knots they had to travel still to reach the treasure that lied beneath the waves. A treasure that everyone around him was after as well. He sighed and peered up as his quartermaster returned with a log of what they needed for the rest of their journey.

“We are at port, Captain.” Nino nodded and left Chat Noir alone again.

Chat Noir nodded and grabbed his pistol, putting it in place on his holster, and headed to the docks to get off his galleon. A few men stayed on board to keep watch, as they stepped off it. He made his way down the pier, making sure one of his men was tending to the sale of jerky in order to get them some coin.

He hadn’t been to port in so long and all he wanted was a nice bath. A tavern stood off to the right and he headed towards it. But right as he was about to step foot inside, a commotion brought his attention elsewhere.

“Wife for sale! Beautiful and a good lay, she is! A fine wench!”

Chat Noir gritted his teeth, turning around to find a woman with dark hair piled up on top of her head and a dress that had seen better days. She seemed nervous and upset with the way tears streamed down her cheeks and her hands trembled in front of her hips. A loose rope was placed around her neck and the end of it trailed over to her husband. Her eyes were a beautiful blue that reminded him of the sea and something deep inside him drew him towards the auction. He hated practices such as this and usually he kept out of it, but he couldn’t when her saddened gaze locked on his. Her eyes were full of desperation, and he could practically hear her cries for help.

Chat Noir sighed and raised a hand to bid. All around him, men whistled and hollered. They laughed and called her atrocious names. Chat Noir knew it was bad luck to bring a woman on board his vessel, but there was nothing else he could do. He had to save her, had to have her.

He raised his hand again to bid. It took a few more raises before he outbid everyone and secured her as his property. She looked worried and scared as her husband took the mysterious man’s coin and passed him the rope.

“You needn’t do that,” the woman sighed and peered down at her feet.

“Let’s get this off you, m’lady.” Chat Noir took the rope from around her neck, shocking her more.

“I promise to make you happy, sir,” she curtsied, and Chat Noir sighed.

“I don’t wish for your services. What’s your name?” Chat Noir rolled the rope around his elbow and hand before tossing the bundle aside.

“Marinette, sir.” She worried her bottom lip and didn’t meet his eyes.

“Captain Chat Noir,” Chat Noir held his hand out for her.

She placed her hand in his and he bowed to softly kiss along her knuckles. He stood up straight with a cunning smile. A blush fell on her cheeks, and she let her bottom lip go.

“Thank you, Captain Chat Noir.” Marinette bowed slightly and followed him to the tavern.

“Are you hungry?” Chat Noir didn’t peer back at her as he led her into the establishment that he had been headed towards to begin with.

“Famished,” Marinette swallowed hard, taking in the music and women being railed against various surfaces.

Men played cards and drank, while eyeing the wenches around them. She licked her lips and swallowed hard, wondering who exactly she had gotten saved by. If she could even call it that at this point. She was beginning to wonder if her good luck had worn out.

“Do you intend to lie with me?” Marinette swallowed hard as he pulled out a chair for her to sit down.

“No. Did you want for me to?” Chat Noir smirked and winked at her from across the table.

“No, no. I just- I assumed since you bought me as your property…” Marinette hid in her hair and Chat Noir burst out laughing.

“If I wanted a quick fuck, I would grab one of these cheap whores.” Chat Noir raised a hand and swirled it around to gesture to the room. “I actually felt sorry for you, m’lady, or should I call you wench.”

Marinette covered her mouth as she burst out in a sharp giggle. She brought her hand down and licked her lips with a blush, “You are quite crass, Captain Noir.”

“So, I’ve been told. How about some food and drink? Surely, you did say you were famished, did you not?” Chat Noir winked at her before standing up to go to the bar to order them sustenance.

Marinette sat at the table, playing with her skirt and taking in the dirty fabric. Her husband and her hadn’t had much money and he had been selling her in order to pay a debt that he owed. She hadn’t married him for love, but rather because she was expected to. What she didn’t expect was for her husband to sell her off, but it was the way it worked. Was it legal? No, but there was no way to divorce her, so the next best thing was to sell her at port like the rest of stock around her. But for some reason this Captain had chosen to save her, and she wasn’t sure if this was a good omen or not.

She swallowed hard, watching the man walk back to her with a certain way about him. He was stopped along the way by a wench, but as he spoke to her, he kept his eyes locked on Marinette instead. A few moments later and he was on his way back to their table and setting down plates of food and drink.

“Sure you weren’t a wench for a time, Captain?” Marinette teased and giggled, as he smirked and sat down.

“So, maybe I was.” Chat Noir winked at her and picked up a roll to take a bite from it. “And you? What’s your story?”

“I was forced into a loveless marriage and when he needed debts paid… he brought me here to be auctioned with the rest of the lot.” Marinette shrugged and swallowed hard. “You?”

“Doubt I need to share my story with you. I’m sure you’ve heard enough,” Chat Noir scoffed and brought his cup of ale to his lips.

“I actually have not.” Marinette brought a vegetable to her lips.

“Really?” Chat Noir was surprised to say the least that she hadn’t heard of him.

“Nope. Your name isn’t familiar to me, but that might be because my husband tried to keep me from piracy and privateering.” Marinette sighed and fell back against her chair. “So, enlighten me.”

Chat Noir chewed on his bottom lip, realizing that he could actually tell her who he truly was, and the rumors wouldn’t corrupt her like so many others. He stabbed a piece of meat and ate it before he began to tell his story.

“I was tossed off a ship at the age of nine by my father for being disobedient. I probably floated in the ocean for days on a piece of driftwood before an old Chinese man found me. His name was Captain Fu. He took me aboard and as I grew up and learned sailing along with traditional Chinese medicine, I commandeered my own vessel. Of course, I joined the great race to find the lost treasure that is spilled through the Caribbean because what else is a man to do, who has nothing else to live for. No family, no job, no nothing. All I know is sailing and traditional medicine.” Chat Noir poked at the food on his plate.

“So, naturally, all you can do is Captain a vessel,” Marinette nodded and put a piece of meat into her mouth.

“Exactly, m’lady, all I know to do is such. Of course, that means that I also must pillage vessels. I started with a sloop and moved up to a galleon, taking in men who felt useless and giving them something to do with their idle hands besides pleasuring themselves for sport.” Marinette choked on her ale at the last words that fell from his mouth.

“I beg your pardon.” Marinette set her mug down.

“You understood,” Chat Noir winked at her and took a sip from his mug. “Men get lonely at sea. Either you pick a mate to have your way with or you got your hand. Pick wisely. One knows when to shut up and just take it.”

“Again, I hope you’ve gathered that I am not always one to just ‘shut up and take it’, Captain Noir.” Marinette gave him an insulted expression.

“I gathered you weren’t, m’lady. I wasn’t meaning you or any lady that is.” Chat Noir smiled and went back to eating.

“Even a wench?” She stressed the last word with a blush.

“Even a wench,” Chat Noir smiled and froze when he felt fingertips run along his shoulders.

They leaned closer and whispered against his ear, “Would you like to have a go, Captain?”

Chat Noir set down his utensil and peered over his shoulder to smile at the woman, “Not tonight, love, but I see a gentleman over there that is looking for a flower like you.”

She nodded and took off towards a man, who was watching from far away. Chat Noir gave his attention back to Marinette with a warm smile. She was beyond shocked that he hadn’t taken the offer.

“Call me surprised,” Marinette finished her meal.

“What?” Chat Noir raised an eyebrow at her.

“You didn’t take her up on her offer.” Marinette shrugged and picked up her mug.

“I believe I told you if I was looking for a quick fuck I-” Chat Noir was interrupted by the woman across from him.

“Then you would grab one of these cheap whores. I understood quite well, Captain.” Marinette brought her mug to her lips and finished her drink. “But am I not one?”

“No,” Chat Noir shook his head and finished his meal.

“How do you gather?” Marinette crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “I already said I wouldn’t put up a fight.”

“That doesn’t make you a whore, m’lady.” Chat Noir stood up and grabbed his plate, taking hers as well.

Marinette watched him take the dishes back to the bar, tapping on the side of her mug. He was an odd man with how he could be so crass and unapologetic yet nice at the same time. It confused her. She didn’t know which side was him.

He walked back and held out his arm for her. She stood up and took it, following him out of the tavern. “Now, surely you know the rules of the sea.”

“I’m afraid I do not, Captain.” Marinette sighed, letting him stroll her around the port.

“If I let you on my ship… it’s bad luck and a capital offense to have a woman on board.” Chat Noir cleared his throat and stopped, turning her around to face him.

“So, you’ll have to leave me.” Marinette peered down, realizing what he was saying.

“No, but you’ll need a disguise to board my ship, love.” Chat Noir touched beneath her chin and raised her saddened gaze to his. “We’ll be needing clothes for ya.” He winked at her and watched a smile appear on her lips.

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101roadtonowhere · 3 years

Text

Widespot

Baby Unn Weiss is about to grow up!

She gets a lot of Penny’s features. She grew up in this hair and I think it suits her - the entire family has slightly unkempt hair and there is no mirror in their house.

Woody is desperate for some fun. I have him quit the bath tub pirate thing and go downtown instead. With the new highway the city is just a quick bus ride away from Widespot! (I imagine using “Walk to lot” when going downtown means the sims take the bus from a bus stop on Highway 13.5. And it is a really popular thing to do, judging by how many playable sims show up every time I go downtown.)

He goes bowling, but is not very successful.

Some other bowlers are way better.

Never before has Mrs. Crumplebottom looked so happy.

Woody goes skating as well. Most other sims prefer the dance floor.

Oh no, Sandy, what are you doing? Your husband is right there! (In the yellow shirt)

Apparently he doesn’t mind? Or generally pays no attention at all to what his wife does. “You’re getting very good att giving backrubs, honey. Have you been practising?”

The downtownie Woody met at the skating place calls him up and asks him to meet her downtown as soon as he gets back home. He says yes, of course, to the pretty girl.

It’s pretty romantic for an outing.

#sims 2 #ts2 #widespot

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whenimaunicorn · 4 years

Text

The Heart of Admiration - Part 5

Charles Vane x Original Female Character

The slow burn just might be heating up as these two disaster pirates find themselves in a Fake Marriage situation... with maybe a There Was Only One Bed thrown in for good measure. What can I say I write what I love.

Catch up on the start of the story with the links here

A/N: yes, you may find the opening scene feeling familiar. I did decide to include “Charles, Darling” as a part of Hope’s story. I hope you enjoy revisiting that that little moment and seeing what it turns into next.

“Watch your hands. She’s mine.” Captain Vane’s arm wraps tight around Hope’s waist, pulling her in snug against his body.

She bites her tongue, trying not to display either surprise or displeasure, and forces her furrowing brow to smooth. Is he really doing this right now? She hadn’t even known he was in this tavern. Although, while she fervently resents being rescued from a man’s advances in in such a demeaning fashion, it is also true that she had no idea how she was going to handle her current predicament without ruining everything by resorting to violence.

The man crowding Hope at the bar, a Mr. Fellows, takes half a step back. Vane is a bared saber all on his own, his very presence and dark look just as threatening as a pistol in one’s hand. Hope supposes this is one of those times that he is worth wielding, and she wraps her hand over his thick wrist at her waist. Sinking into him the way a relieved wife ought to, she pats the back of his hand. “There you are, Charles darling.” His breath catches at her term of endearment, and she figures he is trying not to laugh at her. “Calm yourself, I’ve barely been out of your sight for ten minutes! I know how you fret, but please, don’t take it out on this poor man.”

The less rational part of her would like nothing more than to watch Vane smash Mr. Fellows’ face in, after the things he’d been saying to her, but she could not set loose his wrath for the same reason she hadn’t been reaching for her own belt-knife: Fellows had turned out to be the contact that the Ranger’s officers had been scouring the whole of Port Royal for. Without his cooperation, this entire voyage will have turned out to be for nothing. She couldn’t let the secret fortune he had reportedly stumbled upon slip away jut because she felt offended.

Fellows clears his throat with a nervous noise.

Vane’s still staring down at Hope in his arms. She knows the mark in front of them is more important, can’t be allowed to slip away now that the game has been changed, but she also can’t quite tear her gaze away from Captain Vane’s face either. He’s never held her like this before; she’s never let him get so close. She becomes aware of how fast her heart is beating, and she’s not certain she can attribute the entirety of its pace to anger at Mr. Fellows’ bad behavior.

“N-newlyweds?” the man stutters, offering up a handy excuse. Oh, how quickly a man’s attitude can change, when a bigger dick walks into the room.

“Yes,” Vane smiles to him. It’s a false smile, wide and too cheerful, something Hope’s never seen spread across his face, but Fellows wouldn’t know that. Certainly the lopsided grin is fitting for the ruse. He hugs her even closer, his big hand spreading up the side of her bodice, and even leans in to press a kiss to the side of her forehead.

Shameless. His affection would be positively bawdy in the more respectable circles she once walked in, but it fits the dirty alehouse just fine.

She watches Fellows stiffen; Vane must have resumed his usual scowl abruptly above her head. “And I don’t take kindly to anyone bothering my wife. If—”

She cut him off before moods can sour any further. “Darling, it’s just a misunderstanding.” She turns her face up, willing him with the force of her eyes to pay attention. “This is Mr. Fellows. And he has some very interesting stories to tell.”

Vane’s brows crease; from the flash of annoyance in his face it’s apparent that at first he thinks she’s just trying to confound him. His embrace tightens, and then she sees it click. He gives the man another look. “Is that so. Well then. I’m Charles Vane, captain of the Ranger.” He extends his right hand for a friendly shake. “How about I buy us a round, and we’ll all sit and talk a while.” Even when he tries to sound gentlemanly, that scraping growl of a voice he has still sounds like a threat.

Fellows’ eyes shift back and forth in rapid thought, and Hope can see that he’s got an idea now what’s going on, that she had not started chatting him up by accident. His face starts to glower, but he’s not looking at the door so she doesn’t think she’s lost the chance at making a deal with him. She just has to change the stratagem, now, to incorporate Vane’s looming presence.

Vane signals the barmaid, and draws Hope toward an open table. His arm stays decidedly around her waist. While she doesn’t think it’s quite necessary to keep selling the marriage ruse this hard, she’s not going to ruin it by pushing him away.

It’s only after he plops down in a seat that she realizes the table he’s chosen only has two chairs. Fellows assumes the other, and to Hope’s surprise Vane tries to pull her down into his lap. He’s got a cheeky grin on his face and she realizes that all this is not just for Fellows’ benefit; Vane is having fun with her.

She decides not to make a scene by resisting physically. But as soon as she’s seated across his thighs, she looks down at him crossly. “Charles. Darling. Get me a chair.”

A boyish grin is tugging at the edges of his lips. “I thought you said my lap was the best seat in the house.”

Oh, how she wants to smack him. And yet she finds herself wanting to smile too. “Just because when we met, I was acting like an alehouse strumpet, does not mean you get the show every night.” His scarred brow raises, and she feels a thrill she doesn’t quite understand. “I am a wife now. And a ranking member of your crew. And I will comport myself as such.” She comes back to her feet imperiously, ignoring the feeling of Vane’s fingers trailing reluctantly off her body. She grabs a chair from another table and turns it around, seating herself between the two men. She doesn’t miss the knowing look that passes from Fellows to Vane. If Fellows thinks she’s a veritable ball-buster, all the better.

“You still owe me the rest of that story,” Hope says with a broad smile. She turns the charm back on, even though that’s what had gotten her a little in over her head in the first place. She feels Vane looming over her shoulder. And ignores him. “Where was the galleon going?”

“What galleon?” Vane’s rumble rips into the conversation, and his palm slides to rest upon her thigh, just above her knee.

Fellows’s pockmarked cheek twitches, but Hope brightens her smile, and he focuses back on her. With Vane here, she realizes, posing as her husband, it’s actually safer to keep pushing that edge, to continue to use Mr. Fellows’s attraction to her to captivate him. “Be a dear and start the story over?” The barmaid slaps three mugs on the table and Hope lifts one to hand it directly to him herself. “Otherwise he’ll never catch up.” She jerks her shoulder at Vane without looking, still holding Fellows’ eyes with a grin and a mischievous quirk to her brow.

Vane’s fingers tighten on her thigh.

It’s damned distracting, that hand. Hope does her best to just let it lie there, using it, an incongruous little reminder that however much Fellows might be enjoying her saucy remarks, her ‘husband’ is still in the room. Any possibility of dalliance that her eyes might be suggesting over the rim of her cup will have to wait for another time to be made plain. But the weight of Vane’s palm never quite leaves her awareness, nor its warmth, especially not when his thumb starts stroking a line up and down the surprisingly sensitive edge of her knee.

Fellows is cautious, but Hope is ever tenacious. Vane plays his part by leaning back, oblivious at the times when he needs to be, listening to Fellows’ tale of mysterious supply ships headed toward an unknown location. His stony face brings just enough skepticism to the table that Fellows works harder to impress, divulges more details than he meant to as he brags about his lead. And Hope is right there at his elbow, encouraging his tale, imploring Vane to take it seriously until it seems that her and Fellows are a team together, attempting to convince the captain of the Ranger to believe the man’s story, and consider taking him on. Now that she’d found her angle on him, Fellows is proving to be an easy mark.

After all, they’d come to Port Royal because Fellows was not as coy as he thought he was. Rumors had spread that there was a fisherman who might have stumbled upon the location of a new British supply dump, some island so unknown and un-frequented that the Navy felt confident they could use it to stockpile munitions and other valuable sundries. This fisherman was supposedly a less-than-staunch loyalist to the Crown, and might possibly be open to leading a crew of privateers or pirates to plunder this secret location. But up to this date, no decent crew had managed to convince him, and no indecent crew had managed to find him.

“The Ranger,” Fellows says over the rim of his fourth ale, “is that a gunship?”

Hope tries not to smile too wide. Captain Vane nods.

“Forgive me, but I don’t recognize the name.”

Vane’s eyes flash, like he’s only barely forgiving that slight. “We’re not Navy. Not privateers, either.”

Hope leans closer to the fisherman, blocking her captain just a little bit from view. “We used to sail out of Nassau.” This is it, time to lay all the cards on the table, and she can’t trust Vane not to botch it.

“Used to?”

She leans her elbow on the table, settling her cheek into her hand. “For a ‘free city,’ that place was accumulating quite a bit of overhead. Quite stifling, really, in the hands of the Guthries. We prefer to live truly free; to be accountable to no one but ourselves.” She leaves just enough pause between her words to imply there might be all kinds of ways she likes to be free. “It leaves us open to all sorts of amenable relationships. Partnerships, even.”

What man could resist twin appeals to both his greed and lust? And yet she had said nothing that would bind her to fulfilment of the latter, and Vane’s presence precluded any chance for Fellows to press her into a more concrete promise. He would be enticed by hope alone, that she might be planning to meet him for a more secret dalliance, and it would be too late by the time he realized that his dream was never going to come to pass.

Fellows grins back at her. “It almost sounds too good to be true.” Then his gaze floats over her shoulder. To Captain Vane.

Of course he’d need the man to confirm.

“Seems to me,” Vane says, leaning forward, putting more of his weight on Hope’s thigh, “that you’ve been sitting on this information for quite some time. Any of the pirate crews in the Caribbean would love to know the location of this cache. There must be a reason you haven’t already sold it.”

Fellows’ eyes shine with guile. “Just waiting for the right offer.” He nods his head, indicating a table under the window on the other side of the room. “Captain Black over there’s interested too.” He leans in conspiratorially. “But I think I deserve more than just a finder’s fee.”

Hope assesses the competition swiftly: two men in threadbare coats, with shifty eyes that betray a certain lack of confidence in their demeanor. One of their mugs lies on its side on the table, unrefilled; their coin might already be running out.

Vane spares only a glance in the direction of his rivals. They’re not even in his class. He summons an agreeable smile to his face for Fellows. “Seems only fair that the man whose careful eye caught the lead should get a larger share of the take.”

Hope smiles at him. He’s picked up on the need for flattery with this one, good.

“But have you ever gone a-pirating, Fellows?” He’s leaning in, looking at him from under heavy brows. “Faced down armed men, trained ones, try to take from them what they’re willing to give their lives to defend?” His face is only a hand’s breadth away from Hope’s, leaning over her the way he is, and she finds herself fascinated by a little muscle flexing in his jaw as he growls out his challenge. “Do you know that you have the stones not to run, not to sink to your knees when your back’s against the wall?”

Fellows licks his lips, but keeps his eyes on Vane’s hard stare. “I won’t run.”

Vane inclines his head, just a fraction. “On my ship, a man earns his share. If you fight alongside us, no matter how hairy it gets when we go in there, I can convince my crew you deserve a lion’s share.” He sits back, his hand traveling just an inch higher on Hope’s thigh. “Or you can stay on board and get your finder’s fee, let us be the ones that get our hands dirty. Your choice.”

Masterful, really. Now they aren’t talking about if Fellows will hire them, but what the terms of his own participation will be. Hope’s first impression of Captain Vane was not one of any formidable wit, but she can see in moments like this how he came to be a leader of men.

Fellows seems to have taken the bait. “Is your crew ready now?”

A long rumble of thunder, too loud to be very distant, interrupts everyone’s thoughts. A glance at the wide double doorway of the tavern shows nothing but roiling clouds, and Hope wonders how she could have missed the sudden darkening of the evening sky. She and Vane step to the door; a massive sheet of rain is sweeping across the bay, the wall of clouds stretching too far for this storm to be brief.

“Don’t think you’ll make it back to your ship before this hits,” Fellows remarks, coming up behind them. “Better to pass the night comfortably here. There’s rooms to let upstairs; I’m in one of ‘em. You two might as well see if there’s another still available. I can show you the island in the morning.”

Hours later, they thump through the narrow upstairs hallway, arm-in-arm and singing one last sea shanty as they see Fellows off to bed. Negotiations complete, there had been nothing else to do but keep drinking, and entertain their cash cow well enough to ensure he didn’t develop second thoughts. They couldn’t have him wandering over to that other table and seeking a counteroffer.

As Fellows pulls the door closed to his room he catches Hope’s eye, head cocked and an inviting smile on his face. Does he think she might sneak out after her “husband” has fallen asleep? Hope barely suppresses a shudder. Good thing they had bought the man so many rounds that he was certain to pass out as soon as his cheek hit the pillow in there. She waves him a bland, friendly goodnight as Vane’s arm about her shoulders drags her on down the hall.

Last door on the right. Hope and Vane had indeed acquired the only room that the inn had left to let for this night. And with the rain continuing unabated, they’re lucky to have it. “Here we are,” Vane announces as he fumbles with the key given to them by the innkeeper while still trying to keep a hold on both her and the lantern, “time for our honeymoon, my sweet.”

Hope grins and slaps him on the chest. She takes the lantern from his hand so he can properly work the door. “I hope the bed is big, Charles, darling, because…” she trails off as her cheeks flush hot, simply unable to finish that line even in jest.

“Would it be too much if I carried you inside?”

Hope laughs and steps over the threshold before he can try it. She doesn’t want to have to face the way all his little physical affections have been making her feel. And yet, she can’t seem to make herself ask him to stop, either.

The door closes behind them and his arm is still around her. They’re leaning against each other more heavily than they would if they were sober, Hope is at least aware of that. And Vane most definitely outweighs her. “Get your legs under you before you topple us over,” she chides.

Instead of leaning away from her, Vane wraps his other arm around her body. “I’ll keep us steady, love.”

Hope tries to ignore the escalation of pet names, holding up the lantern to get a look at their abode for the night. It’s terribly small; there’s barely space for a chair beyond the foot of the modest-sized bed underneath a single window. It seems to be no more than a glorified closet, an alcove where they probably stick stumbling patrons to sleep off their overindulgences. If they’d taken one more step into the room they would have barked their shins on the edge of the furniture.

“Mmmm,” Vane murmurs into her neck, “What is this smell?” He inhales right against her skin, and Hope wonders how much the drink has actually gone to his head. Or hers, for that matter, as she finds herself melting just a little into his arms.

“Rosewater,” she answers, her voice coming out a bit thin, “from that cargo a few weeks ago.”

She can feel the rumbling sound of recognition he makes. A sudden throb between her legs makes Hope certain she’s had too much to drink herself. Her hands want to grasp the lapels of his jacket and pull him closer, but she pushes him away instead.

“What’s the matter?” His eyes look almost sleepy; more relaxed and cheerful than she’s ever seen from the man. A genuine smile pulls at the corner of his mouth as he gazes down at her across the small distance her half-hearted shove had put between their bodies. “We are husband and wife, after all.”

She wants to meet his gaze levelly, to give him the sort of plain, no-nonsense stare that usually keeps the men in line around her. As soon as she looks into his eyes, though, something catches at her, and she cannot summon her frown. How had she never noticed the sweet, boyish softness of Captain Vane’s eyes before? She swallows, and awkwardly realizes she should have said something by now, as his face looms almost imperceptibly closer. She side-steps him, spying a nail beside the door to hang the lantern on. “Oh yes. You’ve yet to apologize to me for that.”

He pulls back. She wanted him to, didn’t she? And yet her heart dips a little as she watches him readjust his expectations. “For saving you?”

Hope just raises her brow and glares.

“He had a look about him,” Vane says defensively. “You wouldn’t like where that look was leading.” He crosses his arms and leans back against the door, which gives Hope just barely enough room to step between the bedframe and him to inspect the state of the linens the bed had been made up with.

“I had him handled.” The blanket is old, but appears unstained, and when Hope turns down the sheets they smell clean. At least there’s that.

“That you did. I was impressed, really, at the way you were able to work the man. It was a real pleasure to watch.”

She risks another glance at his face, checking for sarcasm, but his admiration seems sincere.

“I had no idea you could flirt like that.” He takes a step toward her, but it’s only so he can sit down at the foot of the bed and start working his boots off. “As good as any whore I’ve ever seen.”

Her breath sucks into her chest sharply. She doesn’t have anything against the women who make their living that way, really she doesn’t, but there’s a certain involuntary reaction that comes when that comparison is made.

Vane realizes his mistake almost immediately. “I didn’t mean—” he starts, penitent face turning up to her.

“Of course you didn’t,” Hope cuts him off matter-of-factly.

“I only meant to—”

“I know what you meant.”

Vane drops his head with a pained look and focuses intently on the laces of his boots.

And that’s about the moment when she realizes that not only is there only one bed in this room, there’s barely enough space between it and the walls for someone to sleep comfortably on the floor. A claim over the best sleeping spot would have to be made quickly, and right now it’s Vane’s butt that’s planted firmly on the mattress.

In a moment of almost childish intensity, Hope rushes to sit down next to him. Can’t have his claim appear uncontested.

From the corner of her eye, she sees him turn toward her in silent question, but she focuses firmly on unlacing her own boots. Vane finishes with his and places them carefully underneath the rickety wooden chair past the foot of the bed. His jacket goes next, shrugged off and laid over the chair’s seat.

When she gets her first boot off, he places it next to his own.

“I don’t normally prefer to act like that,” she admits, now feeling a bit embarrassed about her performance with Fellows.

“I know. It’s why I was so surprised.”

“To play that card…” she sucks in a deep breath. “It’s simultaneously the most easy and the most difficult option for a lady. I generally prefer to keep a hand full of better plays. Fellows, unfortunately… I must be his type. He set the terms of the game rather early, and would not be distracted.”

“Is this going to be a problem going forward? The poor chap seems intent on coming along tomorrow, playing pirate with us.” It was in fact all he had wanted to talk about, through five more rounds before they called it a night.

Hope shakes her head. “I don’t expect it to be. So long as he doesn’t find out we lied to him for hours about our marriage.”

Vane leans back, grinning. “It would break his little heart to know that we didn’t force a voyaging missionary to marry us at gunpoint, while the men plundered his ship?”

Hope can’t help but smile at that particular yarn they’d spun. “Honestly, I don’t think he even wants to sleep with me anymore. I think he just wants to be you.”

His eyes flash with glee. “Don’t sell yourself short now, love. If he does, it’s only because being me is the only way to get into your bed.”

She can barely handle hearing him say such things, in the dim light of a single lantern, and close enough that she could reach out and stroke her finger against the stubble along his jaw. She smooths her palm across the sheets between them and changes the subject to a much more important one. “Yes, it is my bed, isn’t it.”

Vane frowns down at her hand, then the floor. He lifts his face with a cool look. “That’s a bit presumptuous.”

Hope cocks an eyebrow.

“I do outrank you. Unless you want to play one of those ‘lady’ cards you’re not very fond of, the bed by rights goes to me.”

“Any gentleman would—”

“I don't believe I have ever been accused of being a gentleman.”

Hope can barely stand to keep meeting his eyes, not with the fire brewing behind those particular words, the way they’re kindling an answering flame in her own core. But she also can’t show him even the least sign of submission on this matter.

Vane interrupts their staring match by shrugging his shirt up over his head.

Hope responds by turning down the sheet and blanket, swiveling on her hip, and shoving both her legs underneath as fast as she can. She fixes her gaze on his climbing eyebrows, not his bared chest, and tucks herself into bed, burrowing her feet behind him and pulling the blanket firmly up to her chin. “You might want to put that shirt back on; the floor’s likely to be cold and none too clean.”

For a moment, he looks like a great beast about to tear out her throat. Then his snarl cracks open into a peal of laughter. Hope giggles a bit too as Vane leans forward and inspects the floor a second time. “You really think my shoulders will even fit into that space down there?”

Hope tries not to blush as she appraises the breadth of her captain’s impressive back. “It will be cozy.”

Vane huffs, tosses his hair—and throws his body down onto the bed beside her. “Cozier here,” he intones, settling his cheek on the pillow right beside hers.

She makes her face show as much affront as she can muster.

“Would you look at that,” he continues, “there’s plenty of room for the both of us.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.”

Vane settles in on his back and closes his eyes. “Suit yourself. I’ll be asleep in about two minutes.”

Playfulness aside, Hope knows that if she kept up her insistence Vane would respect her limits. She also knows that the heaviness in her limbs means she’ll fall asleep soon too, and what does it matter if he’s right beside her or down on the floor as she sleeps off all this ale, anyway. She can even admit that the heat of his body, the grounding presence of his weight in the bed, are somewhat comforting. Distracting, vexing even if she were to think too hard about things like that, but she’s too drunk to think that hard, isn’t she. “Put out the lantern before you pass out.”

She holds up the covers for him when he climbs back into the bed. Their shoulders come to rest softly against each other’s, and Hope falls asleep pondering what might be making Vane’s hair smell vaguely of lemon and cedar.

Sorry, ending on a cliffhanger is not usual for this story, but I already have half of the next chapter written and it picks up directly from here! In fact, yesterday’s teaser technically comes from Part 6.

Taglist is open: @ladyhubris @summertimesadness101 @acebreathesfire@kind-wolf @pleasemelafook-outta-ere

#black sails fanfic #captain vane #charles vane x ofc #charles vane x oc #charles vane

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