#soapy self ships

[waluigis-837th-testicle]

Imagine your f/o sees you wearing a too big shirt and thinks you look so so cute in it they just HAVE to cuddle you :3

[circusgoth-dotcom]

i got this "lakeside life" hand sanitizer from bath & bodyworks and it smells like what i imagine a nice hot bath at pamela's cabin would smell like :0)

[oliviajdjarin]

Din Djarin: Dare You to Touch Me--Dare You to Love Me

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (afab; she/her)

Excerpt: "You couldn't say it out loud, he knew you couldn't, so you screamed at him with your eyes. They told him everything he needed to know.

I dare you, they said, I dare you to touch me. I dare you to love me, even like this.

Help me.

But he didn't. All you got was one single croak of your name before he headed behind you, scooped the Rodian into his arms like it was nothing, and said, huskily, "I'll meet you at the Crest."

And that was it. He was gone.

He fucking left you.

Warnings: ANGSTTTT, Din's a scaredy cat, graphic descriptions of blood and knives, reader is really self-deprecating and gets really really dark, needles, stitching, swearing, Din gets some sense knocked into him, the Razor Crest is forever alive in my mind, hopeful ending.

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: This is incredibly kanej inspired, therefore incredibly personal. I hope you all enjoy :)

If you'd like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

(Gif credit to Pinterest)

You didn't know if the red on your hands was from the crimson lighting the prison ship had been showered with, or your own blood leaking from your gut. Not leaking, sprouting. Its thickness and warmth gushed onto your hand and wrist, pumping so fiercely that the pressure you had against your wound wasn't enough to prevent some dripping down onto the floor, effectively causing you to slip on your own butchery. You could fit your pointer finger in-between the flaps of skin separated from the Rodian's dagger, and the pain of it spun your brain in circles, so much so that you could not help the breakfast you had only hours before splatting on the metal floor.

That fucking reptile had gotten you good. Too good. Luckily for him, your revenge came in a blaster shot through his brain, rather than something much, much worse. His corpse was heavy as hell though, and having to drag it in your state didn't help either. You were slipping in your own blood and vomit, grinding your teeth after every step you took, dragging hundreds of pounds one-handed, and practically biting off your own tongue to keep from wailing.

And Din was nowhere to be found.

Frankly, you were more disgusted with yourself than you ever would be with him. It had gotten too perfect with him, too easy. The two most brutal, solitary bounty hunters in the galaxy, hearts locked inside impenetrable chains, practically salivating to finally touch the other. He had done everything else; told you his name, his Creed, his losses, and you had done the same to him. Those demons inside your head reared their ugliness, screaming at you to get a fucking grip.

Just wait, they said. He's just like everyone else. He'll disappoint you just like everyone else, and you've given him enough ammo to destroy you.

You were a child to believe otherwise.

Maybe he's just run late, that child inside you whimpered, or he's hurt.

You pushed her down, and carried on.

You had made it at least fifty feet away from where the two of you were supposed to meet, inches away from rounding the corner to the Crest--satisfied at the thought that you were very capable of taking everything he ever loved inside that piece of metal and burning it to ash--when a burst of your blood gushed on the floor just right, twisting your ankle, and sending you forward, pushing your hand deeper into your wound.

You didn't remember screaming or puking, but you imagined you had to have done both, because it was right then that Din rounded the corner, finding you in a puddle of your own blood-soaked vomit.

He froze, panting, as your vision went white with pain. Your body sunk into the floor, screaming at you that the metal was actually cushioned, the light you saw behind your eyes was only sleep, and the thick fluid coating your hand was warm, soapy bathwater.

Stay down, your demons whispered, stay a while.

No, the child within exclaimed, Din is here. Din will help.

With a grunt, you helped him with the first step, getting you onto all fours. You propped yourself up with the last of the strength you had, your mouth dribbling out more spit and vomit as you did, and waited. Waited for those large, leathered hands to take you into his arms, and carry you home.

You waited, and waited, and waited, and when you finally turned your head to look at him is when you finally let a single tear escape.

He just...stood there, looking down at you like some pathetic lump of flesh, only slowing him down. His arms remained firmly at his sides, while his chest rose up and down erratically, the way it did when he was angry. He stared down at you, the most vulnerable you had ever been, and looked at you like you were the most useless, pitiable, disappointing creature to ever grace his eyes.

Maybe he doesn't realize, the child within exclaimed, show him.

And you did, you had been. You couldn't say it out loud, he knew you couldn't, so you screamed at him with your eyes. They told him everything he needed to know.

I dare you, they said, I dare you to touch me. I dare you to love me, even like this.

Help me.

But he didn't. All you got was one single croak of your name before he headed behind you, scooped the Rodian into his arms like it was nothing, and said, huskily, "I'll meet you at the Crest."

And that was it. He was gone.

He fucking left you.

Told you, the demons whispered, and the child within you finally broke.

You sobbed as you attempted to stand, you sobbed as you vomited from the effort, you sobbed as you wiped your chin, you sobbed as you pressed against your wound once again, you sobbed as you finally put your feet under you, and you sobbed as you took each and every step back home.

Home, the demons inside your head cackled, you have no home. You never will.

You were truly a lamentable sight. You were surprised you didn't bash your own head in.

Finally, the Crest came into view through the pounding in your head and the haze of your own tears, and for that one second, you pretended he had stayed. You pretended he was guiding you with his forearm against your back, his voice against your temple, and shoulders propping you up. You pretended the chills on your body were from the chill of his armor, not your own blood loss, because for once, you had been right about someone. You had been right about him.

That second of delusion was enough, before the demons inside your head went back to its guffaws.

You trekked your way up the Crest's ramp, biting down on your cheeks until they bled, because he would not hear you scream. Your head was getting worse, beginning to fade in and out of consciousness. It was obvious you needed a stitching, and as you searched for a clean kit through the Crest's shelves, you recalled how many times you had stitched Din up. You always kept your gloves on, and you removed as few pieces of his precious beskar as you could, but you stuck with him through every stitch, every groan, every drop of blood from his body, you stayed. You never removed your gloves, no matter how badly you wanted to touch him, truly touch him. Trace the constellation of moles on his back, the depth of his scars, and the warmth of his tan skin. You never did.

You wondered if those beskar pieces would sink with him when you threw him into Naboo's Abyss.

One more time, the child inside you cried out. She was wailing now. Please, try one more time.

You slammed the drawer shut when you found a kit suitable enough, and you slammed it hard. You waited for him to come out of the cockpit, hands filled with bacta and bandages, but he remained seated in the captain's chair, unmoving.

Like everyone else, the demons said, and clicked their tongues.

The child sobbed, and you did with it as you proceeded to clean and bandage yourself. Alone.

He could close the fucking hanger himself.

The cleaning of your wound was the worst of it. The water burned down the nerves of your legs and feet more than you expected, as well as the warm towels pressing against your wound. You had to go inside of it, just to be safe, and tried not to imagine what organs you were memorizing the texture of. Stitching it was nothing, you could do it with your eyes closed, but with the mix of the exhaustion of blood loss, pain, and the scars reopened in your heart, you were out as soon as you snipped the excess thread away and bandaged yourself up tightly. You were in your own cot, thank the maker, in the storage unit Din let you use as a makeshift bedroom.

Let you use, the demons said with a scoff.

Let you use, the child said with a smile.

It had to have been at least a day before you finally woke up, your mind blank with those first few seconds of the bliss of ignorance, allowing you a moment of peace in forgetting that anything had ever happened, before you were met with as dry of a throat you had ever had, an ache across your body like you had never experienced before, and a stab across your midsection to bring you right back to reality.

"Fuck," you whispered, and immediately went to press your fingers against the throbbing slice, when your fingers were met with something...soft.

A thin blanket had been placed over you, and as you propped yourself up in shock, a voice deep as night replied, "Y/N."

You turned, and for just one second, the child inside you admired.

Din was sitting on a makeshift pile of blankets squished against the wall, body still covered in beskar, with a glass of clear water in his leathered hand. "I didn't...know if you had drunk anything."

Initially, your heart warmed.

Me, the child inside you whispered, he was worried about me.

You stared into where you could only guess his eyes were underneath his helmet, and your mouth threatened to etch into a smile as you felt your hand begin to reach for the liquid. Until, the demons that haunted to you whispered in reply.

Remember.

Your hand halted, and the look of love in your eyes quickly wilted into a look of fury. Your lips did etch into a smile, but more of a devilish grin.

You have the upper hand. Use it.

Your voice came as rich and powerful as ever. "I can take care of myself."

You then tossed your legs over the cot, stood slowly, and left him. You barely felt the ache in your midsection anymore, not with the endorphins revenge brought on.

As you walked to the kitchen, imagining how satisfying it was to know how much hurt he'd feel when you finally walked out, slightly limping but more joyful than you had been in weeks, a firm grip caught your forearm, and a voice of terror, true terror, whispered, "wait."

Your nostrils flared and your bicep flexed as you turned, ready to pull your hand away and knock him on his ass, when you noticed the same breath pattern he had when he had found you only a day before.

The beings inside you were too curious to pull you away from him just yet.

"Please just...please just listen," he exclaimed, voice weighed down by a mixture of seemingly every emotion possible, "I didn't...I didn't know what to do. I'd never seen you like that before. So near death. I have only ever seen you standing, and to see you so down was--"

He paused to gather a breath, and as he did, his back straightened, his composure tightened, and his voice was coated with something almost...evil.

"--I wanted to destroy him," he finished. "The fucking Rodian. I wanted to be the one to blow a blaster through his brain, and rip him apart as I did."

A film of water began to coat your eyes. You didn't know from what.

"I panicked. I'm a fucking coward who panicked when you needed me, and I am so, so sorry."

His grip on your wrist had loosened slightly, his thumb even beginning to rub delicate circles on the top of your hand, and it took everything in you not to let the child within you-- as well as the woman-- fall apart against him. He was finally daring to touch you, rub on you, and you wanted to know what else he would dare to touch. How would his fingers feel stroking through your hair? Down your back? Against your face?

He was scared, the child within you whispered, he was scared, that's all he was, and he admitted it.

You could forgive him. You know you could.

But could you go through this again, the demons asked.

No. You couldn't. Your id and superego were at war once more, and with what little strength your ego had between them, you spoke.

"You fucking left me," you croaked, "you left me to die."

"I know. I know I did," he muttered, ashamed. "And I am so sor--"

"No," you stopped him, finally prying your hand away from him. The rage, hurt, and pain you felt over the previous twenty-four hours finally bubbling their way to the surface with the tears running down your cheeks.

You would not let yourself feel this way, ever again.

"Don't apologize to me." you stated. "Prove yourself to me. If you ever--ever--pull that shit again, I am gone. Gone. Do you hear me?"

He stared. Unresponsive.

"Do you hear me?"

"Yes," he finally blurted. "Yes."

"Good," you said, and backed away from him. "Now take a fucking shower. You smell even through the armor."

You could've sworn he chuckled as he walked back through the cockpit.

You continued your walk towards the kitchen, wiping your tear-stained cheeks, and you felt your demons begin to belittle you once more.

He's going to do it again, they chanted, and again, and again, and again. He will rip you open time and time again. He knows you're weak for him now. He will use it. He will use it to take advantage of everything that you are. Pathetic.

But the child within you only smiled, satisfied with her knowledge of the truth.

Din was bigger than all of them.

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[joshusten]

love the sinner (albus york/faith koria, bastard warrior || good boy audios)

Albus York takes a bath and Faithful washes his hair. (angst, slight argument, hurt/comfort)

2.2k+ words [ao3 link] [masterlist] [CW/notes: religious imagery ofc (this fic was basically an excuse to write that), typical albus york language, lots of self-loathing and some suicidal thoughts. albus is just having a bad time but hes also so whipped for faithful. speaking of her, i didnt make faith's physical descriptions vague or made it so that she's a "listener" but rather a character of her own! and i based it off of gba's description of her + my own interpretation hehe.]

once again THANK YOU SO SO MUCH to @slushiepizza for all the AMAZING suggestions and support like omfg i SWEAR i keep on saying this but this fic rlly wouldnt be finished without them!! i appreciate it sm!! and im shaking and kissing my irls that ive also bothered with this fic that will probably not see this THANK U SM!! edit: I FORGOT THE FUCKING READ MORE LMFAO

—

Albus York steadily sank into the half-filled tub of one of the ship’s quarters—stripped of his clothes, and left bare to no witness.

Gentle waves of the bathwater rippled against hardened, battle-torn skin. He dementedly mused that if he could go down further, he might finally drown. 

He chuckled at the thought, shifted his position, and got to work. It's been a while since he last had an actual bath—way before he even agreed to this suicide mission of an adventure—with warm soapy water and scented products.

The constant near-death experiences and whatnot had interrupted the trio to get any time for themselves, much less to do any sort of basic hygiene. Since the route Devlin had charted for the ship to follow allowed for ample downtime, the Forgemaster had practically shoved his younger half-brother into the common bathroom and forced him to take a much-needed bath (Of course, not without a snobby comment about how his stench matched his personality perfectly well.)

Albus’ inexperience was made clearer with the stiff, awkward motion of his large, calloused hands as he attempted to wash himself. The unpracticed movement made the unfamiliarity of it all fully realized. How long has it been since he felt this safe? Does he even remember how to take care of himself?

Does someone like him even deserve this luxury?

The warrior submerged himself lower, down until his eyes were right above water level. He was thinking again. It was all that he had been doing for the past hour. If the gods wouldn't allow him to drown, then he hoped that the water would at least cleanse the grime and sin embedded into his flesh.

But he knew that filth clung to his skin like how a believer clings to the idea of repentance. No matter how hard—how desperately—he scrubbed (until pale skin turned into blood red, until rough turned rougher), it was all pointless. He had learned long ago that a bastard's prayers were never left answered. 

The mark on his chest was a bleak reminder of that reality. Damnation was basically his birthright. Albus York was dead the moment he came out of his mother’s womb—dead to his family, dead to society. 

Cursed to hell for being sin itself.

Life had a funny way to remind him—that goodness is something he can be in the presence of but never be a part of it.

"Albus?"

Speak of the devil, his ever-so-naive angel had arrived.

“Albus? Hello?”

Tender, serene, heavenly.

The voice was melodic—like the somber hymns he used to hear in his youth when his mother would take him into the temple and meet with her fellow brothers and sisters. At that time, he always felt drawn to the choir’s performance, despite not being old enough to understand the words (not that he was any more literate in the present). Back then, he was just a kid, blissfully unaware of the blasphemy he had committed for existing. 

He had grown since then—in every aspect of the word.

"Albus! Are you still in there?"

A deep grunt, muffled slosh of water, and the pitter-patter of droplets on the tiled surface were all that Faith Koria had heard from the other side of the metal door before a familiar, gruff voice answered back.

"Calm ya tits, woman. I knew you were eager to see my dick but I never knew you were this eager!" 

The outside replied with an annoyed groan, a sound Albus was all too familiar with, especially when it came from her. That being said, he couldn't fight the smile forming on his lips as he hastily dried himself up with a nearby towel.

"You've been using the bathroom for more than an hour, just what are you doing in there? Some people want to get cleaned up too, you know!”

The metal door swiftly slid open with a sudden 'woosh!', hot steam dissipating before the runaway nun to reveal Albus’ tall stature, half-naked and slightly dripping wet. Faith frantically averted her eyes on instinct, ears immediately burning with embarrassment. It wasn’t like it was her first time seeing him undressed—for gods’ sake, she treated his wounds like this when they first met! But to have him fresh out of a bath with his toned body exposed and his dampened long hair was—Wait! His hair!

"Alright, alright! I’m out, ya happy? I’m decent too so you don’t have to be a prude about it,” The bastard huffed, a little irritated with how his peaceful bath (or at least, as peaceful as it could be) was abruptly cut short.  

“Albus, your hair!”

The man scrunched up his face in confusion.  He gathered one of his dark locks and examined it with an intense focus. “Huh? Looks fine to me. What, you're not expecting me to be all prim and proper now, are you?”

“No, no, no! It's all matted and uneven!” The woman replied with a horrified concern in her voice that was rare for the warrior to hear directed at him.“It’s probably from all those monster attacks. Some of them must’ve managed to get to your hair! How long has it been like this? Does it hurt? Do you even have shampoo?”

“Uh…what’s that?”

“Ugh, never mind. Just—” Before Albus could process what was happening, Faith grabbed his arm with a surprisingly strong grip for a nun. She dragged him down near the bathtub he just got out of. He can even hear the water still slowly swirling down the drain. 

“Faithful, what are you—” 

“Stay right here. You got that, York? I’m just going to get something and I don't want you to move a muscle.”

A deep chuckle resonated within the man’s scarred chest—he always enjoyed it when she got this bossy. He gave her a mock salute and answered with a hearty “Yes, ma’am!”

The sister paladin made a face, letting out a flustered huff before hurrying to wherever she needed to be. So cute.

Albus had put on his clothes at this point while he waited (lest he risked Faithful suffering from a heart attack). A few minutes had passed by when she returned with a rather large pouch that Albus recognized was packed with the rest of her belongings. He deduced it must've been from her childhood with how worn down the embroidery was. Once vibrant floral patterns dulled from years of usage.

“Lean back by the bathtub,” Faith instructed. “I’m going to start detangling your hair. I might cut off some of the more unsalvageable parts too. If anything hurts or if I snagged on it too hard just let me know, okay?”

“Okay,” The man repeated simply, not really knowing how to react to all of the amount of consideration he was receiving. Abrasiveness was what he was more used to responding to, not the care that she unabashedly gave him.

She beamed brightly at his compliance (and no, his heart did not just skip a beat), soft hands found their way to his head and started brushing away the more manageable tangles before using a wide-tooth comb for the bigger ones. Despite the numerous warnings, her fingers were nowhere near to being rough. She was as gentle as a lamb—her slow brushstrokes eventually formed a rhythm that filled in the silence of the room. Albus decided to break the comfortable atmosphere.

“How are you so good with this shit?” He mumbled, voice heavy with drowsiness. Fuck, he felt like he could sleep until his next life. “Never knew sisters of Cindergorn get to be part-time hairdressers too.”

Even with his sluggish state, Albus could almost sense the nun’s eyes rolling above him, brushing out his hair with a slightly more forceful than usual tug.

“I'm the one usually taking care of the children at the temple. I’m used to seeing this kind of stuff whenever they play too hard. Obviously not on this level but you get the gist.” Faith snipped off the last of a particularly challenging knot. 

“I've also been doing my own hair ever since I was a kid, so really, it's like second nature to me at this point,” she followed up, running her fingers through his hair with a satisfied nod.

Now that Albus thought about it, he had seen Faithful braiding herself earlier on their journey when they had just…tastefully borrowed the flagship meant for his father. He remembered swift, practiced hands twisting sections after sections of dark, coiled hair and had mentioned in passing how it was a hairstyle she often did to withstand the Eastern Faithlands' harsher seasons (Fortunately, it also turned out to be great for going-on-a-quest-to-kill-your-priest-brother-and-save-a-child seasons too.)

Faith’s hands suddenly paused. Before the man could ask if something was wrong, she signaled him to stay still while she rummaged through the pouch to get a small bottle. She squeezed a moderate amount of product into her palm and spread it evenly. As she was about to apply the substance to his head, Albus jerked away, quickly stopping her hand with his own as a furrow formed on his thick brows.

“Faithful,” He chuckled. “Please, I’m a warrior. You don’t need to waste your fancy shit on me. My hair’s going to get fucked up again eventually so what’s the point?” 

Faith struggled to wriggle herself out of his grasp. “Wha–Albus, it’s fine!” 

“No, Faithful, I’m serious. It’s just hair. Hell, it’s my hair. Relax.” The man sat up straighter at this point, the water from his long, damp hair trickling down along the scarred tissue of his back but it was the intensity in those familiar brown eyes that made him feel a chill.

“And I told you it’s fine just let me—”

“Why are you making it a big fuckin’ deal? What do you want from me?” 

“What?” Faith’s voice cracked, appalled and confused. “Albus, what are you even talking about? I’m not asking for anything—”

“I’m just a bastard you hired to kill your brother! I was paid to do the dirty work for you, not to be your fucking toy—”

“Albus, wha—Y–You’re not a toy! Why do you—”

“If I’m not then why are you being like this to me? There’s a catch—there’s always a fucking catch. So what the fuck do you want from me?”

The nun managed to finally yank her hand away from his harsh grip and angrily slammed at the smooth surface of the tub.

“I just want you to stop being stubborn for once and let me do this for you!” 

The silence that followed between them felt suffocating.

Faith’s breath hitched, shocked by her outburst. She immediately straightened up her posture only to look down shamefully at the tiled floor. A shaky sigh left her lips, and Albus was doing everything in his power to stop himself from reaching out to her, seeking salvation he knew she shouldn’t give him because he was not sorry that he was like this. He wasn’t afraid to show his filth to the world because it was all he knew to do—all he was taught to do. There’s no excuse, no justification, no escape. She’s everything good and he’s just scum or worse yet—he’s a bastard. 

Because she’s an angel and he’s far worse than the devil.

“This isn't anything all that fancy…just something to keep it healthy and less stressful on your scalp. I just want you to feel okay. So please…” She trailed off. “Let me.”

“It’s…It’s just hair, Faithful. I’ll be okay, I’m a big boy,” Albus joked, but his words were sincere. He almost found the whole thing amusing—having the ever-so-snappy sister paladin fuss over him—if he didn’t get a feel for how much…his comfort seemed to mean a lot to her.

Faith pursed her lips, her gaze still fixed downward. “I just think…you deserve at least one good hair day.”

It's that word again. Deserve. Does she really think that? That he's worthy of all of this?

The man cleared his throat with a curt nod. Hesitantly, the nun's fingers slowly found their way back to the crown of his head, resuming whatever she was supposed to do. Steady, rhythmic brushstrokes filled the quiet once again. 

After what felt like hours of stillness, the bastard dared himself to shift his head and face her timidly—as if he was afraid he could melt under her piercing gaze.

"Thank you, for…for this," Albus grunted. He hadn't only meant for his hair.

Faith graced him with a dimpled smile—the one that made her eyes squint and showed the tiniest bit of the gap between her front teeth. She proceeded to tuck away a stray lock behind his ear, trailing down to hover over his cheek. Albus can practically feel the nervous tremble on her fingers as if she were hesitating on something. It all came to nothing in the end, closing her hands in a fist before withdrawing to her pouch to start cleaning up.

“Anytime, Albus. Besides, with how you always manage to find yourself in trouble,” the sister murmured, her voice playful (it never failed to leave Albus’ mind racing). Her eyes glinted as they locked into his almost like clockwork. “How can I not?”

Albus York sat by the empty bathtub of the ship’s quarters—fully clothed yet he had felt the most bare that he had ever been in front of someone. 

Faith smiled at him again and he swore he could make out the faintest halo crowning her head under the fluorescent bathroom light. ---- a/n: this is probably my most favorite fic that i wrote and i hope you enjoyed! lemme tell u this fic took way to long and got me so stressed for no reason idk ! i was worrying abt how this would happen in the timeline and all the lil details and then !! its a fic!! and im suppose to be having fun!! i am being self-indulgent!! (although i hope was able to characterize them well) again, feedback and comments r highly appreciated!! :DD have a good day/night and thank you for reading!!

[sleepingdeath-light]

warming your bed ; 18+

requested by ; nobody — reposted from another blog of mine

word count ; 772

content ; one night stand, oral, technically the set up for smut but there’s still sexual content hence the rating

fandom ; pirates of the caribbean

pairing ; captain jack sparrow x female reader

read also on ; ao3

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

It’s a quiet summer evening; the type of day where you have the time to sit out on the balcony and watch the sun set from a cloudless sky over a calm ocean. A few dozen docked ships partially silhouetted by the gradually fading light as your patrons slowly filter out of your tavern doors. One by one they stumbled and tumbled out onto the pier, arm in arm and exchanging plentiful raucous laughter and drunken conversation (as far as one would call it that) with each and every one of them grinning widely from ear to ear.

Yeah, a quiet night indeed. At the very least you had been spared from having to play witness or mediator to many bar fights — only having seeing the tail-end of one before another customer broke it up to spare you the trouble. No hassle, minimal mess, not very loud. It was a harbour-business’ dream. Some people were just good like that — you just wished you’d see them more often than just through the summer.

But even with the consideration of your pillaging patrons, there was still a great deal of work to do — and you couldn’t very well have them do the chores for you. They were your guests, after all, not your employees (lord knows you couldn’t afford any with all of the expenses you have to look out for; the joys of working with pirates). So you turned to go back inside, soapy bucket and rag in hand.

Or, rather, you tried to go back inside but your path was obstructed by a swaying figure that reeked of rum. Another pirate, it seemed.

Oh joy.

Like many others before him, he says he’s looking for shelter and a drink — says he’s on bad terms with his crew and got kicked off for the night. Part of you wants to turn him away or pry about what exactly got a captain (as he identified himself) voted off of his own ship, but you decide against it and put on your best service smile and usher him over to the messy reception area, writing his name with a worn down quill before leading him to the bar.

Captain Jack Sparrow, he introduced himself with a slight drunken slur to his voice, and you can’t help but feel like you’d heard the name before. Mostly in complaints from customers, remarks about how ridiculous and illogical he is — how he doesn’t seem to have very much self awareness or adherence to the code (a code you knew better than to pry about). But none of that really mattered here; the captain was now a patron of yours and so long as he payed you fairly you couldn’t care less for his reputation.

Business is business, after all.

From there it doesn’t take very long for him to start getting rather talkative — and, very openly flirty at that. He takes each drink offered with a smile and a wink and thanks you with compliments that gradually get more and more flustering than flattering… and yet you find yourself getting more fond of the eccentric man’s company, engaging him with conversation and listening intently to each (likely heavily embellished) story he tells.

A few short minutes after he began spinning his elaborate tales of the seas, the two of you were stumbling your way through the halls of your inn — wanting to hear more than just his fantastical stories and needing to feel more than just his hand on your thigh. You could feel his greedy hands roaming freely over your body as you just barely manage to grab the key and unlock the door before you both fall into a heap on the wooden floor.

He tasted of rum and the sea, with an eager tongue and teeth that bit your lips red and raw — leaving his mark without shame or regard for the outside world and letting you get drunk off of him. Large, calloused hands pinched and groped at you through the thin fabrics of your sullied dress; pushing your skirts up to your waist and tugging your bodice down to expose your breasts to his greedy gaze.

Pinching, tugging and twisting; he payed close attention to your chest until your nipples pebbled under his fingertips and only then did he turn his attention to your soaked pussy — reaching down through your undergarments to slide his index finger along your slit. And when he pulls away from the kiss to suck it clean and comments on your taste, you know that you’re in for a long night, and you can’t even bring yourself to complain.

[gonzo-rella]

The Bitter Taste of Regret | Izzy Hands

MASTERLIST | AO3 | KO-FI

Based on/a follow-up to: Blackbeard Asking/Ordering You To Join His Crew (Partially For Izzy) (an imagine written by yours truly) 

Relationship(s): Izzy Hands x gn!reader (implied romantic), Izzy Hands x Edward Teach (ambiguous)

Summary: Izzy’s not as content as he should be in his life as the first mate of Blackbeard’s new crew. Ed’s becoming more erratic than he can handle, he’s starting to feel more than a twinge of guilt about marooning most of Stede (fucking Bonnet)’s crew, and you’ve become an obedient shell of the person you once were. To be honest, I’m not completely sure what this is. Just go with it and we’ll all have a good time. Apart from Izzy.

Warnings: Description/reference to Ed’s less than great mental state. (Let me know if I need to add any)

Word count: 1.4k

(A/N: I don’t tend to broadcast this fact but I write self-insert fics just for my own enjoyment with no intention of publishing them in any capacity. I started writing something and thought it’d make a good reader-insert thing, so I polished it and added to it until it turned out like this. In case it wasn’t clear, I love writing things where I can make my angry middle-aged man suffer (see: this fic I wrote on AO3; and no that definitely wasn’t some smooth af  shameless self-promotion). Also, I finished and edited this in the aftermath of an all-nighter I pulled in an attempt to fix my nocturnal sleep schedule so I didn’t end up sleeping through most of my birthday (26th August, if anyone’s curious), so I wouldn’t be surprised if this is littered with mistakes. That’s also why my writing in this one has all the subtlety of a cricket bat to the anus. If you’re a big believer in ‘show, don’t tell’, well...)

“Cabin boy!” Izzy called as he hobbled across the main deck.

Perched on a stool, you looked up at him over the large wooden tub filled to the brim with soapy water and continued to scrub at his jacket in an effort to avoid being yelled at to carry on. Tucked under his arms was another pile of laundry. He seemed to be struggling to carry everything because of his cane, you noted. You decided against assisting him- he’d only bark at you for thinking him incapable of such an easy task, wouldn’t he?

"Bring these to my cabin when you're done."

"Yes, sir."

He dropped the clothes and bedding on top of the pile of his own that you were due to wash. Considering the fact Izzy had just emerged from Blackbeard’s cabin, you deduced that your reclusive captain was finally allowing you to do his laundry. You neglected to comment on the strong scent of rum and sweat emanating from Blackbeard’s heap beyond the involuntary scrunching of your nose.

"Does Captain Blackbeard want me to clean his cabin too, sir?" you asked.

Considering you were the ship’s ‘cabin boy’, it was strange that you had yet to clean your new captain’s cabin. Though, Izzy had generously allowed you to clean his room so many times that you had lost count. 

"No. You're still not to go near it," Izzy answered sternly. "Unless you want to explore the bottom of the sea."

It was a warning he’d given you early on in your voyage as part of Blackbeard’s new crew. You guessed he was mercifully sparing you (for reasons unknown to you) from your captain’s wrath, not unlike how he’d spared you from being marooned. It wasn’t as though Blackbeard had been in particularly high spirits as of late, which is why you, Jim and Frenchie were so on edge. None of you would have been surprised if you woke up with your erratic leader holding his gun to your head.

You noted that Izzy appeared just as unsettled as you felt beneath your stoic veneer. Maybe he was shaken after another unpleasant interaction with Captain Blackbeard, you thought. However (as was the case with many questions you had nowadays), you knew better than to ask. You didn’t want to explore the bottom of the sea, after all.

"Alright." you nodded. "Do you need anything else, sir?"

Izzy stared blankly at you. He noticed that you hadn't stopped scrubbing since his arrival, and you were repeating the motion as though your life depended on it.

Perhaps it was just due to his recent altercation with his sobbing, screaming captain, but he was experiencing this creeping feeling of dissatisfaction. His captain was a drunken, weeping mess in his cabin, he didn’t get much out of scolding Jim and Frenchie for their fatigued scowls and muttering, the relief of having rid himself of Bonnet’s incompetent band of misfits was dissipating and he was beginning to resent the only one aboard the ship who obeyed him without question.

"What's the matter with you?" he demanded.

You tried your best to hide your unease behind a demeanour of neutrality.

"Pardon me, sir?"

"You've been acting like a-a... fucking plank of wood ever since you joined Blackbeard's crew."

"I'm sorry. I don't understand, sir."

Izzy clenched his jaw. Your eyes widened.

In your defence, you were only half-sure you knew what he meant. That said, you were completely sure you didn’t want to discuss it with him.

"Don't lie to me. Of course you understand."

You swallowed your saliva.

"I wouldn't like to… speak out of turn, sir," you hesitated, shaking your head dismissively. The scrubbing intensified, alerting Izzy to the fact that you were more uncomfortable than you’d been letting on. “And I doubt you’d like me to- not that I presume to know your mind.”

He raised his arms in exasperation.

"I'm giving you permission to say what you want."

You froze. "I'm afraid... I don't have anything I want to say, sir."

That wasn’t necessarily a lie. There were plenty of thoughts residing in that head of yours, but you’d taken an unofficial vow of silence (well, silence involving things you suspected would earn you an involuntary one-way trip to the seabed).

Izzy huffed.

"I'm not trying to catch you out."

You didn't say anything.

"Christ." He rolled his eyes.  "Who knew you'd be more fucking annoying when you're actively trying not to piss me off?"

"I'm sorry for annoying you, sir."

"For fuck's sake." Izzy groaned. He would have preferred it if the tone of your apology was dripping with insincerity, rather than a poorly suppressed desperation to not be tied to the anchor. “If you don’t say something in the next 10 seconds, I swear to-”

Well, if he really insisted…

“You know exactly why I’m like this.” you snapped.

He looked at you stiffly. You allowed yourself to roll your eyes, something that strangely pleased Izzy.

“You want a crew that gets on with the work without a word. I don’t know what the Captain wants, but I know how to avoid pissing him off.” you continued. “I want to keep all of my toes, or, if I’m being optimistic, my life. If I want what I want, I have to do what you two want. Hence the ‘acting like plank of wood’.”

Your gaze lingered on him.

“Well, I thought it was what you wanted,” You couldn’t help the smirk that crept across your face. It had been so long since Izzy had seen it. He hadn’t realised how much he’d missed it until it reappeared. “And I’m guessing you thought you wanted it, too.”

You glanced down and went back to scrubbing. He guessed that this time it wasn’t to appease him as much as it was to irritate him. It was bloody working.

“So, you’re finally disillusioned.” you declared sardonically. “What sent you over the edge, then? Blackbeard? Guilt?”

You grinned beneath his irritated glare, not bothering to look up at him.

“I might be wrong in assuming this,” you went on (though you didn’t sound as though you thought you were wrong in the slightest). “But I can’t help but wonder if maybe you had something to do with this miserable situation we find ourselves in.”

Finally, you briefly met his gaze again. His eyes widened. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Even so, you want to fix this, right?” You didn’t bother waiting for confirmation. “Well, since you asked for my thoughts, First Mate Hands,” you said mockingly. It made him wonder if, all the other times you had formally addressed him, there was some taunting hidden within your words. “I suppose I can make a suggestion.”

“What?” he uttered gruffly.

“Get Stede back.” you advised. Before he could protest- “He’s our only real hope. If he started this downward spiral, as I suspect he did, he’ll be able to put a stop to it. Hopefully he’s managed to keep himself alive.”

You maintained your bitter grin and looked Izzy straight in the eyes.

“Of course, if he is dead, or if Blackbeard ends up killing him, we’re completely fucked.” you shrugged. “In which case, I’m off to the Republic of Pirates at the first chance I get. You’re welcome to join me, if you actually try to get Stede back.”

“Do you seriously think the promise of running off into the sunset with you is worth searching high and low for that fancy man?” he sneered.

“Well, I was worth ‘vouching for’, as the Captain put it.” you countered smugly, pretending not to notice the blush that spread across his cheeks. “Besides, I’m hoping it won’t come to leaving. I tend to like it here when things aren’t totally miserable. I’d quite like for things to go back to the way they were.”

You cleared your throat. The smirk fell from your face. Izzy watched as your whole demeanour shifted once again.

“I hope you’ll consider what I’ve said, sir.” you stated, your voice lacking most of the humour that it had possessed mere seconds ago. “If you want me again-” You looked up at him. Your eyes were unlike your voice. His heart leapt at the glint of mischief. “You’ll have to ask.

“I wouldn’t like to say something at the wrong time and incur your wrath.”

[itzsleepintime]

"Hey.... Don't let go, okay?"

Hello, everybodyyy!!! This is my side blog (I'll consider putting my main blog here in the future), which is going to be for roleplaying, and a bit of art then and there!

Here's something about me :]

You can call me Jayden/Jay/Sleepy!

(INFP | Pisces | Atheist | Maladaptive Daydreamer | hypersomniac | selective mutism | stimmy | energetic | sensitive)

I'm an [age regressed!] adult with ADHD/who is Neurodivergent! I consider myself a hikikomori, asocial fella who suffers from social anxiety T0T also a bit touch starved hehe 👉👈

My regressed age is about 7-10! But my true age is 19 ^^

I'm genderfluid, and use any prns (She/He/They)! I'm also Greyromantic, Demisexual, Polyromantic and Bicurious!

I'm in a constant state of sleepiness, and a bit of a softie, who likes plushies, fresh/flowery/soapy/baby scents, soft blankets, feeling clean and warm, and comforting pampering ^^

I love to draw, read and listen to music in my free time! Oh, and play with my favorite plushie lol XD

My favorite animal is raven! My favorite color is red, white and black! My favorite food/drink is pasta, chocolate and coffee! My favroite music genres are classical/dubstep/breakcore/vocaloid/electronic (im srs yall i like everything💀)

Some of my icks/dislikes: feeling cold, being in public, talking when I'm sad/angry, bugs, feeling tired, (which is always😒), little children, people touching my plushie, feeling lonely, loud noises/yelling, people being inconsiderate/non-understanding/judgemental, feeling dirty

It will mainly be self insert/OC roleplays with other characters! Slowly but surely, I will be introducing some of my characters as time goes, who I ship with and which fandom they belong to! It will be either platonic or romantic themed!!

Fandoms I'm interested in for roleplaying: Transformers, Cookie Run, JJBA, OMORI, FNAF, Call of Duty, Sonic The Hedgehog, LOTR, Skyrim, Dragon Ball, Demon Slayer, Jujutsu Kaisen, Attack on Titan, Friday Night Funkin', Madness Combat, Deltarune, Naruto, Chainsaw Man, Monsterverse, ENA, Marvel, The Stanley Parable, HALO, One Punch Man, TADC, Fran Bow, Little Misfortune, Honkai SR, Pizza Tower, Ace Attorney (yes, a long list i know💩)

WARNINGS!!!

⚠PROSHIPPERS /COMSHIPPERS /RACISTS /LGBTPHOBICS /HATERS /ZOOPHILES /PEDOPHILES /FURRIES (SORRY) /TOXIC PPL /SEXISTS /NAZIS /TERFS /ZIONISTS /AI ART USERS DO NOT INTERACT!!!

⚠ I have age regress, so I may act brash and not so 'adultey' as I'm expected! the tone I use may be a bit too energetic, so, if you find it annoying or uncomfortable, feel free to block me!

⚠ I cuss a lot!

⚠ I can be quite forgettable! If I happen to ghost you/forget to answer/don't remember some of the things you said, I'm really sorry, it was never my intention🙏

⚠ My OC and S/I lore is very... Unrealistic, which means, they are usually non-human and/or immortal beings with a bit of overemphasized powers and such. If that bothers you, feel free to block me!

⚠ If you are easily triggered by dark themes such as d3ath/overal depression things, do not interact, it's for your own safety. Out of coping mechanism, I might reblog some jokes about those themes, so, again, feel free to block me if that is triggering for you!

⚠ Because of that, this blog is 15+!!!

⚠ It is a safe space for any LGBTQ+/Neurodivergent person, and any Race/Ethnicity/Age!

⚠ Sometimes, I will post my OC/Canon art here! If OC x Canon/Canon x Canon art bothers you, no hate, just block please!

RULES!!!

⚠ This blog is SFW!!! However, since I am an adult, I might be following blogs who can be BOTH SFW AND NSFW!!! I WON'T be posting anything NSFW here, but, if you are a minor, please do not interact with them, be warned.

⚠ I won't do SA, incest, minor/adult, zoophilia, etc.

⚠ If I didn't answer your ask, that only means two things: I deleted it because I felt uncomfortable answering it, or I'm too busy to answer it.

⚠ If you approach with pure hate/toxicity and act like a creep, you will be blocked and/or reported.

⚠ No drama, please. I don't want to be part of anything related/unrelated to me. Trying to start any drama results to an instant block.

⚠ Do not spam in asks/messages. Have in mind that I, and any other roleplayers, have life outside these blogs, and can be busy quite a lot if it happens.

TAGS!!!

(Nothing here yet!!! It will be updated in the future!!!)

[Thank you for reading <3]

[lambden]

for the spotify wrapped meme: no 69 for Geraskier or any ship of your choice? listen i just had to go there

unfortunately (luckily??) for you, darling anon, my sixty-ninth song of the year is an anthem for returning to a relationship that has hurt you and falling back in love with them >:3

M, 2.6K words, infidelity (yenralt lol) and some mentions of alcoholism (jaskier lol)

Jaskier, despite his best efforts, is only human. The chattering of his teeth is not something easy to hide, especially not when his travelling companion and only company for months is laying only a few feet away. Jaskier could perhaps mistake his repose for sleep if not for the nearly constant hitching of his breath. The witcher inhales, long and deep, into lungs magically crafted to breathe better and slower than humans. Jaskier shivers, curling and uncurling his toes and rubbing his bony calves together for warmth. The witcher’s breath catches in his system, throat and lungs and chest and body still. Jaskier exhales, a small puff of white air against the clear, dark night. The witcher exhales, two seconds too late— deep, and false, and unless Jaskier is reading the signs wrong, definitely annoyed.

The cold would be easier to stand if he could just fall asleep; surely in the night his unconscious body would find some miraculous and impossible way to retain heat that his conscious self lacks the muscle memory for.

If he falls asleep, the witcher that he met will leave him. Jaskier grinds his chattering teeth together, and closes his eyes tightly, and buckles himself in for a long night of shivering.

Across the campsite, the witcher inhales. Before Jaskier catches his exhale, the edge of his thin blanket behind him rises up into the air, cruelly exposing his already cold back to the night air. Jaskier gasps, then gasps louder as a furnace presses against him. The witcher had moved towards him in stony silence, and he does not speak now either. His legs press into the back of Jaskier’s, thick knees finding the hollows and thick, warm thighs offering support for his frozen ones. His arm wraps around Jaskier’s chest, finding purchase on the breast pocket of his thin jacket and holding on as if he’s likely to blow away. His other arm winds under Jaskier’s neck like a heated pillow for him to rest his head on, and the blanket falls over them both.

“Thank you,” Jaskier shudders, the two syllables disintegrating into many in his cold mouth. He continues anyway. “Thank you, Geralt.”

The witcher makes a grunt like an animal. An animal would not have thought to share its warmth. Jaskier snuggles back into the witcher, and Geralt’s grip around him only tightens. He begins to thaw.

-

“We would save coin if we shared a bed,” says the witcher. His hair is dishevelled from the hunt, hanging loose and dirty around his pale face. He’ll need to bathe for at least half an hour to scrub off all the guts that thankfully only belong to monsters, and then he’ll probably dawdle for another hour in the bath because he enjoys it more than most things.

Jaskier has a twinge in his back that threatens to cause serious damage if not dealt with in the next day, and the last thing he wants is to spend the night bathing and then fucking his witcher. He never enjoys the baths afterwards as much as the ones before, even if it is nice when Geralt waves his fingers below the surface of the gauzy, soapy water to cast his magic fire spell. He just needs a good seven hours of uninterrupted rest.

Those eager, golden eyes fall on him. Jaskier inhales, and Geralt’s nostrils flutter too as if he’s breathing in deep to catch the scent of his bard. Which, really, he is. Jaskier gives in— he is, after all, only human. “You’re taking the bottom bunk, then.”

The witcher laughs, loud and unencumbered. He would never have laughed like that when they first met. Jaskier takes this kernel of information and shoves it deep, deep down inside his heart, like a dragon hoarding something very special to admire later. Then the witcher reaches down to fumble for his coinpurse, and in the process accidentally-except-actually-very-on-purpose fumbles around Jaskier’s trousers.

They never even make it to the inn. Jaskier, despite how his body aches the next day, swears it’s one of the best nights of his life.

-

The flaps on his tent flutter— not in the evening breeze rolling down from the peaks of Caingorn, but from someone trying to drunkenly find the ties holding them together. Jaskier stares across the tent, letting whoever it is struggle. He’s already halfway through a bottle of vintage Toussaint white, and the sourness is beginning to give way to sweetness with each new sip. He can’t even remember why he was angry enough to drink himself into a stupor.

With a triumphant exhale, the witcher unties the opening to Jaskier’s tent, and slides inside without asking. Oh, right. There’s his anger. 

Jaskier doesn’t shy away from Geralt’s questing gaze— he’s drunk too, although he’s had a considerably less enjoyable night. He doesn’t try to summon any composure or lessen his glare, not even as the witcher ties the tent closed again without asking. Not even as the witcher comes to kneel at the end of his bedroll, his hands splayed comfortably out on his thick thighs and his shoulders sitting low and relaxed. Not even as the scent of lilac and gooseberries hits his system— a scent more sour than the dry wine.

Neither of them speak. Barbs rise unbidden to Jaskier’s tongue, but he swallows each and every one of them. Should you be doing this drunk— hypocritical. I thought the dragon hunt was important to you— stupid. Astonishing that an infertile mutant still has enough stamina to fuck two of his lovers in one night— cruel, and bigoted. The dwarves will hear us, you know— as if either of them give a shit.

Geralt’s mouth is warm as ever, leaving a trail of wet marks along the side of his throat. If Jaskier closes his eyes, he can visualize them— like angry, beautiful bruises. Except Geralt doesn’t nip hard enough to bruise, even as Jaskier wishes he would. If Jaskier had everything he wished for, they wouldn’t have chased an insane sorceress up the side of a mountain. They’d be somewhere else. Somewhere coastal, maybe. Somewhere he and his witcher could stand in the surf together, and bruise each other so intimately that the marks never faded.

The witcher reaches between his legs, his aim true as ever. As Jaskier’s head lolls to the side to make more room for the man kissing his neck, he is surprised to find himself blinking back tears. Of course, nothing gets past his witcher; the kisses move up his chin, past his jaw, and onto his cheek. Jaskier laughs, somewhat hysterically. Geralt doesn’t stop kissing him until his lips are pressed right against his wet eyelid. There, he mutters into the salty skin, “Okay?”

“Of course,” Jaskier’s breath hitches. Then Geralt does that thing he really likes with his hand, and his breath leaves him entirely. “Oh— yes, of course, yes! I’m alright.”

“Alright,” echoes the witcher quietly. He kisses Jaskier’s forehead. It feels more intimate than anything else they’ve done. Jaskier steels himself not to hate the man he’s fallen in love with, and not to fuck up a good thing just because his heart sings for a better one.

In Geralt’s arms, Jaskier glows brighter than a candle in the dark summer night. In his lover’s hands he is made immortal.

-

At Bleobheris, Jaskier heals in a way he thought impossible. Old wounds close up; blisters on his heel from walking behind a horse for more than twenty years, and soft spots on his heart from walking behind the horse’s rider for the same amount of time.

New wounds open, ones that hurt much more. He learns of the oppression that he took part in by travelling the Continent and singing anti-Elven slander to anyone who would listen. He learns of more oppression than he could possibly imagine, and he stops thinking of his own life so seriously. He does not choose a higher calling; during the raid, it chooses him. The alias claims him. This new group of wandering souls— the oldest wandering souls— need him, in a way he has never been needed his whole life. When the great oak is raided and his friends and lovers and family are massacred, Jaskier resolves himself not to give in to survivor’s guilt. He knows he was left alive for a matter of utmost importance.

He forms new connections, a new underground community, and in doing so connects with countless others who need him. It is exhausting to have found his purpose. The exhaustion fuels his art; he doesn’t sing Toss A Coin no matter how many coins people offer to toss. His new songs are thinly disguised fuck-yous to monarchs, rallying the Continent against those who would tear it apart from the inside, and hope for a better future. People hate it. People love it. He’s never made any music like this before, and he’s never spent less time selfishly waffling over his own music, either— his nights are spent sleeplessly ferrying refugees to secret meet-up points, and learning new codes and languages spoken only by those in the know. He doesn’t have time to feel sorry for himself.

He celebrates each victory with a bottle, and then one triumphant bottle becomes a bottle and a shot, and soon he’s racked up a tab at most taverns that will still let him play. No matter how far he distances himself from his old life, the last sip around the ring at the bottom of every bottle tastes like death, destiny, and heroics. And, of course, heartbreak, heartbreak, heartbreak.

The song comes to him after one especially lonely night. Jaskier would love to say he had been planning this song full of empty threats and hollow lies for years, spitefully scrawling lines into his journals between other fantastic romantic affairs. But the affairs would be as false as the rest of the story. He doesn’t write the song, it arrives written; he merely pours it onto the page. What for do you yearn? Good, poetic rhymes. Or at least they would be if he could sing them without his voice cracking.

He knows the song will hurt the witcher, should it ever travel far enough to reach his ears. He knows, too, although it turns his stomach once he’s sober, that songs hold enough power to do serious damage. But even though he convinces himself he’s forgotten the specifics of his decades-long infatuation with the witcher, he cannot, and will never, forget how the witcher made him feel.

Despite knowing it’s wrong, Jaskier plays the song for an eager and wide-eyed audience. Heartbreak, heartbreak, heartbreak. They lap it up. He burns. His voice cracks— he’s only human.

-

Threadbare both at the seams of his sleeves and the cavities of his heart, Jaskier wonders when he stopped feeling the cold. 

He should feel it here more than ever. None of the witchers have put any work into maintaining their drafty fucking fortress atop their frigid fucking mountain. That’s still a word that it’s hard to wrap his head around— not fortress, which he’d always known about, nor mountain, which he has more than enough experience with. Witchers. In the plural. A whole family of them, thicker than any family united by blood and hard-pressed to accept visitors.

Except they had accepted him, for some fucking reason. Bewilderingly, it was likely Yennefer’s doing. And also, he can hardly call them a ‘whole family’ after their school lost more than half its ranks to an insane power-hungry demon who possessed a little girl who looks just like a princess that Jaskier once played at court for.

Maybe that’s why he doesn’t feel the cold; maybe his head is still spinning from the last few days. He had never expected to run into half these people again, and in fact has complicated relationships with more than a few of them, and those relationships have only grown more complicated since his arrival here. He supposes things will get easier soon as he descends the frigid fucking mountain and leaves the drafty fucking fortress far behind him. Maybe once he’s on proper flat ground he’ll be able to clear his head. He’ll have a drink without being worried a demon will kill everyone if he sleeps off a hangover, and he’ll light a fire without his burnt fingers shaking too badly to strike the match.

The real reason he has to leave is more selfish than any he could admit aloud. Even in this place he’s never been, there are too many memories— ones he swore to leave behind when he left his old life. He doesn’t want to see the spitting image of Pavetta bundled up in a wolf pelt, somehow also resembling her adoptive father. He has no desire to remember exactly how mad he used to get at Yennefer, and even less desire to rekindle their strange new friendship. He feels too raw and exposed and sober and vulnerable up here, as the memories dance on the edge of his consciousness.

No. Holes in his jacket or not, he’d better get going.

Hands actually on the lever to push open the courtyard gate, he moves to do so— and is blanketed from behind by a furnace. It takes Jaskier a moment to identify the witcher, and then another moment to identify the embrace as not exactly Geralt shoving him up against the gate, but. A hug. He’s… this is a hug. He’s being hugged, by Geralt.

“I need to go,” Jaskier mumbles, muffled, into the witcher’s broad shoulder. They’ve always been of a similar height; he isn’t sure why he remembered Geralt so much taller. He turns his head to speak more clearly, and he catches golden eyes already watching him intently. “Don’t,” warns Jaskier, even though the witcher hasn’t said a word.

“I need you to stay,” Geralt tells him, firmly but quietly. His tone leaves no room for an argument. Jaskier still reaches for that old familiar urge, for all the anger that brought him to write of burning his witcher. His witcher. He finds his pockets empty, and with no barbs to throw, he’s left speechless. A rare thing, for a bard. Rarer still, Geralt breaks the silence to speak again: “If you go, I’ll follow.”

“You’ll— well— you— you won’t just follow—”

“Yes. I will.”

“You have a child—”

“She can come.”

“I don’t— I mean, shouldn’t she stay? She just went through some severe trauma, and she’s supposed to be safe here—”

“She’s safe with me.”

“Right,” Jaskier huffs. Apparently he does have one barb left in him— he regrets it immediately. What happened to Ciri hadn’t been Geralt’s fault, much as what happened to the Wolves hadn’t really been Ciri’s. But he searches the witcher’s gaze for offence, and finds none. “Why would you need me to stay? Party’s over, isn’t it? Not that I was an integral part of the operation—”

As he’s done a hundred times before, Geralt kisses Jaskier quiet. It should, by rights, annoy him. But just like the previous hundred times, it delights him too much to play on his nerves. How could he be irritated as his heart sings?

Then Geralt breathes him in, deepening the kiss, and Jaskier realizes, oh. The witcher is kissing him, all these years later— after so much hurt between them both, and so many changes that neither one of them could call himself the same man, the witcher— his witcher is kissing him.

Jaskier kisses back. He’s only human.

[frecklystars]

Hey Keri I have a silly show recommendation for you! Grey's Anatomy. It's cheesy and soapy as hell (i can only enjoy it while really high otherwise it pisses me off lol) but I can't lie, I am not immune to drama and it has some really good drama. Also idk if you go into shows for f/os but if you do this show is a fucking BUFFET. I will warn you that there is blood and a bit of gore but it is a hospital drama so I feel like that's to be expected.

OOH. thank you for the recommendation!!! :D I do very much indeed go into shows just to get F/Os, it's actually really difficult for me to stay interested in a show/movie unless if there's someone for me to self ship with. I will keep this in mind!! tysm!! ✨✨

[waluigis-837th-testicle]

your f/o gets a tattoo in your honor. what does it look like?

[hdsudsfest]

Schedule:

🧼 Prompting Opens: 10th August 2022

🧼 Claiming Opens: 25 August 2022

🧼 Submissions Due: 25 October 2022

🧼 Posting Starts: 1 November 2022

About:

HD Suds Fest was born from your mods’ highkey and obsessive very relaxed and normal levels of enthusiasm for fics, fanart, and all manner of content that has our favourite ship getting wet, soapy, and clean!

We’re welcoming prompts (and self-prompts) for Harry/Draco, involving the theme of bathing. Do you want a sexy little shower scene, or dream of angsty bathing when one half of your ship is injured? Do you swoon over your ship sweating it out in a sauna, or sipping champagne in a hot tub?

Well, come one, come all - whether you’re getting them clean, or getting them dirty, this is the fest for you!

Rules:

HD Sudsfest is a fest for the Draco/Harry fandom. We welcome all genres of soapy action set in any era of the Harry Potter universe. All we ask is that you get them wet! Showers, baths, hair washing, sauna shenanigans, hot tub hotness—as long as you focus on some form of splashy, soapy goodness, then we’re happy! All types of fanworks are eligible—fic, art, podfics, graphics, or moodboards. Collaborations welcome!

All participants must be 18+, no exceptions. Please abide by your local laws when creating content.

Minimum word count is 1k, no maximum.

All fics must be beta read. Please contact the mods if you have any trouble finding a beta reader and we will do our best to help!

All creators must have an AO3 account.

This is not an anonymous fest, so chatting about your creation is encouraged! But we do ask that all fanwork is new, complete, and created especially for the fest (so no WIPs, sequels/prequels, or previously-published works).

Prompting:

Prompting opens 10th August 2021 at 1pm GMT (what time is that for me?)

You may submit as many prompts as you want. You do not have to be creating a work for the fest in order to post a prompt. Anyone can prompt!

You can either prompt anonymously or include your name with the prompt.

Prompt format will be as follows:

Prompter name:

Prompt:

Special Requests/Squicks: (this is where you list any extra prompt details, or squicks you may have—make sure you specify which is which! Please be aware that the person claiming your prompt is not required to adhere to these)

Unless specified otherwise, we will assume all prompts are open to all ratings.

You can find the prompting form here. (The form will open at 1pm GMT)

Prompts will be available to view here.

Prompting closes 24th August 2022 (noon GMT).

Self prompting is welcome, but you don’t need to send in a form - when claiming opens just put the details into a claiming email to us along with the same prompt info as above and we can add it to our records! We will be capping participants at 50, due to the fest workload we can reasonably manage, so knowing you’re self-prompting means we can include you in the total.

Claiming:

Claiming opens on 25th August 2022 at 1pm GMT (what time is that for me?)

Prompts will be awarded on a first come first served basis.

Each prompt can be claimed once for fic, once for art, and once for other fanwork.

Please choose your top three prompts when claiming, in order of preference (i.e. your top prompt as prompt choice 1, second choice as prompt choice 2, etc) as they will be awarded in this order. You are not required to fill out all three prompt choices.

You can only claim one prompt at a time. If you finish your prompt, you may claim an additional prompt. If you have finished your first prompt, and wish to claim another, please email your header to hdsudsfest@gmail.com  and let us know you wish to claim an additional prompt, before submitting another claim form.

If you claim a prompt and subsequently feel unable to complete the work, please inform us as soon as possible so that we can free the prompt up for another writer/artist. We understand that life can get in the way! Unfortunately, however, in such circumstances, you won’t be eligible to claim a further prompt for 2022.

Collaborations are welcome! Please include details for all claimants in one claim form.

Please find the claiming form here. The form will become active when claiming opens 1pm GMT(what time is that for me?) .

You will receive an email within 24 hours confirming your successful claim. Please respond to this email within 72 hours to confirm your participation in HD Suds Fest.

Creating:

For fics, there is a minimum word count of 1000 words and no maximum.

Submissions must be completed works, all fics must be beta read (if you are unable to find a beta please let us know). All creations must be individual works, and cannot be part of a series, or a prequel/sequel to an existing work. All creations must be new and complete.

Fics and art should use the prompt as inspiration, but feel free to interpret it in your own creative way.

We encourage you to be inspired by the prompters’ additional details, but these are not required to be incorporated into the creation. You may also wish to take into consideration your prompter’s squicks when creating, but this is not a requirement — but we ask that you do not gift the creation to the prompter if you are not taking the squicks into consideration, and as always, be sure to tag your work appropriately.

Submitting:

Once you have completed your fic, it’s time to submit!

Submissions are due on 25th October 2022, but if you are finished before this date, you are welcome to submit then.

When your work is ready to be submitted, please fill out the following header and email it to hdsudsfest@gmail.com

Title: Creator/s: Rating: Word count (if applicable): Art medium (if applicable): Run time (if applicable): Warnings/Tags: Prompt #: Summary: Link to Ao3:

All creations must be posted directly to the AO3 collection here.

You are require​​d to add the fest mod account as Co-creator when uploading your submission. This is primarily so that we can change the posting date. We will not make changes to your fic, and will remove the mod account for reveals.

Be sure to include all appropriate warnings, tag your work correctly.

Please contact the mods if you have any issues posting your work.

Extensions:

You can contact the mods at:​ hdsudsfest@gmail.com. If you need an extension, or have to drop out, please let us know by email. Please do not be afraid to reach out about this, we are always happy to hear from you!

Posting:

The mods will post your creation on the scheduled day. We do not release the posting schedule as this is subject to change.

Further information:

For general questions about the fest don’t hesitate to contact the mods. That’s what we are here for. But keep in mind that we’re operating in multiple time zones, and have to juggle our real lives with the lure of fandom. We won’t be available 24/7, but we always aim to respond within a reasonable timeframe.

Please note that should there be any disputes regarding the interpretation of the rules, the decision of the mods will be final.

🌊 love & bubbles from your mods: @shealwaysreads @tackytigerfic @the-starryknight @maesterchill @bonesliketambourines 🌊

[ID: A graphic with a teal backround and two images of harry and draco in a bath kissing each other by the artist caroll_in. Text reads: Sudsfest 22 Rules & Guidelines! /End ID]

Rules & Guidelines graphic art credit @caroll-in​

[shortpplfedup]

Reveal your watch & Rewatch drama list

Tagged by @bengiyo the uncle to my fandom auntie.

RECENTLY FINISHED

KinnPorsche The Series La Forte Thoroughly enjoyable and did exactly what it said on the tin: 'dark mafia romance'. If I don't get a season 2 I might have to write my own.

Star Trek: Discovery season 4 Going back to the roots of Discovery as a science ship, and watching these nerds just excel, Trek crossing the galactic barrier as the new frontier, everything about Michael's friendship with the Federation President...simply outstanding, the best of Trek.

Star Trek: Picard season 2 The Q are easily my least favourite Trek concept, but combining them with the total overhaul of the Borg, a reexamination of Soong, and the deep dive into Picard's psyche worked gangbusters for me. And Q doing it all as a dying act of love for Picard resonated emotionally.

Star Trek: Strange New Worlds season 1 Old school-style Trek at its very best. Hemmer going over that cliff to save them all from the Gorn made me WEEP. I'm ready for season 2 because I NEED an Ortegas episode.

The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel season 4 Miriam, Miriam, Miriam. Watching her self-sabotage because she's actually terrified of prime time was AMAZING. She's comfortable being the biggest fish in a series of small ponds but despite saying she wants the big leagues she blows every opportunity at them. Lenny calling her out was a long time coming. And Susie soaring as Miriam stagnates? Gold. Can't wait to see what happens next.

To My Star 2: Our Untold Stories I love watching what happens after the happily ever after because let's be real: most of these couples would struggle. We need more reminders in media that actually, love does NOT conquer all. Ji Woo and Seo Joon always had a reckoning coming, because Seo Joon thought if he could love Ji Woo hard enough that Ji Woo would feel it. In the end, Ji Woo had to work through his traumas on his own and come back to Seo Joon as a whole person, and hope that Seo Joon could forgive his trespasses. A beautiful meditation on how much of a struggle love can actually be.

Slow Horses Simply outstanding. Gary Oldman and Kristin Scott-Thomas put on a clinic, and the plot is delightful.

Quaranthings 2 The Besh/Che/Kulas poly situation is super fun, and I could listen to Rocky and Judah call each other akin all day, every day.

The Umbrella Academy season 3 One thing for sure is that this show always keeps it fresh. I could have done with about 99% less Allison angst this season though.

Silent Witness season 25 The return of Sam Ryan! Jack and Nikki finally get it together! An overarching mystery! Another solid outing from one of the best shows on television anywhere in the world.

Russian Doll season 2 I was so excited but after watching I found myself wondering whether a season 2 was necessary.

CURRENTLY WATCHING

Yumi's Cells 2 Just plain fun. Yu Mi and Ba Bi's relationship has a completely different flavour from her relationship with Wung, and the cells remain as entertaining as ever.

Money Heist The trashy energy combined with the twisty plot leave me intrigued and ready for more.

REWATCHING

Love By Chance I mean...when am I not rewatching Love By Chance? AePete only though.

I Promised You the Moon Yes yes, you all hate it, I simply don't agree.

Gaya Sa Pelikula (Like In The Movies) I think I have to accept that we'll never get a season 2, so I'm mourning what could have been.

LOOKING FORWARD TO

Pa-Thirsty I never got into Pearl Next Door but I love Adrianna So so as soon as I can find this I'm watching it.

Gameboys 2 INTERNATIONAL DISTRIBUTION WHEN IDEAFIRST?!

War of Y Looks like some good trash, sign me up.

The Midnight Trilogy (Dirty Laundry, Midnight Motel, Moonlight Chicken) Looks like they're all in pre-production and I could not be more excited.

P.S. I Hate You I love some good soapy bitches and a whole lotta mess.

Never Let Me Go Still trepidatious about whether Pond and Phuwin can sell it but the concept works for me.

The Eclipse Cautiously optimistic, because I think this might finally be Khaotung's breakout role, and I love First beyond measure after Not Me.

A slew of assorted kdramas I am extremely behind on my kdrama watching, I've pretty much missed everything good this year so far, first due to Bad Buddy brainrot and then KinnPorsche having me by the throat.

Derry Girls season 3 2 dumb blondes, a space cadet and the human equivalent of a heat-seeking missile growing up Catholic in Derry in the 90s. Their parents: equally ridiculous. Their school principal? An over-it nun. Seriously, you should watch this.

Young Royals 2 I'm ready to return to Hillerska.

Summerdaze Are we EVER getting this?

Tagging @elnotwoods, @suzukibeanes, @liyazaki and anybody else who wants to play.

[breadflavouredlemon]

Post-Canon SDR2 Headcanons Part one!!

Let's start with the ships:

KomaHina - As you saw from my previous posts, Hajime and Nagito grew close during Post-Canon. Close to the point it becomes a joke that they're dating. However, it won't be a joke for long...Or, they had a one night stand that caused Hajime to get pregnant (again, he's trans here). Nagito feels guilty and offers to raise the baby on his own, but Hajime refuses. They eventually compromise and raised Yuki together, while being hopelessly in love with each other for the next fourteen years. They're t4t with Nagito being a masculine enby.

KuzuPeko - During the Despair era, the lovebirds grew intimate to one another, leading to Peko getting pregnant. She doesn't realize this even when they get captured by Future Foundation, and only finds out when she wakes up from the simulation with their first baby already out of her womb. Fuyuhiko and Peko had a long talk after that. To sum it up, they're now married with three children, Natsumi, Haruka, and Akiko.

BandAid - This couple actually took a bit long to get together (but not as long as KomaHina, they're literally the entire definition of slow burn), but it's obvious that Mikan has a crush on Ibuki. How they got together you may ask? So Mikan does try to admit to her that she likes her, but she breaks down crying before she could manage to say anything. Ibuki comforts her and gives her a kiss!! That's pretty much how they became girlfriends.

Soapies - This is self-explanatory.

Sondham - Well, they're not exactly a thing, like boyfriend and girlfriend or anything, but they consider themselves soulmates of some sort. Like life-long partners destined to be together or something like that. In short, they have an unlabeled relationship while being parents to their furbabies. They're also t4t in case you didn't know :)

[brookstonalmanac]

Events 7.8

1099 – Some 15,000 starving Christian soldiers begin the siege of Jerusalem by marching in a religious procession around the city as its Muslim defenders watch. 1283 – Roger of Lauria, commanding the Aragonese fleet, defeats an Angevin fleet sent to put down a rebellion on Malta. 1497 – Vasco da Gama sets sail on the first direct European voyage to India. 1579 – Our Lady of Kazan, a holy icon of the Russian Orthodox Church, is discovered underground in the city of Kazan, Tatarstan. 1663 – Charles II of England grants John Clarke a Royal charter to Rhode Island. 1709 – Peter I of Russia defeats Charles XII of Sweden at the Battle of Poltava, thus effectively ending Sweden's status as a major power in Europe. 1716 – The Battle of Dynekilen forces Sweden to abandon its invasion of Norway. 1730 – An estimated magnitude 8.7 earthquake causes a tsunami that damages more than 1,000 km (620 mi) of Chile's coastline. 1758 – French forces hold Fort Carillon against the British at Ticonderoga, New York. 1760 – British forces defeat French forces in the last naval battle in New France. 1775 – The Olive Branch Petition is signed by the Continental Congress of the Thirteen Colonies of North America. 1776 – Church bells (possibly including the Liberty Bell) are rung after John Nixon delivers the first public reading of the Declaration of Independence of the United States. 1808 – Promulgation of the Bayonne Statute, a royal charter Joseph Bonaparte intended as the basis for his rule as king of Spain. 1822 – Chippewas turn over a huge tract of land in Ontario to the United Kingdom. 1853 – The Perry Expedition arrives in Edo Bay with a treaty requesting trade. 1859 – King Charles XV & IV accedes to the throne of Sweden–Norway. 1864 – Ikedaya Incident: The Choshu Han shishi's planned Shinsengumi sabotage on Kyoto, Japan at Ikedaya. 1874 – The Mounties begin their March West. 1876 – The Hamburg massacre prior to the 1876 United States presidential election results in the deaths of six African-Americans of the Republican Party, along with one white assailant. 1879 – Sailing ship USS Jeannette departs San Francisco carrying an ill-fated expedition to the North Pole. 1889 – The first issue of The Wall Street Journal is published. 1892 – St. John's, Newfoundland is devastated in the Great Fire of 1892. 1898 – The death of crime boss Soapy Smith, killed in the Shootout on Juneau Wharf, releases Skagway, Alaska from his iron grip. 1912 – Henrique Mitchell de Paiva Couceiro leads an unsuccessful royalist attack against the First Portuguese Republic in Chaves. 1932 – The Dow Jones Industrial Average reaches its lowest level of the Great Depression, closing at 41.22. 1933 – The first rugby union test match between the Wallabies of Australia and the Springboks of South Africa is played at Newlands Stadium in Cape Town. 1937 – Turkey, Iran, Iraq, and Afghanistan sign the Treaty of Saadabad. 1947 – Reports are broadcast that a UFO crash-landed in Roswell, New Mexico in what became known as the Roswell UFO incident. 1948 – The United States Air Force accepts its first female recruits into a program called Women in the Air Force (WAF). 1960 – Francis Gary Powers is charged with espionage resulting from his flight over the Soviet Union. 1962 – Ne Win besieges and blows up the Rangoon University Student Union building to crush the Student Movement. 1966 – King Mwambutsa IV Bangiriceng of Burundi is deposed by his son Prince Charles Ndizi. 1968 – The Chrysler wildcat strike begins in Detroit, Michigan. 1970 – Richard Nixon delivers a special congressional message enunciating Native American self-determination as official US Indian policy, leading to the Indian Self-Determination and Education Assistance Act of 1975. 1972 – Israeli Mossad assassinate Palestinian writer Ghassan Kanafani. 1980 – The inaugural 1980 State of Origin game is won by Queensland who defeat New South Wales 20–10 at Lang Park. 1980 – Aeroflot Flight 4225 crashes near Almaty International Airport in the then Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic (present day Kazakhstan) killing all 166 people on board. 1982 – A failed assassination attempt against Iraqi president Saddam Hussein results in the Dujail Massacre over the next several months. 1988 – The Island Express train travelling from Bangalore to Kanyakumari derails on the Peruman bridge and falls into Ashtamudi Lake, killing 105 passengers and injuring over 200 more. 1994 – Kim Jong-il begins to assume supreme leadership of North Korea upon the death of his father, Kim Il-sung. 2003 – Sudan Airways Flight 139 crashes near Port Sudan Airport during an emergency landing attempt, killing 116 of the 117 people on board. 2011 – Space Shuttle Atlantis is launched in the final mission of the U.S. Space Shuttle program. 2014 – Israel launches an offensive on Gaza amid rising tensions following the kidnapping and murder of three Israeli teenagers. 2021 – President Joe Biden announces that the official conclusion of U.S. involvement in the War in Afghanistan will be on August 31, 2021. 2022 – Former Japanese prime minister Shinzo Abe is shot twice and killed while giving a speech in Nara.

[thelovetheystole]

I get not liking a character that comes between your ship, really I do. I have a long list of characters I don't like for that very reason, Rebecca White being very high up on it, as well as both Brooke and Hope on B&B.

I have to say though, and this is about The Bold And The Beautiful right now, but could easily apply to Emmerdale as well. When the character you despise happens to be one of the main leads on the show, a complex character who has done both good and bad things over the years... You comparing them to the resident psychotic killer/baby stealer/kidnapper/arsonist just doesn't fly, sorry.

Nothing Steffy (or Thomas or Taylor) has done is even in the vicinity of what Sheila Carter has done since the early 90's, and just because you write that Steffy is just as bad on your social media every day, it doesn't change the fact that Sheila is written as a villain and was from the start, and Steffy is not.

That doesn't mean you have to like her. But the actress is an award winning lead on the show, she isn't going anywhere. Steffy isn't going to "pay" for that time she killed someone in self defense years ago, and the fact is, she may even end up with that guy from your ship again.

And while I'm at it, no, I don't think that Mackenzie is an abuser on Emmerdale. I can't tell you how many times I've heard the same thing about Robert, or about Thomas on B&B.

Soaps need complex characters that struggle with themselves! All these people wanting to watch 'healthy relationships', when has soaps ever been the place for that?

Soaps are about schemes and affairs and love triangles and locking your ex in a shipping container (I'm looking at you, Jai) and then years later serving that person coffee like it never happened, lol.

People on soaps are happy for short spans of time, maybe even 'healthy', but then something will happen that shakes everything up and that soapy cycle will just continue, for as long as your favorite or least favorite character is still there.

[the-letter-horror-lover]

yours.”

Chapter 21

Summary:

Greetingzzzzzzzzz!

Finally! I’ve been involved with loads of new life projects but I’m still writing and it feels amazing! So happy to share this new chapter because the arrival to Spain is not far at all and then we all get to find out what will TRULY HAPPEN TO CIEL!

thank you all for being so patient and loyal to this story, my heart is full from the amount of support I receive from you guys!

BTW, One last note, I placed the title of one of my most favorite fan fiction stories ever in this chapter. Who can find it?

Read, Enjoy, Comment!

Thank you ❤️

Chapter Text

“I am yours.” Ciel felt his skin raise and the fine baby hairs covering the surface of his emerging body seemed to stand to attention at the sight of Sebastian’s intense gaze. He longed to be completely consumed by the devilish eyes, to know of their experiences and be invited within their hellish sweetness. All he had was himself, nothing more and nothing less. The title he was born into had died with his disappearance and the wealth of his lineage was useless to him while seafaring on a pirate ship. Empty pocketed, he presented the only gift he still had to the man with the long curtain of black hair and blood tinged eyes.

The gift of his own virginity and nobly distempered heart.

Sebastian’s lips curled into a sideway smirk, the refined contours of his face slowly forming a self-satisfied impression that had Ciel immediately knitting his brows at the sudden change. He cocked his head to the side and felt the sudden urge to slap the pirate straight across his jawline.

Unconsciously raising an open, and very threatening, hand, Ciel readied himself, “What is it?” He demanded.

Choosing to ignore Ciel’s apparent weapon of choice, Sebastian merely shrugged. “Oh I am just amused at your realization that you are mine!” The pirate captain chuckled low and deep, playfully ruffling Ciel’s damp hair. “As if you were to belong to none other than me!” He drawled with an air of arrogance. His smug face shone with pleasure over the confession and it Incited such outrage from Ciel that his body immediately tensed and went rigid. Sebastian noted the sudden change and quirked a curious eyebrow at Ciel, which served to piss off the lad even further.

“Lower your hand lest you plan on swatting flies.” Sebastian warned.

“You were completely charming until your shiftless mouth uttered such stupidity!” Ciel yelled, his raised hand cocked back like a long bow and sprung forward to meet with Sebastian’s cheek. Sebastian swiftly dodged the attack; but the hand landed an open slap upon the water, sending a wave of soapy spray straight up Sebastian’s nose.

“You have wronged my honor!” Ciel screeched.

Sputtering and momentarily blinded, Sebastian frantically wiped at his stinging eyes, for the soap had gotten into them, and released a slew of curses at the seething man before him.

“Bastard! Midget bastard!” He roared, face contorted in rage as he wiped away at his face. “Stupid little bastard!”

“If I am deemed an imbecile it would be of your fault!” Ciel snapped, pushing himself back to the opposite end of the tub. He was fuming, “You've twisted my sensibilities!”

Sebastian reached out and grabbed Ciel’s wrist, roughly pulling the thrashing man back into his arms. Pearlescent bubbles floated through the air as the pair struggled against one another. The wood planked floor glistened with puddles of water and froth while Sebastian dodged Ciel’s tiny fists. He knew he would not receive much damage from the pint sized terror, yet a hand raised to him was not warranted in this matter.

“If there were fault,” He barked, slapping Ciel’s hands away from his face. “it lies in you!”

“My fault?!” Ciel struggled to release himself from Sebastian’s embrace, but it was in vain for he was no match for the man's strength. “Unhand me, you brute!” He screeched.

Sebastian would hear none of it, he tightened his arms around Ciel’s body and forced him to press against his body once more. “Shamelessly ogling my body, pursuing me with such lascivious intent, parading this body so promiscuously!” He spoke hurriedly, “Improperly guiding yourself to me-!”

“I am no Whore!” Ciel shouted.

“You are no innocent either!”

Tears sprung to Ciel’s eye, the sweetness of their moment had been so short lived. “See if I ever allow you any entrance upon my honor!” He wept, burying his face into Sebastian’s chest; his chin dipping into the hot water. “You are my ruination!”

“Nonetheless, you are mine!” Sebastian cradled the trembling body in his arms and willed himself to calm down. “The moment I set my eyes against you it was made so, that no one, no person of any form nor stature would have you but me!”

“I regret ever having said that, you syphilic malbrained letcher!” Came the mumbled reply before two rows of razor sharp teeth bit into the side of Sebastian's arm.

This bastard, Sebastian thought sourly

“Brazen cock tease!” He countered with a surly tone into the nest of grey black hair. “Am I a joke to you?”

Whipping his head up, and nearly smashing his crown against Sebastian’s nose, Ciel bristled at the pirate like a feral cat. “Unconcealed scoundrel!” He hissed, digging his nails into Sebastian’s chest and earning a yelp from him.

The areas where Ciel had bitten and.scratched at him burned, but more so the sense of anger emitted from his young prisoner bothered him the more. “Impudent ill-raised brat!” He grumbled while rubbing at the reddened area. “Who taught you to fight in such feminine ways?”

Aghast at the insult, Ciel felt himself the need to salvage his dignity. “Release me at once!” He demanded haughtily, raising his chin and glaring at Sebastian. “I will not keep company with the likes of you!”

Sebastian ignored the command “No.” He replied curtly.

Small fists beat against Sebastian's chest with rapid fury “Marauder! Lecherous swine!” Ciel cried. “I want no part of you!”

“Fork tongued lying wench!” Sebastian seized Ciel's wrists and pushed him back was until his back hit the other side of the tub. Looming over him like a dripping wet drowned bat, Sebastian overshadowed the diminutive man, his breath panting with frustration and anger as his hands gripped the sides of the tub until his knuckles went white. “You swore your heart to me!” He thundered.

Ciel looked up and wrung his hands at the dark figure above him. “I said no such things!” He denied.

“You gave yourself to me!”

“I am delirious! Scatterbrained from my sufferings!”

“You threw yourself at me, grabbed my dick-!”

Ciel’s eye nearly bulged out; his face flushed bright cherry from humiliation. Slapping his palms over his ears, he shook his head rapidly.“The ocean poisoned me!” He gasped. “Stole me of my sensibilities!”

Sebastian snorted his discontent, “Rubbish!” He growled.

Meanwhile, perched awkwardly outside of the captain's quarters door, Tanaka leaned against Finny and felt his own stomach twist at the rambunctious sounds of shrilly delivered curses, splashing water, and cries of wrongdoings. Between the beseechments and confessions, angel and despair, Tanaka could only wonder as he rolled his eyes up to the heavens, what had he done to deserve such a pitiable position in life.

In the midst of such calamity, standing outside of the Captain’ Quarters, Finny had helped Tanaka maneuver around the deck in search for Sebastian and Ciel since they needed to report back the affairs of the ship and the condition of the crew. Before his bony knuckles met with the solid wooden door, an explosion of explicatives halted the elderly steward’s actions.

The pair delivered embarrassed side glanced at one another. The raucous sounds of water splashing violently and struggling bodies caused Finny’s cheeks to erupt like crimson blossoms.

“S~Sir?” Finny stammered, nervously tugging at the neck of his shirt as he cautiously held up Tanaka with his arm looped around the steward’s waist. “Sh-should we go in?”

“No.” Tanaka responded quickly, wiping his sweaty forehead with a rag from his pocket. “If we are in luck, they will both drown themselves in that bathtub and we will all be spared their duel idiocies.”

“Tanaka, Sir!” Finny cried, his eyes wide with horror and made a hasty sign of the cross.

Letting out an exhausted sign, Tanaka shook his head, “Unfortunately, one is far too stupid to drown his own self.” He grunted, motioning for Finny to walk him back to the canteen. “And the other has far too much pride to die first before the other.”

Finny nodded.

The poor boy was utterly confused (as usual) as they hobbled away.

“Why are you so beset upon my suffering?!” The plaintive cry which suddenly burst forth from Ciel shocked Sebastian. When his own uninhibited fury had begun to settle down, all he could see before him was the trembling figure of Ciel submerged in the soapy water. His face twisted and forlorn, his large eye reddened and woeful. Swirling about the fragile man were the long tentacle like strands of Sebastian’s raven hair. An angel of uncommon strength, shrinking into black waters sent a shooting pain straight through Sebastian’s heart and he immediately regretted the harshness of his actions.

“Forgive me!” Sebastian snatched the quaking body in his arms and hugged him tightly, brushing away the stringy hair away from Ciel's face and rocking him side to side as if he were soothing a frightened child. He had not meant to be so rough with, so inconsiderate, of his young beauty.

Ciel sobbed into Sebastian’s thick wet hair, hiding his face amongst the inky tendrils. Sebastian could feel the hurt rolling off from each hitched breath and he berated inwardly his own unfiltered wrath.

“Forgive me,” he whispered again, tenderly stroking the Ciel’s back and hair, petting him as if he were petting a wounded animal. “I meant only to jest, nothing more nor less.”

“I am still my own person and yet…..I so desperately want to belong to you-- but not if you taunt me!” Ciel wept pitifully, shaking his head from side to side “Not if you find me to be sport to you! A filthy game played by rogues and rascals!”

“A-A game, you say?!” Sebastian responded lowly.

“I will not be your entertainment! I refuse!” He choked out, staring up at Sebastian with a face full of anguish as he rattled on with halting breathes. “ I will not be your pawn, your trinket, your stolen goods-!”

“Ciel-”

Ciel shook his head furiously, squeezing his eyes shut to allege the stinging of newly sprung tears. His insides felt twisted and sickly, the agony of disappointment marked heavily in his trembling voice. “Never, in all my days have I ever been placed in such an unseemly act! To think I, the Earl of Phantomhive, am sequestered between the legs of a perverse pirate rogue who stares at me as if I were a slab of goose on a platter-!”

Grabbing Ciel’s face with both his hands, Sebastian leaned in and kissed him. His lips pressed gently against Ciel’s cool mouth and he carefully slipped his tongue between the young man's teeth. A delicious heat erupted between their bodies and the ice of discomfort and distress swiftly dissipated. Ciel’s lips were mildly parched, his saliva briny from the frothy ocean and his skin quivered slightly underneath Sebastian’s rough touch, but he remained calm in his hold.

The need to devour his prisoner was gnawing at him, but Sebastian fought back that animalistic urge. He wanted to cherish this moment, this wildly beating heart, this force of nature that Ciel had proven to be. The sounds of their kisses were soft and airy, like the twittering of doves. It was all so heavenly, so delightful. The demon monger handling the gossamer body of an angelic being.

“Ciel! Belong to me.” He whispered hoarsely into Ciel’s lips, excited from the peek of dark blue surfacing from between black lashes. “Only to me.”

“To be yours and yet not yours, do you understand me?” Ciel asked, succumbing to the musical sweetness of Sebastian’s tenor. “Do you even realize what i mean by this?” His trembling hands sought out the long soaked tendrils, tangling his petite fingers into their glossy black mass.

“I do.”

Ciel bristled, “Liar.” He retorted, quickly yanking at Sebastian’s hair.

“Do you fear a retraction of my oath?” Sebastian tilted his head, amused by the childlike action and enjoying the sensation of Ciel pulling at his hair. “I do recall telling you that I am a man of my word.”

Ciel’s patience ran thin. “Do you swear to honor me?” He yanked his hands down and forcibly pulled Sebastian’s face down until they were eye to eye. There was a desperation in his voice and a tentative war storming across his face. “Swear it! I want to hear you swear by all that you own!” He cried. “Swear that you will honor me not as a prisoner, but as a person, a man, neither a thing nor possession!”

Sebastian smiled crookedly, enamored once more by his little noble. That foolish pride, that unruly courage, that beauty still developing and in the throes of curiosity. Ciel had stared down the bottomless ocean,impending death, war, imprisonment, abuse and an uncertain future, but he bore it all with humility and an indignant stance that nearly left Sebastian prostrating before him. Who better than this man child?

“I swear, upon my heart, upon my life, upon this ship, my brethren, my soul, that you are not a trinket, but mine own treasure.”

Ciel felt his cheeks burn once more. Wrapping a thick link of hair around his pinky finger, he stared down at the dripping strand and briefly remembered braiding Sebastian’s hair. He blushed and felt a curling ball of warmth settle comfortably in the middle of his chest. “I am pleased.” He mumbled shyly.

Sebastian smirked, “Are you about to profess your love for me now, Earl Ciel Phantomhive.” He snickered..

Ciel quickly tugged at the piece of hair and nearly jerked Sebastian’s head straight into the water. “Imbecile!” He hissed. “As if I know what it is to love another man! I am pleased, that is all!”

Oh this bastard, Sebastian thought, how amusing!

“Have you ever…..loved before me?” Ciel asked nervously, darting his sight away from Sebastian’s ruby stare. He chewed his bottom lip and continued gently tugging at the pirate’s hair. “Do tell me—what it is to love another...in a way...unlike what one would feel for a parent.”

Taken aback by such a question, Sebastian found himself momentarily speechless. How should one answer this, coming from another man and not some silly young maiden. He was instantly amused and charmed by Ciel’s curious nature. “Yes, I have loved only one.” He admitted, rubbing his thumbs against the plump surfaces of Ciel’s cheeks.”Only one.”

“Oh...I see.” Ciel muttered glumly. He released the strands and dipped his hands back into the lukewarm water. “It appears you are capable of such emotions.”

There was a small devil residing upon Sebastian’s shoulder urging him to torture and tease the young man, but he was unable to do so. Sebastian drew Ciel into an embrace and held him tightly. “I loved my brother.” He revealed softly, nuzzling his nose into the crown of blue black hair. “As in fact, I still love him.”

Ciel’s eye widened. He twisted his head to look up at Sebastian with surprise. “Your brother?” He gasped with astonishment. “You have a brother?”

Sebastian nodded. “My younger brother. Claude.”

“Tell me of him! Is he like you?!”

“Tall in stature, black hair, handsome. He is a bit like me—“

“Is he a pirate?”

Sebastian slowly shook his head, “He is far too good for that.” He scoffed, “We are of the same father, but share not the same mother. Through the foolishness of my father, my sweet mother, that dear lady, took her own life when that bastard proved unfaithful and sired a boy with a common whore. I was but a small child so Claude is but two years younger.”

“In return for my loss, I was gifted Tanaka to keep me company and keep me from devilish impulses. Do not mistake it for compassion and guilt, my father was far too engrossed in the affairs of his businesses and entertainments that he often overlooked me. Yet he found himself married to that concubine who stole my mother’s pride and humiliated her into despair and death.”

Ciel listened with hushed horror and a muted sadness; his lone eye witnessing the darkening of Sebastian’s face. A pair of blood red eyes growing farther and farther into a dark past.

“Nevertheless,” He continued quietly, squeezing his eyes shut and fluttering them open as if fanning away invisible tears.” Claude became my own child, my only playmate. I doted upon him, loathed any other child who dared attempt a friendship with him much to my stepmother’s chagrin.” He chuckled humorlessly. “Ah but life is both cruel and relentless with its own sense of justice; that whore, she too fell into the hands of death from some illness and whilst Claude mourned his own motherless state, I rejoiced in private for now, he was all mine.”

The creaking of the battered ship echoed like a low moan uttered by a suffering giant. Ciel continued to listen and felt his heart tighten for he could sense a dull pain akin to his own. The loss of his parents, the rapid upheaval of everything he had ever known. What hidden monsters laid within Sebastian’s past? He could see further into the rogue because of his own tragedies, and Ciel knew very well that there was more than Sebastian was willing to tell.

But even with his impatience, Ciel would wait for it all to unfold upon his lap.

“He is the light of my life.” Sebastian smiled bitterly, “As you are so precious to me, I adore him the more. Think on it, Ciel, since the day he was born, I have loved none other than him, nor do I plan to place him secondary to anyone else. It is a way of this life you must accept from me for as much as I do profess my love for you, my brother is of utmost importance to me.”

Ciel swallowed hard, suddenly feeling uneasy with this new revelation,“Where is he now?” His voice shook slightly.

“España, my home.”

Ciel nodded, “You hail from Spain, I should have known from your title and the name of this ship.”

Waving his hand dismissively, Sebastian let out a long and tortured sigh,“Enough! I wish to end this talk, it brings me heaviness whilst there remains still so much sadness upon my ship.”

Ciel rested the side of his head against Sebastian’s chest and placed a demure kiss upon the damp skin, “But here, how can you possibly be so saddened with me in your arms?” He whispered.

“You bewitching kitten. Here I am, fraught with worry over your physical state and yet you want to comfort me? I am done for with you.” Sebastian lifted himself up, placing his hands underneath Ciel’s armpits and pulling him to his feet with him. Water cascaded down and splashed over the sides of the tub and the air was chilled, but it did not seem to matter. The heat between them resonated like an electric current between their bodies.

“I will not take you, not now, not just yet.” Sebastian smoothed away the wet bangs from Ciel’s forehead as he pressed his lips against Ciel’s. “For those that run, shall stumble, yes?”

Understanding that they would go no further, Ciel obediently nodded, “Yes.” He murmured. Truth be told, with his aching limbs and heady state, he could not have imagined coupling at that moment.

“Whilst I am satisfied with this moment, there are others who need me the more.” Sebastian’s voice grew somber.“I am the captain of this ship, there is no one who may raise these people from this despair except for me. Once I have you settled and safe in my quarters, i must leave to attend to the needs of my crewman.”

Ciel was startled, at once he realized how selfish he had been. Keeping the captain here for such frivolity and yet he knew not of the conditions of his fellow pirates.“You are here for me?” He cried suddenly, “ am fine! Go now! Go to them! They certainly need your assistance more than I--ngh!”

Sebastian halted Ciel’s voice with a deep kiss, swiftly slipping his tongue in to the young man's surprise. They drank in that temporary pleasure, clinging to each other’s naked wet body, hoping to keep the warmth between them before having to part.

With a sense of urgency rushing through his bones, Sebastian quickly settled Ciel into bed and dressed himself accordingly. Strapping on his heavy boots, Sebastian’s mind plotted out what the next couple of hours would entail. He was prepared to lead, prepared to pull together a damaged crew and ship. The goal set forth was not to be ignored nor set aside, he had promises to keep and a soul to save. All of his pride and worth resides within the bulk of his ship and the strength of his crew, not even the Devil himself would take possession of them.

Thoroughly dried, dressed in an oversized sleeping shirt, and tucked into bed with firm orders not to move an inch until he returned, Ciel silently watched Sebastian leave. He snuggled into the thick sheets and plush pillow, falling into a fretful yet deep sleep. All of his energies had poured out from his pores and the exhaustion of having faced the bottomless ocean finally overtook the tenacious and tiny tyrant.

He dreamt fitfully of dolphins and sharks, of the deep blue waters and white skies, of tittering canaries and cawing ravens.

—————————

“What business have you for me?”

Hannah stepped quietly into Claude’s study, her slippered feet, like the padded paws of kittens, swept stealthily across the room towards the brooding man sitting at his elaborate and neatly organized desk. Her movements were so soft and undetectable that one would not notice her until she were directly in front of a person. However, her master could smell the sweet powdery lilac scent emanating from her skin well before she stood beside him. It never unnerved her, for only her master was allowed to issue her orders, but she found it quite amusing how gently he treated her in comparison to the rest of the household servants. As Tanaka served Sebastian, she too served Claude with reverence.

Except at that moment when he addressed her in a voice so taut and curt that she hesitated in entering the room.

“A report from the admiral off the coast of Barbary has arrived.” She spoke clearly, but her body language gave way to her discomfort. Twisting the front of her apron between her clenched hands; she could barely look up from staring down at her feet. Unable to meet his piercing amber gaze, Hannah prayed that her face did not betray her true feelings of uncertainty. Claude pressed his thin lips tightly together, his hands grasping the arms of the chair.

He was glowering at her.

“And so?” He snapped with irritation.

Hannah coughed lightly and picked her head up, unwillingly locking eyes with him. “It has been given that several instances of white squalls have been reported along the coast of Legewateren, near the ports of several private islands owned by the Dutch. There have been occurrences of debris, corpses washed up upon the shores and remains of cargo.”

“Have the ships been identified?” He asked cooly.

Hannah nodded, “One ship was The Scarlet Lady, an English vessel owned by a privateer.”

“And?”

“The Covington, a Welsh trading ship.”

Claude clacked his teeth and gave her a deadly look, “Is that all?” He snarled.

“There is not enough to specifically identify the others.” Hannah responded.

“Have there been no messages?”

Shaking her head, She tiredly dropped her hands to her sides, “Claude, you know full well I would have told you—“

“I asked you a question!” He thundered, slamming a fist down upon the wooden arm of the chair, “Would it be damned of me to receive a proper answer from your stupid gaping maw?! But you see fit to stand there and deliver half news and incomplete reports! What good are you to me, idiot slag!”

Stunned, Hannah felt the color run from her face and pool in the center of her chest. For the years spent with Claude, since even before his brother had abandoned them all, she knew not of this unfettered rage aimed towards her. Never once had she ever heard such loathsome insults slung at her with so much venom. It bit her to the core.

“No messages, my Lord.” She responded hoarsely, lowering her eyes once again to stare at the toes of her shoe. “Forgive my impudence, my Lord.”

Regret immediately overwhelmed Claude and he cursed himself inwardly, gritting his teeth as fresh tears sprung to the corners of his eyes. He whipped off his spectacles and flung them to the side, their metal frame clattering across the wood floor. Covering his face with his trembling hands, he broke down down in wretched sobs, his back heaving with each breath he took.

Hannah rushed over to him and dropped to her knees, gathering the quaking man in her arms and rocking him side to side as if consoling a large child in the midst of awakening from a terrible nightmare. She could feel his grief, his fear, his helplessness all crumpled up within her embrace and it tore her apart. What could she do for him. How could she calm the tumult raging in his heart?

“My sweet, my sweet, I will not leave you to this terrible state.” She cooed into his ear, stroking his dark hair as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. His hands had found themselves around her body and he hugged her fiercely. “Sebastian’s ship will arrive! I know it!”

“Only you understand, only you.” He wept bitterly into her silken hair. “Forgive me, Hannah!”

“Please, my Lord, be harsh upon me. I will accept whatever you give me if it so pleases you.” She begged softly, “Allow me as your shield! I will bear it all for you!”

“You are not the one to receive my brutal words, in truth, Hannah, you are my sword.” Claude shuddered, his choking sobs nearly stifling him. “You are my protection!”

“Claude-”

Claude raised his tear stained face to her, “Without you, how may I fight off these demons perched about me like vultures, waiting to gut me to death?” He croaked, “Without you, how will I survive a life without my brother!?”

“I will never allow them to feast upon you, trust in me.” Hannah assured him, “And believe you in me, your brother is not dead.”

Claude dropped his head onto her shoulder, “Even he cannot survive a white squall.” He bemoaned.

“You would have felt him gone, my sweet.” Hannah placed her fingertips beneath Claude’s chin and lightly beckoned him to lift up his head again. She smiled and pressed her open palm against the left side of his chest. “Do you truly feel him gone?”

Claude closed his eyes and paused, his tears ceasing as the firmness of Hannah’s hand brought a strange heat to his skin. He listened to the thumping of his heart and searched for the motines she knew the death of his brother would bring him. Whenever he thought of his beloved brother, the gossamer rustling of feathers and cooing of birds would fill his mind. He could still hear their beaks clicking against the metal bars of the empty gilded cages he still kept in his room, a long ago memory of the bond they shared.

But the feeling of gutted emptiness was not there. .

Not a bit of anything.

“My brother, he must return, he cannot leave me here alone any longer!” He stated firmly, his tone was resolute. “He made a promise to me, and he must keep his word!”

“Sebastian is the devil himself, he will not die until his contract is fulfilled. I feel it in my heart, your brother will return and free you from these monsters.” Hannah released herself from Claude’s arms and stood up. “But, my Lord, your word must be kept as well.”

Claude straightened up and leaned back against his chair, “I only wish to see him again, alive and well is all I wish for.”

Smoothing out the front of her dress, Hannah studied the man before her and felt a pang of regret. She loved him dearly, but understood her role in his life. She was of no romantic interest to him, for shame she had cursed his obsession with a certain golden bird who had caught his fancy years ago. It was of no use to mourn what never would have been, she reasoned.

But nonetheless, her loyalties rested in his well being, in his heart and his soul. She came to the Faustis household as a mere servant girl when her own family had sold her off to a life of menial servitude. With hair long, thick and lavender white and navy blue eyes, she was almost fitted for the finest of brothels, but Claude had insisted upon having her as his own personal servant.

She sighed at the distant memory.

“Come, I will serve you tea in your sleeping quarters. Your bath has been prepared, I pray the water remained hot, and a light snack awaits you.” In her tender ways, she knew how to comfort the tortured man,”My sources will bring me more news in the early morn and have faith, your brother will arrive here soon enough.” She promised.

Claude reached out and grasped her hand, tugging her gently towards him, he kissed her knuckles. “Thank you, Hannah.” He whispered with gratitude. His eyes were rimmed with red but he sounded hopeful. “Thank you.”

Offering a slight bow, she smiled prettily. “I am for you, my Lord.”

Chapter 22

Notes:

Greetingzzzzz,

I left a note on my other work, “Rugged Hearts” as to why I haven’t updated in so long....

I don’t know who still enjoys or cares about my work but I appreciate anyone who is willing to stay on this ride with me.

I write about human suffering, and last year I lost a precious person in my life to cancer. Yeah, isn’t it a joke? My first fan fic was about Ciel Ohantomhive battling cancer and I thought I could capture the immensity of such a situation but honestly, I was wrong.

It is far darker than anything I could have ever imagined.

So here I am, humbled and looking to be back in the writer’s circle.

Please enjoy my meager offerings ❤️

Thank you!

Chapter Text

A week had passed since El Cuervo Negro had narrowly survived the hellish onslaught of a white squall and since then the seas had been gracious with their temperament, as if to apologize for the tumultuous beating it had enacted upon the ship and its crew.

Clear skies, boisterous and yet helpful gusts and calm waters remained with the ship from sunrise to sundown. The air was neither too crisp nor too warm, it suited everyone just fine as they hurried about with repairs, medical aid and salvaging damaged supplies. Several water barrels had been crushed during the monstrous storm and now the meticulously kept inventory was slowly dwindling before its allotted time. Sebastian had ordered their course to change in order to head towards one of the smaller and more private islands where illegal bartering among pirates was actively present and plentiful supported. Unfortunately, It took precious time away from their intended journey , but it was necessary. Without water, there was no chance of arriving to Spain alive. They had endured severe damages to the structure of the vessel and countless pounds of supplies had been lost in the natural fray of the storm. To continue on, without stopping, was sure to meet their deaths.

Nina had insisted upon mending the sails herself with the help of two assistants. With her strong and lightning quick fingers, she used thick needles and shredded rope to patch the numerous tears upon the main sails. It was back breaking work, hours upon hours of heaving the coarse material up and down ladders and punching the needles through the rough canvas, but she was a workhorse by nature and passionate about her skill.

In one night she could fit, hem, stitch, cut, measure, sew and create ten high quality suits for a gentleman. Her talent was known throughout all of Europe as the seamstress of royalty. A woman of esteem and aristocratic upbringing, Nina was lauded as an avant garde designer to the wealthy nobility. A beautiful and fascinating woman; a giant among ants. She cultivated trends from their meager beginnings, choosing to push the limits of societal propriety with her risqué flare and feminine empowerment styles. Knees were flaunted, cleavages daringly showcased and waist cinchers pulled only to an individual's comfort level. Ms. Hopkins was the talk of the haute couture community with a promising future as an entrepreneur amongst a largely male driven establishment.

So how in heaven’s name did she end up on a pirate ship?

Two years earlier

“Another wedding gown?” Nina yawned into the back of her hand as she sat at her desk facing a young and obviously well to-do couple. Harold West Jeb, and his young bride to be, Mina, were known to be quite the couple of the current times. From their attire, she had already deduced their thirst for attention towards their social status. The lady, barely 17 years of age, wore a gown tightly corseted, with a low, broad neckline and dropped shoulder, the overskirt was drawn back and pinned up to display the petticoat, which was heavily decorated. An old fashioned, but expensive, look which caused Nina to curl her lip in barely concealed disdain. The rich hues of her fabrics and ornate jewelry left a sour taste in the tailor’s mouth. She abhorred trending fashion, overly decorated fabrics, and clashing dyes. To her, it all screamed of obscene and distasteful egoism. The wealthy class had no heart for its lower denizens and what better way to flaunt one's expensive lifestyle than by wearing a lavish wardrobe in the face of poverty and slum life?

“How dreadfully boring.” she whipped off her spectacles and furiously wiped them with a clean white cotton handkerchief.”I had hoped for something far more interesting to suit my precious time.”

“My father insists upon you designing her gown.” The fiancé spoke curtly, giving his bride to be a sharp pat on the back of her folded hands. His eyes were small slits of indignation, his sharply pointed face accustomed to looking down with scorn upon what he deemed the lower class. “My suggestion is for you to keep your unseemly comments to yourself, accept the generous offer from my family and be quick about it!” He snapped.

“Your family may have the ability to afford my services, but never my respect!” She shot back, pocketing the handkerchief into her tailor made thigh high hemmed tweed shorts. “Impudence and entitlement are costly traits, young man. As if I would waste my time with the likes of you!”

Mina gasped in horror, placing her hand over her mouth and staring owl eyed at the woman seated behind the large desk.

“Now see here!” Harold stood abruptly, his face flushed red with rage, shaking a furious finger at Nina. “How dare you speak to me in such a way! What with your shocking and outlandish attire!” He sputtered, “Have you an ounce of shame in that pitiable frame!?”

“My what!?” Nina bolted up from her seat, the sounds of pins and stray needles plonked noisily on the floor like metallic rain drops. She slammed both fists down on her desk, papers and spools of threads tumbling over the edges, and her eyes went wild with rage. “Who are you to critique my wardrobe!?” She countered.”Better yet, who are you to make mention of my body!”

“I would hardly accuse you of wearing anything which resembles a wardrobe!” He sneered, gesturing at Nina’s outfit with a disdainful open hand, his lips tightly pressed in disgust. “A lady, and I so loathe referring to you in that term, exposing her legs? Wearing a collared shirt and vest befitting a man!? And your hair! Disheveled and unruly with nary a brocaded pin to punctuate your gender! Dare I say you lack all charm which one of high and proper society would expect from a lady!”

Nina swallowed hard and glared at the smug faced man. He spoke no lies. Indeed she would never be caught dead in the gowns and frilly concoctions most ladies her age favored. Since childhood she had had a penchant for strange outfits, bold patterns, and had preferred wearing the trousers worn by her male schoolmates over the lace and velvet frocks her mother had attempted in vain to clothe her in. She was such an obstinate child, tearing apart numerous expensive dresses and clumsily sewing them into varying outfits of strange and outrageous designs.

She undoubtedly was a woman before her time.

Taking a deep breath, Nina opened her mouth to defend her honor but a sharp knock on her door effectively cut her off. Quirking an eyebrow, she leaned to her right and peered over her customer's shoulder with great curiosity. She afforded no drop ins; appointments and by invitation was the only way to acquire her audience.

Losing all patience, West stepped over, mimicking Nina’s action, and blocked her gaze with a perturbed one of his own. “I have an appointment with you! Who has the nerve to interrupt our time here!” He demanded.

“I’ve no idea, and remove your sizable melon from my sight!” She snapped, slapping his face away from hers with the back of her hand. West staggered to the side, clutching his cheek in muted shock. Mina could do nothing but squirm in her seat but she was able to stifle an almost obvious snort by covering her mouth.

Before anyone could speak another word, the door to her office was suddenly flung open in one swift motion. The brass doorknob slammed into the wall with such force that the picture frames adorning the walls rattled and nearly plummeted to the floor. Before the trio could recover from the shock, they were stunted by the sight which smoothly stepped into the room.

Like a phantom of dark elegance, Sebastian Michaelis entered. Bathed in a thick black velvet cloak, his attire was made of the finest and most expensive of materials. Black leather britches, cotton linen shirt with delicately embroidered patterns, a pleated leather vest with a heavy silver chain watch hung from between pockets and boots which were obviously bespoken. The aromatic scent of exotic cologne wafted through the air as if pouring gently from the folds of his wardrobe, indeed this man looked, and smelt, of expense and decadence.

“Who—or what—are you?” Nina whispered, slowly walking around her desk to take a closer study of the being who had found his way into her office. Her eyes darted to and fro, configuring the amount of stitching needed for such an outfit. Numbers swirled about in her head, calculating measurements, yards of material, and cost. An excitement she had not felt in such a time began bubbling in her very soul. Her eyes quickly assessing the form and stature of a male creature she had never witnessed existing before that moment. It seemed almost unreal, a man of such boldness with scarlet eyes and long black hair neatly braided and swung over his left shoulder. Tall and broad in all the correct places,

“Captain Sebastian Michaelis.” The low tenor and richness of his voice was like liquid silk trickling into her ears. He offered her a crooked smile, glancing around the cluttered room, “How amusing, I seemed to have interrupted some sort of meeting here!” He chuckled, motioning towards West. “And who be this wanker?”

“W-Wanker?!.” West stuttered, his face beet red with indignation and fury. Unwilling to suffer insults, he shook a fist in Sebastian’s face, “I will have you know I am Harold West Jeb of the West Jeb family here in London and I am most certainly not a wanker!” He breathlessly spat out each syllable, spit flying from his red lips.

“Shut your stupid mouth.” A steely soft voice echoed the curt order which came directly from behind Sebastian and was punctuated by the click clacking of booted heels. The room was stilled but its slow and methodical sound; a simply hypnotic rhythm of deadly intentions.

The pirate snickered, his smugness showing mightily. Turning slightly to look over his shoulder, he beckoned. “Come my falcon, teach this measly run-a-mouth a lesson.” Sebastian’s eyes traveled back to West, filled with distaste at the suddenly quiet man “Lower that limp fist before I remove it from your body.” He threatened.

Mey Rin came forth from behind her captain, her young bespectacled face stony and large eyes keenly locked upon West. Her dark blue dress rustled quietly about her thin body and she would have appeared as a demure lass if not for the gleaming musketoon concealed within the folds of her outfit. She slowly raised the weapon and pointed it squarely upon the middle of the now frozen faced man.

“Speak to my captain again without respect and I shall deliver your worthless self straight to hell.” She growled, sharply cocking the gun and squinting her luminous eyes at the now speechless man. “I’ll pop your gut open, believe me I will.”

Everyone held their breath, the air thick with tension and unmasked fear.

In her most dramatic fashion, Nina clutched her chest with both hands and sucked in a clearly audible breath, her mouth agape as if someone had delivered a blow to her stomach. Sebastian rolled his eyes at the delicacies of all females and coughed into the back of his hand as he thought of the right words to bring comfort to the woman he hoped would join his pirate crew.

“Now now, there is no need to be frightened, my fine lady!” Sebastian gleefully assured the designer, reaching out to playfully pet her head “As long as this idiot keeps quiet, no blood shed shall occur in your establishment!”

Nina dropped her hands and gave Sebastian an annoyed scowl, “Bloodshed? I don’t care if you blow a hole straight through his gut!” She exclaimed, shifting her sight to Mey Rin, she pointed to the tiny assassin “Is she your lover!? Is she? I must know!” She demanded.

Sebastian flipped his braid back and sighed deeply, puffing his chest out with self satisfied arrogance “I will have you know that I am not available for new lovers at this moment-“

“Not you, imbecile!” She snapped, “I fancy her!” Nina pushed past the speechless man and boldly walked up to Mey. Giving her a long and admiring once over, Nina nodded her head in approval. ““I am far more interested in the likes of you, my lovely lady!” She purred, throwing a seductive wink at a now befuddled Mey.”See here, now this is a real woman!” without warning, she reached out and with one elegant hand, attempted to cup a handful of Mey’s voluptuous breast, hoping to give it a gentle squeeze. Instead, she was met with a smart rap against her knuckles by the metal supine of Mey’s gun.

She yelped in surprised pain, hopping back and rubbing her red hot hand. “Such a feisty and yet buxom delicious woman you are!” She gushed, rapidly shaking her hand as the pain faded,”What wonders could I clothe this delectable frame of yours!”

“Watch you hands, you wrench!” Mey cried, waving her gun at Nina, “I’ve no quarrel with you!”

“Now don’t play the coy lass, Mey, she seems nice enough.” Sebastian snickered.

“Captain!” Mey again kept her gun pointed at West, but she took a step backwards to stand slightly behind Sebastian and away from Nina. “I will not be fondled by some stranger!” She cried.

“So a lady suits your tastes as well?” Nina ventured hopefully.

Mina fanned herself rapidly with her gloved hand but to no avail, the poor young lady finally gave in to her frayed nerves. Swooning, she toppled over and fell off to the side of her chair with a loud thump. Harold did not dare move a muscle for the musketoon was still prominently leveled at the middle of his chest, however, he too felt the world teetering back and forth like a rocking chair underneath his feet.

“Pardon?” May shot a nervous look at Sebastian, her nerves tingling at the heated look from Nina “Captain, are you sure you want this strange lady in our ship!?” She hissed. “I’ve no want to be pawed at by a queer headed loon!”

“Dear sweet thing, why be entrapped by labels?” Nina whispered hotly. “I am a woman of the world, imagine what joys and treats I may bring you! That curvaceous wonderment I see underneath that horrid homespun mess you may call a frock hides your natural charms!”

“Stop ogling me!”

“I would lace you up in a boned corset with a lace overlay and trousers! Wide neck ruffled shirt with peekaboo slits upon the sides of your arms!”

Mey aimed the muzzle of her gun towards Nina, “May i Shoot her, Captain?”

Sebastian wearily rubbed his forehead, wondering a bit himself if this indeed was a good idea, “Look at her, does she not belong with out motley crew?” He defended, “point your weapon towards the wanker, and listen to me. She is as none other amongst the houses of couture in all of Europe! And if you recall, the last tailor was dreadful-“

Mey furiously stomped her foot. “You slew him when he ruined your shirt!” She shouted.

“My brother gifted me that shirt!” He defended, “I warned him to be gentle with it, but no! He tailored one sleeve shorter than the other as if I was some deformed malignancy from a side show!”

“It was an accident! He measured wrong is all!”

“Claude had it made specifically for me!”

“You could have bought another!”

“Do not question me!” Sebastian thundered. He quickly turned to Nina, whose gaze was wholly glued to Mey, and tapped her roughly on the shoulder to gain her full attention. “You were commissioned by Sir Claude Faustus of Spain for several articles of fine clothing approximately a year ago, am I correct?”

Nina’s eyes lit up with memory, “Yes!” She recalled excitedly, wagging her finger at Sebastian, “A most beautiful dark haired man, much as yourself, paid me a visit with only measurements and quite a large sum of money last Spring!”

“Those were presents for me from my generous younger brother.” Sebastian smiled indulgently, “And they were as Claude promised, my fine lady, of the utmost quality I have ever had the pleasure of wearing.”

Nina remembered the tall distinguished but soft spoken man with the piercing golden eyes and blushed, “I am honored, sir.”

“I wish for you to become a valuable member of my crew.” Sebastian gave Mey a side glance and then discreetly leaned into Nina’s ear. “Unfortunately, I cannot promise you that she will return your interests, she is still very much a child to the ways of intimacy—“

“Captain, don't!” Mey protested.

He ignored Mey’s outburst and hurriedly continued, “However, if you join my ship, I will have your bed next to hers.” He promised.

“Captain!”

“But I require a new outfit every month, leather boots, new sails, and shirts for all my crew.” Sebastian gestured over to Mey, “You may clothe her however you see fit.” He quickly added.

“Captain Michaelis!”

“I’ll do it!” Nina cried with unbridled joy, shooting out her hand and forcing Sebastian to give her a hardy handshake. “I am grossly exhausted from this everyday workmanship with these elitist fools!” She exclaimed excitedly. “If I am allowed the finest materials, and remain by this beauty's side, then my new adventure shall begin today!”

“Sir, was this your plan all along?” Mey accused, pocketing her small firearm to the great relief of Harold who ultimately ended up fainting into a crumpled mess on the floor. “Were you aware of her inclinations?”

Sebastian grinned, “How amusing of you to think that!”

The trio retreated back to the ship, embarking on a lengthy journey to India in search of rich tea leaf imports and spices. It was a highly lucrative endeavor which resulted in the acquisition of Agni and Soma, a talented cook and his youthful ward. Nina spent her first few weeks redesigning and fortifying the sails so that the heavy materials would fair better in stormy weather. Sebastian was given a brand new and lavish wardrobe complete with lustrous bed sheets and quilts. As time passed on, Mey became enamored with the brilliant and vibrant woman who would eventually become her lover. Although she balked at playing Dress up, the risqué lingerie she created from expensive silks and French lace delighted the younger girl to no end.

Which, of course, brought greater delights to Nina.

The ship was slowly developing into a universe unto itself, populated by the most oddly talented persons one could ever hope to collect. Much like a menagerie of queer headed phenoms.

Nina felt right at home.

Wiping beads of sweat from her forehead, Nina pulled her last stitch tightly and sheared the edge off before tying a tight knot. The sail she had been working on was completely patched and so their journey would push forward much more steadily than before. A temporary fix would suffice until they reached the secret island.

Her heart sank at the thought of going off course. For some reason, the pit of her stomach was uneasy with anxiety. She held up her hands and studied the surface of her palms. They were rough, pocked with scars and deep scratches. Once long ago she had the loveliest hands, soft to the touch with nary a nick. Now, they were weathered and could tell stories of how many stretched cotton sails she had created. Those same sails took them all on adventures, sent them into hellish conditions as well as heavenly shores. They were hands of an adventurer, of someone who was not afraid to live life to its fullest. She balled up her hands, both throbbed with pain, and she held them close to her chest in gratitude for the life they had granted her.

Mey watched her lover from up on the eagles nest and wondered what was keeping her from co tinting in to the next sail. She knew her well enough to know that whenever Nina paused in her work for more than a minute, thoughts were busily circulating through her brain. Perhaps they would be able to relax after the night shift was over and lay in each other’s arms for more than an hour.

“Nina!” She called out, waving her hands above her head to catch her attention. “Nina!”

Nina looked up, squinting her eyes against the bright sky and a smile broke apart her worried and tired face. She waved back with one hand, the other she took to rubbing the tight small part of her back. Mei pursed her lips, coyly blew her a kiss and mouthed “tonight”

“My sweet girl” Nina mouthed back and turned back to her work of mending more sails. The leftover cloth was heavy and cumbersome, her arms aches terribly under their weight, but the thick canvas would be needed as bandages and wrapping more broken bodies. There would be no time to wash them for the number of injured parties called for speediness.

“Still far better than wedding dresses.” She muttered under her breath before she bit a piece of thread and knitted its frayed end.

Below deck, in the back section of the canteen where a makeshift infirmary had been set up for crewmen who had sustained injuries, Sebastian stood over a very irritated Alois with Finny and Ciel by his side. The trio watched Tanaka, seated on the floor, give the finishing touches to a stiff cast made of cloth, flour and water, covering Alois’ injured leg. The blankets on the floor were saturated with sweat, blood and watery paste, it had taken all morning to create a cast for Alois’s horribly broken leg and the aging steward had insisted on doing it solely himself for fear that too many hands would ruin the progress he had made with the young man’s disfigured limb.

Meticulous with his care of Alois’ injury, Tanaka molded the cast to fit the young man’s sinewy leg to almost perfection. “It shall heal well,” Tanaka announced before letting out a long relieved breath. He patted Alois’ knee gently and smiled.”I made it my business to set it properly and exact.”

Alois angrily slapped the hand away, “That you did, you heavy handed slate eyed bastard!” He spat furiously. “How many times did I have to plead with you to stop manhandling me!?”

“I heard ya speak tongues I never knew was real!” Finny exclaimed with a hint of awe. “What’s a ‘eeho der poota’ anyways?” He asked innocently.

Ciel nearly choked on his spit before doubling over in laughter.

“That’s hijo de puta!” Alois roared, pointing a furious finger at Tanaka’s bewildered face, “And it means SON OF A WHORE!”

“Mother of Mercy!” cried Finny.

Sebastian frowned, unhappy with his first mate’s surliness, “Alois, is that how one properly expresses their gratitude?” He spoke lowly. “Tanaka spent much time rescuing that fractured leg of yours, surely you did not believe such care would have been given to just anyone?”

Unmoved and solely bent upon his own plight, Alois felt hot tears spring to his eyes at the memory of his so called torture. “He handled me like a lump of clay!” He screeched. “First he feeds me snake poison then he twists my blasted leg in three different directions-!”

“Ali, stop it now.” Ciel gently interjected. He shook his head and kneeled before his friend, placing a small hand against Alois’ cheek, “He made it so that you would not be afflicted with an unsightly hobble.” Ciel quietly pointed out, careful not to further ignite Alois’ rage. “Granted you endured an ungodly amount of pain, but Tanaka did save your life, Ali.”

“You saved my life, Ciel!” Alois cried, “Not this monkey faced cabron!”

“Mind your manners and be appreciative!” Sebastian coldly warned. “Lest you’d rather be a useless one legged first mate!”

Alois felt his blood rush to his head, “Capitan-!”

“Enough of your fussing and get to your quarters!” The Captain demanded, motioning to Tanaka,”Regardless of your suffering, Tanaka here has been of most help to you!”

Finny’s arm shot up, “I’ll carry him, sir!” He offered cheerfully.

“I’d rather let Tanaka set my dick in place before I let you touch me!” Alois snapped.

Stifling a chuckle, Ciel good naturedly waved off Finny, “Let me take him. Come, Ali.” He reached over and scooped Alois’ arm around his shoulder while looping his own arm around the blonde’s thin waist. As he lifted him up, Ciel silently worried over the lightness of his friend, it was apparent that Alois had lost quite a bit of weight since the white squall nearly took his life,

“Do not take it to heart, Finny. Alois is in a most foul mood since he is not by his Captain’s side.” Tanaka teased, wiping his hands against his trousers before standing up. Ciel and Alois looked at each other and snorted their twin amusement.

None too pleased, Sebastian bristled at the mocking remark, “Nonsense!” He snorted, “Seems as if the blow to your head has muddled your reasoning.”

Ciel sucked in a breath “Ali, move your arse.” He hissed, pulling Alois quickly away from the group. “This man has a death wish upon him!”

“Watch my leg, you stupid git!” Alois snarled.

Tanaka cocked an eyebrow at Sebastian, his almond eyes steely cold. “What did you say?” He quietly asked in a tone both eerie and sharp.

Ciel hurriedly dragged his wounded friend out of the canteen area towards the exiting door lest they would have to bear witness to Tanaka’s undressing of his adult ward. With only Finny and a whole slew of injured pirates watching, Sebastian knew he was going to hear it.

“I-I meant only that he is daft to think in his condition he would be of any help to me!” He hurriedly explained.

Finny scratched the side of his head, “Sir, didn’t ya mean that Tanaka was saying somethin’ foolish?”

At the door, Ciel and Alois burst out laughing, their loud guffaws resonated throughout the area and other pirates picked up with their own nervous twittering. Ciel caught Sebastian’s eye and he could not help but give the hapless man a sly wink with his one blue eye before finally leaving.

“Finny, I’ve a mind to personally shut that gob of yours.” Sebastian threatened.

“And what about my reasoning, Young Master?” Tanaka hissed, placing himself directly in front of the dark haired man. “Have you issue with me now?”

To Sebastian’s relief, Bard came lumbering from the back of the kitchen carrying boxes in his arms. His face was beet red from exertion and he looked about until he caught sight of Finny.

“I ain’t carrying all these damned boxes by meself am I, Finny?” He barked, jerking his head to the side and signaling the sailor to come with him. “Get your arse moving!”

Finny clapped his hands happily and ran after Bard who had retreated to the storage rooms. The shelves had collapsed during the storm and it was a terrible chore to clean up and attempt saving numerous spilled supplies. With most of the crew unable to do physical labor, Finny was being called upon more and more to pick up the slack.

“If that pea brained maltworm wasn’t a fucking juggernaut I would have flung him to the sharks” Sebastian grumbled.

Tanaka clicked his tongue. “Your language, Sebastian.” He tsked. “It does not befit a gentleman as of yourself.”

Dropping his jaw, Sebastian slapped his hands against his chest, “Am I the whipping boy today!?” He exclaimed, “Relegated to being abused by all those up in attendance here!?”

Tanaka finally smiled, swiping a bead of sweat away from his forehead with the back of his hand, “My dear boy! That would be the honorable Earl of Phantomhive’s job.” He chortled.

“I find your humor lacking.” Sebastian countered. “Especially since we have two days journey ahead of us before the island and I have yet to accrue a handful of able bodied persons to protect the ship!”

Tanaka’s face became grave with seriousness, “Have you sent word to that miserable miscreant acquaintance of yours of our impending arrival?” His shaky hand trailed up to touch the bandage which covered a most severe gash along his forehead. With the amount of work he took to minding after pirates and their wounds, the sweat proved to be difficult in keeping the cloth firmly in place.

Sebastian reached out and adjusted the bandage himself. “Take care, Tanaka, your wound is will open again if you touch it.” He fretted.

Tanaka turned his face away from Sebastians touch, “I am fine! And do not attempt in swaying me away from my question.”

“He operates the only island nearest with the means to give us aid.” Sebastian shrugged, “What am I to do in this sorry state?”

Tanaka tiredly surveyed the bruised and battered bodies of pirates littering the covered tables of the canteen and felt his stomach turn at the awful truth before them. “His help comes with a price.” He reminded. “There will be no escaping that.”

Sebastian rested his hands at his hips and gazed at the same sorrowful scene. Without proper medicines, without replenishing supplies, without repairing the ship, they would all eventually die.

“He will not cross me.” He replied firmly. Stiffening his jaw, he walked past Tanaka and gave the silently suffering crew a reassuring smirk. He was met with crooked weak smiles and several held up trembling balled up fists as signs of loyalty and support. They were all fervently faithful to their captain, their ship, their livelihood. They would see him through the gates of heaven or the downward spiral of Hell. It ran deep in his bones, this knowledge of where he stood in the eyes and hearts of his odd crew and it was indeed a burdensome responsibility to sustain the souls of so many in the palm of his hand.

“Are you willing to give him what he wants?” Tanaka asked, his eyes studying his ward’s stoic posture with great interest. “As my memory serves me, he is most persistent with that particular desire.”

“No.” Sebastian turned quickly and smiled widely at his steward. “I will slice that rumpfed plague sore’s throat and drink his blood before I allow him anything more than a monetary exchange for his services.”

“And if he so refuses our entrance upon the island?”

“I shall set fire upon him and the island entirely.” Sebastian hissed, every word slithered from his mouth like a venomous snake as his red eyes glowed with malicious intent, “With mine own hands I shall turn his paradise into a blistering inferno from which no soul shall escape!”

Pleased by Sebastian’s passionate response, Tanaka gathered several rolls of cotton bandages and a bottle of iodine from the floor and walked towards another ailing pirate. “I will remain here administering to your people.” He said, looking back at the scarlet eyed buccaneer. “Send your brother word of your survival, attend to Ciel if need be and remain strong in your resolve as I have taught you, do not disappoint me.”

With a heart full of gleeful darkness and excitement over the possibilities laid before him, Sebastian placed his hand against his chest and bowed respectfully,

“Hai, sensei.” He whispered with a deference allowed only to the one man who could command him.

After extracting a promise from Tanaka that the elder would eat and rest within an hour's time, Sebastian finally left the canteen. The moment he stepped outside, the coolness of the fresh air seemed to revive Sebastian's senses and the sudden urge to hold Ciel in his arms seized him. He nearly stumbled, overwhelmed by the momentous urge which was quickly replaced by the sharp thrust of fear.

It nearly arrested his heart.

“Fool, blundering fool.” He scolded inwardly, “A touch of love and I am beaten to the level of a child!”

He straightened his back, readjusted his white collar, pulled the front of his black leather vest down and cleared his throat. He could feel a warmth lingering in his groin and a hot flash shuddered throughout his body. He closed his eyes for a second, and the glow of pearlescent skin hovered in his vision. He licked his bottom lip, tasting the briny air, and suddenly he could discern the salty flavor of Ciel's lips when they had kissed in the bath so many days ago. The ocean had laid a second skin upon the then near dead man and Sebastian felt he would never forget how alarmingly cold his precious Earl had been.

That delicate and yet wrought iron form trembling in his arms brought another delicious shiver, like lightning bolts, throughout Sebastian's body.

“I am no ordinary man!” He grunted, shifting his hardening want so as not to give the rest of the ship a glimpse of his perverse thoughts. “To think I am bewitched by that upstart!”

Swaggering down the deck, he took long purposeful strides in an effort to rid himself of his obsessive fantasies. He would need to fetch one of their remaining carrier pigeons, pen a note to his brother to assure him of their safety, see to it that their weapons were secured and ready for their arrival at the island and then…

Sebastian's face broke into a leering grin.

“I shall play with my pretty treasure.”

Chapter 23

Summary:

Greetingzzzzzz,

Thank you so much for the support, the DMs, the feedback and the love.

It is truly appreciated!

Chapter Text

A quiet lull fell over the battered ship and night crept in on soft soled feet, silently slipping a dark cloak over the windless sea. It was a deep Prussian blue sky with bursts of sparkling stars and a moon so full and bright that it hung like a dazzling diamond from the neck of an African queen.

The first tier section of the barracks was filled with injured crewmen battered, bruised and broken, there were numerous victims to the white squall. Whosoever was fortunate enough to have escaped harm and proved able bodied was expected to administer aid and tend to the injured. Sleep did not come easy for those who suffered and Agni had his hands full feeding straight rum to the patients in hopes it would lull them to a deep and satisfying sleep.

An exhausted Mey had become lightheaded and was finally given her leave by the twins who were never separated from one another. Beast remained with the ailing Dagger who longed for a peaceful slumber but for the pain of his shattered foot could not be quelled by any medicine, not even by Tanaka's snake oil concoction. The lad fretted and writhed in his cot, tossing back and forth and gripping his sheets with white knuckled fists. It disturbed the young woman to watch him suffer so. Never had she witnessed such misery in the spritely and often laughing man.

“Aye, brother, drink some more water, there be a shot of rum in it” She whispered gently, patting his damp forehead with a cool cloth. “This too shall pass, my brave one.” Holding the cup towards his face, she slipped her hand underneath his head and slowly coaxed him to move.

Dagger shakedly propped himself upon his elbows and dropped his mouth open. His eyes were slits, swollen from the tears he had shed, and his body was weary and wracked with pain. Beast choked back a sob, so moved was she by his fight to remain conscience and alive, that she could feel her chest tighten with emotion. Ever so carefully, she held the clay cup to his gaping mouth, and poured the spiced water slowly. He closed his jaw and swallowed, nodding his head in silent gratitude.

He lowered himself back against his pillow, closed his eyes, and reached out to grip Beast’s hand. “Dontcha leave me too.” He croaked.

“I won’t, I swear I won’t.” She wiped away a stray tear from the corner of her eyes and squeezed his hand to let him know of her determination. The loss of Doll had shattered her heart, but she knew Dagger was mourning as well. To lose him would certainly be the end of hope for her and the rest of their mates.

“W-We’ll be approaching that island soon, eh?”

Beast’s eyes widened, “Now why bring that up?” She asked.

Dagger smiled, his eyes still shut. “I overheard Jumbo talkin’” he rasped.

Beast sighed, “That’s none for you to worry,” she patted his hand, “I will remain onboard in the barracks until we are secure and on our way.”

“He knows you are with us.” Dagger’s eyes popped open and he stared at the beauty with concern, “Dontcha forget yer promise.”

There was fear in his tone, Beast noted and she understood very well what message he was trying to convey. They had grown close during their years at sea together and although she had turned down a romantic proposition the first month they became crew mates, it did not hinder their friendship. Dagger would always adore her, always be protective of the beauty Sebastian had acquired from a doomed village so long ago and Beast, in turn, would always dote on the boy with sea green eyes and oddly colored hair.

“You needn’t worry over such things.” She chided, setting the cup down on the small wood crate beside his cot. “That man won’t lay a hand upon me without consent.” A tug at her heart nearly halted her speech for memory began its painful prodding to her heart.

“I’ve no heart left for him to touch.” She whispered sadly with a quivering voice which betrayed her true emotions. It did not go unnoticed by her ailing crewman but he held back his own opinions. How could he tell the woman he desperately loved that her heart had been wrung dry and it would be a waste to hand it back to the one responsible for it?

Dagger slowly closed his eyes and greedily licked his lips, the warmth of the rum tainted water had given him a bit of a respite from the pain. “I fear for ye.” He admitted feebly. “I fear that we’ll lose ye again and I won’t live with that.”

Beast smiled wryly, “By troth, brother, I fear for us all.” She sighed. “I fear for many things outside of mine own self.”

Dagger coughed into the back of his hand and winced as he shifted around in his cot. A crooked path of electric discomfort crawled its way up his ruined leg. “If ye be scared, there none hope for us.” He murmured.

Beast stared at the suffering man and pressed her lips tightly together. Her mind was too far gone with worry but she could not escape the dread of the oncoming island.

“I will hope for you and us all, brother.”

The island they were headed for held their future in its hand, and it was undeniable that the past was within its dark grip as well.

The Island of Tom Piper

A name so whimsical and childish, one could envision beaches of sand so white it could blind a person. Tall grass and lush overgrowth, hidden coves serenaded by tropical birds and the chirping of exotic tree frogs. A play place of some sort, any person could be fooled into imagining sweetness and paradise.

It was so far from that truth that it could have been the devils lair.

———

Before Sebastian could return to his quarters, the captain made sure that a hearty courier pigeon (one of the few left alive from Finny’s manhandling) was sent out to his brother in order to allay any worry over why they would be late in their arrival to Spain. He made an estimate that they would be almost two weeks past the date Claude would be expecting them, of course, barring any more obstacles.

A quick check of the armory with Bard in tow settled his nerves over whether or not they had enough gunpowder and artillery for defense. The cannons were, by some divine miracle, intact and fully operational and the barrels filled with rotten fish for the stink pots had not shattered during the squall. All in all, they were in good graces with Lady Luck for if they were to be attacked, they would most assuredly be able to defend themselves.

Bard slapped an open hand against the side of one of the cannons and grinned, “Aye, these here are sturdy. The Navy vessel we pilfered them from had only the best, eh?” Pleased with the solid conditions of his beloved arsenal, Bard chewed excitedly at his unlit cigarette. “I’d like to match any other ship with our own!”

Sebastian smirked, “Nothing upon this ship is less than extraordinary.”

Bart nodded his agreement, “I’ve loaded yer pistols, Captain. They be easy to conceal in yer boots.”

“Arm Mey and the twins with appropriate gear and you as well.” Sebastian walked toeards Bard and laid a hand upon his broad shoulder. “Finnian will be of use, mind him and prepare him. His waifish brutality shall most likely come to play.”

Bard’s left eye twitched, “Finny?” He felt his chest tighten as blood red eyes locked onto his own. “He’s but a young innocent in these ways, sir.”

Sebastian stood still, staring intently at Bard and an awkward hush fell between both men.

The pressure from the captain's hand began to feel like a heavy weight pressing down on Bard’s entire body.

“I know not what may occur on the island for we are in no position to turn our backs to their supplies and their help.” Sebastian spoke coolly, “However, I am no fool to the greed and blood lust of those in residence. Finnian is our strength. Hear me well, Bardroy, I will dispose of him if he cannot fulfill his obligation to me and to this crew.”

Bard swallowed hard, “Aye, Captain.”.

“How amusing.” Without warning, Sebastian curled his fingers into Bard’s shirt, roughly twisting the fabric into his fist, and yanked Bard towards him, closely until their noses nearly touched. “You have acquired a softness for this boy, eh?” Sebastian snickered, watching with unmasked glee as a fine sheen of sweat broke out across the ex-soldier’s blanched face. “Quite enough, I dare say, to question me, your captain and savior?”

Bard nearly collapsed upon himself, “Sir-!“

A crooked smile spread across Sebastian’s face, “Have you welcomed him into your bed?”

Bard blinked his confusion but then suddenly realized what was asked and it so easily arrested his breath that he almost fainted. He struggled to compose himself and fought off the urge to rip away Sebastian’s iron-like grip from his shirt. Instead he gritted his teeth and remained perfectly still.

“O-Of c-course not!” He sputtered as his cheeks flamed bright red. “I’ve not laid a hand upon the lad!”

“Right.” Sebastian uncrooked his pointer finger and lightly tapped Bard’s chin, the grin melting away to grimness, “I am privy to all which unfolds and exists upon this ship,” he pushed a black lacquered fingernail into Bard’s skin:”even beyond the seas there is much I already am knowledgeable of before any one of you could entertain thoughts within your feeble minds.”

Was I so obvious!? Bard wondered with panic, fighting even harder to not jerk his chin away from Sebastian’s prodding nail.

“Nothing which is, goes inattentive to me.” Sebastian sternly reminded, narrowing his cat eyes at his trembling soldier.“I am your God.”

He released Bard, wiping his own hand against the front of his shirt as if it were dirtied, and marveled with keen delight at the mess he had made out of his crewman. Bard was visibly shaken, looking down at his booted feet for he was unable to face his master. The hapless man felt his stomach turn from utter shame and fear. Where Sebastian nail had been seemed to burn as if a lit match had touched his skin.

The words Bard wanted to proclaim, to confess, were jumbled and tangled up in the midst of his throat. He could have choked on them, a hard knot forming and cutting off his air. He balled up his fists at his sides and dug his nails hard into the chapped palms of his hands. There was no way to deny his desires for Finny, so deep and delirious they were, so shameful and predatory that if he could he would have embraced the young man already. But worse yet, to have his own captain reprimand him as such was his own folly.

“You should practice honesty with that sizable groin of yours.” Sebastian broke the silence, gesturing with his hand to the direction of Bard’s crotch, “Hurry and take ahold of him, Bardroy, lest he snap your neck out of pure frustration.”

Claim him? Bard’s head shot up and he stared in disbelief at his Captain, how could he deliver such a statement so calmly? What was this man aiming at!? One moment they were assessing the firearms and the next Sebastian was assessing his….!

Bard could barely speak, but he forced out a meek reply, “S-Sir?”

“Claim him, you fool, but do not forget hence where your loyalties lie, Bardroy.” Sebastian warned, “Be moved to offer him whatever pleasures you wish, I bear no discord towards you for that, however, I am your captain and your savior. My life and well being must, and will, come before all.” He reminded sternly.

A wave of relief, and very present embarrassment, swept over Bard. “M-My apologies, sir.” He mumbled, “I meant no disrespect-.”

Sebastian chuckled, “None taken, my good man.” He stepped back and gave Bard a once over. “Think you might stand a survival against that minuscule giant?” He teased.

Another blush raced up from Bard’s neck to his crown. “I-I hadn’t thought it, Sir!”

“Then think on it, nitwit.” Sebastian retorted, “Finding another the likes of you is near impossible!”

Snapping a sharp salute, Bard’s body turned rigid in attention; he clicked both heels together and faced Sebastian. “Aye, Captain!” He replied. Before him stood the one man who had plucked his nearly dead body from the churning mouth of Hell, had commandeered a crew for Bard to protect and offered him a generous portion of every treasure they had ever plundered. Regardless of who, or what, Bard desired, his faithfulness towards his Captain never wavered. For when the world had abandoned him, Captain Michaelis delivered his mercies. Pride in his own abilities to gain Captain Michaelis’ attention and favor seized his heart and his chest puffed out just a bit.

Pleased with the response, Sebastian again patted Bard’s shoulder as he walked past him. “Proceed.” He ordered simply before heading upstairs.

His own needs were impatiently stirring within him, the treasure of his heart awaited his return to the Captains Quarters. The affairs of the ship and its people had been attended to for the day and now only a long night was promised to them.

“Ciel” he breathed softly as he walked out from the lower levels into the cool evening air. The waters were nearly motionless, a slight breeze tickled the sails and the night crewman whispered lowly to one another. Peaceful and calm. How lovely, he thought and smiled wryly at what he knew would be short lived once they arrived at The Island of Tom Piper.

Chasing the thoughts from his head, Lest he ruin the growing want between his legs, Sebastian hurried to his quarters, eager to play with Ciel before the surly man fell to sleep. To awaken him for frivolous activities would surely turn disastrous.

Heavy leather boots clomped noisily against the wood planked flooring of the deck, their rapid pace matching the excited beating of Sebastian’s heart. His hands ached for the velvet skin of his newly acquired companion, his arms felt vacant without that graceful body held within them. Hours upon hours had seen them passing one another throughout the businesses of the ship and Sebastian longed to reach out and gently rake his fingers through Ciel’s blue black hair. Several times he had caught a lone ocean eye staring straight away at him and it stirred him up to no end. Sebastian forced himself to keep quiet, remain focused and ignore the pull to gather up Ciel and ravage him

A lesson he had learned early in life was born from a saying amongst his people.

“El hambre es el mejor salsa”

“Hunger is the best sauce,” he recited the saying to himself feeling a sudden heat bloom in the midst of his chest. Indeed, he hungered for Ciel, unlike his other conquests who all served to wet his appetite but never satiate his endless needs, Ciel was a banquet entirely. A feast of delicacies sure to quell the loneliness, the detachment, the raw emptiness of his soul.

Reaching his quarters, Sebastian loosened his collar a bit, smoothed back his long bangs and tucked them behind one ear. His braid was a bit frayed, perhaps Ciel would brush it out and braid it once more? The thought brought another surge of heat throughout his body and he could feel the roots of his hair prickle with excitement.

The door creaked slightly as Sebastian entered the low lit room, noting that only a few sconces were lit along the walls. The amber glow cast shadows against the intricate woodwork as his eyes searched the room and found a steaming bath awaiting him. Tanaka must have visited the room not too long ago for a cup of tea and a kettle were situated upon his desk, along with a small jar of golden honey.

Sebastian grimaced and made a mental note to dispose of the honey as soon as possible.