Sink Or Swim II
Sink or Swim II
Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist
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CHAPTER 13 II >>> CHAPTER 14
The air gets warmer as Collette giggles next to you. Arm in arm, John leads the way with a pout from the teasing his sister is throwing at him. Literally, she throws hazelnut shells at him. It sticks in his curls, he shakes his head as shavings of browns fall off like snowflakes.
“I am about to say a rude word,” he says through annoyance.
“Say it!” Collette giggles again, ragging on her brother.
“You f—” John pauses, the three of you stop right in front of the manor. “What's all this?”
A dozen or so carriages are parked up front, filled to the brim with flowers and crates upon crates of ingredients. The smell of saffron and citrus hits your senses. The staff busy themselves with unloading the supplies, frantic feet skedaddling in and out of the manor.
“Are we having a party?” you ask, tilting your head at a peculiar yellow spiky fruit.
“Guess so.” John scratches his head, “why didn't they take the back entrance?”
“Maybe they're in a hurry?” Co utters next to you, already leading you inside as you stare curiously at the weird fruit.
“It’s a pineapple, dear cousin. Come on, you'll miss breakfast.”
“Whatever this party is for, mother and father are going all out.” John sighs out, following close, dodging a staff member holding a tray with hundreds of plates stacked on it.
You have an idea on what this party is for, or who it's for. But you wish that's not the case.
Entering the dining room, your uncle sits at the head of the table, hands cradling his heavy head, groaning loudly at the noises just outside the room. Your aunt seems unbothered, eating her plate of fruit silently.
They don't look up when their children greet them both. They only nod in their seats, not even bothering to look at them. You feel bad for the siblings but they don't seem to be concerned by it at all.
“Sit next to me please!” Collette chirpily says, patting the seat next to her.
The dining room is huge, fitting well with the rest of the manor. Narra floors and numerous paintings adorn the old walls. The table is the longest one you've ever seen, strong mahogany standing the test of time.
As you sit down on the plush seat, your aunt spares you a pointed look. More than what she gave her own children.
“Where's Miguel?” You bravely ask above the silence. “And Lyla?”
Frederick rubs harshly at his face before staring you down with his hungover eyes. “Miguel went out on a walk. And who's the other one?”
“Nevermind.” You take a breath.
A man dressed impeccably in a fancy suit, stands next to you. He clears his throat, looking at you through his nose.
“How do you like your eggs…” he thinks for a moment. “...my lady?”
“Oh,” you're suddenly nervous as the whole table waits for your answer with bated breath. “What are my options?”
“Everything.” He flatly says, hands tucked behind his back.
John looks at you across the table, mouthing something. You don't understand what he's trying to say to you, it looks like he's trying to say ‘collette’ or ‘goblet’ by the looks of it.
You shake your head and say, “I'll have an omelette.”
“Very good, my lady.” He says as he walks out with measured steps.
John subtly gives you a thumbs up, and you have no idea why.
Frederick chokes on nothing. You think he's about to get sick but he chugs water before he can. He blinks rapidly like he's trying to wake himself up.
“Oh,” he says, only now noticing his own children in the room. “Where did you two go off to?”
“The birds, with Y/N.” John monotonously says while he stabs his egg.
“That time of the year huh? I haven't noticed.” Frederick’s words falter.
Collette clears her throat. “Y/N told us about her time at sea! She's very brave.”
“She got shot.” John continues for her with a proud smile.
In truth, you told them just the tip of the iceberg. Not even half of it, you spared all the important details of it, names of people and places, the cruelest parts of it and the crew you've come to see as family and him. You excluded him in the story because you promised to him a long time ago that you'll keep his and the crew's secrets. You intend to honour it until you're in the grave.
“Oh I've heard,” your aunt says in a stiff tone.
“You know I've once encountered pirates.” Frederick says whilst he picks at his fruit. “While I was sailing the hazelside ship, they were a rowdy lot. Rowdier than I am!” He exclaims, “in the end, father didn't pay for my ransom so they just brought me back to the docks after three weeks.” Chuckling, his face falls at the memory. “Well anyway, we have a ship gathering dust in the capital’s docks. She's a beut! You might appreciate her more, dear niece.”
You inhale sharply, tucking the information in the back of your mind. “What is she called?”
“The Osprey.”
“We've only been aboard once, and we didn't even sail!” Collette recalls. “Maybe you can sail it with us!”
John grins excitedly, “yes! That would be amazing!”
“No.” Their mother says before you could say anything. “It’s too dangerous. The waters are plagued by pirates and god knows what.” Her daughter’s face falls. “No.” she says for emphasis.
Your omelette arrives, the butler gives you a nod and your eyes almost bulge out of its sockets at how appetizing it is. The egg is fluffy, cooked to perfection with cheese melting inside. Vegetables and meat are tucked aplenty, you can't help but dig in immediately.
As you gorge yourself, the conversation has ceased. The noble family are eating quietly, no words exchanged, not even an awkward one. Not when their mother dearest glares at her pomegranate.
You finish off your omelette, and a bowl of pomegranate seeds is laid in front of you, replacing the finished plate. Remembering the last time you ate it, and how the juice ran down your arm as he ate next to you, as his warmth spread through you.
Now you're the one frowning at the fruit.
So instead of eating it, you rekindle the conversation. “Are we having a party?”
With your question, Frederick perks up at the mere mention of it. As if he's not suffering from a hangover, he claps his hands together, a grin spreading across his lips.
“Yes! The party, oh I almost forgot!” He beams at you. “It's for you, remember? Back at the palace?”
“I didn't know you were serious.” You chuckle nervously. A party full of aristocrats is the last thing you want or need.
“Oh, I'm at my most serious when I'm drunk!” He guffaws loudly, “we're introducing you to society! It has to be huge—!” Your uncle pauses, his eyes look behind you, his smile faltering slightly, mouth clamping shut.
“What's this about a party?” Miguel stands behind you, freshly pressed dress shirt tucked neatly inside his pants, hair damp and eyes fully rested. He's the exact opposite of you who hasn't rested a wink. Nodding a greeting at you, he places his hand on the back of your chair. “Sleep well?” He asks like he can't see the tiredness under your eyes.
“Mm-hmm.” You nod.
“Liar.” He winks at you teasingly. Turning towards your uncle, his face turns flat. “Frederick, what party?”
“Just a little get together, O’Hara, nothing fancy don't worry.” he chuckles, hiding from Miguel's stare behind his cup of tea.
Miguel grumbles, chest rumbling at the thought of you surrounded by strangers. Leaning down, he asks you politely. “May I speak with you?”
Looking at him in the corner of your eyes, you speak with a tone that Miguel could only describe as annoyance and with the exact same tone as an angry teenager who didn't get what she wanted.
“Do I have a choice?”
“Always, Y/N.”
“Hmm, of course I do.” You mockingly say. Standing up, you leave the table and the uneaten pomegranate. There's eyes on your back, it's better than knives.
Miguel leads you outside and into an empty sitting room. The entire room is purple, lilacs spread around the room from the settee to the curtains.
“What is it?” You swivel on your feet to turn to him with your arms crossed on your chest.
“A party?” He asks, exasperated.
“Hey, I'm not the one who planned this, Miguel.”
“I know you didn't.” Sighing, he plops himself down on the fluffy settee. “It's just bad timing. I can't be there tonight and the next day.”
You stare at him with wide eyes. “What? You can't leave me here. I just got here, and you promised.”
He's leaving you in the vultures’ den. Granted, your cousins are nicer than you thought they'd be, but you can't say for sure for your aunt and uncle; moreso for all the strangers that will visit tonight. Wrong timing is an understatement.
“I haven't been home in years, Y/N.” Miguel avoids your eyes, he doesn't see the fear in them. “I promised my staff that I'll be home for a couple of days to settle my estate and affairs. I haven't seen to any family matters in a long time. I haven't visited my daughter.”
You sit across from him on the coffee table. Elbows on your knees, ducking down to look at his downturned face.
“You'll be back?” You clearly distrust the man to a point, but he's the only person you know well enough in the entire estate. You don't want him to leave because what if he doesn't come back? What if the nobility eats you alive tonight?
He lifts his face to give you a soft smile, understanding your fear underneath your words. “I'll be back, I promise. I'll only be thirty minutes away, so if you really need to see me you can always get on horseback and come visit me within fifteen.” That eases you a bit. “Besides, I'm leaving Lyla with you, just in case. Mudwood manor is always open to you, Y/N.”
“Alright…just— what do I do? Tonight I mean?”
“Just smile and tell your stories. Feed them bullshit if you want to, just don't let their pompous asses get to you, hm?” He pats your bicep. “Can you survive a couple of days without me?”
“Yes, I think so.” You shrug shakily. “I’ll just tell them the story of how I almost got eaten by a sea monster. I'm sure that's interesting enough.”
Miguel laughs from the belly, the sound bouncing off the purple walls. “That's the kind of bullshit they'd eat up.”
“...sure, bullshit.” You clam up. “Just come back?”
“I'll be back, I promise. I'm not leaving you here alone. Your mother will haunt me to death if I do.” Smiling at you, he pats your head before standing back up. He walks towards the door, he turns back, grinning ear to ear. “I left a present for you in your room. I heard you didn't like the color last time. See you in a couple of days, Y/N.”
With a wave goodbye, he leaves the room. You groan audibly, putting your head in your hands, rubbing the heels of your palms on your eyes until little specks of dust appear in your vision.
You need sleep, maybe it's best that you do before you attend the shit show tonight.
—
Even with your protest, the handmaidens assigned to you scour you clean in the opulent tub. They scrub and scrub until you feel like your skin is about to fall off the bone.
Now clean and free of any grime, you smell like any rich noble could be— strong flowery scent from the numerous spritz of perfume and heavy citrus from the soap they used.
The stockings itches, the corset pinches, making you want to run and get naked in the woods instead. But after seeing the beautiful ruby red gown Miguel gifted you, you feel all the ache from the intense scrubbing fade away. Just a tiny bit anyway.
As you stand in front of the large mirror, you finally see your whole self. All lace and silver ribbons. All elegance and none of the person you once were. You suddenly feel like you're staring at a different person. Drowning in red, and jewels that would have fed you during the times you starved on the road.
“I look like a very large apple.” You say out loud. Your handmaidens stifle a giggle. The dress is so wide that you have to place your hands above it. If you sat down, the dress could probably eat you up.
The women bow at you, stopping them halfway with a frantic wave of your hands, they still do it. You don't blame them for it.
As they leave you alone in your room that makes you feel small, you admire the silver bangle in your arm. The accessory is in the shape of a bird, wings stretched around your wrist, face facing you, beak poking your skin slightly.
You suddenly have an idea when you feel for the pearl that you hid inside your corset. Fishing for it like you hid money down your bust, you take out the dark pearl. It still shines in the low light of the oil lamps. Taking a red thread your handmaids used to fix the fit of the sleeves better, and a pair of scissors, you craft a necklace made from the thread and the pearl.
Tying the thread around the dark pearl using the same knot that James and Hobie taught you, you finish it off by doing it twice around the pearl to secure it properly. Tugging and testing the strength of the three threads woven together, you gingerly tie it around your neck.
It sits prettily atop your clavicle next to your mother's golden necklace. You think it fits well together.
With a soft smile and a sob rising above your chest and a deep inhale, you close your eyes while patting the necklaces in one hand, and in the other, you feel for the dagger hidden inside your stockings.
You could cry but there's a sudden knock at your door. Lyla comes inside the room with a curious look. She whistles, ogling your form.
“I knew you look better in red, because christ, I think I'm falling for you, your grace.”
“Stop,” you look at her through the mirror. She wears a dark blue dress, lace adorning her front and sleeves. Silver stars placed around her neck and ears. “I could say the same for you, Lyla.” You tease back.
“Oho!” She saunters over to you, heels clacking on the polished floors. Placing her cool hands atop your bare shoulders, she coos, “our duchess knows how to flirt back. Guess you do learn everything from the streets.”
You roll your eyes, “I didn't learn that in the streets, Lyla.” Scoffing, you shove her hands off. “You just remind me of someone.”
“Aww,” she pouts. “And here I thought we had something.” Giving you her arm, she smiles genuinely at you. “Ready to wow them, Y/N?”
“God no.” You still take her arm.
—
There's a lot of people, a sea of finely dressed nobles clamoring to talk to you. Amidst the crowd gathering around you, there's a few of them who sneer and turn their heads away from you. They hold their drinks like it's about to shatter in their hands, grips strong and clearly annoyed at the newcomer, who in their minds is trespassing in their small circle of nobility.
You turn down numerous drinks since you want to be ready in case something happens. Or someone doing something they might regret once they see the steel of your dagger.
Miguel was right, entertaining them with stories gets their attention away from questioning you with unsavoury queries. After the sixth crowd hearing the ‘fake’ story of the sea monster, they've dwindled out, finding something else to entertain themselves with.
Lyla filters through the people who want to dance with you. She turns down every person she deems unworthy of your hand. Which is most of the people in the entire ballroom.
Underneath all the stuffiness of the event, the gorgeous ballroom is a pleasant surprise. The ancient walls are decorated with lit candles that dance with the music. There's flowers in every table and corner, it helps mask the scent of cigars filtering through the air. The music crescendos as the dancers in the middle finish off with a twirl and a hop. Their dresses whoosh and flap as they bounce, tulles swishing and heels clacking.
You sip at your glass of water, letting the ice inside cool you down. With the amount of people inside the ballroom, it's getting hard to breathe. You're glad that you planted yourself near the balcony where the breeze outside helps you from passing out from the warm air.
Shaking your now empty glass, the ice clinking inside, you huff. Lyla notices the sound and she promptly takes it from your hand before the condensation drips on your expensive dress.
“Be right back, don't move.” She says, wagging her finger at you.
“Wasn't planning on it.” you say above the loud chatter of the crowd and the music from the orchestra, but not loud enough for the people to notice you unattended.
But someone does notice, he comes walking towards you with wide strides and with a wide smile. He bares a striking resemblance to the king, ash blond hair perfectly coiffed, suit perfectly fitted to his broad form.
You don't notice him at first because you have been watching Colette dance circles around the crowd. Her lilac dress dances with her, the flowers in her hair adds to her beauty. John secretly keeps a watch on her too, he stands near the dessert table, mouth full of macaroons, hand occupied with a flute of champagne.
The stranger escapes your attention. With a tap on your elbow, you almost unsheathe your dagger at the man.
“I'm sorry,” he smiles politely. “Didn't mean to scare you, my lady.”
“Who are you?” You feel for the dagger with your hand above your dress.
“Viscount Eugene Thompson, my lady.” He takes your hand, pressing a kiss above your knuckles. Staring up at you through his lashes, lips still near your hand, he smiles, a smile that could make anyone fall to their knees. But you've seen better. “It's a pleasure to finally meet you.”
“Thank you?” You nervously glance towards Lyla who's currently eating an entire plate of cream puffs. “How may I help you, viscount?”
“A dance, perhaps?” Leaning away, Eugene waits for your answer. “You haven't been dancing and I've seen you watch the dancefloor with longing. I'm here to remedy that. If you'd do me the honour.”
“Uh… I have a bad leg that is currently not for dancing.”
“I'll help you,” Eugene squeezes your hand softly. “You can stand on my shoes and I'll dance for you. It's bad enough that you can't dance in your own party.”
No one comes to your rescue, meanwhile Lyla is scarfing down all the pastries on the dessert table.
With a deep inhale, you smile politely. “Sure, why not.”
Eugene beams at you like he won first place at a pony show. Guiding you towards the dance floor, you once again feel eyes on you.
“Take my hand, put your feet up on mine, and I'll do the rest.” He whispers softly to you.
With a nod of encouragement from (surprisingly) your aunt, you take his hand and the other placed behind his neck. Carefully and blindly feeling for his shoes, you stand on top of the leather that squishes under your weight. Chest to chest, he looks down at you with his sparkling eyes. Did you have a choice in this? Or did he back you into a corner? You guess you'd never know as he glides around the dancefloor whilst you let him carry you around effortlessly.
There are worse partners to be had in this situation.
“So, duchess—”
“My life at sea was tumultuous but rewarding and I learned a lot of lessons from it.” You recite the script you prepared for yourself.
“Not what I meant, my lady.” Eugene chuckles, “I was going to ask how you're faring in all of this. It must be…a lot.”
“Oh,” you suddenly feel embarrassed in front of the charismatic stranger. “It’s a lot, but I'll get used to it, viscount, don't worry about me.”
“Please call me Eugene or even Thompson, just don't call me viscount. It makes me sound old.” He laughs, it's light and honest. The sound fills you with ease.
You smile, “just don't call me duchess or my lady and I'll do just that.”
“As you wish, my la— Y/N,” he tests your name on his tongue. “I can't help but worry, you know. I just inherited my title so I know how it feels. Granted it's not exactly the same but I'm here if you need someone.”
“That’s— thank you, Eugene.” You smile genuinely, he squeezes your hands once, the act flinging memories back into your mind.
“Are you alright?” He asks, concerned. “You look like you're about to cry, is it your leg?” Stopping right in the middle of the room, he flits his eyes all over your face and twitching eye.
“No— I…”
“May I have this dance?” A familiar voice asks, and you feel like you're dreaming, suddenly floating through the clouds as your ears perk up from his voice.
Slowly, you crane your neck to look at him. You swear your heart stopped beating but the mere sight of him brought it back to life.
Hobie gives you the smile he reserves just for you, soft and endearing, all love and affection under the grey eyes you've come to love.
“I think she's done for the night—” Eugene tries to finish but you cut him off once you see Hobie's outstretched hand.
“Yes,” you say quickly. “Yes, you may.” Stepping off Eugene's shoes, you take Hobie's hand without sparing the other man a glance.
In your peripheral vision, you see Eugene smile through his annoyance. But your entire attention goes to the man whose hand you're currently holding, whose hand fits perfectly in your grasp.
“What are you doing here?” You say tearfully, voice breaking. The music hides your cracking voice and the crowd hides your unshed tears.
His calloused hands holding you aren't but a memory anymore.
“‘m sorry, I know you told me not to follow but—”
Laughing, you finally feel whole again. “Captain,” you say it with your whole heart. “Is it bad that I'm glad you did?”
“No,” Hobie lifts you up by your waist to place you atop his own shoes. His hand never left your waist as he dances with you. Letting your warmth fill his entire being, he resists the urge to take you away from the prying crowd. “It's not bad. Did you miss me, scuttlebutt?”
“Aye, I did.” You mumble, but you say the words truthfully. “Why are you here, Hobie?” Uttering his name audibly fills you with glee. “Not like I don't want you to be but—” you finally now notice his fine garb.
With a once over, you ogle him. The suit looks like it's tailored for him, cinching his waist perfectly. Even his shiny leather shoes fit him right. The red waistcoat matches your dress. The dress jacket covers his arms, you silently wish it didn't. A rose is pinned on his lapel, he smells of burgundy and sea salt. Home, you thought. You do miss the leather though. A well placed tophat on his head helps conceal his recognizable hair. You wish to see it again.
You haven't seen him dress like this the entire time you've known him. And based on his stories, he has never worn anything like it either.
He looks good, incredibly good in it, but you know him. And you know that he doesn't feel good in it.
Hobie admires you whilst you do the same. He feels like the fishbone stuck in his throat has finally gone away now that he can finally see you close, touch you and talk to you like he used to. Underneath all the silver and frills, he still sees the real you. But he's prepared to love both.
“You're ogling.” You beat him to it. “Where'd you get the clothes? The hat doesn't do you any favours.”
“A lord something something found himself unconscious after accidentally chugging down absinthe that he thought was gin. In his defense it was dark. He was lucky that I was there to catch him, eh?”
“What?” You giggle, hand kneading at the back of his neck. He missed that.
“It wasn't me though.”
“Sure.” You dress glides as he twists the both of you. Gasping, you hold on to him tighter. “Where'd you learn how to dance?”
“We all have our secrets, love.” Love, oh how you missed that.
“It was Finn, right?”
He sighs, smile still on his lips. “...yes.”
You laugh, placing your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat wash over you. “I can't imagine.”
“I think it's better that you don’t.” He whispers. “Wanna get out of here?”
Lifting your head up lightning fast, you grin widely. “Please.”
“I'm walking out of here in five minutes, join me after three. And tell your bodyguard that you're just going to bed, yeah?”
“Are you finally going to kill me?” You joke, wishing that you could meld closer to him.
“Yes, I've got a pocket of pomegranate seeds at the ready.”
“Alright, wait for me?”
Hobie stops right where you two began. He helps you off with his hands on your waist. His touch lingers there for a second, a second more and it would've caused a scandal.
“Always, love. As long as you're comin'” He leans down, hand holding your own. Kissing your knuckles like a gentleman, his eyes never left yours, eyes crinkling the corners into a subtle smile. “I'll see you outside.”
“Yes.” You say breathlessly.
Hobie leaves, resisting the urge to look back at you.
As you watch his retreating back, your aunt suddenly appears by your side, making your skin jump.
“What—?”
“Who was that?” She commands.
“Lord…” You see a bee buzzing over an apple near the tables. “Applebees. Yes, lord applebees.”
“Huh,” She narrows her eyes, but accepts it as truth anyway. “Never heard of him. Do you know him?”
“Nope.” You act innocently. “Just met him.”
“Hmm, carry on.” Victoria finally leaves you alone.
Weaving through the crowd, avoiding Eugene and other people, you make your way towards Lyla with an excuse that you don't feel so well.
“I can escort you—”
“No need, I've basically memorized the manor now.” A big fat lie on your end. “Enjoy the rest of the party though.” You leave quickly, leaving her to her cream puffs.
—
The night air kisses your cheeks the moment you step outside. Scanning the field and behind the fountain, you see Hobie slink away towards the hedge maze, the top hat discarded just at the entrance. The greenery adds to your excitement.
“Little shit.” You say to yourself as you make your way towards the maze.
Hands lifting up your skirt, the fabric is silky soft and heavy. Yet you practically sprint towards the entrance with a smile despite the cold and spiky grass grazing along your feet. The full moon shines brightly, bronze braziers are placed along the maze, helping you find your way. The smell of dew and grass greets you.
Entering the thicket, you whisper yell for him. “Hobie!”
You jump when he answers somewhere inside the dim maze. “Place your right hand on the right wall, follow it and you'll find me, trouble.” You can hear his smirk through his words.
“You are such an ass!” You say with a giggle, following his instructions. The hedge is rough and pointy under your palm, your other hand is lifting up your dress so you could run faster.
Your leg aches but you don't care enough to notice.
“Hurry so you can beat the shit out of me then!” You now hear him a lot closer now. “Getting warmer, love!”
Huffing, puffs of smoke escape your cool lips. “Oh I'll fucking smack you upside the head.” You hear him laugh loudly at your words. Following the sound of home, you finally make it to the center.
Hobie yanks you immediately, pulling you close to his chest, laughs rumbling his chest as you screech. With a well placed hand on your mouth, you lick at his palm, earning a yelp from the man. Yet he doesn't let you go, instead he hugs you tighter against his chest.
After the laughter subsides and the sound of crickets permeates the air once again, you look up at him, back placed on his steady chest, arms around your torso. You stare at an upside down Hobie. He smiles, breath fanning across your heated face.
“Hello.” Your heart beats louder than a drum with the simple greeting.
“Hi, come here often?” You beam up at him, feeling his muscles relax at the sight of your smile.
“I come here every autumn, how about you?” Hobie pinches your sides, but you barely felt it through the thick corset
“Oh well I kinda live here now.”
“Really? Do I get a discount now?”
“Better, you get to stay here for free.” You stand on your tippy toes to lean further up until the top of your head is perfectly leveled to his lips. Just as planned, he places a feather light kiss that makes you shiver.
Eyes closed, his lips linger atop your skin.
“Are you alright?” Hobie asks, voice muffled by your skin.
“I am now.” You open your eyes to heaven.
He grins, “good,” taking a long breath, he feels like it's the first time he has breathed into you. “That's good.”
“Are you?” Your eyes flashes with worry.
Hobie pushes the thought of the crew leaving him in the void of his mind. “I'm fine, don't worry about me, scuttlebutt.” he turns you in his arms, concerned for the crick in your neck.
Hands splayed over his chest, you feel his heart beating faster. “The crew? Are they alright? No one got caught?”
He nods, cradling your face, noting every difference on your face since he saw you last. Eyes staying on your lips, he resists the temptation.
“Not our first escape. They're nearby and they're alright.”
You exhale, hands sliding up and down, blindly feeling for his skin under all the expensive cloth. It's still him underneath it all, and you're glad.
The dam breaks, thumping your head on his chest, you let out a sob. “I miss them. I miss you.”
“And I, you, love. You have no idea.” As he holds you in his arms, you tell him everything. From how Jessica found you, to how there's a conspiracy against your family.
“Mathias did the deed, Hobie.” He visibly stiffens at the sound of the navy captain's name. “He killed them under the behest of someone more powerful.”
“I know,” you lean away with a raised brow. “I was following you. I'm sorry, I had to know that he wasn't leading you towards your death.” Hobie expects you to yell and get mad at him. Instead you slap his chest weakly with a chuckle.
“Stalker.” You lay his wrinkled dress shirt down gently. “You could've let me know, I can keep a secret.”
“I tried, but I couldn't find an opportunity. You're popular now innit?” He stops your hand, placing his own atop it.
“Just a little bit.”
“I got close once but when I entered your room, you weren't there anymore.”
“I think that's when my cousins called for me—wait, how'd you get in?” Hobie finds your scrunched up face endearing.
“Employee tunnels, there's hundreds of them that connect to each room.” Before you could ask how he knew about them, he beat you to it. “Bribed a handmaiden with one of my necklaces.”
You stare at him with wonderment. “Let me pay you back then.” Untying the necklace you recently made, you place it in his open palm. You intend for him to keep it, in case your reunion is short lived.
Hobie takes it without question. He admires the dark pearl in his hand, the memory of your face after finding it is engraved in his mind.
“Help me tie it?”
You nod with a shy smile, pulse rapidly increasing. “Turn around, cap'n.” He obliges, mirroring your smile. With gentle and tender hands, you tie the red thread around his neck. He turns back around to face you, the pearl shines atop his skin brilliantly.
“Beautiful,” you whisper just to him, his own flustered face is reflected in your shining eyes.
A comfortable silence hangs above the both of you as his hands are placed on your waist, laying there politely. You do the same with your hands around his elbows. The two of you look like you're about to dance with the sound of the crickets as your choice of music.
You expect him to ask you to come with him. To run away and leave the manor, your family's legacy behind. But Hobie doesn't, cannot do that to you, now that you both have the same goal— kill Mathias.
“I’ll help you find whoever killed them, then…” you blink in surprise, heart pounding at his next words. “Come back with me to the mermaid's head? We can find a decent crew there. Then we can avenge them, every single one. After that we can sail wherever you want, see the real world.” His words are genuine, no lie or false hope in his tone. He believes that you and him can do it, do anything as long as you're with him. Gwen and the others are right, he needs to think things through more, and this is his chance to do so.
“You'll stay with me until then?” He nods, eyes serious but full of affection. Breath stuck in your throat, “With what ship?” You ask with a growing smile. Happy that someone finally wants to know the truth with you. Stay with you after so many people have left you.
“We'll find a way, we always do, right?” Hobie squeezes your waist softly. “Or after everything, if you want to stay somewhere, settle somewhere, we can.”
Oh.
“You've convinced me, you had me at ‘wherever I want’” You say, still in disbelief that he wants to stay with you.
You both feel it, the static in the air like lightning is about to strike where you and Hobie stood. He smiles sweetly and you give in.
Leaning in, hands wrapped around the back of his neck, you're prepared to seal the deal with a kiss. Hobie meets you halfway, his lips briefly brushes along yours and it's enough to send electricity through you from his skin alone.
His breath hitches in his throat, chest tightening, affection flowing freely from his fingertips. But before he could properly kiss you, a loud voice calls for you just outside the maze.
You both moved away quickly, flustered faces hiding the giddy smiles you and him both sport. His skin burns while his heart aches. Meanwhile, you can't stop thinking about his lips grazing yours. It'll keep you awake throughout the night.
Lyla yells like someone took her coin. Hobie quickly grabs you by the elbow, pulling you close and then whispering in your ear. His lips brush along the shell of your ear and you shiver from the touch.
“I'm staying at the barn.” Hobie kneads softly at the small of your back, eyes keeping watch at the entrance of the maze. “If you need to see me, there's a tapestry of a unicorn in your room. Flip it away and you'll see the doorway into the tunnels. There will be a fork in the path, take a right and it'll take you outside.” With every word he utters, you melt.
He subtly invites you, and you silently accept with a slow nod.
Backing away when he hears rustling outside, his warm hand remains a second on your heated skin. With a lopsided smile, he turns away.
Fading inside the maze, he disappears into view just as Lyla gets to the center.
“Christ!” She flicks a branch off her hair. “What are you doing here? You said you'd be in bed!”
“I went out for a walk.” Your tone is wobbly. “It's a lovely night for it.”
“Sure sure, you can walk anywhere you want. But come on, not in the ‘murder maze’ Y/N! Miguel's gonna cut my pay if I let you die on my watch!”
“And here I thought you really cared for me, Lyla.” You pout, you're in a good mood. But it could've been better if Lyla didn't show up at the wrong time.
“Pssh, come on, let's get you to bed. It's fucking freezing out here.” She beckons you over, grumbling about being a babysitter.
—
You lay on the soft bed, eyes wide open, arms spread across the large mattress. The blue canopy above you reminds you of the waves on your island. The windows are closed, while the fireplace illuminates the room. Shadows dance in your vision, and you wonder if he's cold.
With a shake of your head, you sit up, gathering enough confidence to visit him. After a minute of slapping your face awake and telling yourself to not be a coward, you finally stand up.
You're in your linen slip, frilly collar and sleeves, white roses adorning the almost see through fabric. It doesn't help much with the cold so you take your robe and hastily put it on. Gathering the thick blanket in your arms, you don't even bother folding it properly as you haul it out of bed to drag the heavy material across the room and into the tunnel entrance.
Stopping by the unicorn tapestry, you flip it open with your foot. A breeze passes by, peeking into the dark tunnel, you bravely walk inside.
You do the same thing like you did in the maze, right hand sliding across the right wall, following it to the exit. Your eyes adjust to the dark, soon after that you can see outlines of the chipped walls. You reach the fork in the path, and just as Hobie instructed, you head towards the right tunnel.
After walking the cool tunnel, you finally make it to a wooden door. It has seen better days, looking like it's about to collapse any second. With a creak, you push it open with your shoulder.
Finally making it outside, you beeline towards the barn. You remember passing it on your way towards the lake, so you strain your ears to hear the sounds of animals, using it as your guide whilst the moon shines a path for you.
The large doors loom above you, it's dark inside based from the crack on the door, a cow moos inside while a horse neighs. With your heart in your throat, you push open the door.
But Hobie flings it open before you could even touch the wood. His eyes are wide, mouth agape, hand trembling on the door. His surprise quickly turns into happiness.
“Can't sleep?” He asks like his legs aren't shaking, threatening to buckle under his nervous self.
“No, I thought you'd be cold.” A lie, in truth, you haven't slept well since you parted ways. “Don't just stand there like a tree branch, help with this.” You practically throw the heavy blanket in his arms. He catches it with an ‘oof’ but his smile stays on his lips. You remember how soft it was.
Hobie pats down the top of the cloth to get a good look at you, he wishes he hadn't for he thinks he died and gone to purgatory.
Your linen slip doesn't hide much as the moonlight perfectly aligns on your back, shining behind you, showing him every curve and dip of your body. The robe doesn't help as it's made from the same cloth, it just adds to his racing heart and rushing blood.
He swears the hay underneath his feet has burst into flames.
“Why are you sweating? It's freezing!” To add to your clueless cruelty, you step closer to him to wipe at the sweat streaming down his temple. “Yuck, Hobie!” You joke with a giggle.
“Are you trying to kill me?” He breathlessly asks, clutching the blanket tighter in his arms.
Your eyebrows knit adorably. “No? I left the dagger under my pillow.”
He clears his throat and his mind, “A-alright. D’you want to come inside?”
“O-oh.” It's your turn to be flustered. He looks beautiful in the low light, it illuminates his best features, which is every part of him in your opinion. “Are your friends alright with you receiving guests?” You tease to hide your current state.
Hobie looks over his shoulder with a laugh. The animals look back at him with blank faces.
“I think they're alright with it, as long as you pick up after yourself.”
“I can do that. I've heard I'm a wonderful guest.” You saunter towards the pen, Hobie’s eyes avoid your backside. “Hi, gorgeous.”
“Gorgeous? That one's new.”
“I'm talking about the horse, Hobie.” He finally looks at you petting the dark horse as the animal snorts in your hand. You giggle, cooing at the docile horse.
“I'm fucking done for.” He whispers lowly, a deep rumble under his chest. Closing the barn door, he tightly closes his eyes with a giddy grin.
“What was that?” You twist around to face him, the horse nudges you, asking for your attention.
“Nothin’” he saves face. “That there is Bernard,” he says while he places the blanket on top of a hay bail. “He's here at the barn instead of the stables because he won't let anyone ride him without bucking them off.”
“How'd you even know that?” You chuckle.
“The stable hand and I are best friends now. He's lettin’ me stay here as long as I stay quiet.”
“Best friends huh? Miles wouldn't like that.” You poke his bicep.
“He'd be devastated.” He jokes back, taking your finger right before you retract it back. Uncurling your fingers, he laces your hand together with his own. Your pulse quickens under his touch.
“Mm-hmm,” you could only say while he looks at you like you found a treasure chest just for him. It's the best you can do really.
“That one is Butter,” He gestures towards the cow staring intently at you like you're made of grass. “Don't try to pet her, she bites.”
“Noted.”
“The goat in the corner eating a shoe is Jack, he likes to ram people.”
“I already like him,” you say through a yawn.
“You can sleep here if you want.”
“As long as I don't share the bed with Butter.”
“Worse, you'll share it with me.”
“Oh that is definitely worse.” You giggle, squeezing his hand. “You drool in your sleep.”
“C’mon, up at the hayloft.” He guides you towards the ladder, grabbing the blanket on the way. “Careful, the second step is loose.”
“I can handle it, expert climber, remember?” Climbing up, you miss the way he averts his eyes.
Finally making it up, you roam your eyes at the small space covered in hay bales. There's a single circular window in the middle of the wall, the light filters through it, shining directly down at the laid out blanket on the floor.
“Nice, you're living in luxury, Hobie.”
He flings the blanket at your feet whilst he still climbs the remaining steps. “Cover yourself up, you'll catch a cold.”
“I’m fine,” your skin is on fire from where he touched you.
Hobie hums, avoiding flitting his eyes over to you where the moon shines a spotlight on you. He feels like he's not gonna survive the night, and you think so too.
Sitting down with a groan, he lays his head on the makeshift pillow filled with hay. It doesn't smell as much as you thought it would be, you wonder if these were fresh hay.
“How'd you get to stay here?” You ask, while you sit next to him. He scooches away to make space for you.
“The bloke knew who I was—”
“What?! What if he—”
“We're good, love. He won't tell anyone, he said I've helped his family once, I barely remember it but he was happy to keep everything quiet. Lie down?”
“Are you sure?” His hand guides you down on the blanket, hand on your shoulder, gently pulling you down. And you let him without apprehension on your end.
“‘m sure, you're not the only popular one. Don't worry about it, yeah?” Hobie grabs the blanket from your arms to lay it on top of you both. “This is nice, just like in the island eh?” He pats your arm.
“Only this time there's no sand in our knickers, just hay.” You lay on your side to face him, he does the same. “Hi.”
“Hello,” he smiles, hand splayed over your bicep. “This is a five star accommodation compared to the island.”
You bravely close the small distance, he's so close to you that you could hear his heartbeat.
With trepidation, you can't hold it in any longer, lest you regret never telling him.
“I love you, Hobie.” Staring at his swirling eyes, you feel yourself shudder. “And I know you only love the part of me that reminds you of her. And I'm alright with that.”
He swallows thickly, hands clammy.
“Don't worry, I've come to terms with it.” You choke back, smiling, accepting.
“I love you anyway.” He whispered in wonderment.
You can't believe his words. Eyes glossy, you shake your head. “Don't pity me—”
“I don't pity you, I love you. I-I may have liked you at first because of the similarities. But that phase has passed, the feeling is still there, it's stronger now.” He says truthfully, hands grasping your own, kissing your knuckles softly as tears flow out of your eyes. “Because I know you, Y/N, your hands are gentle when you sew me close. You give the same softness when you do it to my crew. Your eye twitches when you're annoyed. Your ankle never fully recovered after you twisted it, you talk to me like you fuckin' hate me but you smile at me like you loved me from the start.”
He holds you close, grey eyes calm, tears pooling in the corners. “I love the parts of you too. Similarities or not, I would have fallen for you either way.” With a nervous chuckle, he continues.
“I love you as you, not as MJ.”
With his confession, you sit up and then immediately pressed your lips against his own. He gasps, pleasantly surprised. You brace yourself on his shoulders, whilst he holds you in place by your waist. Lips moving in tandem, teeth clacking, breaths heaving above the sounds of the animals below—everything seems to fix itself.
Hobie holds you like how you hold rain in your hands— gentle and cradling the water like you would seep through his fingers.
You feel him smile through the kiss, it makes you snog him deeper. His fingers grasps at your slip, balling it in his fist, a proof that this is real and not a dream his lovesick mind concocted. Sliding his hand above your nape, he pulls you in closer, deeper and deeper the kiss goes, the less air he has in his lungs.
Reluctantly pulling you off with his hand lifting your chin away, you chase his lips before surrendering. “Fuckin' hell, let me breathe.” He chuckles out.
“Sorry.” You stare at his kiss bitten lips, and the sheer your lips left. “I got carried away.”
“Nah, don't be. I've wanted to do that for a while, you just beat me to it.”
Eyes downturned, nose kissing the tip of his own, you exhale like it's the first time you've breathed. “I'm not trying to replace her, I don't want that. I know she will always stay with you. So, let me ask you this— Are you sure? There'll be consequences.”
“I can handle the consequences. I'll fight the consequences.”
You smile. “We'll fight the consequences. Together.”
Hobie chuckles deeply, chest bobbing up and down, lifting you up and down on top of him. Your heart beats sync, grey eyes staring up at you with reverence, a whirlpool of affection swirling inside.
“I think I've got enough air now, do it again?” He asks like he's asking for a second heaping of lunch.
You nod with a grin, and you dig in.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging if you liked it! ❤️
More Posts from Mikamuska and Others
Go by the Board
Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Word count: 5.7k
Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, TW violence, CW injury, TW blood, TW death, CW needles.
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Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist
CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5
The bandages around your wrists itch, you try not to scratch the annoying feeling away knowing infection on a ship could be deadly for you. Frozen in a fetal position, your legs tucked under the dust covered blankets, you focus on the locked door, the silver pendant hanging on the doorknob sways as the boat rocks in the wild waves.
You've only slept for a few hours following what you've witnessed, the sailor's screams still echo in your mind, clawing and gnawing at your skull. You try not to think about it, pushing the image of him writhing on the blood soaked floorboards.
Maybe it's better if you don't think about it, ever. Scrubbing it from your mind, you exhale a shaky breath, fingers twitching to scratch that annoying itch.
Why is it so fucking itchy? Your nose itches. Why does everything in this damned room smell old? The small cabin seems to swallow you whole as you lay on the unusually soft mattress. You twist and turn, kicking the blankets away in frustration. Your head pounds from the oncoming headache.
Gritting your teeth, you hear gasps and pained yells from outside. There's something dragging under the sound of curses. You sit up, your eyes feel heavy, it seems like your brain is trying to escape from you. You don't blame it.
You do your best at trying to look normal, well normal for someone who hasn't slept for more than four hours for two days straight. Straightening your back, the noises stop right at your door.
There's shuffling then the clinking of keys, the door bursts open, a man stumbles inside, landing harshly on his face. You recognize the navy lieutenant, his hands and feet bound. His once pristine uniform slashed and dirtied with drying blood. His shiny medals are nowhere to be found.
You lift your feet up on the bed, shielding yourself, wide eyes staring at the captain who looks worse than you. Hobie's still wearing the exact same clothes he wore during the battle, cotton shirt marred by crimson and tattered at the seams, his eyes are bloodshot, the storm still raging inside. There's a large slash by his collar bone that's only been remedied by a hastily put bandage.
Gwen follows right behind him, equally tired and bloodied. Her face is flat, emotion unreadable. She holds a blunderbuss to the captive’s head.
“Now, do you know her?” Hobie speaks up above the silence. Your heart skips a beat after mentioning you. “Don't keep us waiting, George. We haven't got all day.”
The navy man props himself up slowly and painfully, his joints creak, wounds opening. He looks at you through one eye, blood and bruises obscuring his vision.
He inhales scratchily, you suspect his lungs have collapsed. He chuckles and you could only look back towards Gwen who secretly shakes her head at you.
The captive laughs louder and louder, like he's lost his damn mind. “I think I know who this room belonged to, you fuckin’ snake!” he sing songs.
Gwen pushes the barrel closer to his temple, he pauses for a moment before cackling again. Hobie's knuckles tighten but his face remains indecipherable.
“Did you think bringing me here will get me to talk about what happened that day?” He makes it his mission to rile Hobie up, he's given up.
“Or are you showing me her replacement?” His eyes slither over to you, cackling more and more as his eyes roam your body.
“Enough,” Gwen finally speaks, pushing the barrel painfully close to his skin. “He asked you a question”
“You've already gotten what you need from me you fuckin' barbarians!”
Hobie closes the distance, “And we need more from you.” he bends at the waist to forcefully move the man's face towards you. “Do you know her?”
The beaten man smirked evilly, bloodied smile tempting you to hit him. He tilts his head, “Aye,” alarm bells start ringing in your head.
“The captain sent her as a spy, just look at her,” he side eyes Hobie who stares at you with his stormy eyes. “Quite a siren, huh? Were you captivated, eh ‘captain’?”
You could only look at Hobie through tearfilled eyes, pleading silently. You want to live but your mouth has clamped shut, your entire body is frozen, preventing you from laying your case.
After a minute of listening to the man praise you for your supposed work, Hobie yanks him away when George gets too close to you.
“Good on you for confirming our suspicions.” Your heart drops to your stomach. “But the details you've given us don't quite match up with what she's told us.” Hobie clicks his tongue, “I think you need to sing more for us, Georgie.”
The man's smile drops, he swallows thickly.
“Take him below.” The captain says as he reels in his anger.
Finn appears from the doorway, immediately taking the prisoner by the collar, dragging him further down the hallway, while he kicks and squirms to no avail. Gwen follows, sparing you a quick nod. She shuts the door behind her, the clicking sounds like a death knell specifically for you.
The soft lapping of the waves doesn't ease your nerves, it acts as a countdown with every hit to the side of the ship. The seagulls squawk loudly just outside your window, they're annoying but at least they're free.
After a minute of quiet and Hobie's eyes roaming around the small cabin, you hear him thud against the door. This is it, you think, picturing him taking out his cutlass to sever your head from your shoulders. Or maybe he's a gentleman, preferring to off you quick and painless with his blunderbuss.
Instead of the loud booming sound of a gun going off, you hear his voice. “What happened to your fire?”
“I'm too tired to keep it lit.” you bravely look up, he leans on the door, his shoulders and face relaxed, back slouched, knuckles bloody and broken. “Are you going to bring me below too or are you gonna end me right here?”
He frowns, “Why would I do that?”
“Because he just told you—”
Hobie sighs, you fall silent. The lines of his face are prominent as the sun rises once again. The light from the window hits him just right, bathing him in soft yellow. He closes his eyes like he's savouring the warmth.
“Men like him will do anything to bring someone else down with him.” He opens his grey eyes, the storm has calmed down behind it. “He knows he's lost.”
“You tied me up. Locked me up.”
“I know, it was for the better until I truly know you're not one of them. You're alive aren't you? Do you want me to apologize?”
“No, fuck you. I want you to thank me for saving your first mate.”
He chuckles lowly, “There it is, keep that fire yeah?”
You scoff, shaking your head.
“Sleep, you can have this cabin in the meantime.”
You glare at him, not trusting his own words.
“Here,” Hobie tosses a key at you. “my olive branch. Rest, trust me once everyone wakes from their poppy filled haze you're gonna wish you've slept.”
You hold the key in between your fingers, familiarizing yourself with the indents. “What?”
“Mend their wounds, doc. Prove your worth.” He turns to leave. “Do keep the place clean, yeah?”
You shakily stand up, locking the door behind him. Barely making it back to bed, you collapse, sleep taking you in its embrace.
—
You wake up to loud frantic knocking on your door. With a groan and sleep laden eyes, you reluctantly open the door.
Miles greets you, his smile not reaching fully to his tired eyes. “Finally! You sleep like the dead you know?”
“What's happening? Are we getting attacked again?” Your eyes roam across the cramped hallway.
“I hope not, they need you at the infirmary.”
“The ship has an infirmary?”
Following Miles through the halls and numerous stairs, you make unusual small talk.
“So…did Hobie tell you that I'm not a traitor?”
Miles stops in front of you, eyes narrowed. “Don't say the ‘T word’ around here or” he steps closer to whisper. You listen with trepidation. “or saving Gwen won't be enough for you to stay.” he looks around for a sign that someone else is listening.
“Why can't I say the ‘T word’? Did something happen back then?”
“Can you not?” He grimaces. “You can literally ask me anything else other than that.”
“Right, sorry.” You two continue to walk. “Who's MJ?”
Miles groans in annoyance. “Seriously?”
“What?! You said anything but that.”
“Alright, smart ass, anything but those two. Learn to read the room, jeez!” he shakes his head.
“Fine! How'd a kid like you end up here then? Am I allowed to ask that? Hmm?” you rile him up. This is the most fun you've had in days, anything to get rid of the thoughts swimming in your mind.
“Don’t call me kid, landlubber. If you hadn't saved Gwen back then I would throw you overboard so fast right now” Miles stomps further away from you while you chuckle.
“Yeah? And what's Gwen to you then? I see how you look at her.”
He stops with his hands on his hips, head falling in exasperation, he's too quiet.
“Miles?” oh shit. You might've gotten too far with your teasing. You weren't even sure what you said was true, it was just a wild guess.
“Is it that obvious?!” He suddenly yells, turning to look at you with his hands over his head like he's in physical pain. “You've been here for less than three days and you've noticed!”
“Please calm down.” You laugh nervously, the last thing you need right now is making Hobie's navigator cry. “I was teasing you is all.” You have no idea how to comfort the poor guy. “I won't tell anyone I promise!”
“Especially Gwen,” he points at you.
“I won't tell anyone.” you cross over your heart. “If you answer my questions” smiling mischievously, you can see Miles already regretting his choices.
“Blackmail? Really?” He huffs.
“Please it's the least you can do for me after saving the love of your life. Also blackmail is probably the lowest crime the bloodsail pirates have committed.”
Something passes by his eyes, a memory perhaps? You have no idea what it was but his eyes glissen over. He composes himself in a second, clearing his throat.
“Correction, you're not a bloodsail pirate.”
“I am for two weeks at least” you shrug.
“Finn is right, you are annoyingly talkative.”
“Hey! Talkative for his standards maybe. You try getting stuck in a small room with a silent giant and you will truly know how bored you can be.”
Miles nods, smirking like he knows something you don't. “You talk a lot to hide the fear inside you.”
Did he just psychoanalyze you?
“This crew will be the death of me, move, people are probably dying while we're talking” you walk past a grinning Miles.
Walking past a few more rooms, you spot an open door to your right. The dimly lit room catches your attention with its bookshelves full of gorgeously bound books.
“A library? You have a library here?!” You excitedly walk over to the doorframe, eyes quickly scanning the titles on the shelves. “I haven't seen a huge collection like this in my entire life.”
Miles steps over to the side, promptly shutting the door. “After you take care of my family then we can talk about library privileges.” He gives you a look that has you rolling your eyes.
“Fine, dork” you whisper the last word.
“What was that?” He clearly heard you.
“Nothing! Let's go and save some people.”
Turning the corner, leaning on the walls, there lies a line of disgruntled pirates. They hold on to their various injuries, groaning in pain. They cheer once they see you but they quickly shut up after their pain flares up from the cheering.
Walking towards the open double doors of the infirmary, they look at you with their unreadable faces. The common theme though is the ache in their bones and the blood coated shirts.
You assess each of their injuries, some are minor, only having gashes on their arms and legs. A few are bleeding through their bandages, head wrapped hastily in bandages that clearly needs to be changed immediately.
Trying to remember what she taught you, you sigh, hands clammy. You haven't handled this many people, only used to treating a couple of people at a time in your small village with her. Times like this, you can't help but miss her. Shaking your head, you can't let your mind wander again, right when the people who are helping you stay literally afloat need you.
But you can't handle this many people alone.
“Uh…who’s more injured?” you ask.
They all raise their injured hands.
“Okay, who's still bleeding?”
Half of them raise their hands.
As if sensing your panic, Pavitr comes up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder.
“Need my help? I'm not that good with blood but I'm sure I can help. and Miles can help too, right, bud?” Pav catches Miles who's sneaking away to leave. “Where are you going?”
“Uh… to look for Ned, yeah! He can help too.”
Ned yells from inside the infirmary, “I'm already in here! I was the one who told you to fetch Y/N, remember?”
You and Pavitr share a look.
“Yep yep! I'm coming to help, see?” He stops when he's inside the small clinic. “Oh man, that's a huge needle you have there Ned”
You clasp Miles on his trembling shoulder, “Don't worry I'll keep it away from you. For a price of course.”
Miles huffs, gritting his teeth. “You get three questions.”
“Good–”
“After you're done here”
“Fine.” you enter the room with a roll of your eyes. The smell of poppy, ointment and iron fills your senses. Suddenly you're back at home, the roaring fire from the stone fireplace warms you as the huge book in your lap has you enthralled by the illustration of human anatomy.
Groaning brings you back to the present. The first thing you see is Ned tending to ugly mug, his back exposed. Ned’s huge needle is sewing up a deep cut just below the man's shoulder.
“Give it to me straight, mate, I'm gonna look even uglier now aren't I?” He asks Ned.
You scrunch up your nose after seeing his face still good looking and injury free.
Turning around to face Pav and Miles, you try to remember her teachings, you can still feel her hands guiding your own as she rambles on how you should always wash your hands before treating someone. It's been years since then, her voice is nothing but a memory, slowly fading away as you grow older.
You haven't been practicing much, but you kept up with your knowledge by reading pamphlets as much as you can. It's a useful skill afterall, especially when you travel. With an exhale, you start instructing the two.
“Pav,” he straightens up. “get me some hot water from the galley and the purest alcohol Finn has.”
“Got it, I have to fight Finn though” he runs off with determination in his eyes.
“Miles, I need you to triage” you continue as you head off to the basin to clean in between your nails. The dried blood from your fingernails turns the water murky and brown.
“Put the people in front of the line who need to get treated first and with the most severe injuries while the people with the least severe injury to the back of the line.” You look over your shoulder. “Understood?”
“I'm doing it but not because you told me to.” he goes out of the room, already yelling at his impatient crew mates. You hear someone saying ‘what the fuck is a triage? use english!’
You look at Ned. “Please tell me you washed your hands.”
—
You're incredibly hungry, again. Your fingers ache from all the sewing and patching you've done. Your hands smell like herbs and ointments. The muscles in your hands still shake from all the bullets you had to carefully take out. But everyone seems to be stable now, thanks to you.
Washing your hands in the newly replenished basin, you hear footfalls against wood from above. For a second your mind flings back to the fight, you pinch your pinky to distract yourself from the image.
A plate clangs behind you. Looking over your shoulder, Miles is once again trying to sneak away.
“Thanks, Miles” You genuinely smile at him, just looking at the hot plate of mashed potatoes and beans has your stomach grumbling.
“Fine, ask away” he sits across from you, arms crossed on his chest.
“I actually forgot about that, thank you for mentioning it.” You smile mockingly, taking the plate to finally eat.
“What? Oh come on, man” he points suspiciously at you. “Why are you so curious?”
“Because human beings are naturally curious.” Miles makes a face. “Fine, I want to know the backstory of the legendary bloodsail pirates. I mean can you blame me? I have to live with the crew for two weeks.”
He sighs, convinced. “As long as the answers to your questions are already known by the navy,” you nod, “ask away.”
You chuckle. “First question, Where did Hobie get this huge ship?”
“Stole it, next question”
“Really? you're not gonna elaborate on that? I got the needles far away from you the entire time.”
He clicks his tongue. “Stole it from a rich merchant ship years ago with just his wits and a blunderbuss. He's been upgrading it since then, you can barely see the original facade.”
“I gotta admit it to him, that sounds like a good story to tell.”
“Maybe if you play nice he can tell it to you someday.”
You sigh, “Some mysteries just have to stay a mystery.”
He chuckles softly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.
“Second question,” you take another spoonful of beans, chewing while talking. “Where did he get his crew?”
Miles looks at you with disgust. “Swallow first, Christ. Some joined later on, some like Gwen, Pav, Finn and I have been with him from the start.”
“Elaborate? Or I'll chew with my mouth open”
“What is wrong with you? I'm not done yet, jeez.” He looks like he's about to jump away from you. “A few of us were running from getting drafted during the war, only having us as their only option or go to jail.” You listen intently.
“But most of us joined after hearing about us, wanting to be pirates but they want to give back to the people instead of just taking and plundering for gold.” he scratches the back of his neck. “I guess some of us are more into it rather than just pure survival.”
“Wait, you do that? Like some sort of pirate Robin Hood?”
Miles looks at you surprised. “Of course we do, I'm guessing that doesn't make it to the sunday news huh?” he sighs. “Well that's what we do, we only take from the rich and give it back to the people who need it most. Most of the time the nobles and merchants don't suffer much loss from it.”
“Well until I see it for myself I'll think otherwise. Next question—”
“Nope, you've already asked your three questions!” He cackles.
“Wait, the last one doesn't count! Come on, one last very important one that if I don't get the answer to, I will combust.”
Miles pouts his lips, thinking like it's the most difficult thing ever. “Hmmm, you blowing up into tiny pieces sounds great actually.”
“I won't tell Gwen you're utterly in love with her. Just one last thing.”
“You won't tell anyone”
“I promise! And when I promise I intend to keep it.”
He exhales the most tired exhale ever. “Ask”
You smile. “Why follow Hobie?”
Miles stares at you directly, none of the annoyed look he's given, no boyish charm you've seen the entire day you've spent with him and the crew. He looks like a proper pirate with his back straight and loyalty emanating just from his tone.
“Because it's Hobie,” he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You have no idea the things he's sacrificed for us. Before we were a crew he— I owe him my life. And it's not blind loyalty, we're all free to leave if we don't want to follow him to the end. Some have already left.” He says the last part forlornly. “I guess I follow him because he's family, not just my captain.”
You look at your half eaten meal, family, you haven't heard that in ages. You have family somewhere, you're sure of it. In your journeys you've had people, friends, but not enough to be called your family; they haven't come close to what you had with her in that little cabin of yours in the middle of nowhere.
If only greed wasn't a thing, you'd still be with her.
You feel a ghost of your necklace graze your chest, instinctively holding on to it for comfort, disappointing yourself when you can't grasp it.
“Y/N?”
You clear your throat, fighting the tears from flowing. “So if he's your family and the crew is also your family, does that mean you're in love with Gwen who's supposedly your family? Hmmm?”
“You know what I meant! What is truly wrong with you?!”
“What? I'm just asking!”
“Oh really? Well you use humour as a crutch!”
You gasp, “Rude!”
“Yep that's you! Miss ‘I make jokes during serious conversations’”
“Understood, now where did I put that needle?” you act like you're trying to find it, patting your pockets.
“Nope, I'm already gone!” He's sprinting away from you. “You're needed in the galley by the way!” His muffled yell makes you laugh.
Another day, another quiet day in the galley for you.
—
During dinner, you've noticed the empty chairs, the sound of the waves crashing and utensils scraping still echoing in your ears as you watch them bring out their dead from below.
The full moon witnesses the crew put their dead on the now pillaged navy ship. The bodies wrapped carefully in white sheets. There's no breeze blowing or waves lapping at the sides of the ship. Everything's at a standstill.
The eerie silence has you standing by the edge of the crowd. Not a part of it but not truly alone.
The gas lamps illuminate the crew's expressions. You're not used to seeing their faces look so devastated, especially after all the laughs you've shared with them while mending their wounds mere hours ago.
You know it's not your place to be here or to even stand with them while they're mourning their friends. But you stay because if it's the other way around you'd want the only outsider to mourn with you, to stand in solidarity with you even if she doesn't know how the people you're laying down on the cold wood used to comfort you through the storm and how they used to hate the summer heat.
You'd want the outsider to know that they once lived.
The floorboards creak as Hobie lays the last body on the navy boat's deck, kneeling by the side to say his final farewell. After a moment, he stands up, knuckles so tightly closed that you can see his hands shake from where you're standing.
He cuts the rope tied to the mast, the sails unfurl, the slight breeze making it move slowly. Hobie jumps back to the revenge before the navy ship sails too far.
With his crew right behind him, you all watch as the ship sails for the final time. Hobie takes a musket from Gwen, they share a comforting look briefly before he takes aim at the ship. The shot echoes out, hitting the barrel full of gunpowder directly. Fire immediately bellows, engulfing the wooden ship.
The fire cackles further away but it still warms your cheeks. Orange and yellow dancing on the water as the mast burns and falls into the depths with a splash.
A soft voice sings a mellow tune, the lyrics full of sorrow and longing for what they've lost.
You look over to the source of the song, Yuri has her eyes glued to the flaming ship, her cadence echoes out to the open sea, the rest join in, goosebumps flare up on your arms. They sing about how the sea has claimed them but they aren't truly lost for they still sail the endless depths with the stars as their guide.
The singing ends and as everyone goes their separate ways, Hobie stays behind, watching as the fire devours the ship. With one last look, you head to your cabin, head full of thoughts that you'd rather not let it fester or it might consume you like the fire outside razing the once mighty ship.
The tune still stays with you until your head hits the soft pillow, you wonder how many times they've sung it together.
That night you wake up to someone screaming from above, cursing Hobie's name. Frantic footsteps dance above, you can hear a gun clicking. Recognizing the former lieutenant's voice, you fall back under the covers, jumping in place as you hear the gun go off followed by a splash and then a sudden silence.
For the next two days, you get acclimated to your life on the people's revenge. Having some sort of routine. In the morning you go to the infirmary to help clean their wounds and change their bandages, single handedly stopping infection. The survival rate of the injured has increased tenfold with your help. They greet you with a smile every morning, sometimes calling you ‘doc’ and you correct them everytime.
You haven't seen Hobie the past two days, always getting glimpses of him in the halls as he turns a corner. None of the crew have seen him out either. You wonder if he's had anything to eat in the past few days.
You've encountered how grief could consume someone, you hope you don't witness it again.
At lunch, you cook with Finn in the galley, making conversation, telling him stories you've heard during your journeys as he grunts and huffs in reply. You've gotten used to the quiet in the kitchen with only the waves outside and the bubbling pot filling your ears.
The crew have gotten better after the loss, they've started laughing again, making jokes and even including you to the conversation. You keep finding yourself chuckling among them during dinner.
After the day ends, you bring Pavitr his tea as he gets ready for another long night shift of sailing. As you head down to the library, you check in on Miles as he toils on a map, studying every detail, making sure the ship's on track. You bring him his cup, he's stopped looking at the tea suspiciously after the third time you've given him one.
You hear arguing in Hobie's cabin again, the voices are different each time you pass through but you don't dare eavesdrop, you swear that man has eyes everywhere.
The library has become your sanctuary, not the cabin you're temporarily placed in. You get a weird feeling everytime you enter the small room, like you don't quite belong in the obviously lived in space. There's tiny trinkets hidden on shelves, some are quite peculiar, unlike anything you've ever seen. You keep finding drawings and journal pages tucked in the corners and the bed frame, the ink already too faded to read or to even make out the art. You surmise the old resident of the cabin pushed the papers in there to stop the draft.
As you sit down on the lumpy green armchair of the library, the oil lamp illuminating the pages with only the moon as your companion; you get sucked into the yellowed pages, burrowing into every word printed, making a home for yourself in between the letters written by authors you'll never meet in your lifetime.
A soft knock brings your soul back to the old library, your eyes adjust in the darkness, his silhouette leaning casually on the doorway.
“So this is where you vanish off to every night” you can barely make out his face but you know he's smirking by the way his lip piercing glints in the lamp.
“Am I not allowed, Captain?” he chuckles. The sound reverberated around the room. A ghost of a smile passes by your lips.
“Keep callin' me like that and you might find yourself having special treatment.”
“And what exactly is the special treatment?”
Hobie shrugs, raising a finger up as he lists them down. “Havin' your own cabin, getting fed twice in a day, access to the ship's library, did I mention staying dry and alive?”
“You've mentioned it once or twice.” You sigh, gathering courage for what you're about to ask. “I've got a question, Cap.”
Hobie scoffs, “Heard you've been asking those a lot. One of these days your curious arse will get you killed.” You shrug, ignoring his comment. “You know I'd hunt you down if any of this information gets to the navy right?”
“I know, and I'm not a fucking snitch especially after you've kept your word of letting me stay even though you did use me as bait when you were interrogating the navy man.”
“Come off it,” he clicks his tongue. “I did not use you as bait.”
“Sure, and you don't have trust issues, Hobie Brown”
“Likewise, Y/N asshole.” he enters the room and into the light. You don't miss his snarky nickname for you. “Can a person with trust issues do this?” Hobie tosses a bag right on your lap.
You recognize the satchel, blinking in surprise “My bag!” You scan the contents down to the small bag of coins finding everything is still in its place. “Did you happen to see a necklace? It has a circular pendant with a bird engraved on it.”
“No, it doesn't ring a bell. Trust me somethin’ like that would've left a mark.”
You frown, hope diminished. Hobie gestures towards the seat in front of you, asking permission. You nod, letting him in your personal bubble.
“What are you reading?” He sits across from you on the rickety rocking chair, groaning, knees cracking.
“Just a story about some Greek hero that my m– I used to read back then.”
He nods, not mentioning the blunder. “I don't think Theseus is just some bloke.” You chuckle softly. “Y’know there's a much better read than that over…” he twists around, taking a book right behind him. “Here” he hands it off to you, calloused fingers grazing yours.
Turning the small book around, you shake your head with a subtle smile. “‘How to conquer your fears volume five: Learn how to swim by Sir Riordan of Canterbury’ Very funny”
Hobie stifles a laugh, a genuine smile across his face. “Thought it was appropriate.” he crosses a leg over the other, shoulders relaxed.
“What was your question, scuttlebutt? Ask me before I change my mind, ‘m feeling generous today.”
Your hands play with the spine of the old book. “Why haven't you killed me yet? After what George said, why didn't you believe him that I'm a traitor?”
He visibly stiffened, “You can't be called a traitor if you were never part of the crew, eh?” your heart thumps louder as he observes your every move.
“Also that's two questions,” the moonlight hits his fatigued face, you stare into those eyes that threaten to bring you under, but you swim out just in time before it drags you down. “good thing they have the same answers.”
You blink slowly, fingers nervously pick at the dry skin on your thumb.
“Your rucksack,” he points with chin. “I didn't pay enough attention to it when you first arrived but when I had my suspicions I had to check. First the coins or the lack thereof. If you were a navy spy they'd give you enough to use it as a bargaining tool.”
“You calling me poor?”
“Yes” he doesn't miss a beat. “Second your shoes, the bloody thing is thinner than Finn's flat bread.” you suck in your teeth in annoyance. “And that–” he leans closer, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Your fuckin' attitude, you didn't even try to play nice. You just did what you were told so you could survive. The only time you're actually nice is when nobody else is lookin'” you scoff while he continues on.
“Don't think I didn't notice you during the funeral or whenever you give Pav and Miles their tea. You stay along the edges of the crew, lingering, not really looking for any approval. But you're there, acting like you don't care but based on the careful stitches and gentle hands, you care, a lot.”
You grit your teeth, letting him read you like an open book that you've kept hidden behind the shelves, under all the more interesting books.
“Spies ease their way into the crew with effort, you did it unintentionally. You didn't hesitate saving Gwen, you could've done anything else in an attempt to escape but you helped and you stayed. You're not a spy, I think you just want to belong somewhere—”
You cut him off, “What makes you think I want to join your rag tag group?”
Hobie looks like he's about to swallow you whole, ignoring your last snarky comment, he continues his rant. “You want to belong even if it’s on a damn pirate ship. You're a genuine stowaway.”
“Alright, you're quite perceptive then, but that doesn't answer my question on why you haven't killed me yet.” you bravely face him. “You said it yourself, you would kill me if any information about you and the crew comes out from me. And you told me I needed the coin so what's stopping me from going to the nearby governor and selling off the information the moment we land?”
“Because you're running too,” his eyes shine in the low light, looking at you mischievously. “I don't know from whom or if you're wanted like us but I do know you're not gonna risk your freedom for a few coins.”
Hobie beams at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And lastly, I'm gonna need you before I let you go.”
I love you. (pt 2)
hobie brown x black! reader
words: 4.9k
rating: teen & up
summary: Love was a four letter word and it fucking hurt.
warnings: gender isn't mentioned for reader but they're fem leaning; drinking and vomitting; beginnings of a panic attack; hurt with no comfort (yet); just a lot of longing (reader is going THROUGH IT)
pt. 1
Love was a four letter word.
If you looked in a dictionary, it would tell you that it was an intense feeling of deep affection. Unfortunately, you couldn’t remember the last time you had opened a dictionary.
Love had its definition skewed throughout your life. The affection you received from your parents was in the name of “tough love”. It told you that you weren’t meant to be sensitive, you weren’t meant to make mistakes— you were meant to know things before ever learning them.
Your definition of the word love always had the word tough attached to it. You didn’t know there could be love without it. A love that didn’t crumble your self-esteem or ground your self-worth into dust didn’t seem possible.
Love was a four letter word. A four letter word that hurt.
Love hurt.
Yet, at the same time, love could be hypocritical. It was hypocritical when you read the Bible and prayed to a being that was all-knowing and all-loving, yet damned you to a hell for something it knew you couldn't control. You were damned to hell for love by the god of Love, the supposed embodiment of the emotion itself.
It was hypocritical when the very being of love spared none in the name of it. The god of Love demanded love above one’s children, or else. The god of Love demanded love even in the face of complete and utter annihilation, or else.
Love was a four letter word and it was demanded of you, or else.
Love was tough.
Love was hypocritical.
Love hurt. And it hurt. And it hurt.
Until it didn’t— until someone saw your broken pieces and decided they were more than worthy enough to be put back together.
Love was a four letter word and you had found a new definition in Hobie. You had found it in his voice, whether it was at the top of his lungs when he was performing or gentle words only meant for your ears. You had found it tucked behind his smiles, directed at you or not, and in every blissful touch you’d received from him.
He had blurred your past definitions of love until you had opened a dictionary, skimmed the damn thing for the word love, and found Hobie under it. It was a love you had cherished and did your best to nurture.
You held it close to you, even when it had you curled up on your bedroom floor and silent. Your tears would slide down your cheeks, dry, then rinse and repeat. The thought of eating made you sick to your core while the thought of moving made you curl yourself into a tighter ball. You were sure you would’ve snapped out of your spell eventually, but you didn’t move fast enough for your friends.
Love was a four letter word that made your friends force their way into your apartment and physically remove you from the depression that clung onto you. Your best friend had picked you up off the floor and held your trembling frame as you tried to curb your sobs. She wiped your tears with her thumb and held you tight, whispering that you could come back from this.
Could you?
Your trust had been shattered— you had allowed yourself to be vulnerable, thinking there was no way you could be stabbed in the back. In some cruel twist of fate, you’d been correct. Hobie had looked you in your eye and lodged a blade into your chest.
You were fooled by the fickle thing called love— a fool for seeing what love was capable of being and still trying to prove otherwise. You saw it, believed it finally. You were done trying to find a new definition for it.
Love was hypocritical.
Love was demanding.
Love was Hobie.
But love still hurt.
And it hurt. And it hurt.
In the beginning, you were incapable of going places that you knew Hobie would be. The pub? No. The old community center? Absolutely the fuck not. Just the thought of seeing his face again made your heart crumble in your already blood-covered hands. Picking up the pieces was hard enough— connecting one fragile piece to another required a determination you no longer had. So you gave that up and focused on repairing your walls.
Because love hurt and you’d be damned if you let it hurt you again.
By the second month, you were able to maneuver through life without falling apart at the reminder of Hobie. Your walls had a shaky foundation, so you barred yourself from drinking, knowing how messy you would become. The liquor would burn your throat then remind you of cool nights where confessions left your tongue and you received gentle kisses in return.
You couldn’t handle that.
By the fourth month, your foundation was solid enough to recall your breakup without ruining your entire day. Instead, it would sit uncomfortably with you for a few hours until you finally pulled yourself free from the darkness that stuck to you. Then, with a deep breath, you could return to your life.
Love still hurt, but you could find a way to live with it again.
By the sixth month, your walls offered you a shield that you desperately needed, surrounding you on all sides and standing tall. You were able to visit places that you knew had a tiny possibility of Hobie appearing. It didn’t mean that your carefully trained eyes wouldn’t be apprehensively scrutinizing every person who entered your vicinity. You were well within your rights to do so.
Six months and thirteen days had passed since your breakup. The cloud that followed your every move had dissipated and you could see things clearly again. You allowed yourself to breathe for once, inviting the fresh air to enter your healed lungs. You allowed yourself to have fun.
Love still hurt, but at some point, you had to let your walls do their job and protect you.
Your best friend mentioned a house party that a friend of a friend would be having for their 21st birthday, which meant there would be more alcohol than you could ever dream of and maybe a chance to find someone new. The last part had made your lips curl in disgust, making your friend laugh out loud.
It didn’t take much to convince you to go, it would be the perfect opportunity to lift that bar you had placed on drinking and just let loose.
You had dressed nice and in something that fit your curves just right and always made people look your way, then waited for your designated driver.
When they arrived, you greeted your best friend’s friend then searched the packed car for said best friend. You slid into the backseat, sitting beside a girl you’d never seen before and tapped the driver.
“Hey, where’s…” you trailed off as the driver formed an ‘o’ with her mouth.
“That’s riiight, she wanted me to apologize for her since something came up last minute.”
You blinked owlishly. “What—”
“She flaked, friend, but don’t worry we’ll have fun without her. Ain’t that right!” She shouted and a chorus of cheers and whoops filled your ears.
You sunk into your seat and tried to convince yourself that it’d be fine. You’d be having fun. You were going to have fun.
That was the mantra you repeated to yourself until the car pulled up to the building that held the party. Before you stepped out, the driver made sure to let you guys know to keep your purses and bags in the car and under the seat.
“If ya’ll are gon’ get fucked up tonight, you’re better off leavin’ your shit in here. I don’t have time to be searchin’ that damn condo for your bags.” She had pointed her finger at each of you to emphasize her point.
You were incredibly reluctant to leave your bag, but she had a valid point. You did as you were told and before you knew it, you were taking shots with the birthday boy. You two would throw the liquor back and restrain yourselves from making faces.
The music was deafening and you were sure the amount of people in the condo was a fire hazard, either way, you were having fun. You danced with some of the people you carpooled with, you made new friends, and most importantly, you had fun.
But that was at the beginning.
Your first sign to go was when the birthday boy passed out on the sofa while more people entered the front door. That told you that the party would keep going with or without him, and you didn’t know how you felt about that.
Your biggest sign to go was when the very people who showed up late wanted to keep the party going. They poured alcohol into your cup when it was running low, they dared you to take more shots, and you kept accepting.
You kept accepting until you couldn’t stand up straight and things were passing in blurs. Then, the regret set in.
You shouldn’t have come here.
There were too many people and you were sure your driver fucking left you. You didn’t recognize the faces that surrounded you— hell, the birthday boy was nowhere to be found. You could feel your anxiety threaten to show itself, but you refused it.
Instead, you drank more. You threw back shot glass after shot glass hoping to drown your unpleasant emotions, but caused the opposite effect. The liquor only sank and allowed your burrowed feelings to float to the fucking top.
Shit.
You didn’t want to deal with the emotions that bobbed in your face— the anxiety that laughed in your face for trying to drown it. And standing on trembling legs in the middle of this fucking party only added to your sudden helplessness. You had blown past your limit a long time ago and it felt like you were beginning to tear at the seams from just too much— too much. Why were you so irresponsible?
Bodies knocked into you, throwing you into a daze and making your stomach churn and gurgle.
You weren’t having fun anymore. You weren’t having fun.
You only managed to stay upright from sheer determination alone, because you knew if you toppled over in front of all these people, you would be inconsolable.
God, usually you were much better at handling your alcohol intake, but you’d fucked up. Why had your driver left you? Why had your best friend left you alone? Why had Hobie—
Oh.
Oh no no no.
You tried your best to screw that jar shut, but it cracked and shattered in your hands. That mess of emotions spilled all of its unwanted contents everywhere. Your heart rattled behind your ribs and screamed at you. Your thoughts were incoherent as a dangerous flush went to your face. Your ears burned, your cheeks burned, and your vision began to blur.
You wanted to go home.
Someone pushed past you, making you stumble, but all you could think about was how you kept getting abandoned. You let yourself be vulnerable, even just a little, and got abandoned. Your hands shook violently as you tried to silence your spiraling mind. Your stomach begged you to stop moving as it worked overtime to deal with the alcohol and the sudden rise in anxiety.
You wanted to go home.
You wanted Hobie— but he left you.
Someone else brushed against you, muttering apologies. Your breathing was rugged and your lungs suddenly couldn’t get enough air. Your world was tilting and your eyes were wide with unshed tears.
You could feel that double-edged sword lodged in your heart and you knew it was bleeding again. You feared that it wouldn’t stop this time. You feared that you wouldn’t come back from this.
You just wanted to go home.
Someone knocked into you and you let out a cry as you fell into another person. You grabbed onto their arms as they caught you. You were sick of the touching, you were sick of the anxiety and liquor that made your stomach upset, you were—
“Duck?”
For once, your thoughts went silent. For fucking once, everything just seemed to stop. Your wide, glassy eyes slowly trailed up this oh so familiar torso until they stopped at a pair of eyes you wished you could unsee. You…
You were going to be sick.
“Oi, duck, are you—”
All at once, your insides rebelled against you. You couldn’t stop the alcohol from leaving your stomach and landing on Hobie. He couldn’t do anything but stare at you in complete and utter shock as your rejected alcohol trailed down his pant leg.
Humiliation flooded your entire body and you burst at the seams. Tears rained from your eyes and you began to sob. You tried to speak but it was all too much. Through strained vision, you could see concern wash over Hobie’s face and before you knew it, you were being led to the nearest bathroom.
Hobie barely flicked the light on before you were rushing to the toilet and puking again. Your face was drenched in a continuous flow of tears and you were sure you looked fucking pathetic. The thought only made you cry harder until your body shuddered and you dry heaved again.
You heard the door shut and when you looked up, Hobie was staring at you with those damn eyes of his. His eyebrows were furrowed and he appeared as if he didn’t know what to do with his hands. Your gaze landed on the wet stain on his pant leg.
“‘M sorry,” you said with a shaky breath. Hobie was quick to reassure you.
“‘Low it, duck. S’fine, I swear it.”
Fuck, you hated hearing his voice again. You hated it. You hated how each word knocked down your walls— shattered your protection. You hated how it made you so weak in the knees that you had to kneel in front of the toilet.
You hated throwing up.
Your body heaved again and there was a comforting hand on your shoulder. Before you could even think about reveling in the touch, you pushed it away.
“Don’t,” you spat. You couldn’t handle it.
Hobie raised his hands to show that he would stay hands off. You felt the sword dig deeper into your chest.
“Ya here alone?” he asked you, moving to be level with you. He leaned himself against the sink cabinet as he sat down. You hated him for it.
“‘M not s’pposed to be,” you muttered. “Got left.” Like he had left you. You could feel the tears pooling in your eyes, threatening to spill. “I wanna go home but I left my keys in her car— why’d she leave me?” Why’d he leave you, too?
“She left ya by yourself?” he said slowly. He sounded incredulous which, almost several months ago, would’ve warmed your heart but you could only hum in response.
You released a heavy sigh and reached forward to flush the toilet. The sound of flushing filled the bathroom as you attempted to rack your inebriated mind for a solution to your problem.
You weren’t too keen on being sick and stuck at this never-ending party. You slowly tilted your head to look at Hobie, who seemed to be contemplating something while he stared at where the floor connected to the wall. His legs were bunched up due to the small size of the bathroom and he absentmindedly picked at his nail polish.
You couldn’t begin to know where his mind was at, but you missed him. You should’ve hated him for it, but you missed him.
His presence alone made you dodge the full brunt of your panic attack, even though he left you. You missed him so badly that it hurt.
Your eyes snapped back to Hobie’s face when he suddenly took in a deep breath. He turned to face you, then paused. You don’t know what he saw in your expression, but it brought out a grief in his eyes you hadn’t expected. It made him look away to collect himself before he said, “Look, ion really like the idea of leavin’ ya here alone so,” he trailed off then made himself meet your gaze. “My boat’s a few blocks down the way. You can get ya bearin’s there, sleep, or whateva ya wanna do. Whateva you’re comfortable wit’.”
You should’ve told him no. You should’ve laughed in his face and been spiteful. You should’ve, but—
Love was a four letter word and, unfortunately, Hobie was still one of your definitions.
The universe had a funny way of testing you, of being cruel to you. In some inexplicable domino effect, you agreeing to a house party after six and a half months of grieving a relationship led you here, following Hobie to his boat.
The two of you walked out of sync with each other, mostly because of your pettiness. You did your best to linger a bit behind him, not daring to enter that space beside him even if his pace was slow enough for you to catch up. That space no longer belonged to you, no matter how much you wanted it to.
On the other hand, you couldn’t exactly walk straight and you’d be damned if you were to somehow bump into Hobie.
You could tell he wanted to offer his help, but he had been told to keep his hands off and that’s exactly what he was doing.
One unstable foot after another, you made it work, even if drowsiness fought against you. It ebbed at the edges of your vision and weighed your legs down. Hobie peeked at you over his shoulder. “Y’sure ya don’ need any help?”
You leveled a glare at him. “‘M fine,” you snapped. But because karma was an asshole, you tripped and would’ve busted your ass if it weren’t for Hobie’s reflexes. You held onto his arms as he stabled you. At the same time, you tried to make the world stop spinning through pure will alone.
You brought your hand up to your head, silently hoping you wouldn’t need to throw up again. “Fuck— okay, um.” You were completely out of breath as you waited for your words to unscramble themselves. You squeezed Hobie’s arm. “Jus’ gonna… hang on here.”
You were glad that he didn’t laugh at your sudden change of heart, instead he nodded his head and waited for the okay to keep moving.
You should’ve hated how patient he was with you. You shouldn’t have agreed to this— but was there really any other option?
You gave the okay and the two of you walked together. If it weren’t for the way your exhausted mind slowly gave into drowsiness, you would’ve at least attempted to stay away from the space beside Hobie. You couldn’t help it.
You missed him.
You didn’t know how long it took for you to reach the dock, but you were sure it took a whole hell of a lot longer because your legs were untrustworthy. By the time you got inside of the boat, you were beelining for the bathroom again.
You were so tired, man. And you wished your stomach would catch a fucking hint. You had nothing left to give.
Hobie had disappeared somewhere you didn’t know, you couldn’t exactly hear anything over your dry heaving. Though, it didn’t take long for him to pop up in the doorway with a shirt and a pair of shorts in his hands.
You spat into the toilet and flushed it, hoping that this would be the last of your fit.
“Ya still have some clothes here— I’ll leave ‘em here.” He placed them on the counter while you stared at him.
“Figured you would’ve tossed ‘em by now, Hobie.”
“Thought you woulda come for ‘em.”
You didn’t mean to laugh out loud, the sharp sound cutting through the bathroom, but imagining yourself going out of your way to see him again— there was no chance. “I couldn’t handle the thought of seeing your face again.” You paused, dragging a hand down your face. “Still can’t.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Fair.”
You hated how he looked at you with a muted shame. He had brought this upon himself— upon you both. You bit the inside of your cheek.
“... you haven’t come for your things either.” You knew that by heart, especially knowing exactly where that box of his belongings sat in your closet. Waiting.
“You haven’t put ‘em in the rubbish yet?”
You didn’t say anything. There had been a reason for your madness— the main thing stopping you from doing so. You didn’t like acknowledging it and your best friend hated hearing it. It made you feel pathetic.
It wasn’t fun admitting that you were holding out hope for his return, like you were some sad puppy that was abandoned at a park.
In your silence, Hobie answered your initial question quietly. “Honestly, I didn’ think you’d wanna see my face.” And he’d been correct.
You didn’t think you could handle the rest of this conversation without bursting into tears. “I’m gonna get changed now.”
He perked up, suddenly remembering his point of coming to the bathroom in the first place. “Righ’, righ’. I’ll be out here.”
When he closed the door, it felt like you could finally breathe again. You put on the pajamas and did your best not to topple over in the process. Then, you reached under his sink and rinsed out your mouth with his mouthwash.
Inevitably, there was one last problem.
“You’re not gonna fit on the fucking couch, Hobie.”
“Then I’ll sleep on the floor.”
You barely withheld your eye roll, because knowing you, the moment your eyes disappeared behind your eyelids, they wouldn’t return. “I can sleep on the couch—”
“No.”
This fucking— “Well you’re not sleeping on the couch or the fucking floor.”
“Neither are you.”
Your mind was not happy with either you or Hobie. You wanted to sleep. You needed to sleep. And your back and forth was preventing that. “Then we’re sharing the goddamn bed.” You shouldn’t have even suggested it, but if it meant that you could pass the hell out, then by all means.
That was a problem for a future you.
The suggestion didn’t win without a fight because, unfortunately, that’s just who you two were. You wanted to sleep, Hobie didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, you didn’t want him on the couch or the floor— back and forth until you two finally met in the middle.
You would share a bed but have two separate blankets. And that’s how that went as you two had your backs facing each other. You didn’t allow yourself to think or to revel in how much you missed sharing a space with Hobie.
You let your mind drift until you fell asleep.
At some point, you let go of sleep and cracked open an eye. The sun was not yet up and the room was still dark. It reminded you of nights that held whispered I love you’s until they disappeared into the quiet atmosphere. In that moment, Hobie’s resting face came into focus.
You didn’t realize just how close you and Hobie had shifted toward each other in your sleep. It was like a muscle memory that shouldn’t have belonged to you anymore, but it still prevailed.
Your faces were inches from each other, sharing the same air, and you could feel his breath ghost over your face. You should’ve had a larger reaction to it than you did, but your drunken mind and exhausted body let the familiar comfort lull you back to sleep.
Love was a four letter word and it was unyielding. Even after refusing to learn any more definitions for it, it refused to give up.
Love was unreasonable.
Love was inexplicable.
Love was unyielding.
But it still hurt.
You were reminded of that whenever the blade in your heart sank deeper. You were reminded of that when you woke up the next morning to an empty bed.
It took you a moment to register exactly where the hell you were, yet it was overshadowed by the fact that your head was threatening to split open. You hissed and shut your eyes.
Fuck fuck fuck— what did you drink last night?
You flipped on your back to think, though you wished the boat would stop rocking for a moment— oh what the fuck.
No.
There was no way.
You opened your eyes in a panic and as much as your body hated you for it, you sat up. Your eyes roamed around the familiar room as memories of last night flooded your mind. Disbelief clawed at your chest as you racked the memories for a reason why you would agree to come back here.
You tossed the blanket aside and your eyes landed on the nightstand. There, a bottle of water and two pills waited for you.
Oh god.
You slapped a hand over your mouth as tears threatened to burn at your eyes. It didn’t help that you realized that all of the curtains were purposely shut to keep the room dim. Your hands moved over your eyes, knowing that if you cried now, your headache would be worse.
Regardless, you took the pills and chugged the water. The quicker you were out of here, the better it would be.
You found your clothes from the night before and slid them back on. Your body ached and your head pounded, but you needed to go.
You searched the floor for your shoes but you knew for a fact that they were by the front. Immediately, you reached for the door but stopped short. You knew Hobie was out there, if the soft strums of his guitar were anything to go off of.
You dragged a hand down your face and mentally prepared yourself. Hobie had already wrecked the protection you had surrounding your heart and you knew you were completely and utterly weak when it came to him.
You put your hand on the handle and twisted it. The subtle light change made you hiss which made the guitar notes stop.
Making eye contact with Hobie was as difficult as you knew it would be. You turned away and searched the ground for your shoes.
“How ya feelin’?”
God, he needed to stop talking. You were weak. You couldn’t do this.
“Like shit. Have you seen my shoes?” You weren’t prepared to have him stand up and walk over to you with the shoes in hand. Without looking at him, you muttered your thanks and took them from him. You put them on with shaky hands.
“Duck—”
“Please, don’t call me that right now.”
“Sorry, (Y/N).” Somehow that was even worse. “You headed to ya friend’s?”
“Yeah. Gonna tear her a new one for flaking and for recommending her stupid friend.” With your shoes on, you stood to your full height and tried to reason with your racing heart. You felt like a frantic mess and with Hobie standing so close to you, you couldn’t even begin to repair your broken walls. “Thanks for letting me stay and for the painkillers. I’m gonna go.”
You thought you could keep it curt and maybe get out of this with just a little bit of dignity, but you went and looked Hobie in his eyes.
Those honey-colored eyes of his had a way of keeping you stuck. You hated that he didn’t stop you from stepping around him, how he silently agreed to your departure. Yet, it was his fault that your hand stopped on the doorknob. It was his fault that you stopped and turned around to face him again.
You two stood there, staring into each other’s souls, the very souls that bled for each other. You hated that as frantic as he made you, you still wanted to be near him, to be with him. You turned away and turned the knob.
Then, there was a hand grabbing yours and your resolve crumbled. You turned back around with watery eyes and you hated seeing the regret written all over Hobie’s face. You couldn’t stand looking at it, so you moved your attention to his hold on your hand.
You had half a mind to pull away.
“‘M sorry for leavin’ ya like I did. I truly am.”
You were quiet for a moment. “But you’re not sorry for leavin’, are you?” you whispered. You wished you could’ve had some bite behind your words, but you didn’t. Hobie’s brows only furrowed further and you slid your hand out of his grasp, bringing it close to your heart. You inhaled deeply. “You’re not selfish enough, Hobie.”
Love was a four letter word and it was many things.
Love was demanding.
Love was hypocritical.
Love was unreasonable— unyielding.
Love was unpredictable.
But you needed it to be selfish for once.
You needed Hobie to be selfish for once, because it was tearing you apart. He wouldn’t ask you to stay, even if you loved each other from the bottom of your hearts to the depths of your souls. You wanted him to beg you to stay, but you knew he wouldn't.
“You already know how I feel about you, but you still—” You choked up on the word. “... is keeping me safe worth keeping us miserable?”
You didn’t wait for an answer, instead you opened the door and left. With each step, you repaired your walls one brick at a time, because even with all the things love could do and had the potential to be…
… love still hurt.
divider by cafekitsune :3
had to cut this bad boy in half so the comfort isn't here JUST yet. thanks for all of your comments/reblogs you guys are hilarious <333
taglist: @hoe-bie @hao-ming-8 @anonoussy @amianelf-main @muffinlovesfiction
Sailing Close to the Wind
Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Word count: 8.2k
Tags: use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), CW food mention, CW violence, TW injury.
Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist
Navigation
CHAPTER 5 >>> CHAPTER 6
Trousers, oh you'd love to kiss the person who invented trousers. You can't climb a mast with heavy cotton skirts especially without anyone below getting a full look at what's under it. Not to mention how comfortable it is, granted it's technically not your trousers, it's a bit big on the waist so you have to use a rope and some type of knot that James taught you. The cotton shirt and lambskin vest makes you look like an honest to god pirate, you fit right in, if only you could get up on the perch without falling.
The wind is breezing by you as you find leverage with your foot on the iron footholds, your hands are clammy, eyes strained against the sun and wind. The height thrills you, reminding you of the time when you used to jump all-over roofs to escape coppers.
“Hurry up, gorgeous! I'm bleeding up here!” Yuri screams from the top, showing you her so-called injury on her palm. It's bleeding, yes but it definitely does not need any stitching.
You swear she's messing with you. Training you perhaps? But it wouldn't matter as you won't stay on the revenge for too long. According to Miles, land is close, a couple of days at most. You secretly hope it's more than two, you're liking your stay on Hobie's ship, dare you say you're quite fond of having the crew around. Minus all the rival pirates and navy ships attacking the revenge, maybe you'll love it more here if those events don't happen on a daily basis.
There's a sense of security on the ship or maybe you're just beginning to get used to the routine and you just don't want the routine to get derailed by leaving the ship.
Even with all the dangers of staying on a pirate ship, you'd like to stay a few more days on it.
Your mind flies back during the crew meeting a week ago while you're slowly making your way up towards the crow’s nest. You can still feel everyone's eyes on you but you've only got your eyes clocked on to Hobie's intense look, he's determined, lips curling into a smirk as he says your name in front of the crew.
“Lastly, we're gonna need scuttlebutt, she's the only person not known to the navy in the colony.” Hobie's voice tells the crew but his gaze stays on you.
“She'll be our distraction then?” Ned asks.
You suddenly feel sweaty in front of everyone's eyes.
“Aye, we've already discussed her part. She knows what she's gonna do.” He stares at you intently, addressing you only. “After that you can finally get back on land.” You nod, slowly. Hobie finally looks away from you, speaking to the crew.
“Everyone else just needs to follow her lead. This isn't your first heist, you all know how to work with each other, keep up with the plan and we'll get the documents we need.”
“Remember, distraction,” Gwen glances at you briefly, “no guns inside, we get in the governor's office, get the plans, we get in and we get out quick.” Gwen speaks up from Hobie's right, her tone is serious, the low lamps swaying in the ship's movement makes shadows dance on her face.
“After that a round in the tavern, right?!” Two-fingers shout from the corner, most of the crew cheers with him.
“If we do everything right.” To everyone's dismay, Hobie corrects the cheering crew.
Yuri faces Hobie with a stern look. “Then after that we get the bastard, we get our bloody revenge, and then we're done.” you feel the tension filling the cramped space. “We go back to what we used to do.” Hobie observes her quietly, “The sea is calling and we better fucking answer, am I right cap'n?”
Hobie inhales, you could only get a glimpse of his anger flash across his face. “Then we answer the call”
The sudden rhythmic stomping from the crew makes you jump, Pavitr turns to you, whispering close. “So you've already discussed it with the captain, huh?” he wiggles his brows.
“Really, Pav?”
He continues to wiggle his eyebrows that are weirdly flexible. “Is that all you've discussed? Orrrr” You roll your eyes.
“Pav?”
“Yeah?”
“Go jump overboard”
“If that will get you to stay then I will jump overboard.” He happily says, skipping away from you.
“Wait what—?”
Yuri reaches down, flexing her ringed fingers for you. “C’mon landlubber, I'll help you up before the wind takes you.” her voice brings you back to reality.
You take her hand, “Thanks, how did I do?”
“You climb like my old hamster. Very cute but not very fast.” Heaving you up, you finally reach the bird's nest.
The circular space is filled with random stuff hanging from the banisters. A sextant hangs on a ribbon on your right, an old telescope swings in the wind, hitting your shin. The basket of yarn sits by your feet, a pair of knitting needles lay next to it.
“Thanks?” you look around and the view takes your breath away, the sun shines brightly painting the open water in watercolor light. There's nothing but blue as far as your eyes could see, you've never felt tinier in your entire life.
Waves heading in different directions, seagulls circling above the ship, providing a chorus of unending squawking.
“You're welcome, pretty.” She sits down on a tiny stool, palm up. “Before I bleed out.”
You chuckle. “You're not gonna bleed out,” taking a bandage and ointment from your handy dandy trouser pocket, you squat in front of Yuri. “It's just a scratch, and here I thought pirates are all tough.”
“Am I a pirate? Haven't felt like it recently.”
You look up at her, pausing from treating her wound. “What do you mean by that? Of course you're a pirate.”
“You look like a pirate too, Y/N, but logically speaking, you're not one of us.”
“Touché” you continue to bandage her hand, there's a sudden weight in your chest. “And here I thought you're not a pirate?” You throw back her own words.
She laughs, the sound akin to tiny bells twinkling. “Oh I'm gonna miss you and your wit.”
You smile genuinely, “and my medical prowess too?”
“That and more, doc.”
“Yuri, can I ask you a question before I inevitably leave?”
She stretches her hand, trying out the bandages. “Finally!” You jump slightly. “And here I thought you would pass asking me all your incessant questions.”
“Am I that annoying?”
“Oh no you're not, don't worry, darling. We're just not used to having new comers, the last time we had one was a while ago. And that was Danny, bleh.”
“Great, and here I thought everyone hates it when I ask questions.”
“They do,” you blink, “but if they ever complain they get a stare down from Gwen so they let you be curious.”
You bite back a laugh.
Yuri crosses a leg over the other. “So what is your question? I'm dying to know.”
You clear your throat. “During the meeting–?”
“Ah that!” She leans on the railing, shoulders relaxed, face facing the sun as it bathes her in sunlight. “The whole revenge thing has put a stop to our usual…” Yuri thinks of an appropriate word. “Adventures, that's why I just want it done and over with. Three years chasing the king's flame is too long, don't you think?”
“The king's flame?” You try to recall his real name that you've read a few times in the newspaper. “Captain Mathias something something.”
“Oh he's something alright, got our captain's knickers in a bunch for three straight boring years.” She pauses to look at you through her eyelashes. “I hate the wanker as much as the crew but my god I just want to bring him down as soon as possible.”
Sighing, she squeezes the bridge of her nose. “The navy attack was a blessing in disguise I suppose, if not for the lieutenant singing we wouldn't get the information about his little travel directory.”
You nod. “You just want to go back to pirating, I get it now.”
She hums. “That's why I like you so much”
You look away embarrassed, clearing your throat, you continue. “About the whole revenge thing? Everyone dances around it every time I ask and—”
“Maybe you'll find out if you stay long enough.” She smiles, a genuine one without a hint of flirting. “We need you y’know.”
“I know but I've got my own path to follow.”
“Screw following your path!” She waves you away, clicking her tongue. You frown at her. “I know you're starting to like it here. Look, I'm not opposed to you staying, I haven't seen this crew this healthy in a loooong while. Not to mention, Hobie bounced back real quick after all the attacks. Morale is at an all time high.”
“Only because he had less to worry about, like the crew dying of infection and disease.” you scoff.
“No, it's the opposite, he has more to worry about.”
You quirk a brow questioningly.
“You're asking the wrong questions, doc.”
“And what questions should I ask then?”
“Why did the hellion flee? They clearly had us, they just had to sail to us, back up the smaller ship but they didn't, they stayed behind, watching.”
You blink slowly, contemplating. “This didn't come up during the meeting. Have you told Hobie?”
“Of course I have and he reacts the same way every time I express my concerns about his revenge plan.” She shakes her head. “Fuckin’ indifferent.”
“I can tell him, maybe he'll listen.”
Yuri gives you a look, a neat eyebrow raised, lips straight. “Please, he might actually throw you overboard this time. We've tried that, love, trust me nothing's holding him back. He'll only stop once he gets his hands on the captain and I don't think even death itself will stop him either.”
“What did the navy do to him to warrant that?”
“Y’know what,” she stands up, stretching her back. “Go back down to the deck, Hobie's been staring at us for a while and I think his iris is burned from staring too close to the sun for too long.”
Sure enough, you look down to see Hobie knocking on the wooden mast, the sound reverberates upwards. He looks tinier from up where you are.
“Come down here and make yourself useful!” his hands are cupped around his mouth, yelling out.
Staring back at Yuri, she busies herself with her knitting, crafting a dark blue scarf. She waves you off wordlessly, eyes trained on her craft.
You climb down carefully, making sure your foot has leverage and your hands properly holding onto the steel bars.
Your mind filters through more questions, why would the crew not just answer you directly? Why does everyone compare you to the mysterious MJ? What is up with Hobie and the navy—?
A strong gust of wind suddenly blows past. With your hands slipping off the metal, feet unhooking from the foothold, you fall. Barely letting out a sound, you close your eyes, bracing for impact.
But you don't land on the floor with a harsh splat, instead you feel strong arms enveloping you, a hand gripping onto your thighs tightly, fingers spread across your shoulder, holding and tender on your skin.
“Fuckin' hell!” You hear someone yell.
Cracking an eye open, you see Hobie's furrowed brows, chest heaving. After seeing you alright, his face morphs into the most smug look you've ever seen. His lips curling into a smirk, eyes crinkling in the corners, dimples in full display. With his eyes full of wordless teasing, he opens his mouth with confidence.
“Got you fallin’ for me now, hmm?” The sun shines behind him, giving him a heavenly halo above his head. You swear you want to punch it off his face.
Shoving yourself off his arms, he drops you unceremoniously, you land on your behind with an ‘oomph’. Hobie looks down at you with a growing smile, hands tucked in his pants, his casual shirt dances with the wind, giving you a full show of his exposed chest. You sneer at him, wanting to tug the strings on his shirt to close it and maybe strangle him with it.
“A thank you would be great” He snickers, “saved your life a few times now. We should have a board here that tallies it all down.”
You stand up, pretending to dust yourself off but in truth, your tailbone hurts. “I fell from six feet, I would've survived, thank you very much.”
“You are very welcome, scuttlebutt” you can't believe it but he still manages to irk you.
Sucking in your teeth, you exhale, letting out your frustrations through it lest you get thrown overboard by the captain himself.
“What do you want, Hobie?”
“It's captain to you.”
“Captain” you say with gritted teeth, eyes searing holes into his shirt.
“That's better, I need help with tying the sail down. The others are unfortunately busy”
You raise an eyebrow, “why don't you do it yourself?”
“The wind’s too strong, I need someone to hold the ropes.” Hobie points at the large flapping ropes tied around the main mast, it could take someone's eye out with how wild it's moving around.
“Fine”
—
You're practically hugging the entire mast, making sure the numerous ropes stay close to the wood, the hemp ropes slap you across the face while another gust of sea wind passes through you, fluttering your lashes. You're glad that you're wearing trousers instead of the usual long skirt.
Hobie wrangles the wild cords. You can't see him but based on all the groaning and frustrated grunts, the ropes seem to be winning.
“Alright, got this one tied—fuck!” You hear a slapping sound against cloth. Silently chuckling, you'd give anything to have seen that just now.
“Hand me the next one!” He yells atop the rushing wind. You blindly take a single rope, handing it to Hobie's side.
Waves crash on the side of the ship, rocking you back and forth. Good thing you're already holding on to something strong.
He grabs it, his hands grazing your palms. It's warm, warmer than you thought it would be, you feel his calluses and all the history around it.
This continues on until you're only holding onto one rope, you've practically memorized every indent and lines on his hands and palms. Hobie ties the last rope on the steel hooks, the muscles in his arms doing all the work, sweat drips on his chest, following it with your eyes. it's like seeing a carriage crash, you can't look away.
“Fuckin' hell” you fling your eyes away when you hear his tired voice, looking at anything else other than him.
You're glad no one's looking your way.
The wind whips your warm cheeks, incredibly thankful to mother nature, you look back at Hobie, avoiding his sweat covered chest.
“Last one, scuttlebutt.” He flexes his hand towards you, smiling brighter than the searing sun. Why was he so happy when he was attacked by hemp cables a few minutes ago?
Before you could give it to him, Hobie had a better idea. “Why don't you do this one? Learn how to properly tie a knot.”
“James already taught me”
He beams, “that's good then, go do it.” Moving aside, Hobie gives you ample space to tie the cord.
You begin to twist it around the hook, looping it around itself. Hobie sighs behind you, looking over your shoulder, he has his hands on his hips.
“Continue, let me see what he taught you, yeah?”
Going back to your knot, you recall James’ instructions, over and under, twist it around then tie it together. You're done, looking behind you, Hobie grins, nodding.
“Adequate.”
The pride in your chest dissipates. “Really?” You scoff out.
“Good, but not enough, here.” He walks towards you, standing so close to you that your elbows kiss his.
You smell sea salt and the distinctive wound ointment.
Hobie unties the last knot, “focus here,” he tethers it differently, practiced hands gliding along the rope. “Got it?”
“Y-yeah.”
He unties it again, handing it back to you. “Let me see then.”
You side eye him. “I saw it.”
“Prove it then” he smirks, leaning sideways on the mast, arms crossed on his chest.
You bind it together like he did, hands suddenly clammy, face full of concentration. “There?”
“Not quite. Let me?” He closes the small distance, hands gesturing towards the rope, you nod thinking he's about to show it to you again. Instead he takes your hands in his. Careful and gentle like a flower petal kissing your hands.
Hobie uses your own hands to tether the rope around the steel, your mind has never clouded this much but you're determined to listen this time or he might not leave your hands alone.
“D’you have it, scuttlebutt?”
You clear your throat before speaking. “Y-yeah”
He unknots it once again so you could do it yourself. Holding the rope makes you sweat more as his eyes observe you. You follow through, finally doing it perfectly, it's a bit wonky, leaning to the side but at least it's secure.
Hobie chuckles, clasping your shoulder briefly, not a second more. “Good job.”
You blink, “thanks”
He walks away, leaving you on the spot.
—
The revenge drops anchor further away than the main docks. You've arrived a day earlier than you thought. With your small bag of belongings, you grip it tightly in your hand. You haven't been this further south in your entire life. The air is humid and warm, the trees more scarce.
The anchor clinks against the chains, with one strong push of the large wheel by Finn, the metal comes tumbling down to the depths with a splash.
A ramp is brought down to the side of the ship, it bangs loudly on the asphalt. The crew rolls down barrels upon crates of things down as you watch on with a clenched jaw.
“You'll do great.” Gwen makes you jump in place, she looks at you apologetically. “Don't be nervous, I know you won't fuck up.”
“Thanks?”
She slaps your back, “No problem.”
“Ow” you rub at the small of your back.
One by one they walk off the ship, stretching their arms, some hoot and holler. The late afternoon sun doesn't help with your nervous sweats as you carefully make your way down the ramp.
Finally standing on solid ground, you wobble a bit on your feet, too used to the rhythmic rocking of the ship.
Hobie jumps off the ramp following after you, his boots thud against the ground, heavy leather coat scraping by his shoes. His usual hair is tied in a ponytail hidden under a tricorn hat.
“Is this supposed to be your disguise?” You question him.
He whirls around, smiling almost immediately. “You'll be surprised at how many people don't recognize me in this.”
“Sure–” A crowd of children saunters over to the crew. Your eyes widen at the sight, their faces unafraid, giggling amongst themselves. “Uhh?” You point.
Hobie twists around, bringing your hand down for you. “Calm down, they can smell fear.”
“W-what?” You hide behind Hobie's large coat.
“You're all a sight for sore eyes, eh?!” Hobie bends at the knees while the children greet him with smiles and high fives. Pav and the rest of the crew join in, laughing while some happily chat with them.
“Open the crates,” Hobie calls above the chatter. “Give them the supplies.” He holds a child by his feet, swinging him while more children gather around him, calling for Hobie to swing them around too.
You watch quietly as the crew gives the gaggle of children some food, blankets and coins.
“How's your mum?” You hear Hobie ask a brown haired child. She whispers to him timidly. “Yeah? That's good, give her this bag, tell her it's for medicine.” Hobie hands her a clinking bag, the girl nods, smiling at Hobie.
Your heart warms at the sight, Finn gives the children piggy back rides as he gives them bread that you helped bake. Gwen talks quietly with a silver haired boy, Miles fights off a handful of children as they poke his pockets for coins. Pavitr’s handing each child a fleece blanket, laughing as he covers their heads with it.
You can't believe your own eyes.
A brown eyed girl tugs at your jacket. Looking down, you smile politely at her. Kneeling down to her height, she gives you her best puppy dog eyes.
“I know you're good but give it back, please?” You say while you offer her your open hand.
Her facade breaks, rolling her eyes. “Fine.” she hands you back your coin pouch.
“Need more practice,” you chuckle, standing to your full height.
“Ugh, I know!” She skips off, heading towards Ned.
“That's Estelle, quite a pickpocket huh?” Hobie appears next to you, a couple of children clinging on to each of his legs.
“Yeah, caught her with my coins though.”
“She needs more practice”
You laugh, “that's exactly what I told her.”
Hobie smiles, there's a comfortable silence between you. Just watching everyone interact with the children, more people arrive on the dock, both children and adults alike. They smile and wave. Surprisingly, Hobie waves back with a bigger smile. The children on his legs run off to what looks like their parents. Your smile falters.
Something pokes your side, you look down, finding a book poking you.
“What's this?” you ask, taking the book from Hobie.
“Farewell gift, I figured I won't have the time to give it to you after we take the papers”
Reading the title, you giggle, a smile coming back to your lips.
“‘How to conquer your fears volume five: Learn how to swim by Sir Riordan of Canterbury’ of course it's this book. I can't believe it took him five volumes to write this one.”
“Thought you might need it on your adventures.” He turns to you fully, eyes roaming around your face.
You're about to thank him, despite everything that happened, he let you stay, if it was any other pirate ship you'd be dead. Before you could say your piece, Hobie holds out his hand for you to shake.
“Good luck, Scuttlebutt. I can't say you were a pleasure on board but I'm glad you're not navy” you take his hand, shaking it, he tugs you closer, whispering in your ear, his breath fanning across your cheek. Sea salt and leather captures your senses.
“I better see you later or I'll—’’
“Or you'll hunt me down, I know, follow the plan. I won't let them down.” You lean away, cheeks warm, hand still holding his. “I promise.”
His grey eyes swirl, smiling at you. “Good, you're learning.”
“Surviving” nodding, you don't back down from his stare. “I'm just surviving.” you clasp his hand tighter like a hidden threat before you let go.
—
A shot rings out. You scream bloody murder before running frantically out the dim alleyway, sprinting towards the guards guarding the manor. Your barebones shoes clack on the rocks, feeling the jagged edges through your soles, you keep running, calling for help. Frantic shadows dance around your peripheral, footsteps as quiet as the night.
Reaching the silver gates, you bang on the metal. “Guards!” You screech, a couple of young guards sprint towards you, muskets raised in your direction.
“Stop right there! This is private property!” One says, you can smell the ale on his mouth from where you're standing.
This will be easier than you thought. Hopefully.
You heave, playing the part of a damsel in distress. “It's my brother! He's been shot, please help him!” Taking the younger guard’s hands through the metal gate, you flutter your eyelashes. “Please.”
They look at eachother, muskets pointed away from you. You grip his gloved hand tighter for emphasis. Wordlessly, they converse, eyes flitting between you and the manor.
“Please I just need someone to carry him to the hospital.” You shakily take your coin pouch out, the contents clinking against each other. “I can pay,” your eyes water. “I can pay both of you.”
With a nod and a smirk from the older guard, they open the gate, promptly closing it behind them.
“Thank you! Oh thank you!” Leading them towards the alleyway, you speed walk back. “This way, hurry!”
They obediently follow you into the dark.
You step into the darkness, they look around the empty alleyway, “oi! Where's—?”
Yuri emerges from the darkness accompanied by Finn, their guns drawn pointing it right at the guards’ temple.
“Don't move,” Yuri says with a tilt of her head. “Or…you know what happens next.”
You look away before a metal hits flesh in a sickening thwack! They drop harshly on the ground, your cue to look back.
Finn drags the bodies further into the alleyway, away from any prying eyes. You step to the side, giving him space.
“Good job, have you ever thought of a career in theatre?” Yuri asks, sporting two new muskets strapped to her back.
You wipe your eyes free of unshed tears. “I'll think about it.”
“This is it then, landlubber? I really hope I see you again.” She holds your elbow, surprisingly, you don't flinch away.
You fondly smile at her, “Me too, Yuri but I think I'm still needed here.” Your trouser pocket clink as you tap it.
Meanwhile, Hobie and the trio sneak into the manor that's now left unguarded. They go around the large home, finding a servant's back door. Gwen jiggles the doorknob.
“It's locked.” She whispers, kneeling down, she takes a lockpick from her belt. Hobie and the others watch her back.
After numerous tries, the lock pick breaks. Gwen clicks her tongue, taking out another lockpick.
Seven lockpicks later, sweat dribbles on Gwen's neck, the door still sits locked. She looks at Hobie frustrated, brows knitted together.
“Hey!” You whisper shout. All four of them look at you, eyes wide, eyebrows raised. Taking out the ring of keys, you show it to them with a large grin.
Hobie jogs over to you quietly, the full moon watches his lips slowly curve into a smile. “How'd you—?”
“Pickpocketed it from the guard.” You smile back, “that's a new lock.” You gesture with your chin, whispering your words. “The usual lockpicks won't work on it. Here” giving the keys to Hobie through the gate, his hand linger on yours as he looks at you with shining eyes. “What?”
“You–” he chuckles. “You know how to pickpocket?”
“What? Like it's hard?” You joke, earning a deep laugh from Hobie.
“How do you even know about the locks?”
“Look who's asking the questions now,” you smirk. “I'm full of surprises I guess.”
After a beat, he stares into your eyes. “Stay with us”
Your heart skips a beat. “What?”
“I know you heard me, scuttlebutt.”
“I–” you consider it, but what would happen if you stayed? What would happen if you join and they still leave you down the road? It's better to go now and save yourself from the heartache.
“I can't” you let his hand go. “I have to go. Good luck, Hobie”
Walking away, you didn't miss how his smile falters.
It's better this way.
—
The smell of the musty tavern brings you back. A plate of ham and beans left almost untouched, it's not the same as Finn's. it tastes like tree bark compared to your meals on the ship. Huddled in a corner, you mindlessly read the book Hobie gave you, its pages pristine and well taken cared of.
You shut it closed, with your eyes growing heavy, you wonder where you're going to be sleeping tonight.
The doors bang open, a loud rambunctious group saunters in, yelling for drinks.
“First round’s on Gwen!” Someone shouts.
“I don't even drink, you fucker!” Gwen shouts back.
Wait, Gwen?
“Gwen?” You mumble.
Like fate, Gwen finds you amidst the crowd. Her eyes widen right before a smile replaces it.
Pavitr yells your name first, pointing at you like he hasn't seen you in years. Everyone follows his finger, the rest of them cheer, pushing patrons away to get to you. James shoves Danny out of the way, taking the closest seat next to you.
Ned grabs both of them by the hem of their shirts, “give her some space, fuckin' hell!”
You give him a smile as thanks, he nods once, mock saluting you.
Yuri guffaws loudly. “I knew it! We're meant to be together, eh?” She shakes your shoulder, planting a loud smooch on top of your head. You giggle, waving her away.
“Alright, let's all calm down.” You laugh loudly, “Mug, watch your stitches!”
“Sorry,” he murmurs.
Gwen sits next to you with a small smile while half of the group head on to the bar to order their alcohol.
“How'd it go?” You whisper to her, “where's Hobie?”
“Everything went well.” Her eyes darted all over the place. “Hobie went back to the ship to store the papers.”
“What's wrong?” You look around, trying to find what's gotten her nervous. “You alright?”
“Yeah, it's just—I don't know.”
“It was too easy.” Miles pipes up, handing Gwen a cup of something warm.
“That,” she nods as thanks to Miles, sighing. “He's right, it seemed too easy. We sneaked in, never making a sound.” She whispers closely. “We only saw three housekeepers in the entire manor and you know how these officials are.” you nod. “I'm just keeping an eye out for everyone, just in case.”
“That's why we chose this tavern, it's far from the manor.” Miles explains. “What are you doing here anyway? Aren't you supposed to be out and adventuring right now? Y’know ‘finding yourself’” he makes quotation marks with his fingers.
“I was just resting. Am I not allowed to rest?” You sarcastically say.
“Oh I'm not gonna miss you on board.” He sips from his cup.
“Sure, say how's that tea taste? Like shit right? I bet you're gonna miss the brew I always make for you” you ask with a teasing smile. Gwen chuckles next to you.
“You're horrible.” he says into his cup of swirling dark liquid. A ghost of a smile hiding behind the ceramic.
A bundled loaf of bread drops in front of you, almost shattering the plate of so-called ham and beans. Looking up, you see Finn nodding at you.
“Thank you, Finn.” You smile at him, he grunts in reply, heading towards the rest of the group.
Pav visibly sags into his chair, blowing his bangs out of his face.
Used to his attitude, you tilt your head, asking him. “What is it, Pav?”
“I'm tired,” he sighs. “And I'm gonna miss you.”
You feel heat behind your eyes. “I'll miss you too, Pav, and our late night talks.”
“You kept me awake,” you chortle. Pav tentatively reaches for your hand over the table, letting him in, you open your palm wordlessly. “I guess we didn't hit any rocks because of you chattering endlessly. So thank you.”
You smile, squeezing his hand once.
He drops his sadness, going back to his usual self. “Are you sure you can't stay? Come on! We've got…” he thinks for a second, finding the bread on the table he gestures towards it. “Bread!”
“A lot of places offer bread, Pav”
“Yeah, but they're not Finn's bread”
He's right, they're not Finn's, or Gwen's or Miles’ or Hobie's. They're not from the crew and nothing will ever be once you finally leave. Despite all of these, you smile, standing up with shaky legs.
“I have to go.” Your small voice echoes in their ears, they look at you with fond smiles. “Thank you, really.” You think about hugging them but you change your mind last minute, it's better this way, you say to yourself.
You wave goodbye, fighting yourself from looking back.
Exiting the tavern, the cold evening air blasts your cheeks, a tear escapes and you wipe it immediately.
“Y/N, wait!” Gwen runs after you. You stop in your tracks, looking over your shoulder with a sad smile.
You can't keep doing this, you need to leave, your mind tells you but your heart says otherwise.
“Here.” She hands you a hefty bag of coins, the pouch is pink with her name embroidered on it. “for your travels and as a thank you for helping with the crew.”
You shake your head, “I can't take this.” Pushing it back towards her. She gives you a stern look worthy of a first mate. “Gwen, I can't. Give it to the children, I don't want it.”
“You won't survive another day with what you have on you right now” before you could protest, she stuffs it into your bag. “You can pay me back when we meet again.”
You nod, “Alright, I'll pay you back. I promise”
“Good luck and I don't know if this might be helpful but we're heading north. If–if you want to come aboard again we'll be near the thousand islands. Waiting” the moonlight illuminates her sad eyes.
“Thank you, I'll think about it.” You turn around but you look back against better judgment. “Can you tell Hobie…just say thanks for me.”
“Will do Y/N.” Gwen smiles genuinely at you.
So you walk with no true destination. You roam around on your tired feet, waiting until something happens, you don't know what it could be and you're too fatigued to think right now.
A cat meows in the alley, followed by a chorus of soft mewls. Its bright green eyes blink slowly at you, an orange tubby and cream colored cat sidles up to the black cat. They meow simultaneously, getting your attention. Their noses probably got a whiff of the ham you've pocketed.
“Hungry?” You squat, taking the covered ham to give it to them. They take bites, sharing the meat with each other. “Yeah, I know the feeling.” sighing, you look at the end of the alley, your heart almost falls when you see the same engraving of a bird taking flight stamped on the side of a crate, followed by another and another.
“What the fuck.” You speed walk towards the docks, ankles hurting from all the running you've done. “Hey!” You yell at a worker who's currently loading the crates in a ship.
“Oi yourself” he turns around, hands on his hips.
You try to catch your breath, “what's that?” Pointing at the crate, the man looks at you like you've lost your mind.
“A fucking crate, love. You haven't seen a crate before?”
“No, I meant the design, the fucking sigil.”
“Ah, it's clearly a blue jay. look at its tail.” he gestures at the tail.
“That's— that's not what I was asking but thanks, I guess. I meant the sigil. What does it mean? And where is it going?” hope fills your chest.
“I dunno about the symbol, I just haul them in. As for where we're going, I'll tell you. For a price of course.” He smiles, showing his teeth with one gold fang.
“Fine.” You don't hesitate giving him a coin.
He chuckles, pocketing the money immediately. “Further north, near the capital.”
“The capital.” this is your chance so you take it. “How much? How much to board?”
He laughs at her face. “If only you were a man!” He eyes her up and down. “Clearly you're not.”
You scoff, glaring at the man. “You're fucking nasty.”
“Y/N?” The simple call of your name sends shivers down your spine.
Your heart stops beating for a second, you bolt it out of there without looking back at him. You know it's him, his booming voice yells after you, loud footsteps echoing in the night.
“Y/N!” Miguel yells.
His partner appears from an alleyway, you sprint past her without sparing her a glance.
“Whoa!” She yelps, almost falling on her back.
“It's her!” he screams, voice cracking from the sheer volume. “Lyla, it's Y/N!”
“Oh shit!”
You hear two sets of running footsteps behind you. There's no advantage for you this time, you don't know the city and its streets. It's only a matter of time before you walk into a dead end.
“Fuck!” With your aching knees, thighs burning, lungs gasping for air, you head towards the only sanctuary you can think of and where people can help defend you—The tavern.
You can feel him getting closer and closer to you, turning a corner, your ankles almost give out from the sudden turn. “No, no, no!” Limping slightly, you continue to run as fast as you can with a sprained ankle.
“Y/N, please!” His partner yells.
The familiar roof of the tavern peeks over all the houses, a beacon of hope for you. With a sudden tug on your arm, your body harshly takes an unwanted turn to the right. Strong yet familiar set of arms holds you, a calloused hand covers your mouth as you struggle to get out of the alcove.
“Calm down, it's me.” He whispers close to your ear.
You stop your squirming, looking up, Hobie's serious face looks at the opening of the alcove, eyebrows knitted together in anger.
Your back is squished on his chest, shaking hand holding his wrist. The dark alcove saves you as Miguel and Lyla run past.
Hobie takes his hand off your mouth, you heave, almost falling to your knees if not for him still holding on to you.
“Thank you.” You whisper like he could still hear you.
“Why is the former admiral comin' after you?” He turns you towards him in the cramped space, your knees banging on his legs, hips dangerously close to his.
“What? He's an admiral?” There's no way he's an admiral. You try to remember the day but it's been years, you don't recall him ever wearing a uniform.
“Yeah, he's—” Hobie shuts up, hearing voices from outside your little alcove.
It's him.
You look behind you and it’s a dead end. Craning your neck up, you have an idea.
“We need to climb up.” You quietly say, heart beating rapidly.
“Are you sure you can do it?” He looks at your swollen ankle.
You nod, “I don't have a choice.”
Hobie nods, lips tightly closed. “Alright. You go first, if you fall I'll catch you, again.” He doesn't waste an opportunity does he?
With your feet laying flat on the wall and your hands on the other side, back straight. You slowly make your way up. Hobie's close behind you, doing the same but managing his speed, slowing down for you.
Looking down, you almost fall as your ankle throbs.
Miguel's voice echoes out in the darkness, he's close.
“It's alright,” Hobie encourages you. “I'm right here, yeah? If you fall we'll run, even if I have to carry your arse out of here.”
Why couldn't your savior be Gwen?
With a roll of your eyes and a groan, you continue to climb up. Finally reaching the top, the moonlight greets you. Hobie helps you up by pushing you up by your feet, careful of your injury.
Laying down on the sodden roof. You roll over to the side to help him up by his hand, pulling with all your might.
Hobie climbs over the edge, laying down next to you, breathing heavily.
“I underestimated the height of that.” He says in between breaths.
“I underestimated how heavy you are.”
He pats his stomach. “This is pure muscle, trouble.” turning to face you, his piercings shine in the evening's light, smile across his lips like you're not hiding from someone.
“Full of Finn's stew more like.”
“I'm a growing boy, I need the sustenance.” he twists, looking below. “They're gone, I see them walking back towards the docks.”
You let yourself breathe again, head thumping on the roof. “Thank fuck.”
“Don't you mean thank me?” Hobie lays down next to you again, you groan in reply. “How's the ankle?”
“I think it's just sprained—” A twig snaps, you swear the roof caved in a bit. “What was that?”
“Shit, I think it's the—”
Crack!
The roof caves in, Hobie lunges for you mid air, holding on to you, hand guiding your head on his chest as he braces for impact.
You land on top of Hobie, he groans in pain, your eyes adjust at the candles littered around the frilly room.
“Shit! Are you bleeding? Please don't tell me you hit your head!” you frantically pat behind his head. Instead of warm ichor, you feel something soft.
You pull it out from behind his head without warning. He yelps when his head hits the carpeted floor.
Wincing, you apologize. “Sorry.” looking at the pillow in your hand, you're more confused than ever. More confusing than the sight of a crystal ball sitting in the middle of the table.
Roaming your eyes, you stop at a woman clad in furs and velvet, she stands frozen with her teacup in her hands.
“Uh, welcome to Nellie's?”
—
You're incredibly glad Nellie's nice, she even gave you ice for Hobie's back, ice! In this season! There's also ice on your swollen ankle, the cold seeping through your skin, giving you reprieve from the pain. You bet she's rolling in coins judging from all the generous ice she's given. Maybe you should learn how to be a fortune teller from her. You think about asking her if she needs an apprentice.
After dropping off almost half of Gwen's money to pay for the roof, you stare at it longingly, already missing its weight inside your bag.
She comes out of her kitchen, the beaded curtains flutter as she moves through it.
“Shoulders.” Hobie grumbles. He sits next to you, back hunched while you hold the ice on his back for him. “Y/N, move the bloody thing.”
“Right, you can say please, you know.” You slide the cloth covered ice up to his shoulders, he hisses when you hit his tender muscle. “Sorry, my fault.”
“Definitely your fault.” He quietly says with a pout.
“Oh don't be such a baby,” Nellie drops off a silver tray full of tea and crumpets. “I foresaw that you'll heal in no time.” she says with a smile.
Hobie raises a brow skeptically. You wordlessly communicate with him, telling him to shut it or she might call the coppers on you two. He sighs, rolling his eyes, taking a bite of a crumpet.
“So Nellie, you're a fortune teller huh? How exactly do you uh do that?” You ask, making conversation, careful of your words.
“I'm so glad you asked!” she giggles excitedly, pouring you and Hobie a cup each. Nellie drops a cube of sugar and milk in yours just like how you like it while Hobie gets three cubes. Wait.
Hobie beats you to it, “How'd you know I like my tea with three sugars?” He says with his mouth full.
Nellie smiles, tapping her temple. “I have the gift.” She sits down across from you, “although it's not always accurate, but I give it a” she sucks in her teeth, thinking. “Eighty percent chance of being right? My trusty crystal ball helps in filling the gaps.”
She gestures around the ball, making whooshing sounds.
You and Hobie share a look.
“Do you want a go?” She flicks her different colored eyes at you two. “I'll throw it in for free since you paid me already for the damages. I know I'm incredibly nice, no?”
You have nothing to lose, and you have to wait until Hobie recuperates. Said man eats his third crumpet.
“Sure, why not, right?” you chuckle nervously.
“Lower back.” Hobie instructs, you scoff before doing what he asked. He did save you again, that's the only reason why you do what he asks for.
“Fantastic! Let's start!” She claps her hands, the inside of the crystal ball swirls, pearlescent colors shining inside like water. “Oooh let's start off with you!” Nellie addresses you, you straighten up in your seat.
She roams her ringed hands around the ball. “I see that you're running from someone, M? I think?”
You look at Hobie in the corner of your eyes. He thickly swallows his crumpet. “Shoulders,” he says lowly. You move it up, annoyed.
“And for Mr. Hungry here,” she glances at Hobie. “Oh, I see the letter M too! You're more alike than I thought!”
Hobie stops eating, exchanging his crumpet for a cup of tea.
“Hmm, and a J? For…” she narrows her eyes, looking directly at the swirling colors. “The both of you, again. Huh?” Nellie chuckles, “that's— I've never seen that before, even from other couples.”
You swallow thickly, not bothering to correct her.
Taking your tea from the tray to calm your nerves.
She's dangerously accurate.
Her bright demeanor suddenly falls, her mismatched eyes empty and devoid of light. Her smile fades. “Something lurks in the water.” She says flatly.
“Alright, we should go.” Hobie stretches his back. “This is all bollocks, let's go–”
Nellie suddenly punches the table. Hobie sits back down, holding your wrists just in case he needs to run.
“I see the blazing sun and sand beneath your feet” She sharply turns towards you. “Don a white dress and you'll find what you're looking for.”
You take your wrist away from Hobie. “What do you mean?”
She ignores you, twisting suddenly towards Hobie. “I see blood and steel kissing your neck if you stay on the path. Answer her call and you'll be safe.”
Hobie looks at her with an unreadable face. Fists tightly closed. “Whose call?” She ignores him, blinking rapidly.
Nellie smiles back, the light in her eyes coming back. “Oh look at that! I see the same white dress and sun in yours!” She giddily says to a confused Hobie. “A beach wedding perhaps?” She giggles while you and Hobie are shaking in your seats.
Hobie has had enough, taking your wrist again, he stands up. “Thank you for the hospitality and for not screaming bloody murder but we have to go.”
“To plan the wedding?”
“No, to murder and pillage.” Hobie takes the ice from the floor. “Goodbye”
“Uh sorry about the roof!” You yell back. He tugs you outside.
“Wait, are you two pirates?” Nellie asks into the now empty room, scratching her head.
—
The sun is rising as you and Hobie sneak quietly out of town and into the secret dock where the revenge rests.
You can't help but exhale out your nerves once you reach the ship. Hobie's shoulders visibly relax, waving towards Gwen who's eyes widen when she sees you. Pavitr stands next to her, wiggling his eyebrows at you.
You shake your head rapidly, he gives you a thumbs up while Miles has the most disgusted look on his face.
Hobie turns around, “You comin’?”
You contemplate what happened today, your bones are aching and begging for sleep.
“I–I need to go.”
Hobie could only nod, walking away from you without looking back. “Lift the anchor” you hear him say from the ship.
The crew waves back at you, faces of different variety, some smiles, some could only look at you with sad eyes. Finn nods, a small smile on his lips. Gwen leaves, sparing you a glance. You think you hear Yuri yell ‘no, my wife!’ you chuckle to yourself in the empty dock.
You watch as the people's revenge sails further away, the anchor lifting back up slowly.
North. The word jumps back at you. They're heading north.
Without thinking, you run.
Your ankle screams for you to stop, but your grin says otherwise. You pray to every divine entity out there to help you reach the anchor in time and to not let you drown.
“Wait!” You yell. Everyone runs towards the edge of the ship, watching with wide eyes as you run the length of the wooden dock.
Pavitr cheers you on, yelling loudly. Everyone else follows his lead, hands rhythmically banging on wood, screams making you run faster.
Hobie beams from the ship. Tossing off his large coat and hat, he climbs to the side of the boat through its ropes, as close as he can get to you.
With an outstretched hand, he calls for you. “C’mon, trouble!”
With a running leap, your fingers graze his palms. You don't make it.
Hobie lets himself fall, holding your hand with both arms. The crew made themselves a rope to hold Hobie while he grips on to you tightly.
You laugh loudly, seeing the human chain, Gwen holds on to Hobie's waist, while Miles holds on to Gwen, Pav and the others begin to heave you all up to the boat.
With a jump, you reach up with your dangling arm to hold on tight to his shoulder.
Hobie beams down at you, “I hope you've read the book because these wankers might let us go for shits and giggles.”
“No I haven't,” you say above the wind, feet dangling several feet off the deep waters. “But I trust them. I know they've got me.”
The sun wakes up to loud cheering and smiles.
YO! To the people who have spidersona's but can't draw- I GOT YOU!!
Naynayyy on X: "NOVEMBER 1ST!!! LETS GOOO #Picrew #IntoTheSpiderVerse https://t.co/TvJ21GU6g0" / X
All you have to do is wait until Nov 1st!
REBLOG! REBLOG! REBLOG!
I posted this on TikTok but never talked about it here-
I did a Gen3 Venus cosplay!!!
The wig was the hardest part, the amount of pink hair on my living room floor could’ve made a whole new wig lmao 😭
the real MVPs of arcane
Between the Devil and the Sea
Pairing: Pirate Captain! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader
Word Count: 115.9k
Synopsis: All your life you've been running away, what happens when you accidentally stow away on an infamous ship that has a captain who's notorious for being the world's most wanted pirate. Will he welcome you as part of his ragtag crew or will you end up walking the plank? Or worse, will your past catch up to you?
Tags: Pirate Captain! Hobie, Fem! Reader, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing occasionally), R has nicknames, Arachkids x Reader (platonic), TW blood, TW violence, Strangers to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst. Set during the golden age of piracy. Specific Warnings are listed on every chapter.
Masterlist
Navigation
*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms and copy pasted on any AI software*
*pictures are from pinterest*
Chapter One- Seafoam on the Shore
Chapter Two- Claimed by the Sea
Chapter Three- Amidst the Waves
Chapter Four- Go by the Board
Chapter Five- Sailing Close to the Wind
Chapter Six- Batten Down the Hatches
Chapter Seven- In Deep Water
Chapter Eight- Stem the Tide
Chapter Nine- Plain Sailing
Chapter Ten- Starlight and Seafoam
Chapter Eleven- Salt in the Wound
Chapter Twelve- Like Ships That Pass in the Night
Chapter Thirteen- Sink or Swim
Chapter Thirteen- Sink or Swim II
Chapter Fourteen- Between the Devil…
Chapter Fifteen- …And the Deep Blue Sea
Ocean banner and support banner by @cafekitsune
Custom BDAS banner by: @the-shroom-garden
Reader outfit inspos and ship references.
Hobie outfit inspos and references.
Chapter 13 outfit inspos and references
Submitted by lovelies ❤️❤️❤️
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @rexlroze
Chapter 6 comic panel by @rexlroze
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @missshelleyduvall
Pirate! Gwen fanart by @missshelleyduvall
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @missshelleyduvall
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @idrinkwetcementasproteinshakes
Chapter 3 comic panel by @rexlroze
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @h4m0nyqu3s0
Pirate trio fanart by @h4m0nyqu3s0
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @al1x00
Pirate! Gwen by @h4m0nyqu3s0
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @juvenile-arm
OC Bambi and pirate! Hobie fanart by @dollieduvall
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @idrinkwetcementasproteinshakes
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @juineri
Pirate! Hobie x OC fanart by @megdoesstuff
Pirate! Hobie x OC fanart by @teatoptony
BDAS Charm bracelet by @thats-a-pillow-case
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @pleaktale
Chapter 8/9 fanart by @theres-a-spider-in-my-pillowcase
Chap 15 Hobie fanart by @idrinkwetcementasproteinshakes
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @pleaktale *chap 15 spoilers*
Pirate! Hobie and OC fanart by @megs-insanity
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @idrinkwetcementasproteinshakes
Pirate Hobie and R fanart (spoiler alert) by @strawberrymilkmaiden
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @sareenawails
Pirate! Hobie fanart by @sareenawails
Pirate! Hobie and R fanart by @friendly-neighborhood-mushroom
.... i see the future and it's bright 🫡🛐
Harlow ♡
Bro My Jewel thief Girlfriend Has a Fortnite Skin!!!
Look How Cute She is!!!
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