let's talk about Bridgerton tea, my ask is open
Claire Keane
#extradirty
Andulka
Origami Around
Misplaced Lens Cap
Aqua Utopia｜海の底で記憶を紡ぐ
tannertan36
Kaledo Art
blake kathryn
PR's Tumblrdome
sheepfilms
⁂
d e v o n
No title available
almost home
Kiana Khansmith
titsay
★
todays bird
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from India
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom
@fluffysourpatch
【M】【a】【s】【t】【e】【r】【l】【i】【s】【t】
(っ◔◡◔)っ ♥ Ghost and COD/Cod Ghosts fanfics live here. Hi! ♥ Updated 28/05/2026
Ghost
Copia
Oneshots:
His little cherub Copia x Child Daugther!Oc Five Candles, one Promise Copia x Fem!reader (Y/N) Ashes Between Us Copia x Fem!reader (Y/N)
Perpetua
Series:
Bound by Fate, Broken By Lies, Together by Truth / Perpetua x Fem!reader (Y/N) Completed♥
Chapter I: The Return
Chapter II: Only Ever You
Chapter III: My Daisy
Chapter IV: Prayers Answered
Chapter V: The Meeting
Chapter VI: Mia Per Sempre
Chapter VII: The Shape of Someday
Chapter VIII: The Wedding
-
Bound by blade and Crown Knight!Perpetua x Fem!reader princess (Y/N) On going!
Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III
Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII
Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X Chapter XI
Chapter XII
Oneshots:
Under the moonlight with my Cowboy Cowboy!Perpetua x Fem!reader
Whispers Beneath the Mistletoe: When Hearts Meet in the Snow Perpetua x Fem!reader (Y/N)
Call of Duty + Ghosts
Keegan P. Russ
Series:
Between Tides / Pirate!Keegan Russ x reader (PIRATE AU)
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7
Hesh "David" Walker
Oneshot:
All Along "College AU" Hesh x reader
Part 1
Simon "Ghost" Riley
Series:
Shadows of War / Simon Riley x daughter!reader (platonic)
Part 1 Part 2
...
John Price
Oneshot:
Multitasking, Price Style
The team was preparing for a mission.
Price was explaining the plan.
Price: "Questions?"
Soap: "None."
Y/N: "I have one."
Price sighed.
Price: "Go ahead."
Y/N: "If Soap gets lost again, do we leave breadcrumbs or just let nature take its course?"
Gaz nearly choked.
Soap: "I GOT LOST ONCE."
Ghost: "Twice."
Gaz: "Three times."
Price: "Four."
Soap: "...I hate all of you."
Y/N: "Statistically speaking, that's fair."
GUYS. Imagine a Simon Riley zombie apocalypse fanfic inspired by The Last of Us.
Reader is basically Ellie. Simon is forced to travel with her, absolutely hates the idea at first, thinks she's annoying and reckless, and wants nothing to do with her. But as they survive together, he slowly becomes protective of her, until one day he realizes he'd do anything to keep her safe.
Grumpy Simon Riley + found family + father-daughter bond + apocalypse survival.
SOMEONE. WRITE. THIS.
Between Tides
Pirate!keegan Russ x F!reader
Taken by the sea and caught between two lives, Y/N finds something she never expected aboard a pirate ship-family, survival, and Keegan Russ.
Words: 4k
Part 8
The rope tightened. Water dripped from Keegan’s sleeve as Logan and Hesh hauled upward with all their strength.
“Pull!” Logan shouted.
The thick rope groaned against the railing as they dragged it up inch by inch. Below, the ocean slammed against the hull of The Resolute, waves splashing violently against the wood.
Keegan held the rope firmly with one arm. The other remained locked securely around Y/N. Her arms were still wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Her face pressed against his chest. She trembled so badly he could feel it through the soaked fabric of his shirt.
“I’m slipping—!” she gasped suddenly. Her hands tightened again as another wave lifted them before dropping them.
“You’re not,” Keegan said calmly. His grip never loosened. He kept her body pressed tight against his chest as they rose, holding her securely above the churning water.
Above them Hesh leaned over the railing. “I’ve got eyes on them!”
Logan gritted his teeth and pulled harder. “Come on!”
The rope lifted again. Keegan braced his boots against the side of the hull as they were dragged upward. Water streamed down from their clothes. Y/N’s breathing still came fast and shaky. Her fingers clutched the back of Keegan’s shirt desperately.
“I hate the ocean,” she muttered weakly.
Keegan glanced down briefly. “…Noted.”
Another strong pull from above. Their bodies rose high enough that Logan finally reached down.
“Got you!” He grabbed Keegan’s arm firmly and pulled. Hesh grabbed Y/N’s soaked sleeve at the same time. Together they dragged them over the railing.
Y/N collapsed onto the deck immediately. The wooden planks were warm compared to the freezing ocean. Her chest heaved as she rolled slightly onto her side. Water pooled around her from her soaked clothes. Her whole body shook uncontrollably.
Keegan climbed over the railing a second later. He stood immediately, scanning the deck. Still alert. Still watching.
The battle had mostly shifted away from the ships now. Rorke’s crew were retreating. Their ship already pulling away across the waves. Cannons fired one last time before the enemy vessel turned into the distance.
Logan wiped seawater from his face. “Damn lunatic,” he muttered toward Keegan.
Hesh laughed breathlessly. “You really jumped off the enemy ship.”
Ajax jogged over from the other side of the deck. His grin wide. “Now that was dramatic.”
But Y/N barely heard them. She sat on the deck with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her soaked blouse clung to her skin. Her wet hair stuck to her face and neck. Her teeth chattered slightly. Her eyes were still wide. Still shaken. Still processing what had just happened.
“I almost died,” she murmured quietly.
No one answered immediately. The crew exchanged glances. Then Hesh crouched slightly nearby. “You’re fine.”
Y/N looked up at him slowly. Her voice still small. “I fell off a pirate ship into the ocean while cannons were firing.”
“…Yeah.”
“And I can’t swim.”
“…Also true.”
She stared at him. Hesh rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “But you didn’t die.”
Y/N looked away again. Her gaze drifted across the water where Rorke’s ship was disappearing into the distance. Then slowly her eyes moved toward Keegan. He stood only a few feet away.
Still soaked. Still quiet. Watching the horizon to make sure the enemy ship wasn’t turning back. She studied him silently for a moment. Then her voice came out quietly.
“…You pushed me.”
Keegan finally looked at her.
“…Yes.”
Her brows furrowed slightly. “I told you I couldn’t swim.”
“I know.”
“You pushed me anyway.”
Keegan shrugged lightly. “You jumped eventually.”
Y/N stared at him.
For a second she looked like she might yell. Or cry. Or both. Instead she exhaled slowly. Her shoulders sagged a little. “…You’re insane.”
Ajax laughed loudly. “Oh he definitely is.”
But Keegan just looked at her calmly. And after a moment Y/N muttered quietly.
“…Thank you.” The words were soft. Almost reluctant. But real.
The battle was over. Or at least far enough away now that the deck of The Resolute had begun to settle again. The enemy ship carrying Rorke and his crew was already disappearing into the distance across the darkening water.
Cannons were quiet.
Smoke slowly drifted away with the wind. The crew moved across the deck checking ropes, inspecting damage, dragging fallen weapons aside.
But near the railing Y/N still sat exactly where Logan and Hesh had pulled her onto the ship. She hadn’t moved. Her soaked clothes clung tightly to her skin. Water still dripped from the ends of her hair, sliding down her neck and onto the wooden planks beneath her.
Her arms wrapped around herself tightly. Her shoulders trembled. Uncontrollably. The cold from the ocean had settled deep into her bones. Her teeth chattered softly. She tried to push herself up once.
Her hands pressed weakly against the deck. But her arms trembled too badly. Her legs didn’t cooperate. She dropped back down again.
“…I can’t…” Her voice came out small. Embarrassed. Frustrated. “I can’t stand.”
Logan glanced over from where he had been coiling rope. His brows lifted slightly. “Yeah that happens after you jump into freezing ocean water.”
Hesh crouched beside her again. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”
“I noticed,” she muttered weakly.
Ajax crossed his arms nearby, watching. “You’re turning blue.”
“That’s very comforting,” Y/N replied dryly, though her voice still trembled.
But the shaking only got worse. Her hands gripped her sleeves tightly. Her shoulders hunched slightly. Her breathing uneven.
Keegan had been standing nearby the entire time. Watching quietly. His clothes were still soaked too, but he didn’t seem to notice. His gaze stayed fixed on her.
The trembling. The way she couldn’t even push herself up.
Then he spoke.
“Blanket.” The word was calm. Firm.
Hesh looked up. “Yeah.” He stood immediately. “Logan!”
Logan tossed the rope aside. “Already on it.” He jogged toward the stairs leading below deck.
Y/N barely followed the movement with her eyes. Her body felt heavy. Cold. The shaking refused to stop. Her fingers trembled harder as she rubbed her arms. “I hate the ocean,” she muttered again through chattering teeth.
Ajax crouched down in front of her now, tilting his head slightly. “You jumped pretty dramatically though.”
“I didn’t jump,” she said weakly. “Keegan threw me.”
Ajax grinned. “Even better.”
She glared at him. Or tried to. But it came out more tired than angry.
A moment later Logan reappeared carrying a thick wool blanket.
“Move.” Hesh stepped aside. Logan dropped the blanket around Y/N’s shoulders. The warmth hit her instantly. Her fingers clutched the fabric tightly. She wrapped it around herself as much as she could. Her shaking slowed slightly. But not much.
“Better?” Logan asked.
“…A little.”
Keegan stepped closer now. Standing directly in front of her. His shadow fell over her slightly. She looked up at him. Her eyes tired. Still shaken. Still cold. Her voice was quiet. “...My legs don’t work.”
Keegan didn’t hesitate. “Shock.”
Hesh nodded. “Cold water does that.”
Y/N swallowed. Her fingers tightened around the blanket again. “I’m not dying, right?”
Ajax chuckled. “Nah.”
Logan smirked slightly. “You’re too stubborn to die.”
Y/N rolled her eyes weakly. But she still couldn’t stand. Her legs refused to cooperate. She remained sitting on the deck wrapped tightly in the blanket. Shivering.
Keegan looked down at her for another moment. Then crouched slightly in front of her. His voice calm again. “Try again.”
She shook her head weakly. “I tried.”
“Try again.”
Her eyes met his. For a moment she looked like she might argue. Then she sighed softly. “...Fine.”
She placed one hand on the deck. The other still clutched the blanket. Slowly she tried to stand again. But the moment she pushed up her legs buckled. Her balance vanished.
She tilted sideways and Keegan caught her immediately. One arm steadying her before she could fall back to the deck. Her hand instinctively grabbed his sleeve.
“...See?” she muttered tiredly. “Doesn’t work.”
Her legs still shook beneath her. Unable to hold her weight.
The blanket slipped slightly around her shoulders as she leaned against him for balance. And for the first time since the battle ended she looked less angry. Less stubborn. And more like someone who was simply exhausted.
For a moment the deck was quiet around them. The wind moved softly through the sails. The ocean rolled gently beneath the hull.
Y/N leaned slightly against Keegan still wrapped tightly in the blanket Logan had thrown around her shoulders. Her fingers clutched the thick wool like it was the only warm thing left in the world. Her legs trembled beneath her. Completely useless. She tried to stand straight again. Her knees wobbled instantly.
“...Nope.” Her voice came out weak and tired. “Still broken.”
Logan crossed his arms watching. “Yeah you’re not walking anywhere like that.”
Ajax tilted his head. “We could drag her.”
Y/N lifted her head just enough to glare at him. “Don’t.”
Ajax held up his hands. “Just offering solutions.”
Hesh rolled his eyes. “Your solutions are terrible.”
Y/N’s grip on Keegan’s sleeve tightened slightly as another shiver ran through her body. The cold still clung to her skin from the ocean water. Even with the blanket her teeth still chattered faintly. She exhaled slowly. “...I really hate the ocean.”
Keegan looked down at her. Then without another word he moved. One arm slid behind her back. The other hooked easily beneath her knees. Before Y/N could even react he lifted her.
Effortlessly.
The world tilted suddenly.
“—Wait!”
Y/N gasped as her feet left the deck. Her hands instinctively grabbed his shirt.
“What are you doing?!”
Keegan didn’t answer. He simply adjusted his grip slightly to keep the blanket wrapped around her shoulders, holding her securely against him.
Y/N blinked in surprise, her brain clearly lagging behind the situation.
“You’re—” She looked down, then back up at him. “…carrying me.”
“Yes.”
Her eyebrows lifted. “You can’t just pick people up!”
“You can’t walk.”
“That’s not the point!”
Hesh burst out laughing behind them. Logan shook his head. “Honestly, this is the most efficient option.”
Ajax grinned. “Looks romantic.”
Y/N immediately snapped her head toward him. “It is not!”
Ajax just laughed harder.
Keegan had already started walking toward the stairs leading below deck, completely ignoring the commentary.
Y/N shifted slightly in his arms, clearly unsure what to do with herself. The blanket slipped a little around her shoulders. She grabbed it quickly with one hand to keep it wrapped. Her other hand still clutched the front of Keegan’s shirt for balance.
“…You could at least warn someone before doing that,” she muttered.
“You were falling.”
“That still doesn’t mean—”
Another shiver ran through her. Her teeth clicked together softly. Her protest weakened instantly.
Keegan noticed. His grip tightened slightly around her to keep her steady as he stepped down the stairs into the ship. The warmer air below deck greeted them.
Y/N sighed quietly as the wind from outside finally stopped biting at her skin. Her voice came out softer now. “…Okay maybe carrying isn’t the worst idea.”
Logan called after them from above. “Try not to drown anyone else tonight!”
Y/N turned her head toward the stairs. “I did not drown!”
Hesh shouted down. “Technically you almost did!”
“Not helping!” she yelled back.
Keegan continued walking down the corridor without reacting. Calm. Steady.
Y/N shifted slightly again in his arms, still shivering, still wrapped in the blanket. But now at least she wasn’t sitting helpless on the cold deck anymore.
Her eyes flicked up toward him briefly. Then she muttered quietly—
“…You’re still insane for pushing me off that ship.”
Keegan didn’t even look down. “You’re alive.”
She frowned slightly. “…That’s annoyingly good logic.”
And for the first time since the battle— The tension in her shoulders loosened just a little as he carried her down the hallway toward her cabin.
The hallway below deck was warmer. Not warm enough to dry soaked clothes immediately, but warm enough that the freezing bite of the ocean wind finally stopped clawing at Y/N’s skin.
Lanterns swayed softly from hooks along the wooden walls as the ship moved across the waves. Their light flickered gently across the narrow corridor.
Keegan carried her the rest of the way without slowing. His boots thudded quietly against the wooden floor. Y/N stayed wrapped tightly in the blanket, still shivering slightly in his arms.
She had stopped protesting somewhere halfway down the stairs. Mostly because the warmth below deck and the exhaustion creeping through her body had started to win the fight against her stubbornness. Still, her fingers remained curled loosely in the front of his shirt. Not gripping as tightly as before. But not letting go either.
When they reached her cabin door, Keegan pushed it open with his shoulder. The small room looked exactly how she had left it earlier.
Bed. Table. Small round window.
The damp cloth from the ice earlier still sat on the table.
Keegan stepped inside and closed the door behind them. Then he walked to the bed, carefully lowering her onto the mattress.
Y/N let out a small sigh the moment she sat down. The bed felt surprisingly soft after everything that had happened.
Her legs still trembled slightly. She pulled the blanket tighter around herself as another shiver ran through her.
Before she could say anything, Keegan grabbed the second blanket folded at the end of the bed. He wrapped it around her shoulders as well, layering it over the first one.
Y/N blinked slightly in surprise. “That’s a lot of blankets.”
“You’re still shaking.”
She looked down at herself. Two blankets now wrapped tightly around her shoulders and arms like a cocoon. Her nose wrinkled slightly.
“Okay that’s fair.” Her wet hair dripped faintly onto the fabric. Her fingers curled deeper into the blankets. Her breathing slowly steadied now that she wasn’t out in the cold wind anymore.
Keegan stepped back slightly. “I’ll bring dry clothes.” He turned toward the door. But before he could leave, Y/N spoke again.
“Wait.” He paused. She looked up at him. Her eyes moved slowly across him for the first time since he had carried her down here.
Only now noticing something.
His shirt. Still soaked. Water still dripping from the sleeves.
His hair damp. Boots wet. She frowned slightly.
“Are you not cold?”
Keegan glanced down briefly at his own clothes. Then shrugged. “Not really.”
Y/N stared at him. “You jumped into the ocean.”
“Yes.”
“And swam through freezing water.”
“Yes.”
“And you’re standing there like it’s nothing.”
He didn’t answer immediately. Just looked at her calmly. Then said simply, “I’m used to it.”
Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly. “You pirates are weird.”
“Probably.”
She shifted slightly on the bed. Still wrapped in her blanket fortress. Still a little shaky. But much warmer now. Her gaze followed him as he moved toward the door again. Then she muttered quietly,
“Still.” He paused again. She looked down at the blankets around her hands.
“Thank you.” The words came out softer this time. Less reluctant.
More real. Keegan didn’t say anything. He just gave a small nod. Then stepped out of the cabin to find dry clothes for her.
The door closed softly behind him.
Y/N sat there for a moment, wrapped in layers of blankets that made her look more like a pile of wool than a person. The cabin felt quieter now. The sounds of the ship had returned to their normal rhythm—wood creaking, waves brushing against the hull, the distant murmur of voices above deck.
Her body was still trembling a little, but the violent shaking had finally started to fade. She rubbed her hands slowly against the blanket, trying to warm them faster.
“That was horrible,” she muttered to herself. Her eyes drifted toward the small round window. The sky outside had darkened slightly.
The sea stretched endlessly, calm again as if the battle had never happened. Her mind replayed it anyway—the cannons, the pirates, the knife at her throat, the moment she fell into the freezing water. Her stomach twisted slightly. “Never again.”
She leaned back against the wall behind the bed. The blankets shifted around her shoulders. Her hair was still damp, small drops of water sliding down her neck.
She wiped her cheek absently. Then sighed.
“And he pushed me.” The thought annoyed her again, even if she knew deep down it had saved her life.
The door creaked open again before she could continue that thought. Keegan stepped back into the room. This time he carried a small bundle of clothes.
Dry ones. A pair of dark trousers.
A loose shirt. And another thicker wool sweater folded over his arm.
Y/N immediately straightened slightly. “Please tell me those are dry.”
Keegan walked over and set them on the bed beside her.
“They are.”
She reached out and touched the fabric.
Warm.
Dry.
Her shoulders visibly relaxed. “Oh thank the gods.” She grabbed the shirt immediately. Then paused. Her eyes flicked up toward him. He was still standing there. She stared. He stared back. A few seconds passed. Then she slowly lifted one eyebrow.
“You’re still here.”
“Yes.”
“I need to change.”
“Yes.”
Her other eyebrow lifted now. “That usually requires privacy.”
Keegan blinked once. Then nodded. “Right.” He turned toward the door again.
Y/N waited until he reached it. Then called after him. “Keegan?”
He stopped in the doorway. “What.”
She hesitated for a second, her fingers still holding the dry shirt. “Don’t drown yourself too.”
He looked at her, confused for a moment. “You’re still soaked.”
He glanced down at his wet clothes again. Then shrugged slightly. “I’ll manage.”
She frowned at him. “That’s what people say before they get sick.”
“I don’t get sick.”
“You jumped into the ocean during a pirate battle.”
“That happens.”
Y/N stared at him. Then slowly shook her head. “You are absolutely insane.”
Keegan gave a small shrug. Then stepped out of the room again. The door closed behind him.
Y/N looked down at the dry clothes in her hands. Her fingers ran over the fabric slowly. Warm. Comfortable. She smiled faintly.
“Still insane,” she murmured. But this time there was a little less annoyance in her voice. And a little more relief.
The door of Y/N’s cabin closed softly behind Keegan.
The hallway outside was quiet, lanterns swaying gently with the movement of the ship. The warmth below deck lingered, but the faint smell of gunpowder and sea salt still clung to the air after the battle.
Keegan walked down the corridor without slowing. His clothes were still soaked, the damp fabric sticking to his arms and shoulders. Drops of seawater fell from the edge of his sleeve every few steps, leaving a faint trail on the wooden floorboards.
He climbed the stairs back toward the deck. The evening air met him again as he stepped outside. The sky had darkened now, orange sunlight fading into deep blue over the ocean.
The crew of The Resolute were still moving around the ship, repairing damage from the fight. Ropes were being retied. Broken boards replaced.
A few men dragged a damaged cannon back into position. But the chaos from earlier had calmed. The enemy ship carrying Rorke had vanished beyond the horizon.
Captain Elias stood near the helm, his arms crossed as he studied the water where Rorke’s vessel had disappeared. Merrick stood beside him quietly. Logan leaned against a crate nearby, cleaning seawater from his rifle. Hesh was checking the side of the hull where one of the cannonballs had struck earlier.
Ajax sat casually on a barrel, spinning one of his pistols around his finger like the battle had simply been a bit of afternoon entertainment.
Keegan stepped onto the deck. Logan noticed him first. “Well look who survived.” Hesh glanced up.
“Still breathing?” Ajax grinned.
“Barely.”
Keegan ignored them and walked toward the helm. Captain Elias heard the approaching footsteps. He turned slightly. His eyes moved slowly over Keegan’s appearance—soaked clothes, wet boots, water still dripping from his sleeves. Elias exhaled slowly through his nose.
Then shook his head once.
“You are insane, son.”
Keegan stopped in front of him. “Probably.” Logan chuckled from behind them. “That’s the understatement of the year.”
Elias continued studying him for a moment. “You jumped onto Rorke’s ship.”
“Yes.”
“You grabbed the girl.”
“Yes.”
“And then jumped into the ocean during a cannon battle.”
“Yes.” The captain raised one eyebrow. “…With someone who cannot swim.”
Keegan shrugged slightly. “She floated.” Logan burst out laughing. Hesh snorted loudly.
“‘She floated,’ he says.” Ajax clapped once. “That might be the worst rescue plan I’ve ever heard.” Merrick chuckled quietly under his breath.
Elias rubbed his temple for a moment. “You could’ve been killed.” Keegan glanced toward the horizon where Rorke had vanished.
“So could she.”
The words settled quietly over the group. For a moment no one joked. No one laughed.
Logan leaned back against the crate again. “Well… you did bring her back.” Hesh nodded.
“And she didn’t drown.” Ajax pointed.
“That part is important.” Elias lowered his hand from his temple. His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Keegan again. Then he asked calmly— “Where is she now?”
“In her cabin.”
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Angry?” Keegan thought for a second. “…Cold.”
Logan smirked. “That tracks.” Hesh leaned against the mast. “Honestly I thought she was going to stab one of us earlier.” Ajax shrugged. “Still might.”
Elias shook his head slightly. But the corner of his mouth twitched faintly. “Well.” He turned back toward the horizon again. “You brought her back.” Then he added quietly— “Try not to start another war tomorrow.”
Keegan nodded once. “I’ll try.”
Behind them— Logan muttered to Hesh. “He absolutely will start another one.” Hesh grinned. “Oh definitely.”
The wind moved slowly across the deck. The last light of the sun had almost vanished now, leaving the ocean dark and endless around The Resolute. Lanterns had been lit along the railings, their warm glow swaying with the motion of the ship.
For a moment the crew stood quietly. The adrenaline from the battle was fading. But the tension lingered.
Captain Elias remained near the helm, staring out across the water where Rorke’s ship had disappeared. His expression had changed. The small hint of humor from earlier had vanished. Now his face looked thoughtful. Serious.
Merrick noticed it first. “What is it?”
Elias didn’t answer immediately. His eyes stayed on the horizon. Then he finally spoke. “Rorke saw her.”
The words hung quietly in the air.
Logan looked up from where he had been checking his rifle. “…Yeah.”
Hesh leaned back against the mast. “So?”
Elias slowly turned toward them. His gaze moved between the crew. Then landed on Keegan. “That means something.”
Keegan’s expression didn’t change. But his attention sharpened. “What.”
Elias spoke calmly. But the weight of his words settled heavily over the deck. “It means she can’t go home.”
Silence followed.
Ajax frowned. “…What?”
Logan straightened slightly. “Why not?”
Elias gestured toward the horizon. “Because Rorke knows her now.”
The crew exchanged looks.
Hesh frowned slightly. “Still don’t follow.”
Elias continued. “You think a man like Rorke forgets faces?”
No one answered. Because they all knew the truth. Rorke didn’t forget anything.
Merrick folded his arms. “He’ll remember she was on our ship.” “Yes.” “And that she matters enough for Keegan to jump onto his deck to get her back.”
Keegan’s eyes flicked toward Elias briefly.
The captain continued. “If she goes back to her island… he’ll find her.”
Logan’s jaw tightened. “…You think he’d go that far?”
Elias gave a quiet, humorless smile. “You’ve fought him before.”
Logan didn’t argue. Because they all had. They knew exactly what Rorke was capable of.
Ajax scratched the back of his neck. “So… what are we saying here?”
Elias looked toward the hallway leading below deck. Toward the cabins. Toward where Y/N currently sat wrapped in blankets, probably still shivering and cursing the ocean. “He knows her face now.” He looked back at the crew. “That makes her part of the board.”
Merrick nodded slowly. “In his game.”
Hesh sighed. “…Great.”
Logan rubbed the back of his neck. “So we just what… keep her?”
Ajax shrugged. “Could be worse.”
Keegan hadn’t spoken. He stood quietly near the railing. Looking out across the dark ocean.
Elias glanced at him again. “She can’t go back to her island now.” The captain’s voice was calm. But final. “Not safely.”
A long silence followed. The waves rolled against the ship. Lanterns swayed.
Then Logan muttered quietly— “…She’s going to hate that.”
Hesh chuckled under his breath. “Oh yeah.”
Ajax grinned. “Especially after the whole kidnapping thing.”
Merrick smirked faintly. “She hasn’t even accepted being here yet.”
Elias folded his arms again. “Then we better start figuring out how to explain it to her.”
Because one thing was certain now. Y/N hadn’t just been caught in a pirate raid anymore. She had been seen by Captain Rorke. And that means her life… had just become a lot more complicated.
Let me know if you´d like to be added to my Keegy taglist!
Taglist:
@mazzyowl
@strangeby-nature
@moimoi56
Task Force 141 sat around a table covered in maps and intel.
Gaz rubbed his eyes.
Soap looked exhausted.
Price studied reports.
Ghost stood silently near the wall.
Gaz: "Any new leads?"
Price: "No,"
Soap: "I wonder how she's holding up."
Ghost: "Fine."
Everyone looked at him.
"You sound sure."
Ghost shrugged.: "Makarov's with her."
"...And?"
Ghost looked completely serious.
Ghost: "He's suffering."
Makarov: "What communications channels does your team use?"
Y/N: "Soap uses sarcasm."
Makarov: "That is not a communications channel."
Y/N: "It's his primary one."
Y/N: "Can I ask a question?"
Makarov: "No."
Makarov: "Too late."
Makarov sighed.: "What?"
"What's your favorite pasta?"
The room went silent.
Makarov: "Why, are you obsessed with pasta?"
Y/N: "Why are you obsessed with being evil?. You know, Makkaroni, I think you'd be happier if you opened a restaurant."
Makarov: "Enough."
Y/N: "I'm serious."
Makarov: "Enough."
Y/N: "'Makkaroni's Pasta Palace.'"
Makarov: "Enough."
Y/N: "'Our revenge is served al dente.'"
Makarov looked exhausted.
And for the first time in years, the infamous Vladimir Makarov found himself facing an enemy he couldn't understand.
Bound by blade and Crown
Pairing: Knight!Perpetua x Female!Reader princess (Y/N)
Summary: They have known each other since childhood, when Perpetua was only the boy who always stood between her and harm. Now sworn as her knight, his only duty is to protect the princess, even as affection grows into something forbidden. What begins in soft devotion and familiar warmth slowly turns fragile, for they both know that if their feelings are discovered, the cost will fall most heavily on her knight.
Warning: Angst. Smut.
Words: 6k <- holy. not sorry lol.
Chapter XII
Y/N walked quickly through the palace corridors, her vision blurred as she fought desperately to keep the tears from falling. Her breathing came unevenly now—slow inhales, shaky exhales—as she tried to hold herself together before someone saw her like this.
She felt completely lost.
Every thought in her head twisted painfully into another.
What was she supposed to do now?
She was a princess. The future queen. Her life had never truly belonged to her, not really. Every lesson, every appearance, every expectation placed on her shoulders since childhood had all been leading to this—to duty, to sacrifice, to a marriage chosen for the kingdom instead of for love.
But now… now everything was different.
Because now she knew what it felt like to love someone.
And worse—she knew what it felt like to be loved back.
Her chest ached painfully as she kept walking, her fingers tightening into the fabric of her dress. She could still hear his voice in her head, still feel his hands on her skin, still remember the way he looked at her as though she were the only thing that mattered in the world.
How was she supposed to give that up?
How was she supposed to stand beside another man one day, smile politely, let him touch her, speak to her, marry her… while every part of her belonged to Perpetua?
The thought made her stomach twist so violently she almost stopped walking altogether.
She couldn’t do it.
She couldn’t.
But what choice did she really have?
That was the cruelest part.
No matter how much she wanted him, no matter how deeply she loved him, the world would never see them as possible. A princess and her knight. A future queen and the man sworn only to protect her—not love her.
And the thought that this—they—might already be slipping away from her made the ache in her chest unbearable.
What was going to happen now?
Would this destroy them?
Would they slowly be forced apart until all they had left were stolen memories and quiet regrets?
Y/N pressed a trembling hand against her mouth, finally stopping near one of the empty hallways, her shoulders shaking slightly as she lowered her head.
She didn’t want to think about losing him.
She couldn’t.
Because the idea of waking up one day and no longer having him beside her—no longer hearing his voice, no longer feeling his quiet presence following her through the palace, no longer being able to touch him freely—felt like someone tearing the air from her lungs.
And what hurt most of all…
Was that for the first time since they had finally found each other—
She was afraid love might not be enough.
Later that day, Y/N stood once again in the training yard, wooden sword in hand, the afternoon sun warm against her skin. But unlike usual, the space felt… wrong. Empty.
Because Perpetua was not there.
He was always there.
Always standing nearby with crossed arms and that permanent frown on his face whenever Copia got too close or swung too hard. Always watching her. Always there.
And now he wasn’t.
Copia noticed immediately.
Not just because his brother’s intimidating presence was missing from the edge of the yard—but because Y/N herself was completely distracted.
“Principessa.” Clack.
Her wooden sword barely blocked his strike in time.
“Hmm?” she muttered absentmindedly, stepping back too slowly.
Copia narrowed his eyes slightly. “You almost lost your hand.”
“Oh.” She blinked. “Sorry.”
That alone told him something was very wrong.
Y/N was never this unfocused during training. Frustrated sometimes, stubborn constantly, dramatic often—but not absent. Not like this.
Copia lowered his sword slowly, studying her more carefully now. “Okay… what happened?”
“Nothing happened,” she answered too quickly.
“Mhm.” He tilted his head. “And my brother suddenly vanished from training because…?”
Y/N looked away immediately.
Ah.
Interesting.
Copia’s brows lifted slightly as realization slowly began creeping in. Something had definitely happened. He just didn’t know what exactly. But whatever it was, it involved both of them. Deeply.
“Y/N,” he said more gently this time, walking closer, “you’ve been staring into nothing for the last ten minutes. You didn’t insult me once today. That’s how I know it’s serious.”
Usually she would have rolled her eyes at that. Maybe thrown the sword at him.
Instead she just stood there silently, gripping the wooden blade tighter.
And suddenly Copia’s teasing expression faded.
“…Hey,” he said quietly now. “What’s wrong?”
Y/N swallowed hard. Her chest tightened again instantly, just hearing the question aloud. She had spent the entire day trying not to think too much, trying not to fall apart completely—but the moment someone asked sincerely, it all came rushing back.
The breakfast.
Her father’s words.
Marriage.
Duty.
Perpetua standing perfectly still by that pillar while the world quietly shattered around both of them.
Her eyes burned suddenly and she looked away fast before Copia could notice too much.
“Nothing,” she whispered again, but this time it sounded tired. Hurt.
Copia frowned deeply now. He rested the wooden sword against his shoulder and stared at her for a moment before speaking again. “Yeah… no. Something definitely happened.”
Silence.
Then quietly—carefully—he added, “Did you and my brother fight?”
That question hit harder than it should have.
Y/N laughed softly—but it sounded broken. “Not exactly.”
Copia’s stomach sank slightly hearing that. Because whatever this was… it sounded worse than a fight.
Y/N looked down at the sword in her hands, blinking rapidly as she tried keeping herself together. And all the while one thought kept repeating painfully in her head over and over again—
What if this is the beginning of losing him?
Copia watched her quietly for another moment before sighing softly. Then, without another word, he stepped closer and carefully took the wooden sword from her hands before she could protest.
“Enough training for today,” he muttered. “You’re somewhere else entirely, principessa.”
Y/N didn’t even argue. That alone worried him more.
Copia rested the sword aside and gently guided her toward the low stone ledge nearby beneath the shade of the old tree at the edge of the yard. “Sit,” he said more softly this time.
She obeyed silently, lowering herself onto the stone while staring down at her hands.
Copia sat beside her, elbows resting on his knees as he studied her face carefully. Usually she was expressive—dramatic even. Angry, sarcastic, stubborn. But now she just looked… hurt. Quietly hurt.
And he hated it immediately.
“Alright,” he sighed, turning slightly toward her. “Tell me what happened.”
Y/N shook her head faintly. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Bullshit.”
She blinked slightly at the bluntness.
Copia softened his tone a little, nudging her shoulder gently with his own. “Did my stupid brother say something? Hmm? Did that idiota finally lose the tiny amount of sense he has?”
Despite herself, Y/N let out the faintest breath of laughter through her sadness.
“There,” Copia pointed dramatically. “See? I made you laugh. I’m clearly the superior brother.”
But the smile vanished from her face almost immediately again.
Copia noticed. Of course he noticed.
His expression slowly grew more serious. “Hey,” he said quietly now. “Look at me.”
Reluctantly, Y/N lifted her eyes toward him. And the moment Copia saw the tears she was still trying desperately to hold back, his entire demeanor changed.
“Oh…” he murmured softly. “Madonna…”
He leaned back slightly, frowning now. “Okay no, this is serious serious.”
Y/N looked away again quickly, blinking hard. “My father…” she started quietly before stopping herself. Her throat tightened painfully.
Copia waited patiently.
Finally she whispered, “He talked about marriage this morning.”
Silence.
Then slowly—very slowly—Copia’s teasing expression disappeared completely.
“…Ah.”
Y/N nodded faintly, her fingers twisting together in her lap. “He said discussions will start soon. Princes. Noble families. Alliances.” Her voice cracked slightly on the last word. “And all I could think about was…”
Perpetua.
She didn’t even have to say his name aloud. Copia understood instantly.
His shoulders dropped heavily as realization settled over him fully now.
“Oh, principessa…” he said quietly.
Y/N finally broke then, not loudly, not dramatically—just silently. Tears slipping down her cheeks while she stared at the ground. “I just got him,” she whispered painfully. “After all this time… I finally got him, Copia.”
And hearing that hurt him too. Because suddenly so many things made sense. The looks between them lately. Perpetua disappearing. Y/N glowing one day and devastated the next.
Dio mio.
Copia dragged a hand slowly down his face before exhaling deeply. “If my brother is suffering through this too,” he muttered darkly, “he’s probably somewhere brooding so hard the walls are shaking.”
A weak laugh escaped her again through tears.
Copia looked at her softly now, far gentler than usual. “Did you two fight?”
Y/N shook her head slowly. “No… that’s the worst part. We didn’t.” Her voice trembled again. “He just… he thinks realistically. And I hate it.”
Copia sighed quietly. “Yes well, Perpetua has the emotional range of a haunted knight in a tragic poem.”
That actually made her smile faintly.
But only faintly.
Because the ache inside her chest still remained.
“What if this ruins everything?” she whispered after a moment. “What if… this is how we lose each other?”
Copia looked at her for a long moment then leaned back slightly against the stone, his expression thoughtful now instead of teasing.
“No,” he said finally, quietly but firmly. “You two survived years of pretending not to love each other. I don’t think this is what destroys you.”
Y/N shook her head immediately, tears slipping faster now as she wiped at them in frustration. “Yes it is,” she whispered brokenly. “This is what destroys us.”
Copia frowned deeply but stayed quiet, letting her continue.
“I’ll marry someone else one day,” she said, her voice trembling more with every word. “Some prince. Some nobleman I don’t even know. And Perpetua…” Her breath caught painfully. “Perpetua will have to stand there and watch it happen.”
The image alone made her chest ache so violently she pressed a hand against it.
“He’ll have to watch me stand beside another man. Watch someone else touch me, hold me, call me his wife…” Her voice cracked completely then. “And I’ll have to pretend I’m happy while all I want is him.”
Copia’s expression slowly fell apart the more she spoke.
“And the worst part?” she laughed softly through tears, though it sounded miserable. “I’ll have no choice. I’ll have to force myself to be with someone I don’t love for the rest of my life because that’s what’s expected of me.” She shook her head bitterly. “How is that fair? How is any of this fair?”
Silence settled heavily around them.
Even Copia—who always had a joke, always had something clever or comforting to say—didn’t immediately know how to answer. Because suddenly this wasn’t just secret kisses and longing looks anymore. This was reality. Cruel, unavoidable reality.
Y/N stared down at her trembling hands, her voice quieter now, exhausted from hurting. “And he already knows it too,” she whispered. “That’s why he pulled away this morning. That’s why he kept talking about duty and reality and what he is.”
“A stubborn idiot?” Copia muttered automatically.
A tiny laugh escaped her despite everything, but it disappeared quickly again.
“He thinks loving me is wrong,” she said softly. “Like he’s already preparing himself to lose me before it even happens.”
Copia leaned back against the stone slowly, exhaling through his nose. “No,” he said quietly after a moment. “Perpetua thinks wanting you is dangerous. There’s a difference.”
Y/N closed her eyes briefly, fresh tears falling. “I don’t care about dangerous anymore.”
And that was the truth that terrified her most.
Because she had spent her whole life understanding duty, rules, expectations—understanding exactly who she was supposed to become. But now every single part of her wanted something selfish for once. Something impossible.
She wanted him.
Only him.
And the thought of losing that—losing him—felt unbearable now that she finally knew what it was like to be loved by him openly, freely, completely.
Copia watched her carefully, his usual playful energy gone entirely now. Then quietly, softer than usual, he asked, “Did you tell him all this?”
Y/N shook her head faintly. “No.”
“Why not?”
Her lips trembled slightly. “Because if I say it out loud…” she whispered painfully, “then it becomes real.”
And somehow that sentence hurt more than all the tears combined.
Copia looked at her quietly for a long moment after that, his expression softer than she had ever seen it before. Usually there was always some joke behind his eyes, some teasing remark waiting on his tongue—but not now. Now he just looked… sad for her. Sad for both of them.
He leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees as he stared out across the training yard. “You know,” he said quietly after a while, “when we were younger, I used to think my brother was cursed or something.”
Y/N blinked faintly, caught off guard by the sudden comment.
Copia huffed softly through his nose. “No really. He barely smiled. Barely slept. Barely lived outside of duty. Everything was rules and discipline and protecting everyone else before himself.” He shook his head slightly.
“Then you came into a room and suddenly the man remembered he was human.”
Y/N’s chest tightened painfully hearing that.
Copia glanced sideways at her. “You should see the way he looks at you when you’re not paying attention, principessa. Dio mio.” He let out a quiet laugh. “It’s honestly embarrassing.”
A watery smile pulled weakly at her lips before fading again.
“But that’s why this is killing him too,” Copia continued more seriously. “Perpetua loves like a man preparing for war. Completely. Desperately. And once he gives his heart away…” He exhaled quietly.
“That’s it. There’s no taking it back.”
Y/N looked down quickly as fresh tears gathered again. Because she knew that already. She had felt it every time he touched her gently like she was something precious. Every time he looked at her like he wanted to memorize her existence.
Every time he pulled himself back because he thought wanting her too much would ruin her life.
“I hate this,” she whispered again, exhausted by the ache living inside her chest now. “I hate that loving him suddenly feels like something tragic.”
Copia frowned faintly at that. “No,” he said quietly. “Loving him isn’t tragic.”
She looked at him.
“The tragic part,” he continued softly, “is that the world around you might not allow it.”
That silence returned again after that. Heavy. Painful. Honest.
Y/N leaned back slightly against the stone, staring blankly ahead while trying to steady her breathing. But her mind wouldn’t stop. Images kept replaying endlessly—Perpetua holding her in the tower, kissing her forehead softly that morning, the way his face looked when her father mentioned marriage.
That expression haunted her most.
Not anger. Not jealousy.
Resignation.
Like part of him had already accepted losing her someday.
And that hurt more than if he had shouted.
“I don’t want him to give up on us,” she admitted quietly after a while, her voice small now. Vulnerable. “But I’m scared he already is.”
Copia immediately shook his head. “No.”
She looked uncertain.
“My brother would walk through hell itself for you,” he said firmly. “The problem is… he also believes he should suffer quietly while doing it.”
That sounded exactly like Perpetua.
Y/N closed her eyes briefly, another tear escaping despite her efforts. “I don’t know how to fix this.”
Copia was quiet for a second before muttering dryly, “Honestly? Neither do I. Usually my solutions involve wine, bad decisions, or mild violence.”
That finally pulled a real laugh from her, small and shaky though it was.
Copia smiled faintly seeing it. Then more softly he added, “But one thing I do know…”
Y/N looked at him again.
“You two love each other too much to end this without a fight.”
And somehow…
That hurt.
But comforted her at the same time.
Y/N stared at him quietly after that, her eyes still glassy from tears, her chest aching a little less now only because someone finally understood. Maybe not completely—not fully—but enough. Enough to make her feel less alone in all of this.
And suddenly, before she could even think too much about it, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Copia tightly.
It caught him completely off guard.
“—Oh,” he breathed out, startled for a second before immediately relaxing into it. “Well… this is new.”
Y/N laughed softly against him through the remains of her tears, holding onto him tighter for another moment. “Thank you,” she whispered quietly. “Really.”
Copia’s expression softened instantly. Slowly, gently, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and rested his chin lightly against the top of her head with surprising tenderness.
“Ah, principessa…” he murmured softly. “Don’t cry like this. You’re making me emotional now too and I have a reputation to maintain.”
That pulled another weak laugh from her.
Good.
He preferred hearing that far more than her crying.
They stayed like that quietly for a moment beneath the shade of the tree, the training yard around them unusually peaceful now. And for the first time since breakfast, Y/N felt like she could breathe again without her chest collapsing inward.
Copia pulled back slightly after a while, looking down at her carefully. “You know,” he said lightly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face dramatically, “if you ever break my brother’s heart, I’ll have to challenge you to a duel.”
Y/N snorted softly. “I’m the one heartbroken right now.”
“True,” he admitted with a sigh. “Dio mio, you two are exhausting.”
Another tiny smile appeared on her lips before fading again into something quieter. More thoughtful.
“…Do you think he’s alright?” she asked softly after a moment, unable to stop herself.
Copia’s expression shifted slightly at that. He leaned back again against the stone and exhaled slowly through his nose. “No,” he answered honestly. “Absolutely not.”
That hurt to hear even though she already knew it.
“He probably looks calm,” Copia continued. “That’s what Perpetua does. But inside?” He shook his head slightly. “He’s likely destroying himself with thoughts right now.”
Y/N lowered her gaze immediately. Because she knew him well enough to know Copia was right.
Perpetua would not scream or break things or shout about how unfair this all was.
No.
He would suffer quietly.
Alone.
And somehow that made her chest ache even more painfully than before.
Copia noticed the expression on her face and sighed softly again. “Madonna… you both really are in love.”
Y/N looked away quickly at that, cheeks warming faintly despite everything.
Copia smirked a little seeing it. “Ah there she is. The embarrassing blush returns.”
“Stop,” she muttered weakly.
“No.” He grinned. “Never.”
And for just a little while longer, sitting there beside him beneath the afternoon sun, the world didn’t feel quite as hopeless anymore.
Later, after sitting with Copia for a while longer, they returned to training—but only barely.
Y/N tried.
Truly tried. She swung the sword, blocked strikes, listened to instructions. But her thoughts kept drifting elsewhere.
Toward dark eyes and quiet suffering and the unbearable distance that had suddenly grown between her and the one person she wanted closest.
Eventually even Copia sighed dramatically and lowered his weapon. “Alright, enough,” he declared. “At this point I’m training with your body while your soul is somewhere crying in a tower.”
Y/N rolled her eyes faintly, but he wasn’t wrong.
So training ended early.
And later that evening, the castle halls glowed softly with torchlight as Y/N walked through them quietly, searching. Her heartbeat quickened the deeper she went into the corridors because part of her feared she wouldn’t find him at all.
But then she saw him.
Perpetua.
Walking slowly through the hallway in full armor, posture straight, expression unreadable as he continued his usual patrol like nothing in the world had changed. Like his heart wasn’t breaking quietly inside his chest.
The sight of him hurt instantly.
Y/N stopped in front of him.
He looked at her immediately, something shifting in his eyes the second he realized she had been searching for him. “Princess—”
“Follow me.”
Her voice was quiet but firm.
Perpetua blinked slightly, surprised by the sharpness in it. But he obeyed instantly, falling into step behind her without another word.
Y/N didn’t look back once as she walked through the corridors toward her chambers, her breathing steady only because she was forcing it to be. Her emotions had been twisting inside her all day long, growing heavier and heavier until she felt like she would suffocate if she didn’t say something.
And this time—
She would not let him retreat behind duty and silence again.
The moment they entered her chambers, she shut the door firmly behind them and immediately locked it. The sharp click echoed loudly in the room.
Perpetua turned toward her fully now, concern already visible in his expression. “Y/N—”
“No.” She spun around instantly, cutting him off before he could continue. Her chest rose unevenly as she pointed at him sharply.
“No. You are going to listen to me now.”
He froze.
“I’m going to talk,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly from emotion but growing firmer with every word.
“And you are not going to interrupt me. You are not going to cut me off, you are not going to tell me about duty or reality or what you think you are supposed to do.” Her eyes burned again, tears threatening despite how hard she fought them.
“I talk. You listen.”
Perpetua stared at her silently, clearly caught off guard by the intensity in her voice. But slowly… he nodded once.
Good.
Because Y/N was done pretending she could quietly survive this alone.
She took a shaky breath, her hands trembling slightly at her sides before finally speaking again, quieter this time—but somehow even more painful.
“You don’t get to decide for both of us that this is hopeless.”
Y/N’s chest rose sharply as she tried gathering all the thoughts that had been tearing through her mind since breakfast, since the garden, since the moment she saw him look at her like he was already mourning something that hadn’t even ended yet.
“You don’t get to do that,” she repeated, her voice trembling harder now. “You don’t get to decide this is impossible before we’ve even tried to fight for it.”
Perpetua opened his mouth instinctively.
She pointed at him immediately. “No.”
He stopped again. Jaw tightening.
Good.
Because if he interrupted her now she thought she might actually scream.
“I spent the entire day thinking,” she continued quickly, words rushing out faster and faster now like she couldn’t stop them anymore. “Thinking about everything. About us. About what my father said. About marriage and duty and kingdoms and all these stupid rules that suddenly feel like chains around my throat.”
She laughed softly then—but it sounded miserable. “And the whole time all I could think about was you.”
Perpetua’s expression shifted painfully at that, but he stayed silent like she demanded.
“I kept imagining it,” she whispered, her eyes shining now. “Standing beside someone else one day while you’re forced to watch. Pretending to smile while all I want is you. Letting someone touch me while I…”
Her voice cracked violently. “Gods, Perpetua, I can’t even think about it without feeling sick.”
His hands clenched slowly at his sides.
“But what hurts most?” she continued shakily. “Is that this morning it felt like you already accepted it. Like you already decided we lose. Like part of you was already pulling away from me because you think that somehow protects me.”
She stepped closer then, anger and heartbreak mixing together in the tears threatening to fall again.
“I don’t want protection from this!” she snapped. “I want you.”
That hit him visibly.
Y/N shook her head hard, breathing uneven now. “Do you know how cruel this feels? To finally have you after all these years? To finally know what it feels like when you hold me, when you kiss me, when you look at me like I’m something precious—and then suddenly be told none of it is supposed to exist?”
Perpetua’s gaze dropped briefly, pain flashing openly across his face now.
“And I know what you’re thinking,” she continued immediately, not letting him retreat into silence again. “I know you think you’re being realistic. I know you think you’re protecting me by preparing yourself for the worst. But do you have any idea what it feels like for me to watch you do that?”
Her voice broke again.
“It feels like you’re leaving me before I’ve even lost you.”
Silence filled the room after that sentence. Thick. Crushing.
Y/N wiped angrily at the tears finally falling down her cheeks now, but they kept coming anyway. “I’m scared too,” she admitted more quietly now. “I’m terrified. I don’t know what’s going to happen either. I don’t know if my father will force this. I don’t know if we can stop it. I don’t know anything anymore.”
She looked at him then—really looked at him—and her expression softened into pure heartbreak.
“But I know one thing.”
Perpetua finally lifted his eyes to hers fully.
“I love you.”
The words hung between them like something fragile and devastating all at once.
“And maybe that’s selfish,” she whispered shakily. “Maybe it’s reckless and stupid and dangerous but I don’t care anymore because it’s true.” Her voice dropped smaller then, more vulnerable than before.
“I love you so much that the thought of losing you actually hurts.”
Perpetua looked like he couldn’t breathe.
“And I know what you are,” she continued softly through tears. “I know you’re a knight. I know I’m a princess. I know what the world expects from us.” She shook her head weakly. “But for once in my life… I just wanted something for myself. Just one thing.”
Him.
It was always him.
Y/N’s voice cracked one final time as she whispered, “So please… stop acting like this means nothing just because it’s difficult.”
And gods—
That hurt him more than any blade ever could.
The room fell completely silent after her words.
Perpetua stood there unmoving, staring at her like she had just reached into his chest and exposed every single thing he had tried so desperately to bury. His breathing had gone uneven now too, though far quieter than hers, controlled only through sheer force of will.
Y/N could see it happening in real time—the war inside him. Duty against love. Fear against desire. The knight against the man.
And she was so tired of watching him destroy himself trying to choose the first.
Tears still burned in her eyes as she stared back at him, waiting. Waiting for something.
Anything.
But he remained silent too long.
And that hurt all over again.
Y/N let out a shaky breath, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “Say something.”
Perpetua’s jaw tightened.
“Now,” she whispered, stepping closer again. “And don’t you dare say something stupid.”
That almost pulled the faintest broken breath of laughter from him—but it died immediately beneath the weight of everything else.
His eyes closed briefly.
When he finally spoke, his voice sounded rougher than she had ever heard it before. “You think I’m pulling away because this means less to me than it does to you?”
Y/N swallowed hard but said nothing.
Perpetua shook his head slowly, almost in disbelief. “Y/N… this is destroying me.”
The honesty in his voice hit her instantly.
He took a slow step forward now, finally abandoning the careful distance he had been trying to keep between them all day.
“Do you know what I thought when your father mentioned marriage?” he asked quietly.
“Not politics. Not alliances.” His voice lowered painfully. “I thought about another man touching you.”
Y/N’s breath caught sharply.
Perpetua laughed softly then—but there was nothing happy in it. “And I hated myself immediately for it because that’s not what I’m supposed to think.” He dragged a hand down his face slowly.
“I stood there imagining you standing beside someone else while I’m forced to guard the room like nothing inside me is dying.”
Y/N’s eyes filled again instantly.
“You think I’m preparing to lose you because I want to?” he continued, his voice tightening now with years of restrained emotion finally breaking loose. “I’m preparing because if I let myself hope too much…” He stopped abruptly, jaw clenching hard.
“I won’t survive it if you’re taken away from me.”
The room felt smaller suddenly. Heavier.
Perpetua looked at her then with an expression so raw it almost hurt to witness. “You asked me earlier why this is a problem.” His voice softened dangerously. “Because I love you enough to ruin myself over it.”
Y/N stopped breathing for a second.
“And that terrifies me,” he admitted quietly. “Because I’m supposed to protect you from pain—not become part of it.”
A tear slipped down her cheek immediately.
Perpetua stepped closer again until barely any space remained between them. His eyes searched hers desperately now, all walls finally cracked open.
“But if you think I could ever stop loving you just because this became difficult…” He shook his head faintly. “Then you truly don’t understand what you’ve done to me.”
That broke something inside her completely.
Because for the first time since breakfast—
Since the fear started swallowing them whole—
She could finally hear it clearly.
He was terrified too.
Not because he wanted to let her go.
But because he loved her so much he didn’t know how he would survive if he had to.
Y/N looked at him for barely a second after that confession, her chest rising unevenly, tears still clinging to her lashes as her heart pounded so violently she thought he must hear it too.
Then she whispered immediately—desperately—
“Kiss me.”
Perpetua broke instantly.
Like the last thread of restraint inside him finally snapped apart.
His hands came up fast, cupping her face tightly, almost possessively, and then his lips crashed against hers with so much force and emotion it stole the breath from both of them.
Y/N gasped softly into the kiss, gripping the front of his tunic immediately as he pulled her impossibly closer, like he needed proof she was still there. Still his.
The kiss was nothing careful this time. Nothing hesitant.
It was heartbreak and fear and longing and love poured into one desperate collision.
Perpetua kissed her like a man starving. Like a man trying to memorize her before the world could take her away from him.
And Y/N kissed him back just as fiercely.
A soft sound escaped her lips as his hand slid into her hair, tilting her head deeper into the kiss while both of them breathed hard against each other between desperate moments of air.
“Dio…” he whispered roughly against her mouth before kissing her again immediately, almost angry with how much he needed her.
Y/N’s fingers tangled tighter in his clothes as another shaky sound left her, overwhelmed by him—by the way he touched her, kissed her, held her like losing her was his greatest fear.
Because it was.
Perpetua pressed his forehead briefly against hers between kisses, both of them breathing hard now, their chests rising against each other rapidly. His eyes were dark, emotional, completely wrecked.
“You drive me insane,” he whispered hoarsely.
Y/N almost laughed through the tears still threatening in her eyes. “Good,” she whispered back instantly before pulling him into another kiss herself this time.
Her fingers found the straps of his armor before the kiss had even fully broken. She worked blind, desperate, tugging at leather and buckles while his mouth stayed on hers, consuming, devouring.
A soft growl rumbled from his chest as her hands yanked at the pauldron, and he broke away just long enough to help—shrugging the heavy plate off his shoulder, letting it clatter to the stone floor with a deafening crash.
Neither of them cared.
Y/N’s breath came in ragged gasps as she moved to the next buckle, the next strap, her nails scraping against the padded gambeson beneath. Perpetua’s hands found her hips, gripping hard, fingers digging into the fabric of her training trousers like he needed something to anchor himself.
She tugged the gorget free, then the vambrace, each piece falling away with a heavy metallic thud that echoed in the small chamber.
He stood there half-undone, chest heaving, eyes dark and wild as she worked.
When her hands finally found the last clasp of his breastplate and pulled it loose, he let out a shuddering exhale—not from the weight lifting, but from the sight of her, so close, so determined, her lips swollen and glistening from his kisses.
Perpetua didn't wait. His hands dropped to her waist, then slid down, catching the hem of her shirt and pulling it up and over her head in one swift motion.
The cool air hit her skin, but before she could shiver, his palms were on her, hot and calloused, sliding up her sides, over her ribs, thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts. She arched into his touch, a sharp intake of breath escaping her lips.
His mouth found her throat immediately—hot, open-mouthed kisses trailing down her neck, teeth scraping lightly over her pulse point. A low moan rumbled from her chest, her head falling back as he sucked a mark into the curve where her shoulder met her neck.
His hands moved lower, fumbling with the ties of her trousers, and she helped him, pushing them down her hips along with her smallclothes, kicking them aside in a tangle of fabric.
Now she stood bare before him, save for the thin training tunic that had bunched around her wrists. He pulled that off too, leaving her completely naked, her skin flushed and glistening in the dim torchlight.
Perpetua groaned—a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through his chest. His eyes roamed over her, hungry, reverent.
He stepped closer, the rough fabric of his remaining padded tunic brushing against her nipples, making them pebble instantly. His hand slid down her stomach, fingers splaying over her hip, then lower, finding the slick heat between her thighs.
She was already wet. So wet.
His fingers tested her, sliding through her folds, circling her clit with deliberate pressure.
A strangled cry broke from her lips, her hips bucking into his touch.
He groaned against her mouth, kissing her again—messy, desperate, all tongue and teeth and need.
Without breaking the kiss, he guided her backward until her thighs hit the edge of the cot. He broke away only to strip off the rest of his own clothing—yanking the gambeson over his head, kicking off his boots and trousers, revealing the hard, scarred length of his body.
His cock stood thick and rigid, pre-cum beading at the tip, and the sight of him made her stomach tighten with raw want.
He didn't give her time to think. He was on her, covering her body with his, pushing her back against the thin mattress.
His weight pressed her into the straw, the heat of him overwhelming as he settled between her legs. He positioned himself at her entrance, the head of his cock teasing her, sliding through her slick folds, making her whimper and arch beneath him.
“Please—” The word escaped her before she could stop it, a broken whisper.
He answered with a thrust.
The sound she made was raw—a high, breathless moan as he filled her completely. His hips pressed flush against hers, seating himself deep inside, and he paused, just for a moment, his forehead against hers, his breath ragged and hot against her skin.
Then he began to move.
Slow at first, but with a force behind each roll of his hips that had her gasping with every stroke. His name tumbled from her lips like a prayer, broken and desperate.
He grunted, the sound low and primal, his hand sliding under her back, pulling her closer, angling her hips so he could go deeper.
The rhythm built quickly. His thrusts grew harder, faster, the cot groaning beneath them. Her legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, urging him on.
His mouth found her breast, sucking hard, tongue flicking over the peak before he bit down gently, then harder as her moans grew louder.
“Yes—yes—fuck—” The words spilled from her between ragged breaths, her fingers clawing at his shoulders, his back, leaving red lines in their wake.
He was lost.
Utterly lost.
His hips pistoned into her, each stroke driving her higher, her inner walls clenching around him, pulling him deeper.
The room filled with the sounds of their joining—wet, obscene, perfect. His grunts mixed with her moans, a symphony of pure, unfiltered need.
He shifted, one hand dropping to where their bodies met, pressing his thumb against her clit in tight circles. The added sensation sent a shockwave through her. Her back arched, a choked cry tearing from her throat as her orgasm crashed over her, sudden and violent.
Her body clamped down around him, pulsing, milking him.
Perpetua groaned through clenched teeth, his rhythm faltering as she came undone around him.
He buried his face in her neck, his hips stuttering, grinding deep as he spilled inside her—hot, thick pulses that seemed to go on and on.
His own guttural roar was muffled against her skin, his body shuddering above her as he emptied himself into her warmth.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Only their harsh breathing and the rapid thundering of their hearts filled the space.
He stayed inside her, softening, his forehead pressed to hers, eyes closed. When he finally opened them, they were glassy, vulnerable, and full of something deeper than words could ever capture.
She lifted a trembling hand to his cheek, and he turned his head to press a kiss to her palm.
No words needed.
Mommys back!
Taglist:
@teenage-birt-dag
Why are my husbands fighting against each other?!?!?!?
Between Tides
Pirate!keegan Russ x F!reader
Taken by the sea and caught between two lives, Y/N finds something she never expected aboard a pirate ship-family, survival, and Keegan Russ.
Words: 5k.
Part 7
The first cannon blast split the air like thunder. The sound cracked so loud it felt like the sky itself had split open. BOOM.
The entire ship shuddered violently beneath Y/N’s feet. Her ears rang instantly. Smoke exploded across the water as the cannonball tore through the air. Then—CRASH. Wood splintered along the side of The Resolute as the shot slammed into the hull. Men shouted.
“RETURN FIRE!” Captain Elias’s voice cut through the chaos.
“Starboard cannons—NOW!” Another deafening BOOM erupted from their own ship as Hesh and the other gunners fired back. The recoil jolted the cannon backward violently.
Smoke swallowed half the deck. Y/N’s heart slammed wildly in her chest. She had never heard anything like it before. The air filled with gunpowder, screams, and shouting.
Cannons roared again and again. She stumbled backward as the ship rocked from another impact.
A cannonball smashed through part of the railing only a few feet away. Wood exploded outward.
“GET DOWN!” Someone shouted.
Y/N barely reacted before the next blast hit. The ship lurched hard. Her balance vanished. She fell straight onto the deck.
The wooden planks slammed against her palms as she caught herself. Her ears still rang. Smoke drifted across the deck. Men ran past her carrying weapons. The sky above had disappeared behind thick gray cannon smoke.
Another explosion rocked the ship. Pieces of splintered wood rained down nearby. Y/N lifted her head, her eyes wide with shock.
The battle was chaos. Cannons fired from both ships. Men shouted orders. Gunshots cracked through the air. The enemy ship had closed the distance frighteningly fast. Then she saw it. Ropes. Dozens of them. Hooked from the enemy ship to The Resolute. Pirates from Rorke’s crew swung across the water. Boots crashed onto the deck as they landed. One after another. Dark coats. Curved blades. Pistols flashing in their hands.
“BOARDERS!” Logan shouted.
The pirates rushed forward immediately.
Steel clashed.
Gunshots cracked. The battle turned brutal in seconds.
Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She pushed herself up slightly from the floor, her heart racing wildly. Men were fighting everywhere now. Swords striking. Bodies colliding. The deck that had been calm only minutes ago was now a war zone.
She scrambled backward toward a stack of crates, trying to stay out of the fighting. Her hands trembled. Another pirate swung down from a rope and landed only a few feet away. He barely noticed her as he rushed forward to attack one of Elias’s crew.
Y/N pressed herself against the wood, trying to make herself smaller. Her eyes darted across the deck desperately. Through the smoke and chaos she spotted familiar figures. Hesh firing a pistol before tackling a pirate to the ground. Logan striking another enemy with the butt of his rifle. Ajax laughing wildly as he fought with two blades at once.
Merrick calmly cutting down an attacker near the helm. And then— Keegan.
He moved through the chaos like a shadow.
Fast.
Controlled.
Every movement precise. One pirate lunged at him—Keegan stepped aside. The enemy stumbled forward. Keegan struck him hard in the ribs before knocking the weapon from his hand.
Another attacker rushed him. Keegan grabbed a fallen sword from the deck and blocked the strike with a sharp clang of steel. He kicked the man backward and disarmed him in one swift motion.
Y/N watched with wide eyes. Her heart still pounding.
The battle raged around them. Cannons still fired. Gunshots echoed. More pirates boarded the ship. And somewhere across the water—Captain Rorke stood on the enemy vessel, watching the chaos unfold. Like a man enjoying a hunt. The battle swallowed the ship whole.
Steel clashed against steel. Gunshots cracked through the air.
Cannons roared again somewhere behind her, shaking the deck so violently that Y/N had to grab the crate beside her to keep from falling again. Smoke rolled across the planks. The smell of gunpowder burned her nose. Men shouted. Screamed. Boots thundered past her as pirates fought all around. Y/N pressed herself harder against the stacked crates, trying to stay small, invisible.
Her heart hammered painfully in her chest. I should’ve stayed below. Another pirate from Rorke’s ship crashed onto the deck nearby after swinging from a rope.
He shoved one of Elias’s crew members aside and charged into the fight. Y/N scrambled backward a little more. Her hands slipped slightly on the deck. Her breathing came fast and shallow.
She looked around desperately. The battle was everywhere. There was no safe corner.
No place to hide. Her eyes searched the chaos instinctively—Looking for a familiar face. But all she saw were fighting men.
Steel.
Blood. Smoke. Then—A shadow fell over her. Y/N froze.
Slowly…She looked up. One of Rorke’s pirates stood only a few feet away. Tall. Broad. His coat torn from the battle. A pistol hung from his belt. A wicked grin spread across his face as his eyes locked onto her.
“Well now…” His voice was rough, amused. “What do we have here?” Y/N’s stomach dropped. Her breath caught in her throat. T
he pirate took a slow step closer. His eyes scanned her quickly.
Noticing her smaller frame. Her loose blouse. Her frightened expression. “…You’re not one of Walker’s men.”
Her body moved on instinct. Y/N gasped and scrambled to her feet. Her boots slipped slightly against the deck as she backed away from him.
“Stay back!” Her voice shook. But the pirate just chuckled.
“Don’t worry.” He drew a knife slowly from his belt. “I won’t hurt you.” The way he said it made her blood run cold. Another step toward her.
Y/N’s back hit the railing. Nowhere else to go. Her heart slammed wildly against her ribs. She glanced around again desperately. Hesh was fighting on the other side of the deck.
Logan had disappeared into the smoke chasing another pirate. Ajax was locked in a brutal fight with two enemies near the mast. No one saw her. The pirate in front of her lifted the knife slightly.
“Captain Rorke likes prisoners.” Her mind panicked. Her lungs burned. Her thoughts scrambled wildly for anything—anyone—who could help. And only one name came to her. The first name that burst from her lips.
“KEEGAN!”
Her scream cut through the chaos of battle. Loud. Desperate. The pirate laughed.
“Go ahead and shout.” He grabbed her arm suddenly.
“You’re coming with—” The sentence never finished.
Because behind him a voice spoke.
Low. Cold. Dangerously calm.
“Let her go.” The pirate stiffened. Slowly he turned and saw Keegan standing only a few steps away.
His expression had changed. Gone was the calm quiet pirate from earlier. Now his eyes were dark. Focused. Dangerous. The pirate holding Y/N scoffed.
“Or what?” Keegan’s hand tightened around the sword he held. His voice dropped lower.
“Or you lose the arm holding her.”
The pirate hesitated.
Y/N’s heart pounded as she looked between them. The battle still raged around them. Cannons. Gunshots. Steel striking steel. But in that moment the space between Keegan and the pirate felt like the only thing in the world that existed.
And Keegan’s gaze never once left the man holding her.
The pirate’s grin faded the moment he saw Keegan.
Not fear. Not yet. But caution. The kind that comes when a predator realizes another predator just stepped into the fight. His grip on Y/N tightened. Hard. Before she could react he yanked her backward.
“—Ah!” Y/N gasped as her back slammed against his chest. His arm locked around her waist like iron.
The knife in his hand flashed upward. Cold steel pressed suddenly against her throat. Her breath caught instantly.
The blade rested just beneath her jaw. Sharp. Unforgiving. Y/N froze. Her entire body trembled. The pirate dragged her a step backward using her as a shield between himself and Keegan.
“Well now” he muttered darkly.
“Looks like you care about this one.”
Y/N’s hands instinctively grabbed his arm trying to pull it away from her neck. The blade pressed slightly closer.
“Don’t move” the pirate hissed into her ear. Her heart slammed violently in her chest. Her breathing turned shaky and shallow.
She could feel the cold metal against her skin. One wrong movement and she knew exactly what would happen. Her eyes darted toward Keegan. He hadn’t moved. Not even an inch.
But something about him had changed. His entire body had gone still. Dangerously still. The sword in his hand lowered slightly. Not in surrender. In calculation. The pirate smirked when he noticed.
“Yeah… that’s what I thought.” His grip tightened again.
Y/N whimpered softly as the knife shifted against her throat. Her hands trembled around his arm. Her eyes wide. Her chest rising quickly with panicked breaths.
“Please—” The word slipped out before she could stop it. The pirate chuckled. “You hear that?” He called toward Keegan.
“She’s scared.” Keegan didn’t answer.
His eyes remained locked on the man. On the blade. On the exact position of Y/N’s neck. The pirate leaned closer behind her. His breath hot against her ear.
“Drop the sword.” Silence stretched. Smoke drifted across the deck around them. The sounds of the larger battle still echoed nearby. Steel clashing. Gunshots cracking.
Men shouting.
But none of it seemed to reach the small circle around them. The pirate pressed the knife just a little tighter. A thin line of red appeared where the blade grazed her skin. Y/N gasped. Her whole body trembled harder.
“Drop it” the pirate repeated. Keegan’s grip tightened slightly around his sword. His jaw clenched. Then slowly he let the blade fall. The sword hit the deck with a dull clatter. The pirate grinned widely.
“Smart man.” Y/N’s chest rose and fell rapidly. Her hands still gripped the pirate’s arm desperately. Her voice came out shaky.
“…Keegan…” Her eyes met his again. Fear filled them. Real fear. Not anger. Not stubborn defiance. Just fear. The pirate began dragging her backward toward the edge of the ship. Toward the ropes still connected to Rorke’s vessel.
“Captain Rorke will be very pleased with this one.” He laughed quietly. “Pretty little hostage.” Y/N shook her head weakly.
“No—” But the knife pressed tighter again. She stopped resisting instantly. Her breathing turned uneven. Her heart racing. Keegan hadn’t moved from where he stood. But his eyes had gone completely cold. And the pirate holding her didn’t realize yet that letting Keegan drop his sword didn’t mean the fight was over.
The pirate’s arm tightened around Y/N’s waist. His grip was iron. The knife remained pressed cold against her throat.
“Move,” he hissed.
He jerked her backward toward the edge of the deck. Y/N stumbled with each step he forced her to take. Her boots slipped slightly on the planks. Her heart pounded so violently she could barely think. All she could feel was the cold steel against her neck. Her breathing came in short, shaky gasps.
“Please—”
The pirate chuckled softly behind her. “Quiet.”
The battle still raged around them. Men shouting. Steel striking steel. Gunfire cracking through the smoke. But no one noticed them slipping toward the side of the ship. The ropes connecting the two vessels swayed dangerously between the decks. Enemy pirates still crossed over them to board The Resolute.
One of them glanced toward the man dragging Y/N. “Taking a prize?”
The pirate behind her grinned. “Captain Rorke likes gifts.”
Y/N shook her head weakly. “No…”
The man shoved her forward again. “Keep moving.”
Her legs trembled as they reached the edge of the ship. The ocean churned violently below. Dark water crashing against the hull. The rope connecting the ships swung slightly with the waves.
The pirate stepped onto it carefully. Still holding her tightly. “Careful now,” he muttered.
Y/N’s breath hitched. Her eyes widened as she looked down. The rope stretched over open water between the ships. Her stomach twisted in fear.
“I can’t—”
“You can,” the pirate snapped. He pushed her forward. Her foot stepped onto the plank. It creaked immediately. Y/N gasped. Her balance nearly vanished. The pirate’s arm tightened around her again to keep her steady. But the knife never left her throat.
“Move.”
Her legs shook as she stepped again. The plank dipped under their weight. The ocean roared beneath them. Every step felt like she might fall. Her fingers instinctively grabbed the pirate’s arm again, not to fight but just to stay upright.
Behind them on the deck of The Resolute, Keegan watched. His expression hadn’t changed. Still cold. Still calculating. But his eyes followed every movement. Every step. The pirate dragging her halfway across the plank. The distance between the ships slowly growing.
Logan suddenly shouted from across the deck. “HEY!” But he was too far. Still fighting another pirate. Hesh turned as well. “Damn it!”
Y/N’s breath trembled as they reached the other side. Her boots finally stepped onto the enemy ship’s deck. He dragged her forward roughly again. The knife still at her throat.
“Captain!” one of the enemy pirates shouted. “We’ve got a hostage!”
Y/N’s eyes lifted slowly. And there, standing near the center of the enemy deck, was the man she had seen earlier. Captain Rorke. He watched them approach. Completely calm. Completely still. His dark eyes studied her slowly. Then drifted toward the pirate holding her. And finally toward the ship they had just come from. Toward Keegan. A faint smile touched Rorke’s lips. Cold. Interested.
“Well…” His voice was smooth. Almost amused. “Now that…” His gaze returned to Y/N. “…is unexpected.”
The deck of Rorke’s ship felt wrong. Everything about it did. The wood beneath Y/N’s boots was darker, worn deeper by years of rough battles. The air smelled thicker—gunpowder, salt, and something metallic that made her stomach twist. Men surrounded her.
Not like Elias’s crew. These pirates didn’t laugh. They didn’t joke. They watched. Cold. Hungry. Predatory.
The pirate who had dragged her across the rope finally shoved her forward. She stumbled a step. The knife left her throat. For one second—one single second—she was free.
Y/N’s body reacted before her mind could think. She ran. Her boots hit the deck hard as she turned toward the ropes connecting the ships. Toward The Resolute. Toward the only place that felt even slightly safe now. But she barely made two steps. A brutal jerk yanked her backward.
“—AH!” Pain exploded across her scalp. The pirate had grabbed her hair. His fist tangled deep in her curls as he pulled her violently back. Y/N screamed. Her body snapped backward with the force. She clawed at his hand instinctively. “Let go!”
The pirate laughed harshly. “You’re not going anywhere.” He dragged her back toward the center of the deck by her hair. Her eyes filled with tears from the pain. Her chest heaved as panic flooded her again. She twisted desperately, trying to pull free. But his grip only tightened.
Her gaze flew across the water toward the other ship. Toward The Resolute. Toward the people she had been trying to escape only hours ago. Her voice cracked as she screamed across the distance.
“HELP!” Her voice trembled. “LOGAN!” Her chest burned with fear.
“KEEGAN!”
Her fingers still clawed at the pirate’s wrist. The enemy crew laughed around her. One of them smirked.
“She’s loud.” The pirate holding her yanked her head back slightly.
“Quiet.” But Y/N didn’t stop. Her voice broke with desperation as she looked across the narrow gap between the ships. Her eyes searched frantically through the smoke and fighting. She could see them.
The crew of The Resolute. Logan fighting near the mast. Hesh firing a pistol at another enemy.
Ajax pushing two pirates away from the railing. And Keegan—standing near the edge of the deck. Watching. Her voice shook as she cried out again. “PLEASE“
The pirate behind her twisted her hair harder. She gasped painfully. "Shut up!"
But her eyes never left the other ship. Never left them.
Because now… For the first time since being kidnapped… She didn’t want to run away from them anymore. She wanted them to come get her. And across the water— Keegan was already moving. Straight toward the boarding plank connecting the ships. His movements calm.
Purposeful. Deadly. But before he could reach it— A strong hand grabbed his arm. "
What are you doing?!"
Keegan stopped. Captain Elias stood behind him. His face was hard. His eyes sharp with the awareness of the battlefield around them. The captain’s voice lowered, but the tension inside it was unmistakable.
"You take one step onto that ship and you’re walking straight into Rorke’s trap." Keegan didn’t look at him.
His gaze remained fixed across the water. On Y/N. The pirate still holding her. The knife still near her throat.
"She’s ours," Keegan said quietly. Elias’s grip tightened slightly.
"This is a battle."
"And she’s on his ship." Logan shouted nearby as he shoved another pirate back.
"Dad! More coming over the ropes!" Hesh fired another pistol shot.
"Little busy over here!" But Elias didn’t take his eyes off Keegan. "You cross that plank now," the captain said firmly,
"and you’ll be surrounded before your boots hit their deck." Keegan finally looked at him. His expression was colder than the ocean wind.
"Then I’ll move faster." Elias exhaled slowly.
"You’re not thinking." Keegan glanced back toward the enemy ship. Where Y/N was still struggling against the pirate’s grip. Her voice cracked again as she called across the water.
"HELP!" The sound carried clearly over the waves. Logan turned at the shout. His eyes widened when he saw her.
"—Y/N?!" Hesh followed his gaze. "Ah hell." Across the water— Rorke watched everything. His hands clasped loosely behind his back.
His dark eyes studying the scene unfolding between the ships. Watching Keegan. Watching Elias. Watching the girl being held on his deck. A faint smile touched his lips again. Like a man watching a chess game reach its interesting moment. Back on The Resolute— Keegan stepped forward again. Elias moved slightly into his path.
"You go over there," the captain said quietly, "and you might not come back." Keegan didn’t hesitate.
"She definitely won’t." The words hung in the air between them. Elias studied him for a moment. Really looked at him.
Then slowly… He released his arm. The captain stepped aside. But his voice followed him.
"Bring her back." Keegan didn’t answer. He was already moving. Straight for the boarding plank. And across the water— Rorke’s smile widened slightly. Because the game had just begun.
The plank stretched between the two ships. Salt spray burst upward as the hulls slammed against the waves beneath them. Keegan didn’t slow down.
He stepped onto it without hesitation. The ocean roared below. The plank creaked under his weight. Behind him— Logan swore loudly.
"Keegan, you’re insane!" Hesh reloaded his pistol with a sharp click.
"Well… he’s definitely committed now."
Captain Elias remained near the railing, watching closely. His voice carried sharply over the battle.
"Cover him!" Gunshots cracked across the deck as Elias’s crew fired toward the enemy ship. Bullets struck the railing of Rorke’s vessel. Enemy pirates ducked and shouted. The plank swayed again as Keegan moved across it with terrifying speed.
Balanced. Precise.
The chaos around him didn’t seem to exist. His eyes stayed locked on one thing. Y/N. Y/N struggled against the pirate holding her. Her fingers clawed at his wrist tangled in her hair.
"Let go!" The pirate laughed harshly and yanked her head back again. Pain shot across her scalp. She gasped.
"Stop fighting," he growled. But she kept twisting. Her eyes were locked on the plank between the ships. On the figure crossing it.
Her heart jumped when she realized who it was.
"…Keegan." Fear twisted with something else in her chest. Something dangerously close to hope. The pirate holding her noticed. He followed her gaze across the water. And saw him. The man running across the plank. His grin disappeared instantly.
"Well, well." He tightened his grip on Y/N again. "Looks like someone cares about you." Y/N shook her head desperately.
"Don’t—" But the pirate jerked her backward again. The knife returned to her throat. Cold. Sharp. Her body froze instantly.
"Take one more step," the pirate shouted toward Keegan across the water,
"and she dies!" The words cut through the battle like thunder.
Even Rorke turned his head slightly to watch.
Curious. Interested.
Keegan stopped halfway across the plank. The ocean roared beneath him. Wind whipped through his dark hair. His eyes lifted slowly toward the pirate holding her. Toward the blade resting against her throat.
Toward the way she trembled in his grip. The pirate smirked.
"That’s better." Y/N’s breathing was uneven now. Her chest rising quickly. Her voice barely a whisper. "
…Don’t stop." The pirate’s grip tightened again.
"Quiet." Across the plank— Keegan stepped forward again. Slowly. Deliberately. The pirate’s eyes widened slightly. "Did you not hear me?" Another step. Closer now. Close enough that Keegan could see the thin red line on Y/N’s neck where the blade touched. Close enough to see the fear in her eyes.
The pirate snarled. "Stop!" Keegan spoke calmly.
"Let her go."
The pirate laughed. "You’re in no position to—"
The sentence ended abruptly.
Because a pistol shot cracked across the water.
BANG.
The pirate jerked violently. The knife fell from his hand. His grip on Y/N’s hair loosened instantly as he collapsed to the deck.
Y/N gasped as the sudden release sent her stumbling forward. She dropped to her knees, clutching her head.
Across the deck—
Hesh lowered his smoking pistol. "Got him."
Logan grinned beside him. "Nice shot."
Back on Rorke’s ship—
The moment the pirate fell—
Keegan moved. He crossed the final steps of the boarding plank in seconds and landed on the enemy deck. Boots hitting wood hard.
Y/N looked up just as he reached her. Her eyes wide. Her breathing still shaking.
Keegan crouched quickly beside her. "Can you stand?"
She nodded weakly. "I—I think so."
His hand grabbed her arm firmly and pulled her to her feet.
But around them—
Rorke’s pirates were already closing in.
And at the center of the deck—
Captain Rorke watched the entire moment unfold. His faint smile never fading. Because now… The real fight was about to begin.
The moment Keegan pulled Y/N to her feet—
The enemy crew moved. Boots thundered across the deck of Rorke’s ship. Pirates surrounded them fast. Steel flashed in the smoky air as blades were drawn.
One of the men snarled. "Kill him!"
Y/N’s heart slammed against her ribs. She barely had time to steady herself before the first pirate lunged.
Keegan pushed her back behind him instantly. "Stay behind me." His voice was low. Firm. There was no hesitation in it.
Y/N stumbled a step backward, her back hitting the mast behind her. Her hands grabbed the rough wood instinctively. Her breathing came fast. Her eyes wide with fear.
In front of her—
Keegan stood between her and the attackers.
Two pirates rushed him at once. One swung a curved blade toward his shoulder. The other came low, aiming for his ribs.
Keegan moved fast. Faster than she could follow. He grabbed the first pirate’s wrist mid-swing. Twisted. The blade spun from the man’s hand and clattered across the deck. The second pirate lunged—
Keegan drove his elbow straight into the man’s jaw. The crack of bone echoed sharply. The pirate dropped instantly.
Another attacker came from the side. Steel clashed loudly as Keegan caught the strike with the sword he had grabbed from the fallen pirate earlier. The force of the blow rang through the metal.
Y/N flinched behind him. Her fingers clutched the mast tighter.
More pirates circled them. Three. Four. Five.
Her chest tightened. "Keegan—"
Her voice trembled. He didn’t look back. But he shifted slightly. Positioning himself so his body blocked her completely from the attackers.
The next pirate rushed him with a shout. Keegan sidestepped. His blade moved once—quick. Precise. The pirate collapsed.
Another lunged. Keegan kicked him backward into two others. They crashed against the railing.
Y/N’s breathing grew faster. Her eyes darted around the deck. More of Rorke’s men were approaching. Too many.
She pressed herself tighter against the mast. Her voice barely a whisper now. "…There’s too many."
Keegan heard her. His reply came calmly. "I know."
Another pirate rushed forward. Keegan struck him across the chest with the hilt of his sword. The man dropped. But two more replaced him instantly.
Steel flashed again. The fight was relentless. Keegan moved constantly. Blocking. Striking. Pushing them back. But never stepping away from her. Never leaving the space between her and danger.
Y/N’s heart pounded as she watched him fight. Every time a pirate got too close—Keegan forced them back. Every step he took kept her shielded. Her fingers trembled against the mast. "…Why did you come?" The words slipped out quietly. Half disbelief. Half fear.
Keegan knocked another pirate aside before answering. "Because you called."
Another enemy rushed him. Their blades clashed hard. Sparks flew from the impact.
Behind them—
Captain Rorke watched the entire fight with calm interest. His dark eyes narrowed slightly as Keegan held off the attackers. Still protecting the girl behind him. Still refusing to fall. A faint smirk touched Rorke’s lips. "Interesting," he murmured.
Because this wasn’t just a rescue anymore. This was becoming something far more entertaining.
And on the deck—
Y/N stood trembling behind Keegan. While he fought like a wall between her and the entire enemy crew.
The battle roared around them. Steel clashed. Gunshots cracked through the smoky air. The deck beneath Y/N’s feet trembled with every cannon blast fired between the ships.
Suddenly a horn sounded from Rorke’s ship—loud, sharp, commanding. The pirates surrounding Keegan hesitated. Then one shouted, “Fall back!” Another voice echoed, “Back to our ship!” The attackers retreated, rushing toward the ropes connecting the vessels, swinging back, jumping across, climbing quickly. The fighting thinned rapidly.
But that made things worse. Now Keegan and Y/N stood alone on the enemy deck, surrounded. Dozens of Rorke’s pirates gathered, blocking every path, every escape, every rope. Y/N’s heart dropped. Her breathing turned shallow. “Keegan,” she whispered.
The circle tightened. Steel glinted. One pirate laughed, “Nowhere left to run.” Captain Rorke stepped forward, coat moving in the wind, dark eyes studying them with interest. “Well,” he said calmly. “That was brave. But not very smart.”
Keegan’s eyes flicked around the deck, calculating. Then he turned to Y/N, voice sharp. “Jump.”
She blinked. “What?”
He grabbed her arm. “Jump.”
Her eyes widened. She turned toward the railing, toward the churning ocean below—dark, deep, endless. “What?” she repeated. “I can’t!”
Keegan’s grip tightened. “Jump.”
Her heart pounded. “I can’t swim!”
The pirates moved closer. One smirked, “You’re not going anywhere.” Keegan stayed focused on her. His voice rose. “Jump!”
Her chest heaved. “I can’t swim!” He stepped closer, grabbing her firmly. “Trust me.” Her eyes searched his face—fear, uncertainty. The ocean roared below. The pirates rushed forward.
Before she could protest again, Keegan shoved her. Y/N screamed as her body tipped backward over the railing. Cold air rushed past. “KEEGAN—!” Then SPLASH. The ocean swallowed her whole. Freezing water slammed into her body. Her breath vanished. The shock stole the air from her lungs. The water dragged her downward. Her arms flailed. Her chest burned. Panic exploded inside her.
Another splash hit beside her. Keegan surfaced immediately. The waves tossed them violently between the ships. He grabbed her, one arm locking around her waist. “Got you.” Y/N gasped desperately for air, fingers clutching his shirt. “I’m going to drown!”
“You’re not.” The ships loomed above. Cannons still fired. Pirates shouted. But down in the water the battle sounded distant, muted. Keegan held her firmly as the waves rolled over them. “Hold onto me.” Her arms wrapped around him instantly, terrified, shaking, clinging. And together they disappeared into the chaos of the sea beneath the battling ships.
The ocean was freezing. So cold it burned. The moment Y/N hit the water, the shock had ripped the air from her lungs. Even now her body trembled violently as the waves lifted and dropped them between the towering hulls of the ships.
The battle above them still raged. Cannons thundered. Gunshots cracked. Men shouted. But underwater it sounded distant… muffled… like the world had moved far away.
Y/N clung to Keegan with desperate strength. Her arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders. Her fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would mean sinking forever.
“I—I can’t—” Her breath came in panicked gasps between sobs. “I can’t swim!”
“I know.” Keegan’s voice was steady despite the crashing waves. One arm stayed firmly around her waist while the other cut through the water, pulling them forward. He kept her close, her body pressed tight against his chest as he swam with powerful strokes, holding her securely above the surface.
Each movement pushed them farther from Rorke’s ship. Farther toward The Resolute.
A wave crashed over them suddenly. Cold water splashed across Y/N’s face. She gasped and coughed violently. Her grip tightened even more.
“I’m scared!” she cried, her voice breaking completely. Her whole body shook against him. “I’m really scared!”
The fear she had been holding in since the battle began finally burst out. She buried her face against his shoulder as another wave rolled beneath them.
Keegan adjusted his grip on her slightly, holding her higher so her head stayed above the water. “You’re alright.” His voice stayed calm. Controlled. Even as the sea tossed them around. “I’ve got you.”
But Y/N could barely hear the reassurance through her panic. Her breathing was uneven. Her chest hurt from the cold and the fear and the constant swallowing of seawater.
“What if I sink—” “You won’t.” “I can’t feel my legs!” “That’s the cold.” Her fingers clutched tighter. “I’m going to die.” “You’re not.”
Another wave lifted them suddenly before dropping them again. Y/N whimpered quietly. Her tears mixed with the salt water on her face. “I don’t want to die here…” The words came out soft. Broken.
Keegan didn’t answer immediately. He kept swimming, strong strokes through the water, pulling them steadily closer to their ship while keeping her body tight against him. The massive hull of The Resolute was already growing larger beside them. Ropes hung down from the side. Crew members leaned over the railing above.
Logan’s voice shouted down. “KEEGAN!” Hesh appeared beside him. “Over here!” A rope splashed into the water nearby. “Grab it!”
Keegan shifted slightly in the water, still keeping one arm tight around Y/N. “Hold on to me.” “I already am!” Her voice trembled again.
Keegan reached for the rope with his free hand. Grabbing it firmly. “Alright.” He wrapped the rope around his arm once for stability. Then looked down at her. Her eyes were wide. Her face pale. Her hair soaked and clinging to her cheeks. Tears still mixed with the seawater. She looked absolutely terrified. But still clinging to him. Still trusting him to keep her above the surface.
“We’re almost there,” he said quietly. Her fingers tightened slightly against his shirt. “…Don’t let go.” Keegan gave a small nod. “I won’t.”
And above them— Logan and Hesh began hauling the rope upward. Pulling them slowly out of the freezing ocean and back toward the safety of their ship.
Mommys home!
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Hi guys, I'm sorry that I haven't been uploading new parts to my fanfics.
I recently moved into a new apartment, so I've been busy cleaning, decorating, and unpacking. And then yesterday, our cat got out of the apartment, and this little diva refuses to come back. 😤
Soooo, I hope I'll be able to upload new parts soon!
Multitasking, Price Style
John Price x reader
The mall was busy—too bright, too loud—but John Price handled it like he handled everything else: steady, unbothered, and carrying far more than he probably should.
In this case, that meant bags.
A ridiculous number of bags.
Shopping bags looped around both his hands, wrists, even hooked over his forearms. Branded paper, crinkling plastic—he looked like a one-man supply convoy. His shoulders were relaxed, though, like it weighed nothing.
You walked just ahead of him, pretending not to notice.
Pretending… until you slipped your phone out.
The camera turned on. Recording.
You angled it casually, catching him in the frame—big, bearded, mildly grumpy, completely loaded down.
Then you spoke, soft and dramatic.
“I can’t believe you’re not holding my hand,” you sighed.
Price didn’t react at first. He just kept walking, boots heavy against the polished floor.
You pushed a little further, voice teasing now.
“Don’t you want to hold hands anymore?”
That made him stop.
Slowly.
He turned his head toward you, blue eyes narrowing just a touch—not annoyed, more like… calculating. Like he’d just realized something.
“…You serious right now?” he muttered.
You bit back a smile, still filming. “Very.”
He looked down at his hands.
Then at the bags.
Then back at you.
There was a pause.
A long one.
And then—without a word—he shifted everything.
It was absurd to watch.
He hooked more bags up his arm, clenched others between his fingers. It took a second, but somehow—somehow—he freed exactly one hand.
Just one.
He stepped closer, that familiar presence instantly filling your space, and held it out.
“Come on then,” he said, voice low and gruff. “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”
You blinked, caught off guard for half a second.
“John—your hand is literally the only one free.”
“Exactly,” he replied, deadpan. “Use it wisely.”
You laughed, slipping your fingers into his.
His grip was warm. Firm. Steady.
He started walking again like nothing happened, bags rustling with every step, your hand secured in his like it belonged there.
You glanced at your phone, still recording, catching the moment.
“See?” you said softly, teasing again. “You do want to hold hands.”
Price huffed, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“Don’t push your luck, love.”
But he didn’t let go.
Its my birthday! 💜🎉
Between Tides
Pirate!keegan Russ x F!reader
Taken by the sea and caught between two lives, Y/N finds something she never expected aboard a pirate ship-family, survival, and Keegan Russ.
Words: 3k
Part 6
The deck had turned restless. Boots thudded across the wooden planks as Elias’s crew spread out across the ship. Men checked behind stacked crates. Others looked beneath coils of rope and cargo nets. Ajax even crouched to glance behind a barrel before standing again with a confused frown. “This makes no sense,” he muttered.
Logan stood near the center of the deck, turning slowly in a circle as his eyes scanned everything. “She couldn’t have just vanished.”
Hesh walked past him carrying a lantern, though it wasn’t even needed in the daylight. “You checked the hold?”
“Yeah.”
“The galley?”
“Yes.”
“The back storage?”
“Yes!”
Hesh scratched his beard. “…Did you check the mast?”
Logan stared at him. “…You think she climbed the mast?”
Hesh shrugged. “I don’t know, man. That girl’s weird.”
Nearby, Merrick leaned against the railing with his arms crossed, watching the entire scene unfold with quiet amusement.
Captain Elias stood near the helm with a hand pressed to his temple. His patience was thinning rapidly. “You lost a single woman on an entire ship.” His voice was calm. Too calm. “And you’ve already searched half the deck like headless chickens.”
Ajax rubbed the back of his neck. “Well when you say it like that it sounds bad.”
Elias sighed deeply.
Then— Bootsteps approached across the deck. Calm. Steady. Unhurried.
Keegan.
He stepped up from the lower stairs and glanced around at the sudden chaos on the deck. Men running around. Crates being moved. Logan pacing. Ajax looking inside a barrel like Y/N might be hiding in it.
Keegan frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?”
The crew went quiet for a moment.
Logan looked at him. Then glanced briefly at the dress still lying on the crate nearby. Then back at Keegan. He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. “…Uh.”
A pause.
“...She uh…”
Another pause.
Logan grimaced slightly. “…Gone?”
Keegan blinked once.
Silence.
Then his eyes slowly shifted toward the dress lying on the crate. He walked over and picked it up. The fabric hung loosely in his hands. Empty.
He looked back at Logan. “You lost her.”
Logan immediately raised both hands. “Hey! I didn’t lose her.”
Hesh pointed at him. “You literally went to check her room.”
“That doesn’t mean I lost her!”
Ajax walked over. “Technically it does.”
Logan groaned loudly. “Oh shut up.”
Keegan remained quiet. His eyes slowly moved across the deck. Watching. Observing. His gaze passed over barrels. Crew members. Coils of rope. The mast.
Then— It landed briefly on a small figure leaning casually against a stack of barrels. Loose blouse. Dark trousers. Arms crossed. Trying very hard not to laugh.
Y/N.
She quickly turned her head slightly as if looking out toward the ocean. But the corner of her mouth still twitched.
Keegan stared at her for a moment. Completely silent. His expression unreadable.
Then he slowly turned back toward Logan. “…You’re right.”
Logan blinked. “…I am?”
Keegan nodded slightly. “She’s gone.”
Logan threw his arms up. “See!”
Hesh squinted suspiciously at Keegan. “You sure?”
“Yep.”
Keegan casually leaned against the railing.
Ajax groaned dramatically. “Great. The captain’s gonna kill us.”
Captain Elias exhaled slowly through his nose. “Search the entire ship.”
Y/N bit her lip to stop another laugh. Her shoulders shook slightly. Idiots.
For once… Being kidnapped by pirates had its entertaining moments.
But as she stood there quietly enjoying the chaos— Keegan’s eyes flicked back toward her again. Just for a second.
And this time… There was the faintest hint of amusement in his gaze.
The deck of The Resolute had turned into quiet chaos. Boots stomped across the planks. Crates shifted. Barrels rolled slightly as pirates checked behind everything they could think of.
Ajax had now moved on from barrels and was peering suspiciously into a coil of rope.
“…She could fit in there,” he muttered. Logan stared at him.
“You think she folded herself into a rope?” Ajax shrugged. “I’m just checking options.” Hesh climbed halfway up the mast, scanning the deck below.
“If she’s hiding, she’s doing a damn good job.”
Captain Elias stood near the helm with his arms crossed, clearly unimpressed with the entire search effort.
“This is embarrassing.” Merrick chuckled quietly beside him.
Meanwhile… Y/N leaned against the barrels near the side of the deck. Her arms crossed. Her posture relaxed. Watching them all scramble around like confused chickens. Every few seconds she had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing.
Logan ran a hand through his hair again. “She cannot have just vanished!”
Hesh called down from the mast. “Maybe she jumped!”
Logan groaned loudly. “For the last time she did not jump!”
Ajax suddenly popped up from behind a crate. “I found a sock!”
Logan stared at him. “…That’s yours.”
Ajax blinked. “Oh.”
Y/N pressed her lips together tightly. Her shoulders trembled slightly. This is ridiculous. And honestly… it was a little satisfying.
Then— Footsteps approached quietly. Slow. Steady.
Y/N didn’t need to look to know who it was.
Keegan stopped beside her. Close enough that she could hear the faint creak of leather from his boots. She glanced at him sideways. His gaze remained on the crew searching the deck. Watching Logan argue with Ajax. Watching Hesh climb down from the mast. Watching Merrick shake his head.
Y/N finally whispered under her breath— “…Your crew is stupid.”
Keegan didn’t respond right away. He simply watched the chaos unfold for another second. Then he nodded slightly. “Sometimes.”
That made her grin faintly. She leaned a little more comfortably against the barrels. “They’re literally standing ten feet away from me.”
“I noticed.”
“They’ve looked over here twice.”
“They don’t expect you to be dressed like that.”
Y/N glanced down at the loose trousers and blouse she had taken from storage. “Well it’s comfortable.”
Keegan finally looked at her. “…It suits you.”
Her eyebrows lifted slightly. “Was that a compliment?”
“No.”
She squinted at him suspiciously. “That sounded like one.”
Keegan shrugged lightly.
Y/N glanced back at the crew again. Logan had now started checking behind the water barrels. Ajax was climbing onto a crate to look behind the sail rigging. Hesh was arguing with him about whether that made sense.
Y/N shook her head slowly. “…Seriously.” She muttered quietly. “Idiots.”
Keegan’s mouth twitched slightly. Just barely.
Then Logan suddenly turned back toward the center of the deck again. “Check everywhere!” Ajax pointed dramatically. “What about the sails?”
Logan stared at him. “You think she climbed the sails?!”
Ajax shrugged. “She’s sneaky.”
Hesh leaned toward Logan. “You gotta admit… she kinda is.”
Y/N whispered again. “They are unbelievably stupid.”
Keegan glanced at her. Then calmly said— “You could tell them.”
Her head snapped toward him. “What?!”
Keegan gestured toward the group. “Walk over there.”
She stared at him like he had lost his mind. “And say what exactly?”
He shrugged. “Hello.”
She scoffed quietly. “Absolutely not.”
Keegan looked back toward the crew again. “…They’ll figure it out eventually.”
Y/N tilted her head. “Or…” Her eyes sparkled slightly with mischief. “…I could just stand here and watch this for another ten minutes.”
Keegan looked at her again. Studied her for a moment. Then nodded once. “…Also an option.”
And across the deck— Logan suddenly turned again and shouted— “Check the captain’s quarters!”
Captain Elias looked deeply offended.
Y/N buried her face briefly in her hands to hide another laugh.
The search continued. And somehow… it got worse. Logan was now pacing the deck like a storm about to explode. Ajax had climbed halfway up the rigging, hanging there like a confused monkey while squinting across the sails.
“Maybe she’s up here!” he shouted. Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. “…Ajax.”
“Yeah?”
“If she’s up there I’m cutting the rope.” Hesh leaned against the mast with his arms crossed.
“You sure she didn’t jump?”
“For the last time she did not jump!” Logan snapped.
Captain Elias sighed heavily near the helm.
“This crew once tracked a naval ship across three oceans.” He rubbed his forehead. “And now you can’t find one woman on a single deck.”
Merrick chuckled quietly beside him. “She’s resourceful.”
Meanwhile… Y/N still leaned against the barrels near the side of the ship. Her arms folded comfortably. Her cheek much less sore now. Her loose blouse fluttering slightly in the ocean wind.
She had never felt more entertained in her life. Her eyes moved across the deck as the pirates searched everywhere except directly in front of them. Her voice dropped into a whisper again.
“They’re checking the sails now.” Keegan leaned casually against the railing beside her.
“…I noticed.”
“Do they always act like this?”
“Pretty much.” She shook her head slowly. “Incredible.”
Across the deck Ajax dropped back down onto the planks with a loud thud. “No sign of her!” Logan groaned loudly.
“This is impossible!” Then his eyes finally landed on Keegan. Who was still leaning calmly against the railing. Not moving. Not searching. Just standing there. Logan stared.
“…Keegan.” Keegan looked up. Logan spread his arms dramatically. “Why are you not helping us?!”
Hesh turned too. “Yeah!”
Ajax pointed accusingly. “You’re just standing there!”
Even Captain Elias glanced over now. Waiting. The entire crew paused. Watching. Y/N slowly slid a little further behind the barrels beside Keegan, trying not to burst out laughing. Her shoulders were already shaking slightly.
Keegan remained completely calm. Unbothered. He looked at Logan. Then glanced briefly at the crew searching the deck. Then finally said simply—
“I did.” Logan blinked. “…What?” Keegan nodded toward the deck casually.
“I helped.” Logan stared at him like he had grown a second head.
“You didn’t move.”
“I gave advice.” Ajax frowned. “…What advice?”
Keegan shrugged slightly. “That she’s gone.”
Logan threw his arms up in frustration. “That’s not helping!” Hesh rubbed his beard suspiciously.
“Hold on.” His eyes slowly moved across the deck. Then back toward Keegan. Then toward the barrels beside him. Y/N immediately froze. Her grin vanished. She slowly turned her head away and pretended to be very interested in the ocean again.
Hesh squinted. “…Keegan.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re smiling.”
Keegan blinked. “No I’m not.”
Logan narrowed his eyes now. “…Wait.” Ajax tilted his head.
“…Wait.” Merrick chuckled quietly under his breath. Captain Elias slowly folded his arms. The crew’s gazes began shifting toward the barrels. Toward the small figure leaning casually beside Keegan.
The girl in loose trousers and a blouse. Who very clearly did not belong to the crew. Y/N slowly turned her head back. And saw all of them staring. Silence. She sighed.
“…Oh.” Then she straightened slightly. Crossed her arms again. And said casually—
“…Hello.” Logan’s jaw dropped. Ajax blinked. Hesh burst out laughing immediately.
“I KNEW IT!” Captain Elias stared at her. Then slowly turned his gaze toward Keegan.
“You knew.” Keegan shrugged.
“Maybe.” Y/N tilted her head smugly.
“…Your crew is still stupid.” Hesh laughed harder. Logan groaned. Ajax pointed dramatically. “SHE WAS RIGHT THERE!” Keegan leaned back against the railing again. Completely relaxed.
And for the first time since she’d stepped on the ship— Y/N looked less like a prisoner… …and more like someone who belonged on the deck.
The afternoon slowly faded into evening. The sun hung lower in the sky, painting the ocean in streaks of orange and gold. The wind had softened, and The Resolute glided smoothly across the water.
After the moment on deck where the crew discovered her hiding in plain sight, things had settled down again.
Well… mostly. Logan had grumbled for another ten minutes about how she had fooled them all. Ajax kept insisting she should officially join the crew because 'anyone who can hide like that deserves pirate respect.' Hesh laughed every time he glanced her way.
Captain Elias had simply shaken his head and ordered everyone back to work. And Keegan… Keegan had said very little, his gaze lingering on her just a fraction longer than before.
Now the deck was quieter. The crew had spread out, some adjusting ropes, others handling evening duties. Y/N had slipped away unnoticed. Not because she was hiding this time. But because no one was really watching her anymore.
Her stomach growled. Loud enough that she paused halfway down the stairs. “…Great.” She muttered under her breath.
She hadn’t eaten since the island earlier. And running, getting slapped, nearly kidnapped again, and dodging pirates had burned through her energy. Her pride flared up.
You are not asking them for food. Absolutely not. She could find it herself. She’d already raided the clothes room. How hard could food be?
Y/N stepped quietly into the lower corridor. Lanterns flickered along the walls. The ship creaked with the waves rolling beneath. She passed doors slowly, peeking inside. Sleeping quarters. Storage rooms. Rope supplies. Nothing edible. Her stomach growled again.
“…Shut up,” she whispered to it. Further down, another door stood slightly ajar. Light spilled faintly from inside. Curious, she pushed it open. And immediately smiled.
The galley. Wooden shelves stacked with bread. Hanging fish. Barrels of dried fruit. A large pot sat on a small stove, still warm from earlier.
“Finally.” She stepped inside quickly and closed the door. The smell made her stomach clench. She grabbed a small loaf from a basket and tore off a piece. T
he first bite was heaven.
Warm. Soft. Real food.
She leaned against the counter, chewing slowly, savoring it. For the first time all day, she felt something close to relaxed. The ship rocked gently. Lantern light danced across the wooden walls. She reached for another piece.
Then— a sound echoed through the ship. Distant. Muffled. Shouting. Y/N froze. Her chewing slowed.
“…What was that?” Another shout. Louder. Then— boots thundering across the deck above. Multiple voices.
Urgent. Angry. The calm vanished instantly. Her heart pounded faster. “What…”
Another yell echoed down.
“SHIPS ON THE HORIZON!”
Y/N’s eyes widened. More voices joined the chaos.
“Pirates!”
“Incoming!”
“Get to the cannons!”
Her breath caught. The bread slipped from her fingers to the floor.
“…Pirates?” Her mind reeled. But… this is a pirate ship. The shouting above intensified. Wood slammed. Metal clanged. Men dashed across the deck. Captain Elias’ voice sliced through.
“Battle positions!”
Y/N’s chest tightened. The realization crashed over her. These weren’t their pirates. These were rivals. Her eyes widened further.
“Oh no…” Cannons rolled into place with heavy thuds above. Ropes snapped taut.
More shouts filled the air. Keegan’s low voice barked orders nearby, steady amid the frenzy. The calm afternoon had shattered.
And suddenly— the ship she had been hiding on… was about to become a battlefield.
The calm on The Resolute shattered in seconds. Above deck, the ship exploded into motion. Boots thundered across the planks.
Cannons rolled into position with heavy grinding sounds. Ropes tightened.
Men shouted over one another as sails adjusted and weapons grabbed from racks. The ship that had felt almost peaceful moments ago now roared with battle preparations.
Y/N stood frozen in the small galley. Her heart slammed violently in her chest. Shouting echoed through the wooden beams.
“Cannons ready!”
“Load the powder!” “
Starboard side!” The bread she had been eating lay forgotten on the floor. Her mind raced. Enemies. Pirates attacking pirates. She had imagined many things since her kidnapping by this crew.
But not this. Not being trapped in the middle of a pirate battle on the open ocean. The ship lurched suddenly as it turned.
Y/N grabbed the counter edge to steady herself. Her breathing quickened.
“What do I do…” Another boom echoed above. Not a cannon. A signal horn.
Long.
Loud.
Warning.
Y/N’s chest tightened. She moved slowly toward the galley door, opening it just enough to peek into the hallway. Men rushed past carrying weapons. One pirate nearly slammed into the wall as the ship shifted again.
Everyone moved fast.
Focused. Dangerous. And she had no place in any of it. Her instincts screamed to stay out of the way. But curiosity—and fear—pulled her. She climbed the stairs slowly toward the deck. The wind hit her face the moment she stepped outside.
The ocean stretched in every direction. But now… there was another ship. Dark sails. Fast. Closing quickly. And on those sails—a symbol she had never seen. A black skull pierced by a blade. The enemy ship cut through the waves like a predator.
The crew of The Resolute stood ready.
Cannons aimed.
Weapons drawn.
Hesh loaded powder near one cannon, hands steady and quick. Logan slung a rifle over his shoulder, scanning the horizon with sharp eyes. Ajax rolled his shoulders, gripping two pistols tightly. Merrick stood beside Captain Elias near the helm.
Calm. Focused. Veterans of many battles.
And Keegan… He stood near the railing, watching the approaching ship with cold focus, his hand resting on his cutlass.
Y/N stepped forward slowly. Her eyes locked on the enemy vessel. Her stomach twisted.
“…Who are they?” No one answered immediately. Because at that moment—a voice echoed across the water.
Deep. Cold. Carried by the wind.
“Elias Walker!”
The crew of The Resolute stiffened instantly.
Every head turned toward the enemy ship.
A figure stood at the front of the approaching vessel.
Tall. Broad-shouldered. Dark coat flowing in the wind.
Bald head wrapped in a ragged cloth, scarred skin gleaming under the fading sun.
His presence commanded the entire ship behind him. His voice carried again.
“You still owe me a debt.”
Y/N felt a chill crawl down her spine.
Captain Elias’s jaw tightened. His voice was low.
“…Rorke.” The name darkened the air itself.
Hesh muttered under his breath.
“Of course it’s him.” Logan gripped his rifle tighter.
“Just our luck.” Y/N looked between them. “Who is that?” No one laughed. No one joked. Even Ajax’s usual grin had vanished. Merrick answered quietly.
“Our worst enemy.” The enemy ship sailed closer. Closer.
The man at its bow was now clearly visible.
Sharp features. Eyes almost empty even from this distance. Bald scalp bound by the cloth. Captain Rorke.
He watched The Resolute like a hunter eyeing prey. Then slowly… he smiled. It wasn’t friendly. It wasn’t even cruel.
It was worse.
Cold.
Calculating.
Rorke raised one hand slowly.
Behind him… cannons rolled into position along his ship’s side. His voice carried once more.
“Fire.”
The first cannon exploded with thunder.
Y/N’s eyes widened in pure shock. The cannonball whistled through the air, slamming into the water near The Resolute’s hull, sending spray exploding upward. The deck shuddered from the near miss. Elias bellowed orders,
“Return fire! All hands!” Keegan drew his cutlass with a swift rasp, his icy eyes flicking to Y/N for a split second—protective, urgent—before turning back to the threat.
Hesh ignited the fuse on their nearest cannon, the boom retaliating across the waves. Splinters flew as Rorke’s ship fired again, the battle erupting in smoke and chaos. And the battle began.
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Taglist: 🪧
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Bound by blade and Crown
Pairing: Knight!Perpetua x Female!Reader princess (Y/N)
Summary: They have known each other since childhood, when Perpetua was only the boy who always stood between her and harm. Now sworn as her knight, his only duty is to protect the princess, even as affection grows into something forbidden. What begins in soft devotion and familiar warmth slowly turns fragile, for they both know that if their feelings are discovered, the cost will fall most heavily on her knight.
Warning: Angst.
Words: 3k
Chapter XI
The next morning, soft light filtered through the curtains as Y/N stood before her mirror, brushing her hair slowly.
Her cheeks were already warm.
Her thoughts drifted—unbidden, vivid—to the night before. To his hands, his voice, the way he had looked at her. Her breath caught slightly, and she pressed her lips together, trying—and failing—not to smile.
Gods…
She quickly shook her head, trying to regain composure, though the warmth in her chest refused to fade. Finishing her hair, she smoothed her dress, taking one last look at herself before stepping toward the door.
When she opened it—
Perpetua was already there.
Standing straight, waiting.
Her heart skipped.
“Good morning,” she said softly, a gentle smile forming on her lips.
His gaze flicked to her, and for a brief moment, something unguarded passed through his eyes—something only she would notice.
“Let’s go,” he said quietly.
They walked side by side through the corridors, silence stretching between them—but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was… charged. Every brush of their hands, every glance, carried something new now. Something neither of them could ignore anymore.
When they entered the dining hall, her parents were already seated.
Y/N moved to her usual seat, her posture composed, while Perpetua took his place by the pillar—back straight, expression neutral. The perfect knight.
As if nothing had changed.
Her mother smiled warmly. “Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well? And how is your training progressing with Copia?”
Y/N nodded, reaching for her cup. “Good morning. I slept well… and training is going well too. I’m improving.”
Her mother smiled knowingly. “I can imagine.”
For a moment, everything felt normal. Safe.
Until—
Her father spoke.
His tone was calm, but firm. “You’ve grown a great deal, Y/N.”
She looked up, slightly surprised. “Thank you…?”
He folded his hands. “And with that comes responsibility. It is time you begin to consider your duties more seriously.”
Y/N frowned slightly. “Duties…? You mean—”
“Marriage.”
The word hit the room like a blade.
Y/N froze.
Her fingers tightened around her cup, her breath catching in her throat.
Across the room—
Perpetua froze too.
Completely still.
His jaw tightened, his gaze fixed forward, but his mind was no longer in the room.
Of course.
He had always known this day would come. She was the princess. The heir. It was inevitable that she would be promised to someone—some prince, some noble, someone worthy of her title.
But knowing it…
And hearing it…
Were two very different things.
Y/N’s voice came out quieter than she intended. “Marriage…?”
Her father nodded. “You will not be forced into anything immediately. But discussions will begin. Alliances must be considered.”
Silence followed.
Heavy.
Y/N didn’t look at Perpetua.
And Perpetua didn’t look at her.
But the distance between them—
Had never felt so impossibly large.
Y/N swallowed, her throat suddenly dry, her fingers tightening around the edge of the table as she forced herself to meet her father’s gaze. “And… when is this supposed to happen?” she asked carefully, her voice steady only by effort. “And… do I have any say in it? In who I marry?”
The king regarded her for a moment, his expression not unkind, but firm—measured, as though every word he spoke had already been weighed long before this conversation. “In time,” he answered, leaning back slightly in his chair.
“These matters are not decided overnight. There will be meetings, discussions, visits from other courts. You will be introduced properly to potential matches.” He paused, then added,
“And yes… your opinion will be considered. But you must understand, Y/N, that marriage for you is not merely personal—it is political. It must serve the kingdom.”
Her heart sank at the word political. It echoed far too loudly in her mind. She nodded slowly, though her chest felt tight, her thoughts racing far too fast to keep up with.
“So… it won’t just be my choice,” she murmured, more to herself than to him.
Her mother reached out gently, placing a hand over hers.
“It will never be entirely without your voice,” the queen said softly, her tone reassuring, though there was a quiet truth beneath it. “But your father is right—your position carries weight. We must think of the future.”
Y/N nodded again, but her gaze dropped to the table, unable to hold theirs any longer. Across the room, Perpetua stood unmoving, his posture as perfect as ever, but inside, something twisted sharply.
His jaw clenched, a muscle ticking as he stared straight ahead, refusing—forcing himself—not to look at her.
He had always known this would come, had told himself countless times that she was never meant for someone like him. A princess does not marry a knight.
A princess marries power, alliances, kingdoms. Still, the thought settled like a weight in his chest, heavier than any armor he had ever worn.
Y/N exhaled slowly, trying to steady herself, but her thoughts betrayed her, slipping—unwanted—back to the night before, to his voice, his touch, the way he had looked at her as if nothing else in the world mattered.
And now… now she was being told that someday soon, she would belong to someone else. Someone chosen not by her heart, but by duty.
Her father continued, unaware—or perhaps choosing not to acknowledge—the storm inside her. “You are not a child anymore,” he said, his tone firm but not harsh. “It is time you begin to think like the future queen you are meant to be.”
Future queen. Future bride. Future alliance.
Y/N forced a small nod, though her chest felt tighter with every passing second. “I understand,” she said quietly.
But she didn’t look at Perpetua.
And he didn’t look at her.
Yet both of them felt it—the shift, the weight, the inevitable future pressing down on something that had only just begun.
As breakfast came to an end, Y/N rose from her seat a little too quickly, her chair scraping softly against the floor.
“I… I’m going to the garden,” she said, her voice composed, but just barely. Her mother looked up at her, and for a brief moment, something knowing passed between them—a quiet understanding only a mother could have.
The queen simply smiled softly and nodded. Of course she knew. She had always known.
Y/N didn’t wait any longer. She turned and walked out of the hall, her steps quicker than usual, her thoughts racing far too loudly in her mind.
Perpetua followed immediately.
The silence between them stretched the entire way down the corridor and into the open air, thick and suffocating. He tried once, his voice low, careful. “Princess…?”
No answer.
She didn’t even slow down. Her gaze was distant, unfocused, as if she were walking on instinct alone, her mind far away from the path beneath her feet.
When they finally reached the garden, the soft rustle of leaves and distant birds filled the quiet, but it did nothing to ease the tension. Y/N walked a little further in, just enough to be certain no one could overhear them, then stopped abruptly.
She turned around.
Her eyes were shining, tears gathering—but stubbornly refusing to fall.
“I don’t want this,” she said, her voice breaking despite her effort to keep it steady. “I don’t want any of this!”
Perpetua froze, his breath catching as he took a step toward her.
“Why is it like this?” she continued, her words spilling out faster now, frustration and hurt tangling together.
“Why is it so… stupid? Why can’t we just choose what we want? Why does everything have to be decided for me?” Her hands clenched at her sides, her shoulders trembling slightly.
“I don’t want to be some… some alliance. I don’t want to be given away like I’m just part of a deal.”
Perpetua’s jaw tightened, every word hitting him like a blow, because he understood—more than she knew. But he said nothing yet, letting her speak, letting her break if she needed to.
Her voice dropped, quieter now, but heavier. “I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love… someone I don’t even know.”
Silence followed.
A painful, fragile silence.
Perpetua took another step closer, his voice low, careful, as if one wrong word might shatter her completely. “Y/N…”
But even as he said her name, he knew—there was no easy answer. Not for her. Not for them.
Y/N shook her head immediately, taking a step back as if his voice alone might undo her.
“No,” she said, sharper this time, her hands clenching. “Don’t… don’t try to make it better. It’s not. It’s really not.”
Perpetua stopped where he was, his expression tightening, but he didn’t argue. He could see it in her—this wasn’t something that could be soothed with simple words.
“I just—” she exhaled shakily, running a hand through her hair, trying to steady herself.
“I just got you,” she admitted, her voice breaking despite her effort to hold it together.
“Do you understand that? After all this time… all these years of not knowing, of pretending, of… of ignoring it… I finally have you. We finally…” She stopped, her chest rising and falling too quickly.
Her eyes met his then, filled with frustration and something far more fragile. “And now they expect me to just… what? Smile and nod and choose some prince like none of this matters?”
Perpetua’s jaw clenched hard, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Every instinct in him screamed to step forward, to pull her into his arms, to tell her that none of it would happen—but he couldn’t lie to her. Not about something like this.
“I know,” he said quietly, the words heavy, almost strained. “I know, Y/N.”
She shook her head again, more fiercely this time.
“No, you don’t! You don’t have to marry someone you don’t love. You don’t have to give yourself to someone because it’s ‘good for the kingdom.’ You don’t have to pretend like your heart doesn’t matter.”
He took a slow breath, forcing himself to stay calm even as her words cut deeper than she realized.
“You think I don’t know what it means to give something up for duty?” he asked, his voice low, controlled—but there was something raw beneath it.
“You think I haven’t lived my entire life doing exactly that?”
She faltered for a second—but only a second.
“This is different,” she whispered, her voice softer now, but no less intense. “This is us.”
The word hung between them.
Us.
Perpetua’s gaze dropped briefly, then returned to hers, darker now, conflicted.
“And what do you want me to say?” he asked quietly. “That we can ignore it? That it won’t matter? That they won’t come for you one day and expect you to do your duty?”
“I want you to say it matters!” she snapped, her voice rising again, tears finally slipping down her cheeks despite her effort to stop them.
“That we matter! That I’m not just… something to be traded away!”
Perpetua stepped forward then, unable to hold himself back anymore, his voice lowering but intensifying.
“You are not something to be traded,” he said firmly. “You are the future queen. You are… everything this kingdom depends on.”
“And what about what I want?” she shot back immediately, her voice trembling. “What about what I feel?”
He stopped in front of her, close now, too close, his eyes searching hers as if trying to find something—an answer, a way out, something that didn’t exist.
“I care about what you feel,” he said, quieter now, almost painfully so. “More than I should. More than I’m allowed to.”
Her breath hitched at that.
“But that doesn’t change what’s coming,” he added, his voice dropping further, heavier. “And it doesn’t change what I am.”
Her expression softened for just a moment, hurt flickering through it. “You’re not just a knight,” she whispered. “Not to me.”
Perpetua closed his eyes briefly, as if that made it worse, not better. “That’s exactly the problem.”
Y/N let out a shaky breath, her chest tightening painfully at his words.
“Why is that a problem?” she whispered, though her voice carried more hurt than anger now. “Why is it such a terrible thing that I don’t see you as just… my knight?”
Perpetua opened his eyes again, but there was something different in them now—something heavier, conflicted, almost pained. He stepped back, just slightly, as if putting space between them might help him think clearly.
“Because you should,” he said quietly, though the words clearly cost him.
“Because that’s what I am. That’s what I’m supposed to be. Your protector. Your shield. Not… this.” His hand lifted vaguely between them, as if he didn’t even have the words to name it.
Y/N’s face fell, her heart twisting at the distance he was trying to create.
“So that’s it?” she asked, her voice trembling again. “After everything… after last night… after everything we said… you just want to pretend it didn’t happen?”
“That’s not what I said,” he replied quickly, his jaw tightening again, frustration creeping in.
“Then what are you saying?” she pressed, stepping closer now, refusing to let him retreat any further. “Because it sounds like you’re already giving up.”
“I’m not giving up,” he snapped, louder than before, then immediately exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair as if trying to pull himself back together.
“I’m trying to be realistic.”
“Realistic?” she repeated bitterly, a tear slipping down her cheek.
“Realistic would have been staying away from me in the first place. Realistic would have been not kissing me. Not touching me. Not letting me believe that maybe… just maybe… this could be something real.”
Her words hit him hard—he visibly flinched, even if only for a second.
“You think I don’t know that?” he said, his voice dropping again, rough with emotion.
“You think I don’t wake up every day knowing exactly what I’ve done? Knowing I crossed a line I was never supposed to cross?”
“Then why did you?” she asked, almost pleading now.
Silence.
A long, painful silence.
Finally, he answered, quieter than before. “Because I couldn’t stop.”
The honesty in his voice made her breath catch.
“I tried,” he continued, his gaze fixed on the ground now, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her.
“For years, Y/N, I tried to ignore it. To bury it. To be what I was supposed to be for you. But every time you smiled at me, every time you ran off and I had to find you, every time you looked at me like I mattered more than I should…” He shook his head slightly.
“I failed. Again and again.”
Her heart ached at his words, but it didn’t make it hurt less.
“So now what?” she whispered. “Now that we both know… what are we supposed to do? Just pretend none of this exists?”
Perpetua finally looked at her again, his eyes dark, filled with conflict. “I don’t know,” he admitted.
That hurt more than anything.
“You don’t know,” she repeated, her voice hollow. “So I’m supposed to just… wait? While my father finds someone else for me?”
He didn’t answer.
And that silence—
That silence said everything.
Y/N let out a soft, broken laugh, shaking her head as more tears slipped down her cheeks. “That’s not fair,” she whispered. “None of this is fair.”
Perpetua stepped forward again, instinctively, as if he wanted to reach for her—but stopped himself at the last second, his hand hovering uselessly in the air before dropping back to his side.
“I know,” he said quietly.
But knowing didn’t fix anything.
And for the first time since they had crossed that line—since they had allowed themselves to feel what had always been there—
It felt like it might already be slipping through their fingers.
The silence between them stretched unbearably, heavy and suffocating, filled with everything they had said—and everything they hadn’t.
Y/N stood there for a moment longer, staring at him as if she were searching for something, some answer, some reassurance that he simply couldn’t give her.
And when it didn’t come… something inside her broke.
Her expression shifted—hurt hardening into something colder, something more guarded. She let out a shaky breath, wiping at her cheeks quickly, almost angrily, as if she refused to let him see her cry any longer.
“Of course,” she said quietly, though her voice carried a bitter edge now. “You don’t know. You never know when it actually matters.”
Perpetua’s jaw tightened, the words clearly hitting, but he didn’t interrupt.
He couldn’t.
Y/N took a step back, putting space between them, the distance now feeling deliberate. Protective. Necessary.
“I can’t do this,” she whispered, more to herself than to him. “I can’t stand here and pretend this doesn’t hurt.”
He moved forward instinctively. “Y/N—”
“No.” Her voice cut through his, sharp and final. She shook her head, refusing to let him come closer. “Don’t.”
That stopped him.
Her chest rose and fell unevenly as she looked at him one last time, her eyes still shining, still filled with everything she couldn’t say anymore.
“Just… leave me alone, Perpetua,” she said, her voice quieter now, but no less firm.
“Please. I want to be alone.”
The please was what made it worse.
For a moment, he didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Just stood there, caught between every instinct telling him to go after her and the one thing he had always sworn to do—respect her wishes.
Y/N didn’t wait for a response. She turned quickly, her dress brushing against the flowers as she walked away, her steps faster than before, as if she needed distance—needed air—needed to escape before she completely fell apart in front of him.
Perpetua remained where he was.
Watching her go.
His hands clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms, his entire body rigid with the effort of not following her. Every part of him screamed to go after her, to pull her back, to fix this somehow—but he didn’t.
Because she had asked him not to.
And that was the one thing he would never deny her.
So he stood there, alone in the garden, surrounded by silence and the faint echo of her footsteps fading away…
And for the first time in a long time—
He felt completely helpless.
Sorry...
Taglist:
@teenage-birt-dag
Shadows of War
Simon Riley x daugther!reader
Simon is a battle-hardened warrior and single father, raising his daughter in a quiet village—until war reaches their home.When soldiers come to take every man, Y/N refuses to stay behind. Faced with losing the only family she has left, she makes a very bad decision—one that could cost her life.
Words 8k.
Part 2
The room Peggy gave her was small, but warm, its walls paneled in aged wood that seemed to hold the faint echoes of countless quiet nights. A narrow bed hugged one corner, its frame simple and sturdy, while a wooden chair sat sentinel by the window, offering a view of the shadowed fields beyond.
A thick quilt, woven with threads of deep crimson and faded gold, lay folded neatly at the foot, its texture soft and inviting. Everything about it was gentle—safe in a way that made Y/N feel like she couldn’t breathe, the very tenderness a stark contrast to the storm raging within her, pressing against her ribs like an unyielding weight.
She sat on the edge of the bed, unmoving, her posture frozen as if the slightest shift might shatter the fragile dam holding back her emotions. The house was quiet now.
Too quiet. No sound of boots thudding across the floorboards. No steady presence in the next room, no reassuring shadow cast by the lantern's glow.
No low voice correcting her stance or telling her to try again, his gravelly tone laced with that mix of pride and impatience she had come to rely on.
Just silence, thick and oppressive, wrapping around her like a shroud.
Her hands rested in her lap, fingers interlaced but betraying her inner chaos. They were shaking, a subtle tremor that started in her fingertips and rippled upward, defying the strength she had always prided herself on.
Y/N stared at them, brows pulling together as if she didn’t understand why, as if sheer willpower could command them to still, her gaze fierce and unblinking in the dim light.
They didn’t.
A tear slipped down her cheek, landing softly against her skin, warm and insistent. Then another, tracing a path that blurred the edges of her vision.
“I don’t…” she whispered, voice catching on the jagged edge of grief. “I don’t want to lose him…”
The words broke apart as soon as they left her lips, dissolving into the air like fragile smoke, leaving her hollow.
Her chest tightened painfully, each breath uneven and labored as more tears followed—falling faster now, unstoppable, carving salty trails over her flushed skin.
Not him. Not her dad, the unyielding anchor of her world, the man whose absence already carved a void too vast to fathom.
She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head like she could push the thought away, dislodge it from the recesses of her mind where it had taken root.
But it was there, unyielding and vivid.
That image. Him not coming back, his silhouette fading into the haze of battle, leaving only echoes.
The empty house, its rooms vast and lifeless, stripped of his quiet strength.
The silence that would never end, an eternal companion to her solitude.
A small, broken sound escaped her as she folded forward, elbows on her knees, hands clutching at her hair with desperate fingers, pulling just enough to ground the spiraling pain.
“No… no, no, no…”
She had already lost her mother, the memory a raw wound that time had only scabbed over, never fully healed.
She couldn’t—
She wouldn’t—
Let the war steal him too, ripping away the last thread of family she clung to.
Her breathing hitched sharply as she forced herself upright again, wiping her face with the back of her hand, the calluses rough against her tender skin.
Her gaze dropped back to her palms, studying the familiar ridges and scars.
Calloused. Steady—when she needed them to be, battle-hardened from hours of practice under his watchful eye.
Hands he had trained, guiding her through forms until muscle memory became instinct.
Hands he had trusted with a blade, placing steel in her grip with a nod of quiet approval.
Slowly… they stopped trembling, the shakes ebbing away as resolve seeped in, cold and clarifying.
Y/N inhaled shakily, drawing in the room's musty air. Then again. And again, each breath a deliberate reclaiming of control.
Her tears didn’t stop—but something else changed, a shift from despair to determination.
Something steadier. Colder, like the first frost of winter hardening the earth.
Her fingers curled. Tight. Fists, knuckles paling under the pressure, channeling fear into fuel.
“I can fight,” she whispered, voice still fragile—but firmer now, edged with the defiance he had forged in her. “You know I can…”
He had said survive, his final command a plea disguised as order.
He had told her to stay. To hide. To wait, barricaded in this fragile sanctuary.
Her jaw tightened, the line of it sharp and unyielding.
“No.”
The word was quiet. But certain, resonating in her core like a struck bell.
She looked up, eyes still wet—but burning now with something stronger than fear, a fierce ember that promised action over acquiescence.
“I’m not staying here.”
Her heart pounded harder as the thought settled in, taking shape with unshakeable clarity, a path illuminated amid the darkness.
Tonight.
She would wait until Peggy slept, the old woman's rhythmic breathing her unwitting signal.
She would take what she needed—her blade, supplies, anything she could carry without slowing her stride.
And then—
She’d go. Find the camp, trace the roads scarred by marching feet. Find him, before fate could intervene.
Because if there was even the smallest chance—
If there was even one moment where he needed her, her blade at his side—
She wouldn’t be sitting in some safe little room, waiting for bad news to arrive, carried on the wind like a death knell.
Her grip tightened further, nails pressing into her palms, drawing faint pinpricks of blood that mirrored her resolve.
“I’m coming, Dad,” she whispered, the vow soft but ironclad, laced with the love that overrode every warning.
The room stayed silent.
But this time—
It didn’t feel suffocating.
It felt like the calm before something began, the hush preceding a tempest.
Night had settled heavy over the village, draping it in velvet darkness, the stars mere pinpricks against the endless void.
No voices murmured in the distance. No movement flickered in the shadows. Only the distant rustle of wind through the fields, like restless spirits, and the faint creak of old wood groaning under the night's weight.
Peggy’s house had long gone still, the fire reduced to glowing coals, the air thick with the scent of cooling ashes.
Y/N waited.
She sat on the edge of the bed, fully dressed in worn tunic and breeches, boots clutched in her hands, listening—counting the quiet breaths between sounds, each interval a test of her patience. Her heart pounded so loudly she was sure it would give her away, a thunderous rhythm echoing her defiance.
But nothing came.
No footsteps creaking on the stairs. No voice calling her name, soft with concern.
Just silence, her ally in the shadows.
Slowly… carefully… she stood, unfolding her limbs with the precision of a hunter.
Every movement was deliberate. Controlled. The way Simon had taught her, his lessons etched into her bones: stealth as survival, haste as folly.
She slipped her boots on, the leather whispering against her skin, grabbed the small bundle she had prepared—a satchel of provisions, a cloak for the chill—and crept to the door, her steps silent on the threadbare rug.
Her hand hovered on the handle for a moment, the brass cool and unyielding beneath her fingers.
This was it.
No turning back, no retreat to the warmth she was forsaking.
She swallowed hard, throat tight with the weight of choice—
Then opened it.
The night air hit her cold and sharp as she stepped outside, carrying the bite of frost and the promise of trials ahead.
She didn’t look back.
If she did, she knew she might stop, the pull of safety too strong to resist.
And she couldn’t afford that.
Not now.
Not ever.
Her house stood just as she remembered it—dark, still, waiting like a sentinel in the gloom.
For a moment, she hesitated at the door, her hand lingering on the latch.
It felt… different. Empty, as if the life had already leeched from its walls, anticipating the void to come.
Like it already knew he was gone, the forge cold and silent within.
Y/N pushed the thought aside and stepped inside, the door sighing shut behind her.
The familiar scent hit her instantly—iron from the anvil, wood from the beams, smoke lingering from the hearth.
Home.
Her chest tightened, a pang of nostalgia warring with urgency.
“Focus,” she whispered to herself, the word a sharp command in the quiet.
She moved quickly.
No hesitation now, her purpose a guiding flame.
She grabbed the sword from where it rested against the wall—the one he had trained her with, its hilt worn smooth from her grip. It felt right in her hand. Solid. Real, an extension of her will.
Then—
She stopped.
Her eyes lifted.
The mirror.
It hung slightly crooked, just like always, its surface tarnished but true.
For a moment, she just stared at herself, the reflection a harsh judge.
Long brown curls falling past her shoulders, wild and untamed. Tear-stained cheeks, flushed with emotion. Eyes still red, shadowed by doubt.
A girl.
A liability, soft curves and vulnerability that the world would exploit.
A target, marked by her very existence in a time of war.
Her grip on the sword tightened, the leather creaking under her fingers.
She exhaled slowly, steadying her breath.
Then stepped closer, the floorboards cool beneath her boots.
“You’re not staying,” she murmured to her reflection.
Her hands were steady now. Completely steady, the tremor banished by the fire of purpose igniting within her, each finger sure and unyielding as they gripped the hilt of the blade.
She lifted it, the steel catching a faint glint from the moonlight filtering through the cracked window, casting a silvery edge along its length.
Paused only for a second—her reflection holding her gaze, a silent challenge in those determined eyes—
Then—
Slice.
The first lock fell, a heavy curl of brown tumbling to the worn floorboards like a severed tie to her past, soft strands scattering in the dim light.
Her breath hitched—but she didn’t stop, the sharp intake fueling her resolve rather than faltering it.
Cut.
Another, the blade whispering through the air with practiced precision, severing more of the wild mane that had always marked her as unmistakably feminine.
Cut.
And another, relentless now, each snip echoing in the quiet room like a declaration of war against her own vulnerability.
Her curls dropped to the floor one by one, pooling around her boots in dark, tangled heaps, until they no longer framed her face the same way, no longer softened the sharp angles of her jaw or veiled the intensity in her stare.
Until the girl in the mirror started to disappear, fading with every falling strand, replaced by something forged in necessity.
She kept going. Shorter. Rougher. The cuts uneven in places, jagged from the haste, but enough to alter the silhouette staring back at her.
Finally, she lowered the blade, the weight of it settling in her palm as her chest heaved with controlled breaths.
Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the faint rustle of her uneven hair brushing against her neck.
Her chest rose and fell slowly as she looked up again, forcing herself to confront the change.
The reflection staring back at her was different now. Sharper, the short crop framing a face that seemed etched with newfound hardness, shadows playing across her features to accentuate the illusion.
Harder, the vulnerability stripped away with her locks, leaving a guise that could blend into the ranks of soldiers marching to war.
Not quite a boy— the subtle curves of her form still lingered beneath the surface—but close enough to deceive at a distance, to slip through the cracks of scrutiny.
Y/N reached up, brushing a hand over the shortened strands, fingers threading through the unfamiliar stubble that prickled against her skin. It felt strange. Wrong, like shedding a skin she had worn too long.
But necessary, a armor woven from sacrifice, essential for the path she had chosen.
Her gaze didn’t waver, locked on the transformed figure before her, a nod of grim approval passing unspoken.
“Good,” she whispered, the word a quiet affirmation, sealing the first phase of her reinvention.
She moved again, faster now, momentum carrying her forward like a current she couldn’t resist.
Pulling on darker clothes—loose tunic and breeches of rough wool, practical and unadorned, nothing that would catch the eye or cling to her shape at a glance, blending her into the night’s anonymity.
Then she grabbed the bandages, strips of clean linen scavenged from the chest, their texture coarse against her palms.
Her hands slowed just slightly, not from doubt creeping in, but from the stark awareness of what this entailed.
This was the final step. The line she couldn’t uncross, a binding not just of cloth but of her very identity, committing her to the deception.
She inhaled deeply, drawing in the musty air of the room, steeling her nerves against the discomfort to come—
Then began.
Wrapping them tight around her breasts, layer by layer, the fabric pulling firm against her skin, compressing and flattening, hiding the soft swells that betrayed her gender.
It wasn’t comfortable, the pressure a constant ache that bit into her ribs and restricted her breaths to shallow pulls.
It wasn’t meant to be, a reminder of the cost, the endurance she would need to survive what lay ahead.
She tied it off with a firm knot, adjusting her shirt over it, the loose fabric falling to conceal the bindings, then checking the mirror again with a critical eye.
Her silhouette changed, the once-gentle lines now obscured, angular and unobtrusive.
Less noticeable in the dim light, less her—the girl left behind in the scattered curls on the floor.
More… something that could pass muster among the rough company of men, slipping unnoticed through checkpoints and camps.
Her jaw set, a muscle ticking with determination.
“Good enough.”
She gathered the rest—small supplies bundled into a worn satchel: dried meat, a waterskin, flint and tinder— the chain Simon had given her, its cool metal links slipping over her head to rest against her chest, tucking it safely beneath her clothes.
Close to her heart. Always, a talisman of his faith in her, now her anchor in the storm.
Then she stepped toward the door, satchel slung over her shoulder, sword at her hip.
Pausing only once, her hand on the latch.
Her eyes flicked around the room, taking in the familiar contours one last time.
Every corner held a memory: the scuffed bedpost from roughhousing as a child, the faint smoke stain on the ceiling from late-night stories by the fire.
Every shadow felt heavier now, laden with the weight of farewell, the ghosts of laughter and lessons lingering in the air.
“I’ll come back,” she whispered, the words hanging soft and tentative in the stillness.
She didn’t know if it was a promise.
Or a lie.
The stables loomed dark and still under the veil of night, the air thick with the scent of hay and lingering manure, every creak of wood amplifying the hush that had settled over them.
Too quiet, the absence pressing in like a held breath, a stark reminder of the exodus that had stripped the village bare.
Most of the village horses were already gone—requisitioned by the men who had vanished before the first light, driven by a mix of desperation and resolve. Only a few remained, their hooves scraping softly against the straw as they shifted restlessly in their stalls, eyes gleaming white in the gloom.
Y/N moved carefully, her boots padding silently over the packed earth, murmuring low reassurances as she approached one—a sturdy brown gelding she recognized from years of shared paths and quiet rides.
“Hey… easy,” she whispered, her palm pressing flat against the warm muscle of its neck, feeling the steady pulse beneath the coarse hide.
It huffed softly, a warm puff of breath against her wrist, but didn’t pull away, its ears flicking forward in tentative trust.
Good.
She worked quickly, hands steady despite the thunderous beat echoing in her chest, each motion precise and ingrained.
She hefted the saddle from its rack, swinging it onto the gelding's back with a soft thud, then threaded the reins through the bit, tightening the girth with firm pulls, checking the fit, adjusting the stirrups—
everything Simon had drilled into her during those long, sun-dappled afternoons that now felt like distant dreams, every lesson surging back with vital urgency.
Within minutes, she was mounted, the leather creaking under her weight as she settled into the saddle, the horse's flanks rising and falling beneath her.
For a brief second, she sat there in the enveloping dark, fingers curling tight around the reins, the reality crashing over her like a wave.
This was real. No turning back, the threshold crossed in the span of a heartbeat.
Then—
She kicked forward, heels digging into the gelding's sides with a sharp nudge.
The world blurred into shadows and wind, the stable doors swinging open as they burst into the open, the rush of cool air whipping past her ears.
Cold air stung her face, biting at her exposed skin as the horse carried her down the narrow path, away from everything she had ever known—the familiar rooftops, the shadowed fields, the life she was leaving in fragments behind.
Fields stretched wide and empty under the starlit sky, vast expanses of dark earth swallowing the horizon.
The village disappeared behind her, its lights fading to pinpricks, then nothing, erased by the distance.
And ahead—
Only uncertainty, a yawning void of what-ifs and dangers lurking in the unknown.
Y/N leaned forward slightly, her body molding to the horse's rhythm, urging it on with a low click of her tongue and a gentle squeeze of her thighs.
“I’m coming,” she murmured into the night, the words lost to the wind but etched deep in her resolve, a vow carried on the gallop.
By the time the camp came into view, the moon hung high and unyielding, its pale glow washing over the sprawl like a judgmental eye.
Torches burned along the perimeter, flames sputtering and dancing in iron braziers, casting flickering light over rows of canvas tents pitched in haphazard lines and the ceaseless movement—lots of movement, shadows shifting as men hauled gear and barked orders into the chill.
She slowed the horse to a trot, heart racing as she took it in, scanning the chaos for threats, her pulse a frantic drum in her throat.
Men still arriving, stragglers on foot or horseback weaving through the edges, their silhouettes blending into the throng.
Good.
She exhaled quietly, a measured release of tension, forcing her shoulders to relax.
It won’t look suspicious. Just one more face in the flood.
Blending in—that was the goal now, her new skin, her survival woven into the anonymity of the crowd.
She dismounted with a fluid swing of her leg, boots hitting the muddied ground, then tied the horse alongside others to a rough post, the leads knotted secure before she pulled her hood lower, shadows concealing the sharp lines of her face, and stepped into the crowd.
No one looked at her twice, eyes sliding past the hooded figure as if she were no more than a gust of wind.
Just another late arrival. Just another boy, the disguise holding firm in the press of bodies.
There was a line forming near a wooden table where a man sat, hunched over stacks of parchment, his quill scratching names onto the yellowed sheets under the wavering lantern light.
A second commander, by the look of him, his uniform crisp despite the disarray around, insignia glinting faintly.
Y/N slipped into place at the end, keeping her head slightly down, shoulders squared the way she’d seen the others do, broad and unyielding, mimicking the posture of reluctant recruits.
One by one, names were called out, voices rough and varied, from gruff barks to mumbled replies.
Given. Spoken into existence amid the murmur.
Written. Ink bleeding into the page, sealing fates.
Stamped into something official. A heavy seal thudding down, permanent, unyielding.
Her stomach twisted, a knot of nausea rising as the line inched forward, each step closing the noose.
Then—
“Next.”
She stepped forward, gravel crunching under her boots, the commander's gaze lifting briefly.
The commander barely glanced up, his eyes bleary from hours of tedium. “Name?”
Her mind blanked, thoughts scattering like startled birds.
For half a heartbeat, panic flared, hot and sharp in her veins, threatening to choke her words.
Then—
“Kai,” she said, the syllable pushing out low and steady, forged in the fire of necessity.
The word came out before she could second-guess it, hanging in the air like a shield.
The man nodded, already dipping his quill, the scratch resuming.
“Kai… what?”
Y/N hesitated—just slightly, a fraction of a second where doubt clawed at the edges.
“Riley,” she said, the name rising unbidden, a tether to the man she sought, slipping free like a confession.
It slipped out without thinking, natural as breath, binding her to his legacy.
The man didn’t question it, his expression unchanging, just a grunt of acknowledgment.
Just scribbled, the ink flowing swift across the page.
“Move along.”
And just like that—
She existed.
Not as Y/N.
But as Kai.
The camp hummed with subdued murmurs of voices blending into a constant drone, the metallic clink of armor being adjusted and weapons sheathed punctuating the air, and the far-off snap of flames devouring wood in scattered fires, sending sparks dancing upward.
Y/N navigated the throng at a deliberate pace, her gaze sweeping over each weathered face hardened by anticipation, every twitch of limbs as men shifted packs or tested straps, every lurking shadow cast long by the erratic glow of lanterns swaying from poles.
Dad…
Yet the press of bodies was overwhelming, a crush of forms in drab uniforms.
Too many soldiers jostling for space amid the tents.
Too many unfamiliar figures whose stares held no warmth or welcome.
She couldn’t spot him amid the multitude.
Not yet.
A knot formed in her chest, squeezing tight—but she pressed on, threading through the gaps with quiet resolve.
She had time before dawn broke fully.
She just needed to—
Thud.
A forceful collision jarred her from the side, expelling the air from her lungs in a whoosh as a solid mass—body or gear—crashed against her.
She reeled backward—
And slammed into the dirt, the impact jarring her spine against unyielding ground.
“—oh shit!”
Laughter rang out overhead, coarse and immediate.
“Watch where you’re go—oh… wait—"
“Dude, sorry!”
Y/N shoved herself upright in a rush, annoyance igniting like a spark. “Watch out!” she barked, her tone laced with a rough edge.
Three lads loomed before her.
About her age, perhaps a touch senior.
One advanced promptly, extending a hand without pause.
“Yeah—sorry about that,” he offered, his words steadier than his companions’. “Didn’t see you.”
Y/N paused for the briefest instant—
Then clasped his hand.
His hold was solid, hauling her smoothly to standing.
That’s when she truly took him in.
Dark curls tumbling in disarray. Angular jaw and cheekbones. And those eyes—
Piercing blue, like chips of winter ice.
He locked eyes with her briefly, probing as if searching for hidden truths.
Then released.
The pair behind closed in swiftly.
“Sorry, man,” one muttered. “Didn’t mean to knock you flat like that.”
“Yeah,” the second chimed, scratching at his nape. “Camp’s chaos tonight.”
They shared resemblances.
Not twins—but kin, unmistakably.
Brothers.
The initial one waved loosely. “I’m Hesh,” he introduced. “That’s my younger brother, Logan.”
Logan dipped his chin in acknowledgment.
Then the blue-eyed one added his piece.
“Keegan.”
Y/N shifted her weight, eyeing them all, posture even.
Composed.
Impassive.
“...Kai,” she replied. The alias sat oddly on her tongue. Yet it fit, somehow.
Hesh cracked a subtle smile. “Kai, huh? You just get here?”
“Yeah.”
“Same,” Logan murmured softly.
Keegan’s expression stayed neutral. He simply observed her a beat too long.
Not hostile. Merely watchful.
Y/N sensed the scrutiny.
And willed herself still.
“Try not to get run over again,” Hesh quipped mildly.
Y/N snorted. “Try not to walk into people.”
That drew a quick chuckle.
“Fair enough.”
For a fleeting instant—
It seemed ordinary.
Nearly.
A remote yell cut through the camp then, diverting gazes elsewhere.
The veil of illusion tore away.
War.
Drills.
Endurance.
Y/N’s fingers grazed the concealed chain under her tunic.
Dad…
She scanned the vicinity once more.
No trace of him still.
But now—
She wasn’t isolated.
And for the first time since slipping away—
That lightened the load, however slightly.
Even if just a little.
Dawn arrived with brutal swiftness, the chill wind slicing deeper into her weary frame than the village's milder breezes ever could, seeping into bones deprived of rest during the fitful night.
Y/N—now fully Kai—lined up amid the ragged rows of fresh recruits, her posture rigid with squared shoulders and a subtly lowered chin, mirroring the tense stances around her.
Nearby, lads fidgeted with unease, some exchanging hushed words laced with doubt, others frozen like carved stone, their faces pale under the strengthening light.
She held her silence, lips pressed thin, mind racing with the peril of exposure.
The camp transformed under the sun's glare, sprawling vast and unforgiving, its edges sharp with reality's bite—no longer the shadowy haven of night but a sprawling beast of mud and canvas, alive with the grind of impending conflict.
At the forefront rose a weathered platform, officers clustered atop it, though one detached from the group, authority etched in his every stride.
The commander. His bark shattered the low hum instantly.
“Listen up!” The noise evaporated, dropping like a guillotine's edge.
“From this moment on, you are no longer villagers, farmers, or sons of whatever small lives you came from.” His stare raked across the assembly, piercing as a blade, and Y/N felt it skim her, her pulse quickening—does he see through me already?
“You belong to the kingdom now.” Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding subtly; this was no game, no childish rebellion, but a desperate thread to reclaim her father, Simon, from whatever fate had snared him. The man resumed his measured prowl along the platform's edge.
“You will be trained. You will obey. And if you survive long enough—you might even become soldiers.” Scattered nervous laughs bubbled up, fragile and short-lived, smothered by the weight of his presence.
“Now,” he pressed on, tone icing over,
“rules.” A subordinate advanced, unfurling a parchment with deliberate care.
“First—” the commander snapped, voice like cracking whip,
“women and girls are strictly forbidden within the ranks.” Y/N's gut plummeted, a cold void yawning inside;
they know, they always know, one slip and it's over. Her fingers twitched, curling into tight balls at her hips, nails biting palms to anchor the surge of panic.
"Any found disguising themselves or attempting to enlist will be—” He halted, letting the suspense coil. “Banished.” Whispers stirred like wind through dry leaves across the ranks. “Not just removed,” he amplified, eyes narrowing to slits.
“Banished. Marked. Shamed.” His glare intensified, drilling into the crowd.
“Your family name will carry that disgrace.” Y/N's ribs constricted, breath shallow; visions flashed—her father's stern face twisted in humiliation, Peggy's kind eyes dimmed by scandal, the village turning its back on the Riley line, all because of her defiance.
I can't let that happen. Not to him. Not after everything. She fixed her gaze forward, unblinking, willing her body to stone—don't twitch, don't breathe wrong, blend into the dirt.
“Second,” the officer intoned, voice flat as he scanned the scroll,
“any lies given during registration—false name, false origin—will result in immediate punishment and removal.” Y/N's heart thundered, a war drum in her ears; Kai Riley, that's all they have, hold it together.
“Shame upon your family. Your name struck from record.” Her mouth parched, tongue sticking to the roof as dread coiled tighter—if they dig, if they question, Simon's legacy crumbles with mine.
“Third—disobedience.” The commander's timbre swelled once more. “Failure to follow orders. Questioning authority. Acting without command.”
He ceased his stride, pivoting to survey them all. “Banished. Shamed. Forgotten.”
The quiet thickened, oppressive as chains, pressing down on every soul. Y/N drew a measured inhale through flared nostrils, steadying the tremor in her limbs—invisible, that's my weapon now, shadows and silence.
“You are here to serve. Not to think you’re special. Not to prove anything.”
His attention snagged on the greener faces, the youths like her.
“Most of you will fail.” No retorts rose; the air hung leaden.
“Some of you will die.” A beat of stunned hush.
“And the rest—” His pitch dipped to a grave rumble. “Will wish you had.”
Icy dread rippled through the formation, Y/N's skin prickling as the words sank in—death or worse, but turning back means losing him forever, I chose this path.
She gulped against the lump in her throat, knuckles whitening in her clenched fists, yet her stare remained locked ahead, defiant in its stillness.
No quiver. No retreat. She couldn't afford it. Not with the chain's weight against her bound chest a constant reminder of Simon's lessons, his absence a void she aimed to fill.
One misstep—exposure, disgrace—and it all shattered: her quest, his honor, their fractured bond. The commander retreated a pace.
“Training begins now.”
The ranks dissolved in a frenzy of barked commands, sergeants herding the fresh meat into clusters with rough shoves and pointed fingers, shuffling them like pawns across a bloodstained field, assigning duties and partners with the efficiency of a butcher portioning cuts.
Y/N clung to the periphery of the familiar trio—Hesh, Logan, Keegan—shadowing their steps without crowding, her gaze darting to ensure no one marked her as an outsider in this sea of strained faces and hunched postures.
A grizzled sergeant prowled the forming lines, flinging polished wooden staves into outstretched palms with curt snaps of his wrist, the wood thudding into grips slick with morning dew and nerves.
“Take one. Move!” Y/N snagged hers mid-air, the smooth grain settling familiarly in her callused fingers, its heft featherlight compared to the steel blades her father had once pressed into her hands during endless dawn drills, yet the center of balance evoked those grueling sessions, the way Simon's voice had drilled precision into her bones—strike true, or don't strike at all.
Her digits flexed, curling around the shaft instinctively, muscle memory igniting like a spark in dry tinder.
Opposite her, Keegan twirled his stave in a fluid arc, the motion testing its swing weight with the ease of someone born to the rhythm, his sharp blue eyes lifting to meet hers across the packed dirt.
“Guess we’re paired,” he said, voice low and steady amid the rising clamor.
Y/N dipped her chin in a brief acknowledgment. “Looks like it.”
Off to the flank, Hesh slapped Logan's shoulder with a resounding smack, his grin wolfish.
“Try not to cry when I knock you flat.” Logan snorted, rolling his eyes skyward.
“You wish.” For a fleeting heartbeat, amid the grind of boots scraping earth and the metallic tang of fear-sweat in the air, it skirted the edge of ordinary—sparring banter like village scuffles, not the prelude to slaughter—but the bindings chafing her ribs and the phantom ache of her cropped hair yanked her back, a stark reminder that normalcy was a luxury she'd bartered away for this deception.
“Listen up!” the instructor bellowed, striding between the pairs like a wolf among sheep, his boots kicking up dust clouds that stung eyes and throats.
“This isn’t play fighting. You swing like idiots—you’ll be treated like idiots. Understood?”
A ragged wave of “Yes, sir!” rippled out, voices overlapping in uneven harmony, Y/N's own murmur blending seamlessly into the chorus as she gripped her stick tighter, pulse steadying into the focused thrum of readiness.
“Good. Basic strikes. Basic defense. You mess it up—you run laps until you drop.”
He jabbed a thick finger toward the first duo. “Begin!”
The initial crack of timber on timber reverberated across the yard, a sharp punctuation to the haze of motion as bodies lunged and parried in clumsy rhythm.
Y/N surged forward without hesitation, her stance low and coiled, movements deliberate—not the frantic flailing of greenhorns but honed strikes flowing from years of clandestine practice in fog-shrouded fields, Simon's gravelly corrections echoing in her mind:
footwork first, power follows.
Keegan mirrored her advance, probing with a swift overhead chop that whistled through the chill air; she met it squarely, her stave rising in a crisp intercept, the impact vibrating up her arms like a tuning fork, jarring but controlled, her elbows absorbing the force without buckling.
He arched a single brow, surprise flickering in his gaze as he reset his guard.
“Not bad,” he muttered, circling to her left with predatory grace.
She offered no retort, merely pivoting on her heel to track him, weight shifting fluidly between her boots, eyes locked on the subtle twitch of his shoulders telegraphing intent.
He struck again, quicker this time—a lateral sweep from the left aimed at her midsection; Y/N twisted her hips, angling the block to glance the blow aside with a resonant thud, the wood humming in her grasp as she exhaled sharply through her nose.
He followed seamlessly with a rightward thrust, tip darting like a serpent's tongue; she yielded ground in a measured retreat, the stave slicing empty air inches from her tunic, then riposted with a measured jab toward his exposed flank—light, probing, not committing fully.
Keegan parried with a snap of his wrist, their staves colliding in a staccato crack that sent a faint shiver through the ground. They hung in that suspended beat, breaths syncing, assessing—his stance wider, hers compact, minds mapping weaknesses in the other's form amid the cacophony of grunts and thwacks surrounding them.
Then the dance resumed, Keegan pressing with augmented force, his swings chaining into a sequence: high feint dissolving into a low sweep, then a diagonal slash testing her reflexes;
Y/N countered each in turn, deflecting the feint with an upward flick, dropping her guard to halt the sweep at knee height with a solid brace, and weaving under the slash to tap his guard with her counter, the contact firm but restrained, her breaths even as sweat beaded on her brow.
She matched his tempo flawlessly—step mirroring step, parry echoing strike—her form slicing through the air with surgical sharpness, each motion a echo of Simon's relentless tutelage, the wooden clacks around her paling against the precision she'd forged in secret, muscles burning with the welcome fire of purpose.
Keegan clocked it immediately, his spins tightening as he orbited her position, gaze sharpening like a whetstone on steel.
“You’ve done this before.” Y/N lifted one shoulder in a noncommittal shrug, feigning the casual shrug of a farm lad with occasional scraps.
“A bit.”
“Doesn’t look like ‘a bit.’” She sidestepped his probe, silence her shield, then exploded into motion—lunging with a sudden thrust that blurred the stave's arc toward his chest.
Keegan reacted on instinct, his block whipping up at the last instant, wood grinding against wood in a grating lock that tested their grips, arms straining for a heartbeat before they disengaged. A ghost of a smirk curved his lips, admiration glinting.
“Yeah,” he said under his breath.
“Definitely more than a bit.” In the adjacent pairing, Hesh and Logan devolved into a whirlwind of unchecked vigor, their bout a storm of wild arcs and desperate dodges—Hesh's stave whistling erratically as he overcommitted to a haymaker swing, Logan ducking clumsily and retaliating with a haphazard poke that clanged off his brother's guard.
“Stop swinging like that!” Logan snapped, frustration etching his features as he reset, sweat flying from his brow.
“You’re just slow!” Hesh fired back, his grin feral as he barreled forward in a reckless charge, staves smashing together in a chaotic din that drew sidelong glances from steadier pairs.
“Focus!” the instructor barked at them, voice slicing through their bickering like a lash.
“Trying!” Hesh called back, parrying a sloppy overhead with a grunt. Logan groaned.
Y/N and Keegan surged back into motion, the tempo escalating into a blur of accelerated exchanges, their bodies closing the gap with predatory intent, boots gouging furrows in the compacted soil as they wove through the intricate ballet of combat—each advance pulling them nearer, the air between them thickening with the scent of exertion and churned earth.
Their staves collided in a rapid-fire staccato, wood barking against wood in relentless succession: a high block absorbing Keegan's descending arc that hummed with latent power, followed by Y/N's riposte slicing low toward his thigh, met by his deft parry that sent vibrations racing up her arms; then a lateral step to the side,
her pivot turning into a sweeping strike aimed at his shoulder, which he deflected with a twist of his torso, countering instantly with a thrusting jab she sidestepped, her own follow-up a diagonal chop glancing off his raised guard in a sharp crack that echoed amid the grunts and thuds of surrounding pairs.
Y/N's breaths remained even, measured inhales fueling the precision of her form, her vision tunneling to the subtle cues in his posture—the flex of his knuckles whitening around the shaft, the shift of weight from heel to toe—
her mind a honed blade cutting through distraction, every sinew attuned to the rhythm they'd carved out.
For a suspended instant, the clamor of the training yard faded, the leering eyes of officers and the ironclad prohibitions against her kind dissolving into irrelevance;
she was adrift in pure kinetics, the seamless flow of reflex and discipline, echoes of Simon's gravelly commands resurfacing unbidden—
breathe through it, let the body lead—transforming the drill into an extension of those hidden sessions under starlit skies, where survival was etched into every feint and flourish.
Then Keegan shattered the trance, lunging inward with explosive speed, his frame compressing the space between them to mere inches, his stave whipping in a close-quarters hook that threatened to batter her defenses at point-blank range, the sudden proximity forcing a spike of adrenaline through her veins.
Y/N's instincts ignited without deliberation, her hips snapping in a fluid pivot that spun her weight onto her lead foot, her free leg hooking behind his knee in a swift, calculated sweep—
muscles coiling and releasing like a spring trap—yanking his balance from under him with unyielding leverage, the motion born from years of grappling drills Simon had drilled into her during those feverish nights of preparation.
Keegan teetered, arms windmilling for purchase as momentum betrayed him, his boot skidding on loose gravel before he toppled backward, hitting the ground with a solid thud that expelled a rush of air from his lungs and kicked up a puff of dust that settled on the watching recruits' faces.
A ripple of heads turned from nearby bouts, eyes widening in a mix of shock and envy at the clean takedown, murmurs threading through the din like sparks in dry grass, one lanky boy pausing mid-swing to gape openly while his partner lowered her—no, his—stick in confusion.
Y/N locked in place, heart slamming against her ribs, the stave heavy in her slackened grip as realization crashed in—too aggressive, too revealing, a flourish that screamed expertise far beyond a raw conscript's fumbling attempts, her bindings suddenly feeling like chains constricting her chest amid the exposure.
Keegan lay there for a beat, blinking up through the haze, dirt smudging his cheek, then exhaled a brief huff that bordered on amusement, the sound cutting the tension like a knife through fog.
“Well,” he said, bracing his palms against the earth to lever himself upright, shaking off the fall with a roll of his shoulders,
“that was new.” Y/N eased her stick downward a fraction, scanning him for injury, her voice threading steady despite the inner churn.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” He swiped at the grime clinging to his tunic and trousers, rising fluidly before fixing her with a prolonged stare, his expression unclouded by doubt but laced with intrigue, those piercing eyes dissecting her form as if piecing together a puzzle half-solved, the moment stretching under the relentless sun beating down on the yard.
“You fight like someone taught you properly,” he said, the words hanging with quiet appraisal, probing without accusation.
Y/N's fingers clenched around the wood, knuckles paling as a flicker of panic tightened her throat, the weight of her alias pressing like a vice—Kai wouldn't know advanced foot sweeps, not from a village brawl.
“…Got lucky.” Keegan's gaze lingered, skepticism etching faint lines at the corners of his mouth, unconvinced by the deflection but respecting the boundary, his nod curt as he retrieved his dropped stave from the dirt, twirling it once to reaffirm its balance before sliding back into guard stance, feet planting wide and ready.
“Alright, ‘Kai,’” he said, a subtle edge of provocation threading his tone, daring her to match the intensity he'd glimpsed.
“Again.” Y/N held his eyes, her resolve steeling into an unyielding front, chin lifting fractionally.
“Again.” And this time— They didn’t hold back.
Across the sprawling expanse of the camp—far removed from the fledgling recruits' clamor of splintering wood and barked orders—genuine steel sang against steel in a symphony of honed lethality, the blades' edges whispering threats through the air with every swing, unyielding and razor-sharp, demanding flawless execution or swift retribution.
Simon Riley glided through the fray like an encroaching specter, his form a seamless blend of controlled ferocity and lethal economy, muscles coiling beneath his scarred tunic as he anticipated each assault with the precision of a predator long schooled in death's cadence.
A sword slashed in from his left flank, Johnny's grip firm and blade arcing with committed force toward Simon's ribs, the metal gleaming under the midday glare as it cut the wind with a faint hiss.
Simon intercepted it mid-arc, his own broadsword rising in a tight vertical block that absorbed the impact with a resonant clang, the jolt traveling up his arms like a thunderclap contained; without pause, he twisted at the waist, pivoting on his heel to redirect the momentum into a fluid counter, his tip darting forward in a straight thrust that halted millimeters from Johnny's exposed throat, the point quivering steady as Simon's breath ghosted the skin there.
A suspended hush fell between them, the world narrowing to that frozen edge.
Then Johnny's tension broke with a rough bark of laughter, his free hand clapping Simon's shoulder as he eased his weapon down, the grin splitting his face wide despite the near-miss.
“Bloody hell, Simon,” he said, shaking his head with mock exasperation,
“you’re trying to kill me before the war even starts?” Simon's expression remained a mask of granite, no flicker of mirth softening the hard lines of his jaw or the shadowed intensity in his eyes.
“Too slow.”
Johnny snorted, rolling his shoulders to loosen the knots from the blocked strike, his boots shifting in the trampled dirt that bore the imprints of countless drills.
“Too slow? I’ve seen snails move quicker than you when you wake up.”
Simon retreated a measured step, his fingers flexing around the leather-wrapped hilt to resettle its weight, the balance familiar as his own pulse.
“Then you should’ve had no problem.”
Johnny huffed a quiet laugh, the sound warm against the chill of steel.
“Aye, right.” They commenced circling anew, footfalls grinding softly into the packed earth, eyes locked in mutual assessment, the space between them charged like the prelude to a storm; encircling them, clusters of veteran soldiers honed their craft in looser formations—
pairs trading measured thrusts amid low conversations, a trio practicing parries with rhythmic precision—but none matched the raw intensity radiating from Simon and Johnny, their duel a vortex drawing sidelong glances from the periphery.
Johnny initiated this round, exploding forward in a lunging assault, his sword thrusting low then whipping upward in an aggressive overhead chop, body fully committed as he drove the attack with explosive power, forcing Simon to weave left to evade the initial probe before meeting the descending blade headlong.
Their swords met in a ferocious clash, the impact reverberating through hilts and bones alike, a high-pitched ring slicing the air as sparks danced from the locked edges; Johnny pressed the advantage, raining down a sequence of strikes—
horizontal sweep to Simon's midsection blocked with a downward deflection that sent vibrations humming up Johnny's arms, followed by a vertical hack parried into a sidelong riposte that Simon sidestepped, his counter a probing jab Johnny twisted away from, the blades scraping in a grating whine.
Johnny redoubled, shoving forward with a shoulder feint to unbalance his opponent, his sword arcing in a tight circle to batter Simon's guard, compelling him to yield ground with a retreating step, boots sliding back amid the dust.
But Simon adapted in an instant, dropping his stance low and altering his blade's angle with a subtle wrist flick, transforming defense into offense as he unleashed a series of rapid cuts—
diagonal slash from high right met by Johnny's hasty block that jarred his elbows, then a low sweep toward the knees Johnny leaped over, only for Simon's follow-up thrust to graze the air near his hip, forcing a desperate adjustment where Johnny's parry barely contained the momentum, his stance widening to absorb the pressure.
“Still got it, eh?” Johnny muttered through gritted teeth, a grin breaking through the strain as sweat beaded on his brow, his breaths coming sharper now.
Simon offered no retort, his silence a weapon in itself, but an undercurrent weighed his strikes today—a fractional hesitation in his resets, a shadow clouding the usual mechanical ruthlessness, as if his mind wandered to unseen frontiers amid the melee.
Johnny clocked it immediately, his instincts as attuned to his friend's rhythms as to the blade's path; he always did, forged in battles where reading the man beside you meant life over death.
Another furious exchange erupted—blades crossing in a high-low bind that locked them chest-to-chest for a heartbeat, muscles straining before Simon disengaged with a sharp twist, circling back—then Johnny pulled away abruptly, dipping his sword tip toward the ground in a gesture of truce, his gaze probing.
“You’re distracted.”
Simon halted mid-stride, his posture rigid as iron.
“Am not.”
“Aye, you are,” Johnny pressed, cocking his head with that familiar blend of concern and persistence, wiping sweat from his upper lip with his sleeve.
“You’ve been like this since yesterday.” Simon's knuckles blanched around the hilt, the leather creaking under the pressure, his voice a low grind.
“Focus on the fight.” Johnny held his ground, sword lowered but stance unyielding, his eyes searching Simon's face for the fracture beneath the facade.
“…It’s the village, isn’t it?” The ensuing quiet stretched taut, confirmation in its weight alone.
Johnny let out a slow breath, scrubbing a hand over the nape of his neck, the motion betraying his unease. “Family?”
Simon's jaw locked, tendons standing out like cords, the internal war etching deeper lines across his brow; for a suspended moment, it seemed he'd seal shut entirely, retreating into that armored solitude. Then, the words escaped, rough and reluctant.
“…My daughter.” Johnny's features softened in a rush, the banter evaporating as empathy took hold, his sword arm dropping fully.
“Oh.”
Simon averted his gaze for a fleeting second, staring toward the hazy horizon where the camp's fringes blurred into wild scrub—impossible to discern the recruits' distant tumult from this vantage, yet the pull tugged at him all the same.
“She’s alone now,” he murmured, the admission laced with gravel, his broad shoulders slumping imperceptibly under the burden. Johnny dipped his chin in a slow nod, processing the revelation with quiet gravity.
“That’s… rough.” Silence bloomed between them again, heavy with unspoken histories, the distant clang of metal from other groups a faint underscore.
“You sure she’ll be alright?” Johnny ventured, his tone gentle, probing without demand. Simon's response came swift, unyielding conviction threading through the doubt.
“She’s strong.” Undeniably so—fiercely, perilously strong, a truth that both reassured and haunted. Johnny offered a subdued nod of solidarity, sheathing his concern behind camaraderie.
“Then she’ll manage.” Simon fell mute, the words ringing hollow against the scars of experience; fortitude forged in secret yards didn't shield against the world's cruelties, a lesson carved into his very bones from campaigns long past.
A distant shout pierced the air then—the recruits' training in full roar, wooden staves cracking like brittle bones, voices rising in exertion and correction, the chaotic symphony of green soldiers forging into something sharper.
Simon's eyes darted toward the sound, a mere glance, involuntary and brief, before snapping back to Johnny, masking the ache.
Unseen. Unaware.
That amid those raw clashes and fervent cries—within that throng of disguised desperation—his daughter endured, her body a vessel of concealed fire, striking and evading under borrowed skin, shattering every edict he'd vowed to uphold in leaving her behind. Johnny caught the flicker, interpreting it through his lens of shared loss.
“…You miss her already, don’t you?” he said lightly, injecting levity to bridge the gap.
Simon held his peace, neither affirming nor refuting, the silence a concession in itself. Johnny's lips quirked in a faint smirk, hoisting his sword once more with renewed vigor.
“Alright then, Lieutenant. Try not to take it out on me.” Simon mirrored the motion, his blade rising in a salute of cold resolve, focus sharpening to a lethal edge.
“Then don’t give me a reason to.” Johnny's grin flashed full, defiant and alive.
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Their steel collided anew in a cascade of strikes—thrust met parry, sweep deflected into riposte, bodies dancing in lethal harmony, the rhythm building to fevered intensity as Johnny feinted high and struck low, Simon countering with a spinning block that transitioned into an overhead arc Johnny rolled under, springing up to clash blades in a grinding lock that tested sinew and will.
And far across the camp— Wood struck wood in parallel fury, Y/N and Keegan locked in their unbridled bout, staves blurring through advanced forms
her guard high to absorb his overhead smash, then a low sweep he vaulted, her follow-up jab glancing his shoulder as he twisted into a counter-hook she ducked, the pair weaving closer in a frenzy of blocks, strikes, and pivots that left the dirt scarred and breaths ragged, the recruits' yard alive with their escalating duel.
Two battles. One camp.
And neither of them knew— Just how close they really were.
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Between Tides
Pirate!keegan Russ x F!reader
Taken by the sea and caught between two lives, Y/N finds something she never expected aboard a pirate ship-family, survival, and Keegan Russ.
Words: 4k.
Part 5
The streets of the island were still loud. Still chaotic. Still dangerous. But this time… Y/N noticed something different.
As she walked beside Keegan through the crowded paths, the noise didn’t feel quite as overwhelming. Maybe it was because she wasn’t alone anymore.
Or maybe it was because the man walking beside her moved through the crowd like someone who belonged there. Pirates, sailors, smugglers—people stepped aside without even realizing why. Keegan didn’t shove anyone. Didn’t threaten. Didn’t even speak.
But there was something about the way he walked. Calm. Direct. Certain. People noticed. And they moved.
Y/N walked slightly behind him at first. Her hands held the sides of her skirt to avoid stepping on it as they navigated the uneven wooden streets. Her thoughts were still spinning from everything that had just happened. You ran from him. You nearly got yourself killed.
Her fingers slowly lifted toward her cheek. She touched the spot gently. A sharp sting spread across her skin. She winced. The pirate’s slap still burned there. She hadn’t realized how hard it had been until now.
Her fingertips lingered on the sore skin. Her chest tightened slightly again. Not from fear this time. From humiliation. From anger. From the helplessness she had felt when they grabbed her. Her eyes dropped to the ground as they walked.
I should’ve fought harder. I should’ve—
“Does it hurt?”
Keegan’s voice cut quietly through her thoughts.
Y/N blinked. She hadn’t even noticed him looking at her. Her hand was still pressed to her cheek. She quickly lowered it.
“I’m fine.”
Keegan didn’t stop walking. But his eyes shifted briefly toward her. “Didn’t look fine.”
She rolled her eyes slightly. “It’s just a slap.”
“It’s still an injury.”
“I’ve had worse.”
Keegan glanced at her again. “…I doubt that.”
Y/N looked away. She didn’t want to talk about it. The alley. The fear. The moment when she realized she was trapped. Her fingers drifted back to her cheek again unconsciously. The skin felt warm. Slightly swollen. She pressed a little too hard.
“Ow.”
Keegan stopped walking. Y/N nearly bumped into him. She looked up.
“What?”
His gaze focused on her face now. Studying the faint redness spreading across her cheek. “Let me see.”
Her eyes narrowed instantly. “…What?”
“Your cheek.”
She crossed her arms immediately. “No.”
Keegan sighed quietly. “You’re stubborn.”
“You’re a pirate.”
“Fair point.”
The moment stretched awkwardly for a second. Then he started walking again. Y/N followed reluctantly. But this time she stayed closer beside him instead of behind him. The crowd thinned slightly as they moved toward the docks. The ocean breeze returned. Cooler.
Cleaner than the heavy air of the island streets. Y/N inhaled deeply.
Her chest expanded more easily now. The loosened corset helped.
Still uncomfortable. But at least she could breathe. Her gaze drifted toward the water. Ships rocked gently against the docks. Sailors loaded cargo. Men argued over prices. And there—near the edge of the dock—she spotted them. Captain Elias. Hesh. Logan. Ajax. Merrick.
They were clustered together, backs turned to the water as they haggled with a grizzled merchant over crates of salted meat and coiled ropes. The captain's broad shoulders cut an imposing figure, his tricorn hat casting a shadow over his weathered face as he barked a low command.
Hesh leaned against a barrel, arms crossed, his skeptical gaze scanning the crowd like he expected trouble at any moment.
Logan stood a step behind his father, his posture rigid and alert, hand resting casually on the pommel of his sword. Ajax laughed at something Merrick said, the sound rough and booming, but his eyes were sharp, always watching the periphery.
The group moved with the easy rhythm of men who'd faced a hundred such ports, their voices blending into the dockside din.
Y/N's steps faltered for a heartbeat, the sight of them yanking her back to the reality of her situation.
They're the ones who took me. Locked me away like some prize.
The thought twisted in her gut, a mix of resentment and wariness bubbling up. She edged a fraction closer to Keegan, her arm brushing against his sleeve without meaning to.
The contact was brief, accidental, but it sent a small jolt through her—his warmth cutting through the chill of the breeze. He didn't pull away, didn't acknowledge it, just kept his steady pace forward.
As they approached, the crew's heads turned one by one. Ajax spotted them first, his grin fading into a raised eyebrow.
“Well, damn. The ghost returns.” Merrick chuckled, a low rumble, while Hesh straightened, his expression shifting from boredom to mild surprise. Logan's eyes narrowed, flicking between Y/N and Keegan with that cautious intensity he always carried.
Captain Elias turned last, his dark gaze locking onto her like a harpoon finding its mark.
“Found her, then,” the captain said, his voice gravelly and matter-of-fact, as if she'd merely wandered off during a stroll.
He didn't raise his voice, didn't show anger—just that unyielding authority that made the air feel heavier.
Keegan nodded once, short and sharp. “In an alley. Trouble found her first.”
The captain's eyes sharpened on Y/N's face, zeroing in on the reddening mark on her cheek. His jaw worked for a moment, a muscle ticking beneath the stubble. “Who?”
“Locals,” Keegan replied evenly. “Handled.”
Hesh snorted, pushing off the barrel. “Handled how? You leave a mess for us to clean up?”
Keegan's response was a faint shrug, his icy blue eyes unchanging. “They won't be bothering anyone tonight.”
Ajax let out a low whistle, clapping Merrick on the shoulder. “That's our Keegan. Silent as death, hits like it too.” Merrick just nodded, his quiet amusement evident in the crinkle of his eyes.
Y/N stood there, feeling exposed under their scrutiny. The sting in her cheek throbbed anew, and she resisted the urge to touch it again, not wanting to draw more attention.
They see me as cargo. Something to guard, not a person.
But Keegan's presence beside her felt like a buffer, his calm demeanor holding back the full weight of their stares. Logan's gaze lingered on her a beat longer, something unreadable flickering in his expression—concern, maybe, or just calculation.
“Back to the ship,” Captain Elias ordered, turning to the merchant to wrap up the deal with a curt nod.
“No more wandering. Island's no place for... complications.” His eyes slid to Y/N again, the word hanging heavy, implying she was the complication in question.
She bit back a retort, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. The docks stretched out around them, the scent of tar and fish heavy in the air, waves lapping insistently against the pilings.
Freedom had been so close, just a desperate run away, but now it slipped further with every step back toward The Resolute.
Keegan fell into step beside her once more as the crew gathered their purchases, his silence a quiet companion. For the first time, she wondered if his protection was a cage or a lifeline—and which one scared her more.
The walk back to the ship felt longer than before. Maybe because Y/N was quieter now. The docks creaked under their steps as the group approached The Resolute.
The sea breeze rolled across the harbor, carrying the familiar smell of salt and tar. Around them, sailors shouted to each other, ropes tightened, cargo was loaded. Life on the docks never truly stopped.
But Y/N barely noticed any of it. Her thoughts were still tangled.
She walked a few steps behind the crew again, her arms crossed tightly over her chest. Her fingers brushed her cheek every now and then, still feeling the dull sting where the pirate had struck her.
It reminded her. Reminded her how fast things had turned dangerous.
Reminded her how quickly she had lost control. And worst of all— it reminded her that Keegan had been the one who pulled her out of it.
Her eyes lifted briefly. Keegan walked ahead with the others, quiet as always. His hands rested loosely at his sides as he stepped onto the plank leading up to the ship.
He didn’t look back.
Didn’t check if she followed.
But somehow she had the feeling he knew exactly where she was anyway. She didn’t like that thought. She climbed onto the ship behind them. The familiar creak of the deck greeted her again.
Part of her hated it. Part of her… felt strangely relieved.
The crew spread out again immediately. Ajax began hauling crates aboard with another sailor. Logan disappeared toward the storage hold.
Merrick started inspecting the supplies they had brought back. Captain Elias spoke quietly with a few of the men near the helm. Only Hesh lingered near Y/N. He looked at her carefully.
“…You gonna try escaping again?” She shot him a glare.
“You locked me in a room.”
He shrugged. “Still worked for about ten minutes.”
Y/N scoffed loudly. Hesh rubbed the back of his neck. Then nodded toward the stairs below deck.
“Your room’s still there.” She didn’t answer. Didn’t thank him. Didn’t argue. She just turned and walked down the stairs.
The door creaked softly as she pushed it open. The same small room greeted her. The same bed. The same table.
The same small round window with the ocean beyond it. Nothing had changed. Except her. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her. This time… it wasn’t locked.
She stared at it for a moment. Then turned away. Y/N walked to the bed and sat down heavily. Her arms crossed over her chest again. Her jaw tightened.
You are not getting comfortable here. She reminded herself firmly.
They are pirates. They kidnapped you. This isn’t safety.
Her fingers touched her cheek again. Still warm. Still sore. Her thoughts drifted back to the alley. The slap. The fear. The moment she thought she wouldn’t get out of it. Then— Keegan stepping into the alley. His voice calm.
You might want to let her go.
Her brows furrowed slightly. “…Ugh.” She shook her head.
“No.” She muttered quietly. “Don’t start thinking like that.”
Her gaze moved to the door again. Still unlocked. Still closed. Still quiet. Minutes passed. Maybe ten. Maybe more. The ship rocked gently as it left the dock. Then— knock knock.
Y/N’s head snapped toward the door. Her shoulders tensed instantly. “Go away.”
The door opened anyway. Keegan stepped inside. Y/N immediately stood up from the bed.
“What are you doing?” Her voice carried sharp suspicion.
Keegan didn’t answer right away. In his hand was a small cloth bundle. Cold water dripped slowly from it. Ice. Her eyes narrowed.
“…What is that?” He stepped a little closer.
“Hold still.” Her guard snapped up instantly.
“Don’t come closer.” He ignored that and took another step.
Y/N reacted immediately. She grabbed the wooden chair from the desk beside her. The legs scraped loudly against the floor as she dragged it across the room.
Then she shoved it between them like a barrier. “Stop.” Her breathing had quickened again. Her eyes locked onto him cautiously. “I said don’t come closer.”
Keegan stopped. The chair sat firmly between them now. A wooden wall. For a moment neither of them spoke.
Then Keegan looked down at the chair. Then back at her.
“…You think I’m going to attack you with ice?”
Y/N crossed her arms tightly again. “I don’t trust you.”
“Noted.” The ship creaked softly around them. The ocean rolled outside the small window. Keegan sighed quietly. Then he held up the cloth bundle slightly.
“For your cheek.” Y/N blinked.
“…What?”
“The swelling.” Her hand moved instinctively toward her cheek again. She hadn’t realized how obvious it was.
“I’m fine.”
“You keep touching it.” She scowled.
“That doesn’t mean I need help.”
Keegan studied her for a moment. Then he placed the cloth with the ice down on the table beside the chair. Slowly. Deliberately.
“I’ll leave it here.” He straightened again. “You can use it.”
He turned toward the door. Then paused. Without looking back he added quietly— “Or don’t.” The door creaked open. Then shut again as he left.
Silence returned to the cabin. Y/N stood there for a moment. Still behind the chair. Still tense. Her gaze slowly drifted to the table.
The cloth with the ice sat there quietly. Water dripping slowly onto the wood. She stared at it. Her fingers slowly touched her cheek again. The sting answered. Her stubborn pride answered louder.
“…I don’t need pirates bringing me ice.” She muttered. But she didn’t move the chair yet. And after another minute… her eyes drifted back to the cloth again.
The drip of melting water marked the seconds, each one pulling at her resolve like the tide tugging at the ship. She paced a single step to the side, the hem of her skirt whispering against the floorboards, but her feet wouldn't carry her further.
The ache in her cheek pulsed steadily now, a insistent throb that matched the distant rhythm of waves against the hull.
It's just ice, she told herself, the words tasting like defeat even in her mind. Not a favor. Not trust.
Yet the thought of Keegan—his steady hands wrapping the bundle, seeking out the cold in this sweltering hold—lingered uninvited, warming something she didn't want to name.
Finally, with a huff that echoed too loudly in the small space, she reached out. Her fingers hesitated an inch from the cloth, then closed around it.
The chill seeped through immediately, sharp and soothing against her palm. She lifted it to her cheek, pressing gently. The cold bit at first, then dulled the fire, easing the swelling with a relief that made her sigh.
She sank back onto the bed, the bundle held firm, her body relaxing just a fraction as the tension in her shoulders unwound.
Outside, the ship groaned as sails caught the wind, pulling them away from the island's chaos. Y/N's eyes flicked to the window, watching the horizon blur into deepening blue.
The unlocked door mocked her from across the room, a silent invitation to wander—or flee—but the weight of the day pinned her in place. Keegan's face flashed in her thoughts again: those piercing blue eyes, unreadable, watching her without judgment.
Why does he care? The question twisted inside her, mingling with the fading sting. Pirates didn't bring ice. They took. They claimed. But him... he was different. And that difference scared her more than the alley ever had.
She let the cloth rest against her skin a while longer, the cold numbing not just the bruise, but the edges of her anger. When she finally set it aside, the cabin felt a touch less like a cage. But as the ship cut through the waves, carrying her deeper into the unknown, Y/N wondered how long she could keep pretending it wasn't.
Time passed slowly in the small cabin. The ice had melted almost completely. Cold water soaked into the cloth and dampened Y/N’s fingers as she held it against her cheek.
The sharp sting from the slap had faded into a dull ache now, numbed by the cold. She sat on the bed, staring at the small round window.
The ocean rolled endlessly outside. Blue waves rising and falling beneath the afternoon sky. The ship rocked gently. Creaking wood. The distant voices of the crew above deck. Everything felt strange. Too calm. Too normal for a place she still considered a prison.
Y/N sighed quietly and lowered the cloth from her cheek. Her fingers brushed the skin lightly. Still a little sore. But better.
“…At least that worked,” she muttered reluctantly.
She placed the damp cloth on the table beside the bed. Then she leaned back slightly. And immediately groaned. Her dress pulled tight across her waist and ribs. The corset beneath it still squeezed her uncomfortably.
She shifted. It didn’t help. She sat up again and tugged at the fabric.
“Gods, I hate this thing.”
The corset had already been loosened from the night before, but the layers of fabric and tight seams still felt suffocating. Her dress had been meant for walking through a peaceful market.
Not for climbing pirate ships, running through dangerous alleys, and sitting in tiny wooden cabins. The thick skirt pooled around her legs awkwardly. The sleeves felt stiff. And the corset— she tugged at the laces again. Still too tight. Her patience snapped.
“I cannot wear this another second.”
She stood abruptly from the bed. The movement made the ship sway slightly beneath her feet. Her eyes drifted toward the door. Still closed. Still unlocked. The hallway outside remained quiet.
She hesitated. You could ask someone. The thought appeared briefly. Then she immediately dismissed it.
“No.” Her chin lifted stubbornly. “I am not asking pirates for clothes.” She marched toward the door and opened it.
The hallway beyond stretched dimly in both directions, lit only by a few lanterns hanging from the walls.
Wood creaked softly as the ship moved through the water. Y/N stepped out carefully. Her shoes tapped lightly against the wooden floorboards. She glanced left.
Then right.
No one.
Good. Her hands gathered the heavy skirt of her dress slightly so it wouldn’t drag along the floor.
Then she began walking slowly down the hallway. Her eyes scanned every door she passed. Most were closed. Some had muffled voices behind them. Others were silent.
She paused near one door and pushed it open slightly. Inside was a small storage room. Ropes. Barrels. Crates. Nothing useful.
She closed it again. Further down the hall she tried another door. A small sleeping cabin with two hammocks swinging gently from hooks. Definitely not clothes.
She moved on. The ship creaked again as a wave rolled beneath it. Y/N steadied herself against the wall briefly. Her dress tugged awkwardly again as she walked.
“I swear this thing is designed to torture women,” she muttered. Then— one door stood slightly open. Light spilled faintly into the hallway from inside. Curious, Y/N pushed it open. Her eyes widened.
The room was larger than the others. Wooden racks lined the walls. Shelves. Trunks. Hooks with coats hanging from them. Clothes. Lots of clothes. Shirts. Pants. Belts. Jackets.
Some looked worn and patched. Others newer. Probably supplies taken from raids or trading ports. A small grin tugged at the corner of her mouth.
“…Perfect.” She stepped inside quickly and closed the door behind her. The room smelled faintly of leather and sea salt.
She walked over to one of the racks and ran her fingers across the fabrics. Rough sailor shirts. Heavy coats. Loose trousers. Definitely pirate clothes. Her dress suddenly felt even more ridiculous.
She picked up a pair of dark pants. They looked slightly big for her, but nothing a belt couldn’t fix. Then she grabbed a soft linen blouse hanging nearby. Simple. Loose. Comfortable.
A huge improvement over corsets and tight skirts. She glanced around one more time. No one there. Good.
She hugged the clothes to her chest. Then quietly slipped back into the hallway. Her footsteps were quicker now. Almost excited. For the first time since being taken onto the ship, she was about to wear something that actually let her breathe.
She reached her cabin door. Slipped inside. Closed it behind her. The room felt even smaller now after walking the ship’s corridors.
Y/N looked down at the clothes in her arms. A satisfied smile appeared.
“Well…” She glanced at her dress with clear dislike.
“…goodbye.” She quickly untied the corset laces and peeled off the uncomfortable layers. The heavy dress dropped to the floor beside the bed. Finally free, she pulled the loose blouse over her head.
The soft fabric fell comfortably around her shoulders. Then she stepped into the pants. They were a little long and slightly loose at the waist. But they fit well enough. Much better than the dress.
She rolled the pant legs slightly and tied a belt she found hanging in the room around her waist. Then she looked down at herself. Loose blouse. Dark trousers. Bare feet on the wooden floor.
She stretched her arms. Twisted slightly. Took a deep breath. And smiled. For the first time in what felt like forever— she could actually breathe.
“No corset,” she whispered happily.
The ship rocked gently. The ocean shimmered through the window. And somewhere above deck the pirates continued their work, completely unaware that the kidnapped girl they had locked in a cabin was now walking around their ship dressed like one of them.
Y/N ran her hands down the sides of the trousers, feeling the sturdy fabric against her skin—rough but freeing, unbinding in a way that made her chest expand fully with each breath.
The blouse hung loosely, the neckline dipping just enough to let the sea air cool her collarbone when she moved toward the window.
She caught her reflection faintly in the glass: tousled hair framing her face, the faint red mark on her cheek fading, and this new silhouette—practical, unadorned, almost blending into the shadows of the ship.
It was a small rebellion, this change of clothes, but it steadied her, made the cabin feel less like a trap and more like a temporary hideout.
The cabin suddenly felt too small. Now that she could finally move without the tight grip of the corset squeezing her ribs, Y/N realized how restless she felt sitting in the room.
The loose blouse rested comfortably on her shoulders. The trousers allowed her legs to move freely. No heavy skirt. No tight seams digging into her waist. She stretched her arms once more. Her body felt lighter. Almost like she had shed part of the prison they had put her in.
Her eyes drifted toward the door. Still unlocked. Still quiet outside. Y/N tilted her head slightly.
“Well…” Her lips curled faintly. “…they didn’t say I couldn’t walk around.” She pushed the door open and stepped back into the hallway.
The sunlight greeted her warmly as she climbed the stairs to the upper deck. The sky stretched wide and clear above the ocean. Bright blue. The wind carried the salty scent of the sea across the ship.
For a moment she simply stood there. Breathing. Really breathing. Her chest expanded fully now without the corset restricting every breath.
“…Finally.” She whispered it under her breath.
The deck wasn’t crowded. A few pirates moved around lazily, tending to ropes or adjusting sails.
Most of the crew were busy somewhere else on the ship. None of the men paid much attention to her at first. Which surprised her. But then she realized something.
She didn’t look like the kidnapped woman anymore. The long dress. The curls neatly falling over her shoulders. The frightened girl dragged aboard. That image was gone.
Now she wore loose sailor trousers. A simple blouse. Her hair slightly messy from changing clothes. From a distance… She probably looked like just another smaller crew member walking around the ship.
One pirate passed her carrying a coil of rope. He barely glanced at her. Another man leaned against the railing sipping from a metal cup. He didn’t even look twice.
Y/N walked slowly across the deck. Her eyes scanned everything. The tall mast stretching high into the sky.
The sails snapping gently in the wind. The endless ocean surrounding them.
The ship moved steadily through the waves. She walked toward the railing and rested her arms on the wood. The wind tugged lightly at her curls. For a brief moment… She almost felt peaceful.
Her cheek still tingled faintly where the pirate had slapped her earlier. But the cold ice had helped. And now the sea air cooled the skin even more. Her fingers brushed the spot lightly.
Still a little sore. But manageable. She watched the water roll beneath the ship. The sunlight sparkling across the waves.
“…I could almost forget I was kidnapped,” she murmured quietly. Almost.
She pushed away from the railing and continued wandering slowly across the deck. Careful not to draw attention. But honestly… No one seemed to care. Which amused her more than it should have.
Meanwhile… Logan Walker stood inside Y/N’s cabin.
His eyes moved slowly across the room. The bed. The table. The small round window. Then… The dress lying on the floor. His brows furrowed.
“…What the hell?” He picked up the dress carefully.
It was empty. Discarded. The corset still loosely laced inside it. Logan’s stomach dropped.
“Oh you’ve gotta be kidding me.” He turned quickly and rushed out of the cabin.
Y/N had just wandered toward the back of the ship when— Footsteps thundered up the stairs behind her.
She turned slightly. Logan burst onto the deck. Breathing fast. His eyes immediately scanned the ship.
“Dad!” Captain Elias stood near the helm speaking with Merrick. Both men turned. Logan jogged toward them quickly.
“She’s gone!”
Elias frowned. “…What?”
Logan held up the dress he had grabbed.
“I went to check her room.” He tossed the fabric onto a nearby crate. “Her dress is on the floor.”
Merrick’s brow lifted slightly. “Meaning?”
Logan ran a hand through his hair. “Meaning she’s not in the room.”
His voice raised slightly now. “She’s somewhere on the ship.”
The few pirates nearby paused. Looking around instinctively. Ajax appeared from the other side of the deck.
“What’s all the shouting about?” Logan pointed toward the dress.
“She disappeared again.”
Ajax blinked. “…How does she keep doing that?”
Captain Elias sighed heavily. His patience clearly wearing thin.
“Spread out.” His voice carried firm authority. “Find her.”
The crew immediately began looking around the deck. Checking corners. Peering behind crates. Looking up toward the rigging.
Y/N stood only a short distance away. Leaning casually against a stack of barrels. Watching everything unfold.
None of them recognized her. Her lips slowly curled into a small, quiet grin. She crossed her arms loosely. Listening to them argue.
Logan scanned the deck again. “She can’t be far.” Ajax scratched his head.
“Maybe she jumped overboard?” Logan shot him a look.
“She’s not suicidal.” Merrick glanced toward the stairs.
“Unless she’s hiding below deck again.” Captain Elias rubbed his temple. “This girl is going to give me grey hair.”
Y/N pressed her lips together to stop herself from laughing out loud. Then she turned slightly away from them. Her shoulders shaking faintly. A quiet chuckle escaped her.
“…Idiots.”
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All Along
Characters: Keegan R. , Hesh W. and Logan W. Hesh x reader.
College AU
You fall for the wrong guy. He falls for you anyway. And somewhere between almosts, maybes, and everything left unsaid- you begin to realize... the right person has been beside you all along.
The dorm room always seemed to shrink whenever all four of you crammed inside. Hesh was lounging across Logan's bed, heatedly debating some video game strategy, while Logan barely paid attention, his thumb flicking endlessly through his phone feed. Keegan sat back in his chair, exuding that effortless confidence that made the space feel charged.
You forced your gaze to your notebook, scribbling notes that didn't make sense, but your attention wandered straight to him. Keegan Russ—reserved, with those piercing eyes that cut through the noise without effort. He'd shifted the air in every room he'd entered since you'd known him.
Your crush on him had rooted deeper than you'd ever confess, a quiet ache that twisted whenever he was near.
“Hey,” Keegan’s voice cut through your thoughts.
You looked up to find him watching you from across the room, his gaze steady, unreadable.
"Yeah?" You said.
"You okay?" He tilted his head slightly, and you realized you’d been staring at him for way too long.
"You seem distracted." He didn’t sound accusing, just curious. Behind him, Hesh was still arguing with Logan about some obscure gaming statistic.
You nodded smiling. "yeah i'm okey. Just thinking"
“Mmhm.” He murmured dismissively, his gaze dropping back to his phone. You caught a glimpse of his girlfriend's profile pic—her radiant smile, flawless as always. She embodied perfection, the ideal match for him. (She probably was, and that stung more than it should.)
The door burst open without a knock, and in she strode—Keegan's girlfriend. Her cheerful expression soured the instant it landed on you.
“There you are, babe,” she purred, claiming his lap uninvited, her palm pressing flat against his chest. “Missed you.”
Logan let out an exaggerated gag from behind his screen. Hesh didn't bother glancing up.
Keegan's face stayed impassive as she settled in, but he didn't draw her in or greet her with the affection she usually demanded. She pivoted toward you, her grin turning icy.
“What are you doing?” she demanded, voice laced with accusation.
“Studying?” Her brow lifted in ridicule. “Or just sitting there looking stupid?” Her fingers trailed up Keegan's chest, staking her claim.
“You know what they say about girls who sit alone in guys' dorm rooms?”
“What?” you replied, though dread already coiled in your gut.
“Sluts,” she declared flatly, her smile sugary as if reciting a harmless proverb.
“I mean, I get it, you probably thought if you hung out here enough, Keegan might actually notice you.” She chuckled, threading her fingers through his hair.
“But newsflash, sweetheart—he has a girlfriend. A hot one.” She molded herself against his torso. “Right, babe?”
The endearment dripped from her lips. Keegan remained statue-still under her weight.
“Who said I want Keegan to notice me?” you shot back, heat rising in your cheeks.
“Oh please,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Like every girl in this school doesn't want him to notice them. You're just pathetic enough to think you have a chance.” She inched forward, her tone dropping to a venomous whisper.
“And just so you know, even if he was single, he'd never go for someone like you.” She reclined into him once more, her laughter grating.
“I mean, look at you.” She shook her head with feigned pity. “You're cute, I guess, but you're boring. And fat.”
“Okey,” you muttered, the syllable tasting like defeat.
Her barbs lingered, vicious and raw. No one spoke up for you—not Logan, not Hesh, and worst of all, not Keegan.
He just endured it, letting her dismantle you in his presence. She smirked, reveling in how you curled inward.
“I'm just being honest,” she added with a casual lift of her shoulders. “Someone had to tell you.” She twisted to plant a noisy kiss on his cheek. “God, babe, can you believe some people?”
Keegan's girlfriend rose, yanking him to his feet. “Come on, baby, let's get out of this depressing atmosphere.”
She gripped his hand, striding for the door, assuming his obedience. Logan finally lifted his eyes, face twisted in revulsion. Hesh grumbled under his breath about “drama queens.” Keegan hesitated.
His gaze brushed yours—for the briefest instant, something unreadable flashing there. Then he yielded, trailing after her into the hall. The door latched with a final click.
Now it was only you and the guys, the quiet thickening like fog. Logan cleared his throat. “So... that was uncomfortable.”
Hesh snorted. “Dude, his girlfriend is the worst.”
You stared at your textbook, words swimming as your pulse thrummed. Pathetic. Fat. No chance. And he'd just... left. Did he even care? Your fingers trembled faintly.
Logan studied you a beat longer, then exhaled sharply.
“Hey,” he said gently, tapping your foot with his beneath the table. “Don't let her get to you, okay? She's just a spoiled brat.” When you stayed silent, he pressed on,
“And Keegan… he's just fucking stupid if he can't see what a piece of shit his girlfriend is.” Hesh dipped his head in solidarity.
“Seriously, who cares if she's hot? She treats people like shit.”
“I'm okey,” you whispered, your voice fracturing, eyes fixed on the page.
“No you're not.” Hesh pushed upright on Logan's bed, his stare steady. “Look at you—you're shaking, y/n”
Logan wheeled his chair nearer, his tone hushed. "We saw how he just... let her say all that shit to you. Didn't even flinch."
He fell quiet. "You know he's a coward, right? He's probably too scared of her to even defend a friend."
“You deserve better than that.” Hesh's words came out kinder than you'd expected.
“Seriously, you're one of the nicest people I know. You don't deserve to be treated like trash because some spoiled princess is jealous.”
He hesitated, shooting Logan a look; Logan nodded. “And... you know what?”
“Hm?” you ventured, finally meeting his eyes, tears brimming but unshed.
“If Keegan can't see how awesome you are... fuck him.” Hesh stated it plainly.
“Like seriously, who cares if he's too chicken shit to stand up to his girlfriend? He's not worth your time.” Logan chuckled lightly.
“Besides, you're way too pretty and sweet to waste your energy on an asshole like him.” He winked, lightening the mood.
“Right Hesh?” Hesh barked a laugh and shoved his arm. “Dude, stop trying to sound all smooth.”
“What does that mean?” you asked, a soft chuckle escaping despite everything.
"It means," Logan drawled, reclining in his chair with a sly grin creeping over his features,
"that Hesh might have a thing for our resident bookworm." He nimbly sidestepped as a pillow hurtled toward his head from Hesh's direction.
"Shut the fuck up!" Hesh snapped, his cheeks flushing a deep crimson. "I did NOT say that!"
"No no—tell me more, Logan," you giggled, the sound light and genuine, tears from before dissolving into the background.
Logan leaned in closer, his eyes alight with playful devilry. "Oh, you want the juicy details? Okay, so—Hesh here has been—"
"Logan!" Hesh lunged at him, tackling him onto the bed in a tangle of limbs like overgrown kids at play. They hit the mattress with a solid thud, and laughter spilled from you at the absurd spectacle. Hesh managed to pin Logan down, his face still burning red.
"I swear to God, if you say another word—" Logan gasped for air amid his chuckles. "Fine, fine!"
Hesh let out a frustrated groan, collapsing onto his back beside Logan on the bed. "This is so embarrassing."
You smiled for real this time, the first true one since the drama unfolded.
"What about the juicy details?" you teased, folding your arms and arching a brow at Hesh. "Spill."
Hesh shoved his face into the pillow, as if hoping it would swallow him whole. "He's making shit up," he muttered, voice muffled against the fabric.
"Sure," you replied softly, a hint of skepticism lacing your tone.
Logan propped himself up, his grin unwavering. "Alright, alright, I'll tell the truth version then."
He turned to you. "So Hesh here has been pretty obviously checking you out since, like, midterms. I've caught him staring at you in class, and when you were in the library months ago? He was literally trying to 'casually' walk by your table six times."
Hesh groaned louder, yanking the pillow over his head completely. "Kill me now."
"But get this," Logan pressed on, brushing off Hesh's stifled complaints.
"He actually bought that book you were reading—you know, the one with the red cover? He was going to 'accidentally' drop it near you so he could talk to you."
He drew out the moment for effect.
"Romantic as fuck, right?"
Hesh lifted the edge of the pillow just enough to glare out, mortification etched in every line of his face. "Logan..." he growled in warning.
"Hesh, really?" you murmured, your voice soft with a mix of surprise and warmth.
Hesh's face burned a vivid scarlet.
"Okay, first of all, I was not trying to be romantic. I was just... trying to think of a way to talk to you without sounding like a complete idiot."
He plunged his face back into the pillow.
"And second, Logan's exaggerating. I only walked by four times, not six."
Logan snorted, barely containing his amusement. "See? He's even admitting it!" He swiveled toward you. "The dude's had a crush on you since February."
You gazed at Hesh with gentle eyes. "I didn't know... I'm sorry."
Hesh lifted the pillow's edge once more, his expression carrying a flicker of real pain.
"You didn't know because I'm an idiot who can't talk to girls without screwing it up."
He pushed himself upright, raking a hand through his tousled hair.
"I mean, come on. Look at me and look at you." He waved vaguely between the two of you. "You're way out of my league."
Logan scoffed, shaking his head. "Dude, stop being so hard on yourself."
"Don't say that!" you exclaimed, lightly slapping his arm. "I—just dunno... was not paying attention..."
Hesh chuckled softly at the contact. "Ow, aggressive." He rubbed the spot with exaggerated flair.
"But seriously, you probably weren't paying attention because I'm an idiot who can't even muster up the courage to talk to you."
He hesitated, glancing at Logan for a nudge. Logan gave an encouraging nod. "So..." Hesh drew in a shaky breath.
"What if..." He faltered, nerves etching his features. "What if I wanted to—"
The door creaked open abruptly, slicing through the moment like a knife.
All of you went still as Keegan stepped inside, his girlfriend clinging to his arm like an ornament. His eyes scanned the room, pausing on you before shifting to Hesh and Logan.
She picked up on the charged air right away, pressing closer to Keegan. "Everything okay, baby?" She fluttered her lashes with feigned innocence.
"I mean, we didn't interrupt anything... did we?" Her gaze sharpened toward you. "Still here, I see." The words dripped with contempt.
Keegan's girlfriend smirked, her eyes narrowing as she clocked you nestled between the two guys. "Cozy," she drawled sarcastically, jealousy thick in her tone. Keegan fidgeted, sensing the brewing storm but staying silent.
Hesh stiffened next to you, his arm grazing yours by accident. Logan rolled his eyes at her blatant jab. "We were just talking," Logan said evenly, aiming to defuse things.
The girlfriend huffed. "Talking?"
"Yeah, talking," Logan shot back, his tone steady and unyielding.
"Something you probably wouldn't know much about, considering you're always too busy staring at your own reflection to hold a conversation."
Keegan's girlfriend gasped in theatrical outrage, her cheeks flushing deep red. "Excuse me?" She turned to Keegan, waiting for backup. He paused, then muttered half-heartedly, "Logan... that's not nice."
She pouted up at him. "Aw, baby, stick up for me."
Keegan exhaled heavily, massaging his temples as if warding off a migraine.
"Look, can we just all chill out? It's not a big deal." His eyes flicked to you. "You were just leaving, right?" The words hung like an order, not an inquiry.
Hesh's hand clenched into a fist on his thigh. Logan tensed beside you.
You felt it again—that familiar sinking feeling. The one where you were always the problem, always the one who had to leave.
It clawed at your chest, a relentless reminder of every sidelined moment, every door closed on you for someone else's ease.
Keegan's rejection cut deepest, not because of her venom, but because it was him pushing you out—the one you'd lingered for.
"Oh... I- okey.." you said, the upset lacing your words as you realized Keegan had just kicked you out. You stood up slowly, the weight of it all pressing down.
"Wait—what?" Logan stood up too, glaring at Keegan. "She doesn’t have to leave."
Hesh also rose to his feet. "Yeah, man, what the fuck is your problem?"
But Keegan's girlfriend was already smiling, that smug little victory grin.
"Oh, I think she should leave," she said sweetly. "She's clearly making everyone uncomfortable." She pressed herself against Keegan.
"Right, baby?"
Keegan wouldn't meet Y/n eyes. "y/n..." He said quietly.
Keegan's jaw tightened. He looked at her—really looked at her—for the first time that night. You could see it on his face the conflict, the guilt, the hesitation.
But then his girlfriend tugged him closer and whispered something in his ear that made his shoulders drop.
"Just go," he said, his voice flat. Empty.
Hesh stepped forward. "Dude, you're actually serious right now?" His voice was dangerously low.
You took your bag "its okey Hesh.." you said softly and opened the door and walked away
The door clicked shut behind her, and the room fell silent. Hesh let out a frustrated growl, running his hands through his hair.
"What the actual fuck was that?" He rounded on Keegan.
Logan was shaking his head in disbelief. Keegan's girlfriend looked pleased with herself, wrapping her arms around Keegan possessively.
"I think she got the message," she purred, looking triumphant. Keegan still wouldn't look at them, his face stony.
Hesh was the first to explode. "You seriously just kicked out our friend because your jealous girlfriend told you to?!"
He advanced on Keegan, his face inches from his. "What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Logan stepped between them before Hesh could throw a punch. "Dude, calm down." But his voice was tight with anger too.
Keegan finally spoke up, his voice low and defensive. "It's not like that." His girlfriend snorted. "Oh please, baby. It's exactly like that."
"Exactly like what?" Hesh snapped, turning to her. "Like you're a manipulative bitch who can't stand seeing your boyfriend talk to another girl without throwing a fit?"
She gasped dramatically. "Excuse me?!"
Keegan stepped forward, finally finding his spine. "Hesh, back off." His voice was stern now, protective of his girlfriend.
Logan watched the scene unfold with growing disgust. Hesh shook his head in disbelief and walked away from them both towards the door you had exited through moments ago.
"Hesh, come on," Keegan called after him. "Don't be dramatic."
Hesh paused with his hand on the doorknob and looked back over his shoulder.
"You know what's dramatic? Kicking out someone who never did anything wrong just to make your girlfriend feel better." He opened the door.
"Y/n is actually nice, unlike some people." And then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.
Logan looked at Keegan, shaking his head slowly. "I can't believe you let that happen."
✨️📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖📖✨️
What a cringy girlfriend.
Bound by Blade and Crown
Pairing: Knight!Perpetua x Female!Reader princess (Y/N)
Summary: They have known each other since childhood, when Perpetua was only the boy who always stood between her and harm. Now sworn as her knight, his only duty is to protect the princess, even as affection grows into something forbidden. What begins in soft devotion and familiar warmth slowly turns fragile, for they both know that if their feelings are discovered, the cost will fall most heavily on her knight.
Warning: smut
Words: 4630
Chapter X
A few days had passed, but nothing had truly settled.
If anything, everything between them had only grown more… intense.
The training yard echoed with the sharp clack of wooden swords colliding, dust rising under quick footsteps. Y/N stood across from Copia, her grip firm, her stance more confident than before.
“Better, principessa,” Copia said with a grin, circling her lazily. “But if you swing like that again, I might actually start trying.”
Y/N rolled her eyes, lifting her sword again. “You’re already trying.”
“Am I?” he smirked. “Then I must be going easy on you.”
From the edge of the yard, Perpetua watched—arms crossed, posture rigid, eyes locked onto every movement. His jaw tightened slightly as Copia stepped a little too close, adjusting Y/N’s stance with a casual ease he didn’t like at all.
“Don’t hurt her,” Perpetua called out, voice firm.
Copia didn’t even look at him. “Relax, fratellino. I’m not breaking your favorite person.”
Perpetua’s eyes narrowed. “I’m serious.”
Copia chuckled. “So am I.”
Y/N groaned, stepping back and lowering her sword for a moment. “Will you two stop?” she said, exasperated. “I’m trying to train, not listen to you argue like children.”
Copia raised his hands innocently. “I’m perfectly focused. It’s him who’s having a crisis.”
Perpetua scoffed, pushing off the wall and stepping closer. “If you’re so focused, then stop treating it like a game.”
“I’m teaching her,” Copia shot back. “Which, if I recall correctly, you are not doing.”
Perpetua’s jaw clenched. His gaze flicked to Y/N. “Why can’t I teach you?”
Y/N blinked, caught off guard by the question. Then she tilted her head slightly, a small, knowing smile forming.
“Because,” she said simply, “you’d go too easy on me.”
Copia let out a loud, delighted laugh. “Ah! Finally, someone said it!”
Perpetua frowned. “That’s not true.”
Y/N raised a brow. “Really?” she challenged softly. “You can’t even watch without telling him not to hurt me.”
He opened his mouth—then stopped.
Copia smirked, clearly enjoying this far too much. “Face it, fratellino. You’re soft when it comes to her.”
Perpetua shot him a glare. “I am not—”
“You are,” Y/N cut in gently, though her tone wasn’t mocking. “And that’s exactly why you shouldn’t be the one teaching me.”
For a moment, Perpetua said nothing. Then he exhaled, running a hand through his hair. “…Fine.”
Copia clapped his hands once. “Good! Now that that’s settled—back to training.”
Y/N lifted her sword again, determination returning to her posture.
But as she stepped forward, her eyes flicked—just briefly—to Perpetua.
And he was still watching her.
Y/N tightened her grip on the wooden sword, squaring her shoulders as she faced Copia again.
“Alright,” Copia said, twirling his blade lazily before settling into stance. “This time—don’t think. Just move.”
Y/N nodded, determination flashing in her eyes.
She lunged.
This time, her strike was faster—cleaner. Copia blocked it with ease, but his smirk shifted slightly, impressed despite himself.
“Better,” he muttered, stepping to the side. “Again.”
She didn’t hesitate. Another strike—then another. Her movements still weren’t perfect, but they were sharper now, more confident.
From the side, Perpetua watched closely, every muscle in his body tense. His eyes followed every step she took, every swing she made.
“Watch your footing,” he called out. “I am watching it,” Y/N shot back, slightly breathless.
Copia chuckled. “Ignore him. He’s just nervous.”
“I am not nervous,” Perpetua snapped.
“Mm,” Copia hummed. “You look like you’re about to fight me instead.”
Y/N swung again, this time catching Copia off guard just enough that he had to step back quickly.
“Oh?” he grinned. “There you are.”
She smirked, breathing heavier now. “Told you I’m getting better.”
They circled again, wooden swords clashing in quick succession. The sound echoed through the yard—sharp, rhythmic, alive.
But after a while, the pace slowed. Y/N’s movements grew heavier, her breathing uneven as exhaustion crept in.
Copia noticed first and lowered his sword. “Alright, enough,” he said, stepping back. “You’re going to collapse if we keep going.”
Y/N exhaled sharply, lowering her weapon and wiping sweat from her forehead. “I’m fine,” she muttered.
“You’re not,” Perpetua said immediately, already stepping closer.
“I said I’m—” she stopped, then sighed. “…okay, maybe a little tired.”
Copia laughed. “Sit.”
They moved to the edge of the yard, sitting on the low stone ledge. Y/N leaned back slightly, catching her breath, her arms resting loosely at her sides. After a moment of silence, she turned her head toward them. “So… when do I finally get to train with a real sword?”
Perpetua didn’t even hesitate. “Absolutely not—” Copia cut him off instantly. “When you’re ready.”
Perpetua shot him a glare. “She’s not ready.” Copia ignored him, looking at Y/N instead. “When you’re steady. When you trust yourself.”
Y/N tilted her head. “Trust myself?”
He nodded. “A real sword doesn’t forgive mistakes. You hesitate—you get hurt. You doubt—you lose control.”
Perpetua crossed his arms, still clearly against the idea. “And right now, you’re still learning control.”
Y/N looked between them, then down at her hands.
“I don’t want to hesitate,” she said quietly. “I want to be ready.”
Copia smirked slightly. “Then keep training.”
Perpetua exhaled, his gaze softening just a fraction as he looked at her. “…And don’t rush it.”
Y/N glanced up at him—and for a brief moment, the tension shifted.
Not frustration.
Something else.
Something deeper.
Copia pushed himself up from the stone ledge, stretching his arms over his head with a satisfied sigh.
“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands once. “That’s it for today.”
Y/N looked up at him, still catching her breath. “Already?”
“Yes, already,” he smirked. “Before you collapse dramatically and I have to carry you back like some tragic heroine.”
She rolled her eyes, though a small smile tugged at her lips. “I would not collapse.”
“Mhm,” Copia hummed, unconvinced. Then he wrinkled his nose slightly, glancing at her with exaggerated offense. “Now go. Rest. Take a bath—you smell, principessa.”
Y/N gasped, scandalized. “I do not!”
Copia grinned wider, clearly enjoying himself. “Oh, you absolutely do.” Then, with a slow, teasing glance toward Perpetua, he added, “But perhaps the moody one over here would be more than happy to help you with that.”
He winked.
Y/N’s face went bright red instantly. “Copia!”
Perpetua’s jaw tightened, shooting his brother a deadly glare. “Watch your mouth.”
Copia only laughed, backing away with his hands raised. “What? I’m just being helpful!”
Y/N stood quickly, trying to regain some dignity, though her cheeks were still burning. She avoided looking directly at Perpetua, suddenly very aware of his presence again.
Copia, still grinning, turned and began to walk off. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” he called over his shoulder.
“That doesn’t narrow it down at all!” Y/N shot back.
Perpetua muttered something under his breath, clearly not amused, but when his gaze flicked back to Y/N, it softened just slightly.
“Come on,” he said quietly. “Let’s get you back before you actually do collapse.”
Y/N huffed softly, but she followed—still blushing, still trying very hard not to think about what Copia had just said…
…and failing completely.
The walk back to Y/N's chamber was quiet, the only sounds the soft crunch of gravel under their boots and the distant echo of Copia's laughter fading into the evening air.
Perpetua walked close beside her, his presence a steady warmth that made her skin prickle despite the cooling breeze. She stole glances at him, his profile sharp and unreadable, but the tension from Copia's teasing lingered like a spark waiting to ignite.
When they reached the heavy wooden door of her chamber, Y/N paused, her hand on the latch. The flush on her cheeks hadn't fully faded, and she could still feel the phantom heat of embarrassment. She mumbled, almost to herself, "I do smell..."
Perpetua's gaze flicked to her, his dark eyes softening just a fraction. "Go take a bath," he said, his voice low and gruff, though there was an undercurrent of care in it.
Y/N turned to face him fully, her heart skipping as she met his stare. Biting her lip, she tilted her head with a playful lilt. "Soooo... you don't wanna help me get undressed?"
He looked at her then, really looked, his expression shifting from moody reserve to something sharper, more intent. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, slow and dangerous. "If I would do it," he murmured, stepping closer until the space between them hummed with heat, "then I can't stop myself from what I would do after."
Her breath caught, but she didn't back down. Instead, she leaned in, her voice a soft challenge. "I wouldn't mind..."
For a moment, he just held her gaze, the air thickening with unspoken want. Then, with a quiet exhale, he reached for the door, pushing it open and guiding her inside with a gentle hand on her lower back. The chamber was dimly lit by a single lantern, the bed neatly made and the faint scent of lavender from her linens doing little to mask the sweat from training.
Y/N's heart pounded as she stood in the center of the room, facing him. She was still in her training clothes—a loose tunic clinging to her damp skin and fitted pants that hugged her legs. Perpetua closed the door behind them with a soft click, then approached her slowly, his movements deliberate.
His fingers brushed the hem of her tunic first, grazing the bare skin of her waist. She shivered at the touch, her pulse racing faster. He lifted the fabric inch by inch, his knuckles skimming her sides, sending sparks across her nerves. As the tunic came over her head, he let his hands linger on her shoulders, thumbs tracing the curve of her collarbone before sliding down to the ties of her undergarment.
"Perpetua..." she whispered, her voice breathy, cheeks warming again as he untied the laces with steady fingers. The fabric loosened, and he peeled it away, exposing her breasts to the cool air. His touch was light but electric—a fingertip circling her nipple until it hardened, then trailing down her sternum. She arched slightly into it, her body aching for more.
He didn't rush. Next came the pants, his hands hooking into the waistband at her hips. He tugged them down slowly, kneeling as he went, his breath warm against her thigh.
His palm pressed flat against her outer leg, sliding down with the fabric, fingers brushing the sensitive skin just above her knee. When the pants pooled at her ankles, he helped her step out, his grip firm on her calf for a moment, thumb pressing into the muscle there.
Now she stood bare before him, skin flushed and heart thundering in her ears. Perpetua rose, his eyes dark with hunger as they roamed over her. But he stepped back, voice rough. "Go clean."
Y/N's breath hitched. She couldn't let him stop there. Reaching out, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him close, crashing her lips against his in a desperate kiss. He froze for a split second, then groaned low in his throat and kissed her back—hard, demanding, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to claim her.
His hands found her waist, gripping tight as he backed her toward the bed. She stumbled slightly, the edge of the mattress hitting the back of her knees, and he pushed her down onto the soft linens.
She landed with a gasp, pulling him with her until he hovered over her, his weight pressing her into the bed.
Perpetua's mouth trailed from her lips to her jaw, nipping at the skin there before moving lower. His hand slid up her thigh, parting her legs with a firm push. She whimpered as his fingers found her pussy, already slick with arousal.
He stroked her folds slowly at first, teasing the entrance before circling her clit with his thumb.
"Fuck," he muttered against her neck, his breath hot. Two fingers pushed inside her, curling just right to hit that spot that made her arch off the bed.
He pumped them steadily, his thumb grinding against her clit, while his other hand kneaded her breast, pinching the nipple until she moaned.
Y/N's hips bucked against his hand, her nails digging into his shoulders. The tension built fast, coiling tight in her core as he worked her—fingers thrusting deeper, faster, his mouth sucking a mark onto her collarbone. She was lost in it, breaths coming in pants, body trembling.
When she came, it shattered through her like a wave, her pussy clenching around his fingers as she cried out his name.
He didn't stop until she was spent, shuddering beneath him.
Perpetua withdrew his hand slowly, pressing a final kiss to her lips. His voice was husky, laced with restraint. "Now you can go clean."
Y/N lay there for a moment, chest heaving as the aftershocks rippled through her body. Her skin glistened with a fresh sheen of sweat, and she could feel the slickness between her thighs.
She turned her head to look at Perpetua, his face flushed and eyes still dark with unspent desire. Propping herself up on her elbows, she managed a breathless smile.
"But what about you?"
He shook his head, sitting back on his heels, his hand lingering on her hip for a beat longer before he pulled away. "This can wait," he said, voice rough but firm, though the bulge in his pants betrayed how much it cost him to say it.
She pouted slightly but nodded, sliding off the bed on shaky legs. The bathroom adjoined her chamber, a small alcove with a copper tub already filled from the servants' earlier preparations—warm water steaming gently.
Y/N stepped in, sinking into the bath with a sigh of relief. The water lapped at her skin, soothing the ache in her muscles from training and the fresh sensitivity between her legs.
She washed methodically, soaping her body, rinsing away the grime and the evidence of their encounter, her mind replaying the feel of his fingers inside her.
Outside, Perpetua paced the length of her chamber once she disappeared behind the screen. He leaned against the wall near the door, resuming his usual post as guard, arms crossed over his chest.
But his body wouldn't settle. His pants felt too tight, the fabric straining against his erection that throbbed insistently.
His cock ached for release, hard and neglected, pulsing with every heartbeat. He shifted his weight, sighing deeply, trying to will it away.
The memory of her wetness coating his fingers, the way she'd clenched around him—it only made it worse.
He pressed a hand to the front of his pants briefly, adjusting himself, but pulled back with another frustrated exhale.
When Y/N emerged, the bathrobe loose around her frame, her hair damp and skin pink from the heat, she found him there—stoic as ever, standing sentinel by the door. The sight of him, all rigid lines and restrained power, sent a fresh wave of want through her. She crossed the room, the robe brushing her calves.
"Come here," she said softly, her voice carrying that same bold edge from before.
Perpetua's eyes met hers, hesitation flickering in them, but he pushed off the wall and approached, stopping just inches away. The air between them crackled again, heavier now with the scent of soap clinging to her.
Without a word, Y/N reached for the buckles of his armor—the leather straps over his tunic, the pauldrons guarding his shoulders.
Her fingers worked deftly, unfastening the clasps one by one. The metal clinked softly as she set pieces aside, revealing the fitted shirt beneath, damp with his own sweat from the day's exertions.
"What are you doing?" he murmured, his breath catching as her hands brushed his chest while tugging at the last strap.
She looked up at him, stepping closer so her body nearly pressed to his. Leaning in, she whispered against his jaw, "I want you..."
His hands came up to her arms, gripping gently but not stopping her. "Princess..." The word was a low warning, laced with torment. "I don't know if we can go this much further."
Y/N didn't falter. She slid her palms up his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle under the fabric, then hooked her fingers into his collar. "I don't care," she breathed, her lips grazing his ear. "I want you, and you want me..."
Y/N's fingers trembled slightly with anticipation as she continued unfastening the remaining pieces of Perpetua's armor. The breastplate came next, heavy and cool under her palms, and she lifted it away, setting it on the nearby chair with a soft thud. Beneath it, his tunic clung to his torso, outlining the ridges of his abdomen and the broad swell of his chest.
She could see the rapid rise and fall of his breathing, matching her own quickened pulse.
Perpetua stood still, his gaze fixed on her face, intense and unwavering, as if memorizing every flicker of determination in her eyes. The air in the room grew thicker, charged with the unspoken pull between them.
As the last of the greaves slipped from his legs, leaving him in just his tunic and pants, Perpetua's restraint cracked. His hands shot out, grasping her hips firmly through the thin bathrobe.
His thumbs pressed into the soft flesh just above her hipbones, pulling her closer until their bodies aligned, heat radiating from him to her.
He touched her there, fingers splaying wide, kneading gently as if testing the reality of her nearness. Y/N gasped at the contact, her hands pausing on his sides, feeling the warmth of his skin seeping through the fabric.
Emboldened, she let her palms glide over his chest, tracing the lines of muscle beneath the tunic. Her touch was light, exploratory—fingertips brushing downward in slow circles, then pressing flat to feel his heartbeat thundering against her hand. She ventured lower, skimming over his stomach, then to the front of his pants where the hardness of his cock strained visibly.
She cupped him softly through the cloth, feeling the thick length twitch under her palm, hot and insistent.
Perpetua's breath hitched, a low groan escaping his lips as he watched her, his grip on her hips tightening just enough to make her knees weaken.
“Please, Perpetua,” she whispered, her voice a husky plea, eyes locking onto his with raw need. The words hung between them, simple and urgent, stripping away the last barriers.
That was all it took. With a swift motion, Perpetua bent his knees and lifted her effortlessly, his strong arms hooking under her thighs.
Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, ankles crossing at the small of his back, the robe parting slightly to expose her bare skin to his tunic. She clung to his shoulders, her face burying into the crook of his neck as he carried her across the room.
His steps were steady but hurried, the bed coming into view like a promise. He lowered her onto the soft mattress with care, easing her down so she sank into the pillows, his body following to hover over hers without crushing her.
Their lips met in a deep kiss, mouths opening hungrily, tongues sliding together in a slow, exploratory dance. Perpetua's hands roamed up her sides, finding the tie of her bathrobe and tugging it loose. The fabric fell open, revealing her naked body beneath—breasts rising with each pant, nipples already pebbled from the cool air and his gaze.
He broke the kiss to trail his mouth along her jaw, then down her throat, nipping lightly at her collarbone while his fingers pushed the robe fully aside, baring her completely. Y/N arched into him, her hands fumbling at his waistband, eager to feel more of him.
“The pants,” she murmured against his ear, her fingers working the laces open. Perpetua shifted to help, rising slightly on his knees as she tugged the fabric down his hips. His cock sprang free, thick and veined, the head flushed and glistening with precum.
It bobbed heavily as she shoved the pants lower, past his thighs, until he kicked them off entirely. Now they were both exposed, skin to skin, the heat of him pressing against her inner thigh as he settled back over her.
Y/N reached for his hand, intertwining their fingers, squeezing as their eyes met again. Perpetua mirrored the gesture, his free hand sliding down to hook under her knee, lifting her leg to drape it over his hip. The position opened her up, her pussy slick and ready, brushing against the underside of his cock as he aligned himself.
He rocked forward slowly, the tip nudging her entrance, teasing without entering yet. Both of them panted, breaths mingling in short, ragged bursts.
“Are you sure?” he asked, voice strained, forehead resting against hers.
She nodded, guiding his hand to hold hers tighter. “Yes... please.”
With a shared gasp, Perpetua pushed in, inch by inch, his cock stretching her welcoming heat. Y/N's walls clenched around him, pulling him deeper, the sensation making her whimper. He filled her completely, pausing when he was fully seated, both of them adjusting to the exquisite pressure.
Their joined hands pressed into the mattress beside her head, fingers laced so tightly it almost hurt, grounding them in the intimacy.
He began to move, withdrawing slowly before thrusting back in, setting a gentle rhythm that built tension with every slide. Y/N's leg hooked higher on his hip, her heel digging into his side to urge him closer.
She panted against his mouth, capturing his lips in messy kisses between breaths. “Perpetua... oh...” Her free hand roamed his back, nails scraping lightly over his skin, feeling the flex of muscles as he rocked into her.
He groaned, the sound vibrating through his chest into hers. “You feel... so good,” he murmured, his thrusts deepening just a fraction, hitting that spot inside her that made stars burst behind her eyelids.
Sweat beaded on his brow, dripping onto her collarbone as he kept the pace steady, savoring every clench and flutter around his length. Their bodies moved in sync, hips meeting with soft slaps, her wetness easing the way for his cock to glide in and out.
Y/N's gasps grew sharper, her chest heaving as pleasure coiled tighter in her belly. She squeezed his hand, turning her face to nip at his shoulder, tasting the salt of his skin.
Perpetua's breath came in heavy pants now, his control fraying at the edges as her pussy gripped him, hot and tight. He released her leg briefly to cup her breast, thumb circling the nipple before pinching it lightly, drawing a moan from her lips.
Then his hand returned, holding her thigh firm against his hip, angling her so he could grind deeper on each inward push.
“Tell me... how it feels,” he whispered hoarsely, his mouth brushing her ear, nuzzling into her damp hair.
“Full... so full of you,” she replied between pants, her voice breaking on a particularly deep thrust. “Don't stop... harder, please.”
He obliged, increasing the force just enough to make the bed creak, but keeping it tender—long, deliberate strokes that had them both trembling. Y/N's body arched, her breasts pressing into his chest, nipples dragging against his skin with every movement.
She felt him thicken inside her, the veins pulsing against her sensitive walls, and it pushed her closer to the edge. Their hands stayed locked, a lifeline amid the rising tide of sensation, knuckles white from the grip.
Perpetua's pants turned to guttural sounds, his hips snapping forward with growing urgency. He kissed her neck, sucking a mark into the skin there, then licked up to her jaw.
“I'm close... but not yet,” he growled, pulling back slightly to watch her face, her flushed cheeks and parted lips. Y/N nodded, her own climax building, thighs quivering around him.
She released his hand momentarily to clutch at his ass, pulling him in deeper, urging him on.
“Me too... together,” she gasped, recapturing his fingers immediately, weaving them with hers again.
The room filled with their shared breaths—harsh inhales, soft exhales mingling with whimpers and moans. His cock dragged along her inner walls, the friction building heat that spread through her limbs.
As her orgasm crested, Y/N cried out, her pussy spasming around him, milking his length in rhythmic pulses.
Perpetua thrust through it, prolonging her pleasure, his own release hovering. Pulling out just as the wave hit him.
Hot spurts of cum painted her stomach and the inside of her thigh, his cock jerking in his hand as he stroked himself through the aftershocks. He collapsed beside her, chest heaving, their joined hands still clasped between them.
They lay there panting, bodies slick and spent, the air heavy with the scent of sex. Perpetua turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to her temple, his leg still draped over hers in a loose tangle.
Y/N lay there, her chest rising and falling in soft pants, the afterglow warming her skin like a gentle fire. Her body still hummed from the release, every nerve tingling faintly. She turned her head toward Perpetua, her eyes half-lidded, and whispered breathlessly,
“I didn't know... that it would feel like this.” Her voice was quiet, laced with wonder and a touch of surprise, as if the intensity had caught her off guard.
Perpetua chuckled low in his throat, the sound rumbling through his chest like a soothing vibration. It was warm, affectionate, easing the lingering tension from his features.
He squeezed her hand once more before releasing it, propping himself up on one elbow to look at her fully. His gaze softened, tracing the flush on her cheeks and the way her lips parted with each soft pant.
After a moment, he shifted, sitting up on the edge of the bed.
The mattress dipped slightly under his weight, and Y/N watched him through heavy lashes as he stood, his naked form strong and unhurried in the dim light of the chamber.
He padded across the cool stone floor to the adjoining bathroom, his footsteps soft. The sound of water running briefly filled the air, then quieted as he wet a cloth under the basin.
He returned quickly, cloth in hand, the fabric damp and warm from the water. Kneeling beside her on the bed, he gently parted her thighs just enough to reach the sticky trails of his cum on her stomach and inner thigh.
His touch was careful, almost reverent, as he wiped away the evidence of their passion—first dabbing at her belly where the pearly strands had cooled, then lower, cleaning her skin with slow, thorough strokes.
Y/N sighed at the tenderness, her legs relaxing under his ministrations, the cloth gliding smoothly until she felt fresh and cared for.
Satisfied, Perpetua set the cloth aside on the nightstand and slid back into bed beside her.
He pulled the rumpled sheets up over them both, his body curling toward hers in a protective arc. One arm draped loosely over her waist, drawing her close until her head rested on his shoulder. The warmth of him enveloped her, steady and comforting.
He mumbled against her hair, his voice a low murmur thick with reluctance, “I need to get up soon again... duties wait for no one.”
Y/N nodded against his chest, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his skin. “Just some minutes in your arms,” she replied softly, her tone pleading yet content, savoring the quiet intimacy before the world intruded once more.
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