> i will only write about 141 characters. i will not write about konig, keegan, etc.
> open to writing smut requests of all kinds except for r@pe/noncon
> please be patient! i work six days a week very early in the mornings and sometimes won’t be able to write it right away, but i will always get to your request
♡ - drabble, ☆ - oneshot
SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY
⇢ change of heart — complete (nsfw)
⤷ part 1 / part 2 / part 3 / part 4 / part 5 / part 6 /
part 7 / part 8 / final
⇢ finish line — ongoing
⤷ part 1
⇢ an angel weeps (nsfw)
⇢ soul collector ♡
⤷ part 1 / part 2
⇢ autistic!reader
⤷ part 1 / part 2 / part 3
⇢ deaf!reader ♡
⇢ blind!reader ♡
⇢ reader with an ed ♡
KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK
⇢ does growing up just change your body? or also your soul? ♡
Kyle believes its mandatory to say "biiiiig stretch," whenever his dog stretches.
It becomes so much of a habit that whenever you stretch yourself out in the morning he croons, "biiiiiig stretch." Sometimes laughing lightly as he's already getting dressed, sometimes still half asleep face buried against his pillow. Didnt matter the state, he just alway did.
And when your back is arching off the bed — your nails are clawing at his shoulders, weak whines and pleas spilling past your lips at the stretch of his cock pushing inside of you — his big hand is cupping your cheek.
Smiling down at you so sweetly as if his eyes aren't staring with pure hunger. And oh, his voice is so mean when he hums a, "biiiiig stretch."
I'm sure you must get this alot and I know it'd be tiring to constantly get asks, but I miss your story so much T-T your pirate au will always have a special place in my heart alongside the cod brainstorms. Every now and then, I'll check your blog hoping to see anything and I still sort of hold out hope. Im thankful we got as much story as we did considering your circumstances and I really hope that the writers curse will leave you alone and I also hope things are going better since your last few updates ❤️
why hello!!! it’s been a while 🩷
i’m super happy to get this message! i have over 100 in my inbox that i have yet to answer, but this was perfect timing and it was such a sweet message <3 so i thank you.
it’s funny because i’ve been thinking of ways to come back to my pirate au. i’ve been spending this entire time going through a LOT of things, that it sort of made my light dim and i lost the love i had for my favorite hobbies, the main being writing. i haven’t opened up a document since the last chapter and i never really thought i would.
however! lately, i’ve been really trying to pursue the things that made me happy at one time rather than avoiding them. i went into a deep depression, still am, but i’ve actually been trying to get back into those things (with encouragement from my partner) to seek them out again and give it another try.
with that being said, i do plan on continuing! lately, I’ve been really missing my boys and their silly adventure, and i’ve also been missing the community and all of you heavily. i don’t know when i will return with a new chapter, but i can say, with the encouragement i’ve been getting from my partner and my own self to want to return to old hobbies, i do plan on continuing the adventure and going along with you guys for it since i know there are still quite a few of you waiting for the update :3
thank you for those who have sent messages to me even in my absence and telling me how much you missed me and call of the sea! it’s really given me an epiphany to want to return, and i hope to do that soon <3
came back from the dead to express my thoughts on fighter!reader and coach!price who takes you under his wing to teach you the ins and outs of the ring. hours upon hours are spent with you and him everyday, your skill put to the test as you put ruthless work into climbing your way to the top.
it was natural, of course, for the two of you to build a bond. he was your rock to hold you down through trial and error, and you were his inspiration in returning to a sport he swore he’d leave behind in the past.
trainings turned into occasional drinks and meals shared. drinks turned into seeking solace in each other’s hearts and bodies in the haven of your bed.
there was a reason people always said to never get too close — you’d grow attached. and when you took an illegal blow to the head in the middle of the ring, knocking you clean to the floor with a ringing in your ears and a metallic filth flooding your mouth, all price could think about was how it was his fault you faltered.
your head wasn’t in the game. you couldn’t focus when in the crevices of your mind, he was creeping in, invading your senses. the empire you had begun to build with the helpful hands of his own that were now stained with your blood had fallen apart because attraction got in the way. love.
i hope everything is okay with you love, i absolutely adore your work and am waiting for an update. im sure you’ve got other things going on but just wanted to send this to say i hope you’re okay and i look forward to your return :3
hiii lovely, i’m also waiting for an update LMAO (sorry) and i really wanna come back soon because i have a lot of ideas that are just hard to express through writing nowadays because i never have the time, but i’m finally getting a somewhat break the next few weeks to actually be at home and not confined in my shackles of hell (work) (and when i say shackles, i have quite literally been working 3 weeks in a row) so i want to return soon with somethin special :3 thank you so much for being here even tho i abandoned everybody by accident
pirate poly!141 x f!reader
tw: NSFW, MDNI, brief violence/gore, some heat ngl, some inaccuracies but it is indeed fiction
masterlist
a/n: let's pretend i'm not a day late and act like this is a surprise. surpriiiise!
When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.
There was a strange sensation deep within your core when you began to gain consciousness. A lingering feeling, something that tugged you in an undiscoverable direction. It felt like a string, pulling at you, luring you to someplace unknown when you couldn’t begin the venture to discover it.
It nagged at you in your sleep and only grew more bothersome when you woke.
Your surroundings were unfamiliar when you opened your eyes. The room you were in was small. The walls appeared to be made out of old wood that had seen better days, the telltale sign of withering as if rain had been its slow destroyer.
A candle-lit lantern sat beside you on a table, flickering daunting shadows along the walls. Besides that, a messy desk was filled with scattered pages, scribbled with words you couldn’t decipher. Perched along the wall on the desk, a collection of various jars and glasses sat, each filled with contents you couldn’t recognize.
It was dim and cold, only a furry pelt covering you from the hips down while your arms rose with goosebumps from the lingering chill in the room. The cot you laid on was far from comfortable, though the only thing it caused was an ache in your back that pinched when you moved.
The more you observed your surroundings, the more it began to look eerily similar to your old room back in your village. The strange jars, the unkempt work on the desk—it all felt so familiar, as if you had teleported back to your room in a dream.
A brief spike of fear rose within you when you noticed that you were alone. Your crew was nowhere to be found, nor were there any clues as to whether or not you were trapped within another nightmare that had shifted from its usual storyline.
Instinct led you to move, quick to lift the heavy pelt from off your body. Except, when you pulled it off, the first thing you noticed was how little your discomfort was from moving. As a matter of fact, there was none of it at all—only soreness from lying so still for God knows how long.
The crushing pain that you’d been tortured with had ceased to exist, as well as the hairs on your neck no longer standing up as if a shadow had been behind you at all times, lurking.
You lifted a careful hand, slowly inching it to your injury—only to realize it didn’t hurt. Your fingertips brushed against your skin, cool to the touch whereas before it was flush and warm. You dared to even dig your fingers lightly into you, washed over with surprise when nothing bit back at you.
You don’t recall much from when you last fell into sleep to now. It was hazy, like a misty fog was clouding up the chambers of your mind. The only thing that you could sense was that lingering pit of familiarity, as well as a touch of something weary that made your heart beat just a little bit faster.
You threw your legs over the side of the cot, standing on shaky legs that forgot the act of balance for a brief moment. It felt new to stand on your own once again with little struggle after having been trapped in Price’s bed for long enough that it tested your sanity. There was none telling just how long you’d been cooped up on this new, mysterious cot, either.
Testing the waters, you slowly contorted your body into a long, healthy stretch, feelings your tender muscles and rattled bones shift and pop. While you were entirely joyful to be back on your feet, it raised the question of how.
Whatever injury you had that had been injected with a ruthless venom that Graves bestowed to you shouldn’t have you healed so quickly, even with a visit to a medical off shore. You knew how impossible it truly was. Healing would’ve taken weeks, if not months.
So how on Earth were you standing, unharmed?
“You look well.”
Nearly jumping out of your skin, you turned to see an unfamiliar woman stepping into the makeshift hut. She was old and withered, wrinkles lining her face, but her eyes were kind, albeit tired. She was a small thing, almost what one would imagine at the mention of a witch, like stories you’d heard as a child. Silly ones, anyway.
Her shoulders were hefty with a smaller pelt than the one you had around you, its fur as dark as night. Her clothes were otherworldly, as if she’d gathered random fabrics and threw them together on a whim. Nothing about her seemed ordinary. Dare you say, she reminded you of Mary.
She was a stranger, yet you felt compelled to feel at ease.
“Who are you?” you asked, suspicious.
She smiled a toothy grin, gaps staring back at you. “Your boys brought you here to get you fixed up. How do you feel?”
You wiggled your fingers and toes for good measure before responding, “I am alright, but I fear I do not understand.”
The woman stepped further into the room, taking slow paces. Her age was undetectable, but the stark grays in her hair told you she was much, much older.
“There is much I do not understand either,” she replied. She made her way to the cot you were laid upon, taking a seat on the edge.
Your eyes followed her every move, remaining frozen in place. You dared not to move away in fear of offending her, nor closer out of weariness.
“I do not know why you’ve come all this way when this was something you could’ve done yourself. Dove, is it?” she asked.
The name had you tensing, and before you could grow concerned, she stopped you. “That is all they call you. Dove this, dove that—it was not hard to figure out.”
You slowly let your guard fall back down, but only slightly. Price would not allow them to take you to someone they did not trust to leave you alone with. Then again, it rose the question—where were they?
“I am confused,” you muttered, furrowing your eyebrows.
“About which part?” she questioned. The lingering tone felt a bit like a tease, as if she knew she was ruffling a few feathers. “Not to worry. They are resting in beds I’ve prepared for them. You had a long journey, I heard.”
She gave you no reason to doubt, but you could not be blamed for doing so anyway. You were in a strange place, healed far too quickly for normalcy with your crew out of sight. Graves embedded that fear within you, following you everywhere you went like a menace.
“How did you do this?” You gestured to your side, where the dress you wore was torn to reveal the once tarnished skin while the rest hanged loosely off your body. It hurt to know the dress was ruined, but it was the least of your worries. “This is not a possible heal. It would have been a process for me to properly recover. I would like an explanation.”
The woman looked surprised, raising her thin eyebrows and glancing between you and your bare skin. “You do not know?”
“Pardon?” You threw her a just as bewildered look.
“That is why you have come all this way?” she asked. “Because you do not know?”
“I am not quite following,” you confessed, deflating.
“The gift,” she remarked. “You do not feel it?”
“I do not know of this gift you are speaking of,” you retorted. Being hidden in the dark just like Price had done to you before was sparking something in you. You were growing impatient.
The woman tapped her long fingernail against her chin, muttering to herself. The flashy rings adorning her fingers winked back at you. “You feel something, don’t you?” she asked, waggling her finger. “That sense of knowing, like you have been here before. There is something here that seems… familiar. Am I correct?”
Her tone held a touch of accusation, as if she knew she was reading you like a book. You narrowed your eyes at her, setting your jaw taut, just as Price would do when presenting himself as tough.
“I am not a woman who entertains mind games,” you uttered, putting on a brave front. “If you are to explain a thing to me, it should be with haste.”
She smiled, contrasting the soft edges around her eyes that gave them a subtle sweetness. With the gaps in her teeth, they were unkempt, a hint of decay rotting around the edges.
“You have spirit,” she noted, seemingly pleased rather than annoyed. “You will need it if you are to be a healer, of course.”
“How did you know that?” you accused, stiffening.
Though you didn’t know her, she acted like she knew you. As if you’d been friends for ages, reading you like an open page, bookmarking your inner workings inside her head. You didn’t know how to feel, but you knew it didn’t feel great.
“That is what you are,” she said ecstatically. As she spoke, she stood, stepping towards you with her finger jammed in your face. “That is the gift I speak of. The hands of a sorceress, gifted with the God’s will to heal. You are nature’s force, one who shall lead others to the way of fortune. You do not feel it?”
This woman must be crazy. She was speaking of pure sorcery, the very thing had landed you with shattered bones and an infection so malicious, it tore you from the inside out.
You glanced at your hands, stretching your fingers and furling them into fists. They certainly did not look like magic hands, nor ones given a blessing. You weren’t buying it, though, how would you have been healed so quickly?
The more you thought about it, the more the dots connected. Though the idea was outlandish, it wouldn’t be the only odd thing you’d experienced—Graves was a paradox on his own.
The desire you had since childhood to help others, going as far as to be deemed as the outcast of the village in order to venture into the world of medicines and herbs, made sense. The urge to heal more than your ability, though only a mere pupil in the works, was always an overwhelming one, something you wished you could pursue.
Performing your job above and beyond, healing the sick and poor. Just as the prophecy stated.
When the realization hit you, your breath caught in your throat, eyes blowing wide.
Graves targeted you because you were the medic spoken of in the prophecy. Everything Price had thought, down to the day he captured you, was right. Whereas he was searching for a medic, somehow, he knew it was you. Rather than killing you like he’d done many others, he brought you upon his ship and invested his faith in you.
“How?” you asked, choking on a breath. “How has this happened?”
“It does not simply happen, child,” she explained, satisfied. “The Gods choose who they deem fit. It is them who bestow the gift upon us. They seek the ones who hold purity and good. Your soul was bright in your past life, shining the way for others who could never escape a world of darkness. This is what you’ve been given in return.”
You were given the information far too quickly. It was difficult to swallow, knowing others were depending on you. Of course, that’s what you wanted all your life—but the truest part of it was much more heavier than you’d like it to be.
“Us?” you repeated back, confused. “Tell me you do not mean—”
“We are sisters in that aspect, child.”
“That is how I am able to stand right now?” Your fingers grazed your healed skin again, taking in the smoothness. Not a scar or bump left. “It was you?”
“You are not the only one of your kind. There are others, though uncommon. It is not safe times for us, but,” she paused, glancing down at your side, “I see you have already figured that out.”
“You know of Graves?”
She smiled once more, though it looked more like a grimace. “We all know of the Devil of the Seas.”
And a devil he was. He was rotten, his core decayed and filled with maggots.
“I am to cease his plan,” you said, lips turning into a scowl. “It is written in the stars, and I cannot escape. But… I do not know how.”
“Time will only tell, child,” she assured kindly. Her wrinkled hands reached for yours, taking them in her grasp. Her palms covered yours, smoothing over your skin. “You will know. Perhaps you already do.”
You let it sink in, thinking back on everything that had happened thus far. Your nightmare came back to you, feeling the burning heat of towering fires that you’d relived over and over until it was engraved in memory.
There was something in your village, waiting for you to discover it. You knew it, but you could now admit the defeat of having to return to the ruins.
“Your… abilities,” you began, hesitating on the word. You weren’t sure what to refer to it as. Power? Sorcery? It was unclear. “How do you use them?”
“That is for you to learn and adapt,” she said sympathetically. “It would not be much of a gift if they were all the same. Just like your current path, you will also figure out your specialty—with time.”
“And my men? They do not know?”
Her smile turned into a mischievous grin, her chubby cheeks mushing up. “Your secret is yours to tell, my dove.”
“I am happy to see you all resting well.”
You smiled as your crew quickly rustled in their sleep, shooting up in alarm. It was a pitiful sight, really, seeing the four men smushed into uncomfortable cots on the hard floor, all sprawled in different positions that shouldn’t have been good for their necks.
“Dove,” Soap said first, grinning boyishly. “Look at ye.”
He stood immediately, scooping you into a bone-crushing hug. It knocked the air out of your lungs, but you awkwardly returned it, patting his back.
“Thought you were a goner, aye?” Gaz teased, looking over to Ghost beside him and nudging him with an elbow.
Ghost did nothing, only standing to shake off his rattling bones and grunt in response.
The Captain rose as well, appearing much less exhausted than before. The bags under his eyes had fainted enough to where they weren’t screaming at you, though he looked a bit scraggly, his hair strewn about. His endearing appearance did nothing to hide his worry, though.
“You’re feelin’ alright, dove?” he asked, hesitating.
You slowly released your hold on Soap, who took a step back. Stood before them, you could only hope you looked much better than before. Your hair needed care, yes, and your skin was crying out for a warm bathe, but you would stick with that for now. Feeling no more pain was your main concern.
“I am well,” you assured, giving him a small smile.
Your answer brought him the calm he needed, his shoulders visibly relaxing. Gaz seemed to match his relief, though you knew he was trying to hide it. After all, you still didn’t know what to do about… that.
“I’m sure Thea’s cot was not comfortable by any means. We may return to the ship, now that we know things are alright,” Price explained. Ghost seemed rather chipper at the idea, if it wasn’t for the gloomy cloud practically circling him just from being away from his home.
“Thea?” you asked, curious.
“Her name,” Price replied, quirking a brow. “Did she not tell you?”
You sucked your teeth, face showing a tint of displeasure that you attempted not to make noticeable. You owed the poor woman. It wasn’t your fault she shared news you weren’t prepared to hear.
“She has told me plenty,” you murmured. The men mirrored confused expressions. “Captain.”
“Yes, dove?” he answered.
“I requested something from you,” you explained. His confusion grew further before it dawned on him. “I do wish you would do it.”
“What request?” Gaz pitched in. Soap murmured in agreement, Ghost only side eyeing the bunch of you as he silently listened in.
“My request to return to my village,” you replied. Soap opened his mouth to retort. You knew immediately what he was going to say, so before he could, you raised a hand, successfully cutting him off. “I know it is ruins. That’s the point. There is something there that we must see. I believe it’s important.”
“How do you know?” Price pushed. He hadn’t asked you why the first time, but now that you were on your feet and conscious, he felt it was safe to question.
You frowned to yourself, recalling the horrible memory. As if on cue, you could feel your skin warm, like you were still pitted under flickering flames that ate greedily at your flesh and bone until you were nothing but ash.
“I saw it in a dream,” you said quietly.
Ghost scowled, shooting up from his cot. It was the first he’d done anything other than grunt and shift since your return. “This is goin’ on too long, Price. Let me kill the Devil and settle the score. He’s playin’ games I want no part in.”
“It was not Graves!” you exclaimed, hushing Ghost. He threw you a look of confusion, his eyes telling a whole story while he remained concealed away inside his mask. “At least, I do not think so. It was… different. I could not feel Graves with me in those dreams.” You glanced between them, silently pleading. “It was my village’s calling, not him. Please, I must know what it wants.”
“Have we not learned this before, dove? Huh?” Ghost asked, tossing his hands in the air. His body grew tense, tone clipped as he spoke. “He’s foolin’ you just as he has before. There’s nothin’ but fucked up bodies and rubble. That’s somethin’ you want to see again?”
“Ghost, that’s not fair,” Soap tried, frowning.
“It is not due to Graves,” you defended, hands balling by your sides. “Something is leading me back and I believe it is in our best interest to check. What if it has to do with the prophecy?”
“The prophecy?” Ghost laughed, bitterness spilling out of it and spewing at you like toxins. “Best interest? Your best interest is goin’ to get you killed. You were already on the brink of it, mind you.”
“That was not my fault,” you muttered, feeling your irritation growing.
“Of course it’s not your fault, dove,” Gaz assured, but Ghost was quick to wipe it away.
“We’re already pullin’ at strings here. At this rate, you’re goin’ to get yourself a permanent mark on his list, and we won’t be able to save you from it. You need to think,” Ghost continued. His frustration was written all over his body language, the way his hands shook as they furled and unfurled, his shoulders moving with every word.
“That’s enough,” Price snipped, silencing the both of you. “If there’s a slight possibility that somethin’s there to help us with Graves, then it’s a possibility I’m not lettin’ go. This is for dove, and for you, Ghost. Have you forgotten that? It is not only about her. It’s about you, too. You’re in this mess just as much as her, just as much as us.”
Ghost scoffed, turning his head away and crossing his arms. He said nothing, resorting back to his own personal isolation, appearing to have nothing more to add.
“Let us just return to the ship,” Gaz inquired. “Perhaps it will clear our minds to be back at home.”
Soap nodded in agreement, as did you, albeit stubbornly.
Price let out an exhausted sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I want no more bickerin’. This is not a fight between us. Am I clear?”
You only nodded once more, grumbling quietly to yourself. Ghost huffed but agreed nonetheless.
“Then let’s get you back, scrounge up somethin’ to eat, yes?” Price offered, and the sound of a fresh meal had all your anger dissolving.
Everything fell back into normal routine rather quickly. After shoveling down your meal, you were left satisfied with the outcome of what’s transpired, grateful to be alive and walking. Ghost still had a prick in his spine, but he slowly relaxed into his normal(ish) self, calming from the burst at the thought of Graves’ early return.
Soap had been your lap dog since your return, hovering on your heels and following you wherever you went. Though it was a bit ridiculous, you appreciated the care and thought your crew had for you, especially after a near loss.
The only thing able to stop it was Gaz, approaching you after dinner and shooing Soap away like disciplining a child.
“Might it be too much to ask of a few minutes of company tonight?” he asked. It was strange to see that subtle nervousness hiding in his words.
“Joining you to stargaze again?” you asked, feigning disinterest.
“Of course. What else is it I do around here?” he quipped, causing you to snicker. “If you’re not feelin’ your best, you can rest. No pressure, aye?”
You pretended to ponder, pursing your lips and tapping them with a finger. “I suppose I have the energy,” you retorted. “Though, I’m sorry you do not have your telescope anymore. It must not be as fun.”
“It’ll be fun,” he dismissed with a smile. “It is must more fun with you there to observe with me, anyway.”
The subtle chivalry had your heart racing almost immediately. Being bedridden and facing such dark worlds within your head had you nearly losing a piece of you, but Gaz always brought back that mischievous spark.
“I do not think it will be fun while I am looking like this. It may take away from the beauty.”
Gaz snorted, rolling his eyes and gently grabbing your shoulder to lead you along. “Funny.”
You grinned as you followed, approaching the usual spot you always found him in. The day was long, as were the weeks with nothing to stare at but the walls, and you knew a change of scenery would be the real cure.
He plopped down on the deck, and you joined him, dangling your legs over the ledge just as you’d done before. Nothing had changed, and for that, you were grateful.
“There will be no quarrels tonight,” he said lightly. “I believe you need a break from that.”
“Please,” you sighed, relaxing.
Your body felt weightless for the first time in weeks, and you took advantage of the moment, allowing the chilly breeze to glide along your skin. The quietness was welcomed, your mind going mute, void of any thoughts of Graves or a roaring fire that had trapped you in its grasp.
Gaz knew it was what you needed. He always seemed to know.
“You have to open your eyes to enjoy the sky,” Gaz piped in, tease in his tone.
You peeked your eyes open after they’d fallen into rest from the sheer calm of the moment. You glanced over at him, holding back a smile. “I am enjoying the moment. You may enjoy the sky.”
“Tch,” he sounded, returning to stargazing quietly.
Silence fell over you, one that was comforting and stable. It put you completely at ease and you realized how much you missed the peace. Your life was turned into a living hell once Graves stepped into your life, but for the night, he seemed to grant you your moment of clarity. How generous he was.
“Suuure is pretty out,” he murmured to himself. Your smile crept on your lips as you opened tour eyes once more.
“You are trying to tempt me to watch the sky again,” you accused, raising an eyebrow.
“Is it workin’?” he asked, leaning towards you and cocking his head.
“Not very well.”
“Ach, c’mon,” he huffed, nudging your shoulder. “I have done you plenty of favors in the past, yes? Grant me one as well.”
You feigned annoyance, though your smile gave you away. “Just this once.”
Gaz grinned back, seemingly pleased with himself. “Thank you.”
You did as promised and turned to the sky, peering up at the blanket of stars. Just as before, they shined beautifully, and it made you wonder why you hadn’t looked at them before in your village.
“You didn’t let me kiss you last time,” Gaz said suddenly, keeping his eyes trained to the sky.
You stiffened, growing embarrassed at how quickly your heart reacted to his words.
“No chance for a redo, is there?” he continued. He finally turned a side eye to you, glancing at you from his peripheral.
You could tell he was treading carefully while simultaneously going all for it. It was making you both nervous and excited.
You could never deny the way your heart yearned for your crew in its own interesting ways.
“I… have kissed the Captain,” you replied quietly, avoiding his gaze with the stars as your excuse. “Or more so, he has kissed me. I do not know if that will mess things up.”
“Why would it?” he asked, and he seemed so unfazed by it that it made you question if you’d read things wrong. “You’re a silly girl to think it would, dove.”
You briefly recalled Soap encouraging you before you fell into a heavy sleep. You confessed to him the feelings that left your sanity growing slimmer, and he had simply told you there was nothing wrong with having multiple infatuations. You had never heard of it before, only ever seeing the loyalty between two people and never another, yet, Soap would never lie to you for the sake of it.
“It will not mess things up between us, then?” you questioned, growing uncertain.
As if he could sense it, he smiled, easing the pit in your stomach. “I’d be a stupid brute if I ever let it,” he replied calmly.
You hadn’t even realized he’d shifted closer, his right thigh pressed against your left. You felt the heat of his skin radiate from beneath his pants and shift on to yours.
It was hard to deny yourself the pleasure. You’d been stricken with illness that left you weak and vulnerable, loneliness creeping in like a shadow to haunt you while you remained there. In the times there was nobody there to watch you as you slowly grew sicker, you’d find yourself wishing to see one of them, to cure the aching hole in your heart that Price had only begun to fill.
You felt selfish for wanting more.
“Perhaps just one,” you whispered, nearly furling in on yourself in shame.
Gaz could see the gears in your head begin to break down, and he wouldn’t have it. His hand came to rest along your jaw, slowly lifting your head to face him. You had no choice but to meet his gaze, locking eyes.
“Nothin’ will happen,” he murmured softly. “I promise.”
Without a moment to breathe, he leaned in, soft lips locking on to yours as if you were the drug he couldn’t live without. He was warm as he grew closer, his arm coming to wrap around you and press you against him, scared you’d run away.
You wanted to do anything but run. Everything about Gaz was so euphoric, lighting a fire beneath your skin that seemed to burn with a fever. It was absolutely striking, to be kissing the one who granted you nothing but calm in a roaring sea.
Unlike Price, where circumstances were ideal, with Gaz it seemed almost too perfect, and you’d lost track of time, losing yourself in him.
It was only when you were out of breath, lungs screaming for air did you pull away, sucking in little gasps to grant them mercy.
Gaz’s pupils were blown, lips glossed over with your mixed saliva as the moonlight casted a shine over them. It lured you in for more, but you feared too much all at once.
“Soap wanted you to join us tonight, but perhaps you should bed with the Captain,” he breathed, catching his own breath.
You froze, throwing him a concerned look. “Have I done something wrong?”
Gaz’s lips curled into a loose smile. His chest heaved and his cheeks ached, and if you weren’t worried, you would’ve told him he looked downright sinful.
“Not at all,” he assured lightly. “But I do not know if I will be able to stop myself if you’re to sleep in our quarters. I have wanted that for a while, and I fear I’ll get greedy for more if you stay.”
The realization dawned on you, that he was referring to more. As much as the sudden boldness had your stomach rolling somersaults and your mind infecting with temptation, your embarrassment for being so oblivious to it was overpowering it.
“You do not wish for me to room with you?” you asked, eyes darting down to his lips before quickly diverting back to his eyes.
“Oh, that is not it, dove,” he laughed breathlessly. “It is my mind tellin’ me that. I will not be able to sleep beside you, knowing it is anythin’ but what I want to do.”
Your skin warmed up, fighting off the chill in the air. You stared at him, lips parting to reply, yet nothing came out.
Price was gentle with his kiss, which came as a surprise, seeing as he is a brute of a Captain—a warrior, a killer to those at his mercy. Yet, Gaz had been the one to test the waters, dipping his toes in before diving right in. He was being risky, and he didn’t even seem to care, not one bit.
“That…that is dangerous,” you whispered, averting your eyes from him, though it was the last thing you wanted to do.
“I’m a pirate, dove,” he reminded with a grin. “Trust that sleep would be the last thing we’d be doin’.”
You sputtered on your own words, unable to even muster proper ones. Gaz found humor in your shyness, snickering loudly. He released you only when you nearly burst at the seams, brushing a knuckle against your cheek before letting it fall.
“You do things to me, dove,” he said, voice growing softer. “That is what’s dangerous.”
You found the strength to look at him again, noting the tenderness that filled his gaze. He looked at you as if you had captured the stars for him, and it had your heart lurching out of your chest.
“I’ll tell Soap you wanted a quiet night,” he continued, smiling softly. “You’ve had a long few weeks. Perhaps you should get some proper rest, now that you’re well.”
You nodded slowly, stuck in a daze from both the kiss and his words. They stuck to you like glue, trapped in your head in a permanent repeat.
“I… enjoyed your company, Gaz,” you confessed. “I am glad we were able to have a moment to ourselves after so long.”
Gaz looked surprised for a moment before he melted into gratitude. “As am I, dove. Now go on.”
You smiled at him, one which he returned, and you stood from your usual spot on the deck, making your way back to the Captain’s quarters with your heart fuller than it had been before.
pirate poly!141 x f!reader
tw: NSFW, MDNI, not many for this chapter :p
masterlist
a/n: wanted so badly for this chapter to be longer but just as i finished a 60-hour work week, i fell down with the flu. boooo.
When a group of unhinged pirates invade your small village, you're whisked away from your peaceful home and thrown on to a voyage out at sea. Forced to obtain a new role as their medic, you have no choice but to accept your fate as you join their forces and aid them in their treacherous travels.
Price kept his promise when the time came, the next morning shifting to evening, the sun resting along the horizon. You’d spent the better majority sleeping off the pain, unable to stay awake for long while the parasite ate away at you from the inside and out.
Waking to a booming ‘Land ho!’ was the relief you needed to relax properly, the potential of you receiving urgent attention easing your worries momentarily.
You hadn’t had a proper moment alone, always waking to another man in the room watching over you, appearing just as tired as you. Gaz was often the one who took over, or in his place it was Soap. The Captain was making haste in steering to landfall in order to guarantee your spot in healing. He was wasting no time, keeping all hands on deck to make it happen.
You weren’t expecting Ghost, however, when you opened your eyes. He was lounged in Price’s chair at his desk lazily, eyes blinking sleepily at the floor, his fist on his cheek. He looked oddly comfortable, sat at ease rather than a man who seemed to always have a target on his back.
“Ghost?” you croaked, habitually attempting to sit up. It knocked the air out of your lungs immediately and you settled back down once you noticed Ghost tense up.
He grunted in response, eyes darting up from the floor to you. You’d hardly seen him since Graves’ unsettling show, and you were sure he was only in the room because he thought you’d be asleep long enough for him to switch shifts with somebody else.
“Y’alright?” he asked, gaze flickering down to your side where the bruising was becoming a disgusting black, almost resembling rotting flesh.
“We are almost there?” you asked instead, shifting the blanket over you subconsciously.
He nodded, taking his fist off of his cheek and leaning back in the chair. “Not too long now,” he responded. “Just sit tight.”
You fiddled with the hem of the sheets, picking at a loose thread. The air felt heavy with awkwardness, and it nearly suffocated you. You hated how strange it always felt in Ghost’s presence, like a force between you condemned you away from one another, but you weren’t too sure if it was you or him creating it.
Judging from previous actions, it was definitely him. He wasn’t an easy person to talk to—even after his apology.
“You don’t like me, do you?” you asked without a second thought. Once it came from your mouth, you instantly regretted it. If you were able to move on your free will, you’d have slapped yourself by now.
“What?” he grumbled.
You swallowed, peering up at the ceiling to avoid looking at him. “You do not seem very fond of me. Even after everything.”
You felt his stare on the side of your face. It was burning into you. “Is that so?”
You nodded once, a curt movement that was stiff and uncomfortable. Now that you had bitten off more than you could chew, the only solution was to continue gnawing.
“S’not that,” he answered. He shifted in his seat, tapping his fingers absentmindedly on the table. “You’ve already forgotten our talk? I’m not the type to repeat myself.”
“I have not.”
“Then why are you always stressin’ ‘bout it?” he huffed, almost like a child. At times, he surely acted like one—a rather rude one, but you digress.
“You seem tense with me,” you replied quietly, wondering why the conversation was brought up in the first place. It was never easy speaking of feelings with Ghost, and you were learning that the hard way. You didn’t understand why you felt compelled to begin something with no finish.
“I’m tense because you’re hurt,” he corrected, albeit a bit coldly. “S’not you.”
You gnawed on your lip as you stared into nothingness. Ghost was always an enigma, a puzzle piece you couldn’t quite fit anywhere, and the more you spoke with him, the more difficult it became.
You wanted to understand him, but how could you understand somebody who didn’t want to be understood? Then again, perhaps he thought the same of you.
“Has Graves done this before?” you asked, tone growing soft.
You knew Ghost was at the hands of Graves more than once. The unspoken trauma he held was evident simply in the way he fueled his hatred for the evil captain. If there was anybody who knew Graves for who he truly was, it was Ghost.
“Worse,” he said shortly, as if the matter was so simple to understand. It made your stomach twist up, imagining the horrors that lie along Graves’ past.
“Worse?” you murmured to yourself in disbelief.
Truly, what had Graves done? Surely, he had killed plenty. He held the card of death, dealing it to those unknowing. He played the game until he grew bored, tossing his pawns aside when he wanted a new one.
Were you simply his plaything for the time being? What would happen when he sought out a new one?
You turned your head to look at Ghost. You studied the skull ring that glistened on his finger, as well as the matching mask that locked up his true identity.
Ghost was just as much a pawn as you were—he was simply the last one standing.
“Why do you wear it?” you asked, and when his eyes simmered with confusion, you continued. “The skulls. They are his, yes?”
Ghost glanced down at his ring, wiggling his finger for good measure. “It angers him,” he explained calmly, toying with the ring with his thumb. “He takes pride in his ship. The skull flag on his ship is his staple—he thinks only those deserving are allowed the opportunity to flaunt it.”
“So… you wear it because he does not think you’re deserving, and it angers him?” you finished.
“I consider it a game,” Ghost shrugged. “He took what was mine. I take what’s his.”
You blinked, trying to piece together the puzzle. It made sense in your head, but you felt you were missing something.
“What did he take from you?”
Ghost finally looked at you, pupils blown with that familiar hatred you’d seen all this time. Now, though, you know it’s not for you.
“Everythin’,” he muttered. “I’ll be sure to do the same for him."
Ghost left rather quickly after that. You hated to see him go, but you knew a nerve was struck and he wanted to be alone—it was something he preferred. You could respect that.
Soap was the one who took charge, talking your ear off while you drifted in and out of sleep. He was lifting your spirits as always, trying desperately to get you out of the funk you’d been stuck in.
The conversation with Ghost took enough energy from you that it left you lifeless, resuming to your exhausted state and only offering an occasional hum of acknowledgment to Soap. You felt horrible for seeming so uninterested, but Soap didn’t seem to mind. In fact, if anybody were to understand, it would be him.
“After all this is over, I say we take a li’l vacation, aye?” Soap piped in. You glanced at him blearily, silently nodding in agreement. “Ye ever drink before, dove?”
You shook your head, causing Soap to gawk at you as if you’d just offended his entire family. “Never? Well, we’ll have to change that the second yer all fixed up. Get ye to a nice pub and drink yer sweet heart out. Yeeeah, that sounds real nice ‘bout now.”
He let out a dramatic sigh, shoulders slumping. Soap, ever the sweetest, always kept a peppy attitude for you, even if you could see the exhaustion lines forming on his face. He was so compassionate with you, and you feared you didn’t deserve it. It was your fault for all this mess.
“Yer first drink’s on me, aye? Hell, once yer back on yer feet, I’ll pay for all yer drinks, how’s that sound?”
“Bargainin’ to a sick bird, am I hearin’ that right?”
Both you and Soap looked to the door where the Captain stood, hand on the knob. He was so silent as he came in, presumably not to wake you in the case you were asleep.
“Ach, the girl deserves a drink after all this. M’just tryin’ to make her feel better,” Soap defended with a huff, shooing his hand.
Price snorted in amusement, stepping into the room. He made his way to your bedside where Soap sat, peering down at you and observing.
“How’s my dove doin’ today?” Price asked, his tone affectionate.
You caught a glimpse of Soap’s side eye towards the Captain’s behavior, evidence of confusion washing over his expression. He said nothing, only blinking slowly. You could practically see the gears in his head clogging up the workings in there.
Price looked a bit more hopeful that day, albeit sluggish. His smile was tilted as if his lips were too heavy to lift fully, his eyes were dimmed from the light you’d seen recently. You knew he was pushing past his limit, hardly sleeping and overriding his brain with too many steps in his plans.
“I’m fine,” you assured quietly, though you prayed he couldn’t see through it.
You weren’t fine at all. You felt like a vessel while your soul floated above your body and watched on as you slowly crumbled to ash. You no longer felt completely present, only forced into living from the consistent wakings for meals or check-ups.
The mess on your ribcage had blossomed into a murky pool of black, only spreading rather than weakening. The poisoned veins were like a wildfire, untamable as they slithered their way through your body and organs as if making them its collection.
You were a disastrous mess on the inside. On the outside, though you were gray and sickly with sunken bags beneath your eyes, you tried to present yourself as anything but, mustering up the strength to converse with each and every one of them when you weren’t sleeping.
It was easy for any of them to see it, though. The spark in your eyes had vanished and you resembled more of a corpse than a woman.
Price tilted his head, staring at you for a moment. His hand lifted and he brushed the back of his knuckles across your forehead, resting them there. What met him was warmth. While it would’ve been a comforting feeling, it made him more worried than anything.
“You’re still hot,” he murmured, more to himself. “Have she been like this all day?”
Soap shrugged, frowning. “She’s been asleep for half of it.”
Price glanced at Soap before sighing through his nose. “We’ve got just a couple of more hours. Think you can wait it out a bit more for me, dove?”
You nodded sluggishly. What more was another hour or two? You had already dealt with it for days. The pain wouldn’t subside regardless.
Price attempted another smile, one you couldn’t return. It pained him to see you in a state so depressing, but it wouldn’t be the last that you and his crew would go through hell. He’d seen Ghost in far too similar circumstances before.
He gave your cheek a soft squeeze, frowning to himself when even that didn’t wash away the hollow expression you wore. He felt like he was looking at the shadow of a person that once existed.
“We’ll come and collect you when it’s time,” he told you softly. You only hummed through a sigh, feeling the unfortunate taste of exhaustion once again.
Soap and the Captain shared a look before they exchanged a few quiet words you couldn’t hear. Price seemed reluctant to leave but did nonetheless, slipping the door closed with such gentleness that it didn’t dare disturb you.
Soap remained where he was, studying your every feature as you slipped back into that unforgiving dream state, unable to take his eyes off of you—not when they were so close to getting you to a healer.
He feared if he looked away for even a moment, you might just slip through his fingers.
You’d loved helping people ever since you were a child. You couldn’t remember much, but you knew for certain that you’d been that way all your life—the simple aid of carrying items for the elders in your village, helping the merchants set up for the day, caring for the younger children if they’d hurt themselves or scraped up a knee or two.
It was something you’d always known that soon developed into a bigger dream the older you got. An obsession, some would say, to the idea of being your village’s healer and curing them of their misfortunes. Medicine was a calling, and you listened to its guide, working day and night to learn and discover all new possibilities that you’d never seen before.
Yet, that love for helping others labeled you crazy. The village slowly lost their affection for you, turning their backs as if you’d never been apart of them, disgusted by the fact that a woman of your age was unmarried and childless.
You knew you were meant for more, yet the people who you’d spent your entire life becoming apart of had shunned you over your mere dreams. There was a great, big world out there to discover, but they wished to keep you confined to their little home and grant you misery for the sake of keeping tradition.
Women didn’t have dreams. They didn’t have hopes. How silly of a world was that?
You still wanted to pursue them. You had the whole world ahead of you, and you were angry that there was a possibility of it being snatched away from you, all because of one man. He was ruining the work you'd spent years prioritizing, and you'd be damned if you didn't get what you wanted.
Even as you lay, rotting away in Price’s cot, that desire never went away. It only blossomed, the need nipping at you like an aggravating tick.
It was a wonder how you hadn’t succumbed to the vile venom that Graves’ had slipped under your skin when he bashed his boot into the workings of your ribcage. How you were still alive was unfathomable, something even you didn’t understand after working for years to do so.
Was it simply will that people needed to survive? Was it determination? Or was it just you, the lucky one?
Your mind was muddled with these screaming thoughts as you remained in your unconsciousness. Yet, even asleep, you could feel your body being jolted, like somebody was slipping their arms around you and carrying you to a place unknown. You tried to wake up, but you were trapped in your own world as if needing to seek answers before escaping.
Your ears pricked at the sounds of voices. They sounded far away, muffled as if underwater, and inside your cafe of your mind, you fought to hear, to get a glimpse of your reality that you were missing out on.
“I don’t know, Cap. There are rumors swirlin’ that this woman works wonders, has the hands of the Gods workin’ with her,” a voice exclaimed. Gaz, as clever as ever. You’d know his voice anywhere.
“You speak nonsense,” another voice said. You recognized the gruffness as Price. He sounded closer than Gaz did, but you couldn’t pinpoint why. “We cannot get our hopes up over stories. She’s a medic, just as the others. We will not rely on foolishness to fuel our hope for dove’s recovery.”
You heard Gaz scoff, and you could nearly picture the tightening of his jaw and the slight downward curl of his lips—like a child pouting.
“You do not find it strange, Captain, that our dove hasn’t perished to the willingness of Graves’ curse?” Gaz asked. “Perhaps the rumors are true. Maybe this woman knew we were comin’, and that’s why dove’s held out for so long. Don’t you think a li’l extra hope is what we need?”
“We will know it when we see it,” Price retorted, clearly still unbelieving of Gaz’s claims. “I will not believe in such sorcery until it has been done to dove. What matters is healin’ her.”
“You have seen what Graves has done to others,” Gaz tried once more. “Sorcery is always possible.”
The captain didn’t reply, and you knew that meant he was stumped. You wished dearly to wake and speak with them yourself, to hear of Gaz’s story and to understand where Price is coming from. The desire to meet both their needs felt heavy, and it only grew the longer you went without it.
“Sorcery is what got us in this situation in the first place,” another voice joined in. You were surprised to hear Ghost chime in his own thoughts. It made you wonder if he spoke more when you weren’t around. “If you do not recall that, Gaz.”
You heard another scoff, one could only assume from Gaz. A tempered one, he was.
“Ever the so positive one, aye, Ghost?” Soap. There was no mistaking that heavy accent and chirpy tone.
You heard a snort, then Ghost speak, “Always.”
The world fell silent after that. If you listened close enough, you could hear the shifting of clothes and the crunch of dead leaves. You hadn’t a clue what was happening, though your best bet was that the ship had made landfall, and your path to getting healed was closer than ever.
So why did it feel like something else was beginning to unravel out of control?
BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD ♡✧( ु•⌄• ) send to the people who you think deserve it. If you break the chain, nothing will happen, but it's nice to know that someone thinks you're beautiful inside and out ❤ ( ◜◒◝ )♡
YOU 🫵🏽🫶🏽
STOP THIS IS SO CUTE IM SO SORRY I JUST NOW SAW THIS !!!!
I’m just going to slowly ignore that fact that this is very late and I totally was asleep all yesterday. That’s my excuse, angie. I SWEAR!!! Pinky swear!
Anyway! SOAP😭 I’ve said it so many times and to be fair you’re probably tired of hearing it but I love the way you write him. I can’t even begin to put the feeling into words. I’m always down for funny, a little dumb, Soap. But the way you write him is so amazing. He’s smart but funny, he’s got good humor but isn’t totally and annoyingly obnoxious. He’s obviously very strong, which wow, is very hot just so you know. Finding someone who writes Soap like you do is so hard and I’m so jealous that you can do it.
I could practically hear his heart break though :((( you can’t give ANY OF THEM happiness can you. SHE SAID ONLY GAZ AND PRICE😭😭😭😭😭😭 I COULD HEAR SOAPS HEART BREAK😭😭😭 I don’t think he’ll tell those two, either out of privacy for her or jealousy for him. But it makes me wonder if she’s even under the impression that she likes Ghost and Soap? Has she even realized it? Have they even interacted enough for her to think that she might have some type of feelings for them.
Soap was so gentle with her too. He assured her that he wouldn’t do anything untoward to her and was attempting to keep her calm when he saw just how bad the bruise was. Which makes me wonder just how bad it really is.
Nurse rant incoming: Broken ribs without treatment can be deadly. Sepsis and other types of infections can seriously hurt her. I don’t know if you’re going that way but seriously, that’s so insane. Not to mention, if he steps in certain places on her ribs, if he breaks one it could puncture whatever it was protecting. By the way you describe where the bruising is, I’d take a wild guess and say, if a kid came into my ER with that bruising, I’d immediately think that some internal bleeding and maybe a punctured pancreas could be going on but that’s also because I read how he was STEPPING on her.
BUT aside from that. John😭😭😭😭😭Price😭😭😭😭😭 He doesn’t even know why she want’s to go back home and the fact that he agreed anyways is absolutely gut wrenching. He cares so much for her and I always had faith that he truly was a good man. Take that John Price Haters😒🫵🏻 Though what does worry me is that they burned down her entire village, yes? She’s going to be heartbroken if they really do take her back to her home. Even if she’s going there to help her figure out her dream (which what the fuck?????) Her entire village and people are dead. I don’t think she’ll pull away from them but she might be heartbroken all over again.
Alsooooo, I didn’t really know how to interpret this part but is Soap now aware that she knows about him and Ghost? Did he take it as a joke? Maybe Is accidentally skipped over a very important part which probably wouldn’t be surprising. Also are all four of them already involved but we just don’t know it yet? If so you probably won’t tell me. Traitor 😒
Have the night you deserve angie, I’m coming for you. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻
hi babes 😜 fancy seeing u here like. four days late. oops.
i’m never tired of hearing it pookie, soap is just probably my favorite (besides gaz 😫) and i feel like it’s evident in the way i write him. it’s peak favoritism at its finest. he’s funny, charming, but also hot when he’s angry LORD he’s the package
love ur lil nurse rants because i genuinely wing the fuck out of injuries, especially dove’s. like. i work as a pharmacist. i deal with drugs. idk shit about injuries except how to make the boo boo feel better and obviously on a pirate ship i can’t even do that because hello, i don’t think oxy was invented yet 😭 who would just carry that around. gotta wing her medicines too that she can’t even use. damn anyway it puts things into perspective for me and i’m coming to you for health advice soon mwah
price the man u are. yeah nah she definitely gonna be hit with reality as soon as she sees that crispy ass village again but yknow what? she asked for it. plus going back is important and you’ll find out why 😚
i like to think soap knows. i kind of put it up for interpretation but let’s be honest they’re not very subtle. who leaves the door open when you’re kissing a homie. hello? not him
as for all of them being involved? four men on a ship together gets lonely. i’ll leave it at that.
Literally gonna cry if something happens to us but these past few chapters…HOLY MOLAY
Also just out of curiosity, how long do you see this series continuing for?
late to replies omg im a horrible person sorry i am TIRED and am going on to my fourth 13+ hour shift tomorrow
so i have no idea how long it’ll be, ima be honest im winging it in terms of timeline, but there’s still a lot left i’ll say that. i never expected to get this far 😭😭😭
You hated TF141. They were your rival band—born to be enemies, forced into an endless feud. They were arrogant, loud, and always took all the time slots for practice rooms in a petty move against your own band. It was a rivalry that sprouted years ago and had stuck ever since.
You hated them. They hated your band just as much. So why couldn’t you stop fucking their drummer?
You don’t even remember how it began, but you knew it stemmed from a moment of pure, unadulterated hatred. A fit of rage on your end when you discovered one of your amps mysteriously ruined, wrecking the competition for you and causing a loss. You hadn’t an idea who had done it at the time, but you knew it had to be one of the little mutants from TF141.
Ghost had been the first one in your sight, the unlucky bastard who had to hear your outraged tangent about how your band should’ve won, the entire thing was rigged. Granted, he didn’t care, only pitching an argument back on how his band won fair and square and yours didn’t have a chance at winning anyway.
You don’t exactly recall how that caused you to end up trapped beneath him on a lousy couch in a backstage room with his hand wrapped around your throat and your back arching with his hips smashing against your ass, but that was besides the point.
The point was that you were becoming shamefully addicted and no matter how much your hatred for him bubbled with every competition or battle, you always ended up sprawled out on his bedsheets, or letting him into your apartment when he called in the middle of the night.
Every time you tried ending it, telling him you despised him and how much being with him made you sick, he’d snort out an arrogant laugh and puff on that stupid cigarette of his, muttering, “I’ll believe it when I see it, sweetheart.”
It was a never ending cycle and you couldn’t break out of it. It was starting to interfere with your work, spending the nights that you weren’t stuffed full of him writing angry lyrics for new songs to express yourself in the only way you knew how. Practices became sloppy, your work becoming more difficult by the day.
He was to blame for all of it. It made you hate him more. Yet you couldn’t stop. It was the drug your veins needed to pump blood and keep you alive.
Just when you’d find yourself fed up, wanting to break the addiction and telling yourself this time would be different, he’d give you that heated look from beneath his mask while his hands slammed against his drums upon stage, as if saying that performance was for you.
You fell back into the trap every time. Every loss felt doubled, and every win felt like charity. You didn’t care anymore. You just knew you needed your fix and he’d be there waiting with the syringe.
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