Gales of November: Part 1
Pirate!Andrew Cody x reader
Summary: You were just supposed to be ransom, the goverers daughter they took for a payout. It wasn't supposed to anything more. You weren't supposed to be someone he'd chose over his family.
Warnings: DEAD DOVE. Not everything will be tagged but there will be violence, mostly dub con but some non con, all kinds of dark fic. If it helps, things will not be as horrific as Rooms on Fire, The Wrong Way, or Our Gentle Sins. However, I'm not detailing every warning. If it happens on Animal Kingdom it can happen here.
A/n: A new series! Sorry to the Langdon series I started but this has my heart.
Dividers by @rmstitanics
Sunrise, just barely. Servants would be up, but no one would pay much attention to you- they were trained to mind their own, to be seen as little as possible. Besides, they liked you. They wouldnβt snitch unless they were prodded. When you creak open the door to your room, you look out to see Reyansh sleeping at his station. You canβt help but smile at that. So much for personal guard.Β
Youβd be quick, back before he or anyone else were up in the sleepy beach town, before anyone could miss you.
Itβs easier to sneak down the halls without shoes clacking on the cobble floors, and soon enough youβre peaking out to your cove. Bare feet run down the small rocky steam, and your heart picks up, ready to be in the ocean again.
βItβs unlady-like," your father had told you repeatedly after youβd grown up. He had been okay with you swimming with your mother as you learned to βfor safetyβ had been the reasoning. Leaving on an oceanside town meant many a woman had fallen in the water with piles of skirts around her legs, unable to swim up. Youβd been permitted monitored swims with coaches and ladies maids monitoring so that should you find yourself in such an occasion, you were strong enough to survive, at least until help. Youβd tried to reason that perhaps tight corsets and layers of skirts simply werenβt practical for a town that felt half-docks, but he did seem to care. At least it gave you reason to swim.Β
Still, monitored laps were not enough for you. The freedom of the ocean could not be constrained by buoys and ropes so you sometimes snuck out to the cove nearby the tower you slept in. It was at the edge of the manor, only place that saw it regularly was the window of your bedroom. Youβd chosen the tower for privacy and a view of the vast ocean spreading out, and the cove you used to swim with your mother.Β
As soon as your feet dip into the salty blue, you feel a sense of home, like your anxieties, conflicts with father, missing your mother, the looming prospect of marriage to the stuffy nobleman Langdon who was courting you that wanted to take you away, somewhere inland away from the water. All that was washed away as you waded in your under clothing, the locket you never parted with falling on your bosom.
"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" The sound of strangers' voices snaps you out of your daydreams, blood running cold in the warm summer heat. You weren't supposed to be out here, you weren't supposed to be in the water unsupervised... but you'd thought a quick morning dip wouldn't hurt.
"Looks like a little mermaid washed up on shore."
The waves crash around where the bloomers were bunched at your ankles, making you fully aware of your near-nakedness.
"Please don't tell father!" You beg, eyeing the dress you'd tossed over a large boulder. "Please, he's going to be so cross."
The two men glanced at each other, brows furrowing, then back to you.
"Don't you worry, I think by the end he'll just be happy to see you're... safe."
You watched the two, one quiet with long auburn curls; the other had short, straight hair and harsher features. Both were dressed oddly for guardsmen, but perhaps they'd dressed lighter incase they'd had to fetch you from the water. Their clothing was tattered and patched, and for a moment you'd wondered what the working conditions and pay were for employees of the mansion.
But then you took a step back. Then another. These men weren't your guard.
"Let me go... no harm will come to you if you just let me go, I promise it."
The quiet one spoke. "We don't want to kill you. Behave, and this can be over quick."
You considered your options. Two of them against you. It was not good odds. What you did have, however, was a mother that had taught you to swim from an early age before she passed. "Alright, just... let me grab my dress. Please, spare me the dignity..."
Neither said anything, but when you took a step towards the boulder, you quickly diverted into the water, running as long as you could and then diving into the waves.
"ANDREW!"
That was all you heard before you began swimming, a mad dash to get as far away from them as possible. Surely if you got out far enough, a fishing boat would come to your rescue, or a guard at the towers would spot you away from your secret cove.
You weren't sure how long you were swimming0 it couldn't have been long- before a strong arm wrapped around you.
"NO!" You scream, trying to push off him. "GET OFF ME! UNHAND ME!"
But it was useless. As strong a swimmer as you were, it was no match the the man pulling you to shore.
The man with straight hair instructed the other to hold you up, and that's the last thing you remember before a fist collided with the side of your head.
As soon as you were knocked out, you folded over where Baz had bent down. He easily maneuvered you over his shoulder, picking up the dead weight of your body and troding off to where the row-boat was hidden.
"I fucking hate when they scream" He grumbles, whipping droplets of sea spray from his forehead.
Andrew followed after, clothing soaked to all he'll and water dripping down his curls onto his neck. He hated the feeling of wet hair on his neck, but his mother insisted he keep it long. She said he looked the most handsome like that. Andrew grabbed your dress from where it lay in the sun, holding it above his head to keep it dry and he waded out to the boat.
Jeanine was going to be very pleased with them after this one.
When Baz laid your unconscious body on the floor of the boat, Deran was already pulling the anchor and Craig was sailing off. He wasnβt gentle, and he took a moment to squeeze your breasts and slide a hand down your sides while he was still crouched down.
βJesus, Baz, canβt keep your hands to yourself for five fucking minutes.β Andrew groans.
βOh, youβre somehow the chastity police now? I saw you up inside that blonde whore last time we docked.β
βWe need her intact,βΒ
Baz rolled his eyes, standing up as Jeanine walked out from her captain's quarters. βCalm down, I wonβt fuck that part up. Canβt blame me for coping a feel- sheβs drenched and in white. You can see her nipples.β
Andrew did notice that, he noticed that the entire time he rowed back to the boat.
It was Jeanine that spoke now, walking up to her sons and looking down at the young woman sheβd instructed them to take with disdain. Women younger than her always drew resentment. βYou better not. You boys can have your fun other ways but if I find out sheβs deflowered, I will turn you over to the girl's father with her. See how they take to that.β She turned to Andrew. βSheβll be staying with you, her home away from home.β
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. βWhat? Why does she have to stay with me?β
βDonβt sound like such a fucking child, Andrew. Deran, J and Craig already share a room.β
βWhy not Baz? You know I fucking hate people in my room.β No one ever came in his room. Andrew liked things just so.Β
Jeanine scoffs at that. βHa! If I stuck a pretty young thing in his room heβd be breaking her open before sunrise. And we canβt have her out here, we canβt have her getting sick or god forbid, planning to make her own sailors' funeral in the sea.βΒ She turned on a heal. βTake care of it.β
A boat. You were on a fucking boat. When you woke up, that was the first thing you thought. You werenβt stupid, you knew what the rocking of a boat felt like and the sound of the ocean. You were taken on a boat by pirates and now they are going to do god knows what to you.Β
So now you found yourself on the other side of the railing, nothing between you and the Ocean but your fear.
βYou trying to fly away, little bird? You canβt be that fucking stupid, can you?β A gravely voice sounding a few yards away speaks to you, and you have to grasp the railing to prevent yourself from falling in. βYouβll die. Little birdie has her wings clipped.β
But you donβt look at him. βIβm a strong swimmer.β
βYeah, I remember. You swam what, two feet before I caught you? Real strong.β
That pissed you off, and you turn around just enough to glare at him. βI was just getting going. I can swim, and a long fucking time.β
He raises his hands in mock defense, you swear you see a little smirk on his face. He was riling you up, trying to get a reaction. This was a joke to him. The thing of nightmares for every woman and girl in a sea-side town and it was a joke to him.Β
βAlright, my apologies, madam.β His face remained impassive despite the slight sarcasm in his voice at the honorific. βWhat is your plan, if itβs not to fly?β
You turn back to the sea, rocking along with the boat as it crashed into the waves. βIt isnβt even noon yet. The sun isnβt overhead. I got out after sunrise, which means factoring in the time it took to take me to what I assume would be a row boat, then to row out to wherever your ship was hiding as to not be caught by the Navy which Iβm sure was somewhere quite far, I would assume weβve only been sailing for a few hours.β
βAnd what, you think you can swim that long?β He sounds closer now.
βMaybe. Iβm not in anything heavy so I can float when I need to rest. Itβs better than staying here and enduring this.β
The floor creaked, and youβre sure heβs getting closer. You have to make a choice soon. βAnd just what do you think is waiting for you on this boat?β
βRape and torture, I assume. Youβll have your way with me then maybe try to return me to my father for ransom. Or maybe just kill me and put my body on a pike somewhere as a warning.β
βQuick the imagination there, Birdie. Might have to use that pike bit. But I can quell some of your fears.β
When you turn around, heβs right next to you but make no move to grab you. He simply stands looking out into the ocean with his hands behind his back. Impeccable posture. He was like a noble man, if it werenβt for the tattered clothing and scars on his face and arms. Wet curls stuck to his face.
βGo one then, I donβt have all day.β
He actually smiled briefly at that, as stoic as he stood. βWe donβt want to torture you, and certainly donβt want you on a pike.β He turns to you, raising an eyebrow in warning. βUnless you cause us problems, of course.β Back to the sea. βBut no, we donβt want you hurt. We get more money if you come back unharmed.β
βAnd the rape? You just glossed over that.β
βQuite a mouth on you, for a governor's daughter.β He stretched his neck around, rolling his shoulders expressing discomfort. βNot quite rape.β
You balk at the audacity. βNot quite? My, that sure is comforting, sir.β
Finally, his face snaps to yours and you look right into his eyes and you see one is brown, but the eye that was faced away from you, you notice now a scar running from the top of his brow to his cheek bone. That eye is white. He leans in. βHave you ever pleasured a man with your mouth, princess?β
βI should slap you.β It doesnβt have the bite you want it to have, your voice wavering.
βYouβd have to let go of the railing, and then youβd have to work with your idiotic swimming plan.β Heβs being mean now, mocking you. βBut I donβt think youβre stupid enough for that. Stupid, but not that stupid.β
βAnd what makes you say that?β
He leans in, voice straining in the whisper against your ear that sends shivers down your spine. βBecause sharks smell blood.β
βWhat are you-β but before you can answer, sharp pain stings your arms. You scream out, barely managing to grip the railings still as he pulls the knife out of your shoulder. Blood drips down your arm, splatting on your white dress. You can see droplets falling down into the water, probably attracting sharks as he speaks.
βIt will heal. Nothing vital.β He says, all too calm as he sheaths the knife in his boot again. βWell, birdie, have you decided not to fly?β
βFUCK YOU!β
βNo. But I might get use out of your dirty mouth. Now come over to this side before I make you shark bait.β
Tears spill over, and you realize thereβs no going back. You couldnβt swim without being eaten alive. βI- I donβt know how to get back over without falling.β
The man sighs like this is an inconvenience to him. βCome on.β When he reaches, a rough wave crashes against the boat, rocking it and knocking you out of balance. As you open your mouth to scream, hands slipping from the railing, one strong arm is wrapped around you. Your feet, still bare, dangle over the edge and a drop of blood falls past.
βCβmere, I got you.β He steadies your footing first, hand grazing just under your breast perhaps a little too long than proper, then his hands wrap around your waist. Only the thin, wet underclothing was between his skin and yours- he felt warm, but you were sure it was just because you were in damp clothing. He lifts you up and over the railing, planting you down on the floor like it was nothing. Then you slap him.
The man doesnβt even blink. βAre you done?β
That was not the reaction you were used to receiving when you slapped a man whoβd gotten a little too forward. You hold your chin up high. βI suppose I am.β
βGood.β He reaches for white linen draped over a few boxes and tosses it into your hand. Your dress. βI'm Andrew. I guess weβre stuck with each other.β
THANK YOU SOOOOO MUCH FOR READING
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