#actsquad

Evie Frye, a lawyer: Deny everything

Hope & Glory

rational brain: do your exam

Loosely inspired by the Davy Jones music box in Pirates of the Caribbean, but I listened to Fireside Dance from Oz the Great and Powerful while writing this. 

Edward Kenway x fem!Reader

The morning sun rises and your heart sinks. Edward is hunched on the edge of the bed, pulling on his worn brown boots. He must depart with the high tide and time is waning. Reaching across the bed, you trace the dark sword tattooed on his spine. His muscles tense, then relax with the tender touch. It will be too long before he can feel it again. Edward looks over his shoulder. “Mornin’ darlin’,” he breathes, voice a low rasp and still thick with sleep.

“Must you leave so soon?” You ask, wrapping your arms around his middle and propping your chin upon his shoulder. Two days is too little time when he is gone for months at a time. Edward nods, turning his cheek toward you. The blue of his eyes’ rivals that of the sea and the sun paints a golden halo with his shorn locks. “Then know you take my heart with you,” you breath, squeezing him tighter.

His smile is fleeting, hand reaching back to card through your hair. “And I leave mine in your care,” he echoes. A moment passes —Edward gently pulls himself from your embrace and shuffles through the nightstand drawer, taking out a wooden box. He shifts, sitting back on the bed, facing you and motions for you to undo the bronze latch. Your gaze flicks up to him before lifting the lid, within is a small silver music box —slightly tarnished.

Sighing, you open the music box and the gentle melody reminds you of a bittersweet lullaby. You do not feel the tears on your cheeks until Edward wipes them away with the rough pads of his thumbs. “It’s beautiful,” you manage in a whisper. He smiles and leans forward, lips finding yours. One of his hands on your cheek disappears and the room is filled with an echo of the music box melody —only this one is slightly different. Pulling back, you look down, finding another music box identical to the one in your palm resting in his.

Edward cannot tarry any longer —the harsh knocking on the door comes from one of the deckhands on the Jackdaw as a reminder. He rises from the bed and you follow, straightening his shirt and helping do up the buttons on his coat. Lastly, he fixes the belt on his hips and slides the cutlass back into its holder. You follow him down to the docks and grip onto his wrist as he goes to board the ship. “Hurry back, sailor,” you tell him. His arm slips around your waist, pulling you against him for another short, sweet kiss.

Jacob: yeah!

Evie: and what was the hardest thing?