#invxne

Eleanor knows before she opens her eyes that last night had been a bad, bad idea. Her head is aching fit to split, and the bile rising up in her throat tells her she’d better find a bathroom, and quickly.

Break ups were always unpleasant, but none more so when she still had to see the goddamned son of a bitch. He’d had the audacity to show up at her bar. She couldn’t very well kick him out in full view of the other customers and employees lest she be viewed as unable to separate work from her personal life- he was after all, a paying customer.

With every smirk he’d thrown her way, every smouldering gaze that made her even briefly reconsider the state of their relationship, she’d drunk. Shot after shot, glass after glass. She knew she could have turned around and walked away, into her office or out the door, but for some reason she hadn’t been able to tear herself away. It was almost as if he’d cast some spell on her.

With that last thought, Eleanor stumbles out of bed, just making it to the porcelain bowl before emptying the wretched contents of her stomach. Slumping against the cool floor, a few things become quickly apparent: one, she is naked. Two, she was lying next to a man. Three, there is a ring on her finger.

“Fuck,” she whispers, eyes widening in horror as her stomach churns again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Pushing herself up from the floor, she practically trips over her feet in her haste to get back to the bed.

Sure enough, he’s lying there, looking for all the world like a fat, smug cat. She doesn’t know what to do or how to wake him up, so she simply yells.

Continued: [x]  |  @invxne

[Text: Reckless Captain] Because sometimes, Chas, your ideas verge on the borders of insanity and I do like to prepare myself for the inevitable potential they have to fall into murky grounds that often end up with me having the procure bail money. 

[Text: Reckless Captain] Our rooftop? How the fuck am I supposed to get up there? 

Send me ‘💍’ for our muses to wake up married after a night of heavy drinking

@invxne​

Anne groaned as she woke, her head pounding and the room around her beginning to spin as she attempted to sit up, her thoughts jumbling with the incoming wave of nausea that was threatening to have her sprawling out of bed and straight out to the bathroom. She could feel the heat radiating off of the man next to her, knowing that it must be none other than Charles Vane, human radiator extraordinaire, and a fleeting thought was spent wondering what exactly had happened to their dear ally and lover Jack, who was normally the one lying between the two of them, limbs casually splayed over both of their forms. Last night had been a busy one, she knew that much from the state of her head the following morning, but she had very little memory of what had occurred, or the current whereabouts of their dear Jack. 

After a moment of internal debate, Anne came to the conclusion that she really did need to run to the bathroom if she didn’t want to add an interesting stain to the boys’ black bed sheets, even if it was less likely to show up on the dark fabric. Darting from the room and practically collapsing before the toilet, Anne hardly had time to register anything as she retched up what little remained in her stomach from the previous night. It wasn’t until she could finally pull herself away and the room had stopped spinning that Anne realised something was wrong. As she’d moved her hand, there had been a strange tapping noise on the side of the toilet, and something had caught the light for just a second. Anne looked down at her hand with a sort of morbid curiosity, her insides turning to ice as reality began to dawn on her. 

Muttering an almost silent prayer to every god she knew, Anne crept back in to the room where Charles was still sleeping, tugging ever so gently at the sheets around him to reveal his left hand, horrified to see a ring on his fourth finger. 

Fuck. 

Send me ‘💍’ for our muses to wake up married after a night of heavy drinking  |  Accepting

A soft sigh passed over Jack’s lips as he stirred, discontent with the sunlight streaming through the blinds, forcing him to join the waking world. His head rang with the effects of the previous night’s liquor and he could feel bruises where he had undoubtedly fallen over at some point during the evening. Shifting closer to the warmth at his side, he nestled lazily against his long term boyfriend, grateful for the weight of his arm over his body, holding him securely. The weekend away had been Anne’s idea, partially as she wanted some time alone with Max and Mary, but mainly because she had tired of Jack’s constant lamenting on his lack of quality time with Charles. 

For a while he was content to tuck into Charles’ side and bask in his warmth, but eventually he tired of the quiet and shifted to tangle his fingers in his lover’s hair, intending to drag his fingers through gently and coax the other man gently to wake. However, instead of a usually smooth glide of unadorned fingers, he found the hair catching and his movements stilling before he yanked a chunk of hair out. Carefully, he teased his fingers out of Charles’ hair, only to spot the wedding band on his finger. Swiftly his head jerked to inspect Charles’ hand, spotting a similar glint of metal and inhaling sharply. 

Sitting upright in the bed, he let the covers pull around his waist, dislodging Charles’ arm, and examined his ring more closely. “Must have been quite the spectacle last night no doubt. Though why we would do such a thing without Anne being present begs the question as to just how entirely fucked we were last night… she shall desire to skin us alive that’s for sure…” Turning to glance at Charles, who seemed to still be somewhere between waking and sleeping, he shoved at his shoulder and put on a sheepish smile. 

@invxne​

The development was unexpected to say the least, and yet in retrospective, one that should not have been entirely unforeseen. Eleanor Guthrie had admitted to crossing Charles Vane in order to further their cause, and Flint had witnessed a stubborn reprisal of his fellow captain before. 

So perhaps he should have anticipated some manner of strike against the man-o-war, truly — and yet having the man himself show his face in the Charles Town square? That, he cannot readily say he saw coming.

He voiced as much once they rowed away on the jetty, canon fire whistling over the top of their heads. He snorted at the other’s response, but where there would normally be the likes of passion and temper boiling over, there was instead a defeated sort of annoyance now coloring his voice. 

          “For prolonging the inevitable?”

Send 📱 for five texts my muse didn’t send yours, and one that they did  |  @invxne  

[Text: Chaz] Give up on Eleanor Guthrie. She’s only leading you down the fucking garden path and there’s only so many more times I can pat your shoulder sympathetically and then watch you head back to her even if it is for the leads she provides [DELETED] 

[Text: Chaz] I’m fucking glad you’re done with her. Don’t like this distance between us though… feels like you’re ready to leave. To go somewhere, without me. [DELETED] 

[Text: Chaz] You just fucking left. Upped and left. You could have at least said goodbye you fucking… does our friendship really mean so little that you could not bring to at least grant me notice that you might not be around. Or did you think me to be too obtuse to understand why you had to leave. [DELETED] 

[Text: Chaz] If you’re fucking done with me would it be so audacious to verbalise that. I know words to you are something to be used few and far between, but really, you could simply apply your usual three in a tone of finality and I would have understood, loud and fucking clear. [DELETED] 

[Text: Chaz] What the fuck has happened to us? Never thought we’d be sitting on opposing sides. But then I suppose my part in ousting the quite frankly abject low life in your old crew was too much for you to forgive. But you were not here to handle it so what else was I to do.  [DELETED] 

—

Continued: [x]  |  @invxne

Waiting for the penny to drop with Charles was an anxious experience, though truthfully Jack knew better than to expect his partner to have anything near the reaction he feared, mostly in part due to the fact that to summon such a wealth of emotion was beyond Charles’ capabilities at this hour after a heavy night out. “Not a fucking clue, but apparently drunk enough to make some serious decisions...” he murmured to the question, glimpsing at the ring on Charles’finger, before turning his gaze back to his own. 

The arm around his shoulders drew him from his thoughts, and he rolled his eyes at the request the other made of him, sighing with fond exasperation. “Alright, but only because I need to get up and pace...” he murmured, short on words, if only because all his thoughts were occupied with the wedding he couldn’t recall. Twisting, he brushed his lips across Charles’ cheek, before slipping from the warmth of the sheets and retrieving a shirt from the floor, realising soon after it was his partner’s. 

Continued: [x]  |  @invxne

Fierce anger burned in Jack’s chest at the manner in which he had been dismissed so quickly from Charles’ thoughts and bed, furious that the other man found it so easy to let him go as though all they had endured as friends, crew and bedmates had meant nothing to him. But beyond that, he felt anger towards himself at the way he knew he would still go crawling back to Charles, to serve as his quartermaster because no other fucking captain on the shores of Nassau could hope to offer him what Charles had all those years ago.

Avoiding his usual haunts, Jack passed into the brothel only to retrieve several bottles of drink, before heading to The Wrecks, knowing that the only men there that might disturb him were those with their minds too addled by substance to cause him any real harm in the daylight. Come nightfall it would be wise for him to vacate or join in with their activities, but while the sun shone above he was safe enough.