Chapter one - tongue tied and oh-so-squeamish

lmaO i actually wrote this. a pirate au. with gerard as the corrupted asshole of a pirate, and frank as the scared ass teenager he kidnaps.

just a real quick note, u can guess that i get a ton of comments and may i just ask that you don't leave comments like 'same', 'lol' or 'me af' because I get at least six duplicates of these from different people every day and it's really getting old. also please don't post lyrics because i get too many comments that are literally just lyrics.

enjoy, my darling pretzels.

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"He who makes a beast of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man."

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I was eighteen when he took me. Only eighteen years old.

People would ask me, years later, if I ever missed my old life, but I could never answer. I had been engaged to Lady Emily, my father had been hopeful that I would be granted a place in the King's navy, and my education had only just finished. My old life hadn't even begun before it was over.

I remember the night it happened. Vividly. It was the night I came alive. The stars were bright, and the evening air was crisp and cool. His silhouette was clear against the backdrop of the glowing town. Clearer still as he climbed up my balcony. I watched in a strange mix of morbid fascination and consuming terror as he stepped closer to my window.

His heavy coat seemed to do nothing to weigh down his strong form, and the charcoal under his eyes and sword on his belt added further to the vicious persona the man carried. The word was on my tongue from the moment I saw him. Clinging to the inside of my mouth, too scared to come out.

Pirate.

It was like a curse word. Everyone feared the pirates. The town had tried to push down their mass fear and pretend that each attack hadn't happened, but there was no hiding it. It was a plague on our village.

My stomach was twisting and my breath was catching as he slowly turned the latch of my door. I clutched at my sheets and stared, frozen, as the door pushed open with ease. His walk was cocky, far too confident, and he crossed the room to my bed with a dirty smile on his face and his fingers brushing the pistol tucked into his belt. "Hey, sleeping beauty," he drawled. He paused, glancing me over, then nodded down at me expectantly.

I blinked in confusion. Since everyone was so secretive about the pirate attacks and kidnappings, I wasn't quite sure what the protocol was.

The man raised the gun and cocked it. "Get up, darlin'."

Oh.

Shaking, I pulled myself up. The man hummed appreciatively, his stringy black hair falling over his eyes as he glanced down to slip his gun back into its holster. "Good boy," he said, in an almost coquettish tone. I flinched. He was a man. What on earth was he doing? "Now," he said darkly. "You're going to follow me, and you're not going to run away or make a sound, or you'll end up where that little Lucy Cooper did. Got it?"

Lucy Cooper was the poor young girl found dead in the town square just weeks ago, face down with two bullet holes in the back of her head. We all knew who had done it. We all pretended it hadn't happened. I didn't want to be another case swept under the rug, so I nodded.

The man opened my drawer and grabbed a handful of whatever valuables he could find. With the gold safe in his hands, he started walking briskly down the hall, in the opposite direction of the balcony, and I followed like a little sheep, confused but in no state to question his plans. We reached the landing, and the man pulled out his gun with a sly smirk, then shot the chandelier clean off its hanging. It shattered to the floor with the shriek of breaking glass, and the remaining dim candlelight shot our reflections in all directions across the room in the fractured crystal. The pirate laughed and grabbed my wrist, tugging me with him as he climbed up onto the banister, and- to my horror- leaped down to the floor. It all seemed to happen in slow motion. I screamed. A hand clamped over my mouth. There was a crash, a splitting pain in my ankle, and arms wrapping tightly around me in a second.

I whimpered and tried to clutch at my ankle, but the man's grip was too tight on me. "Now," he breathed, his lips brushing my ear. I shivered. "I'll forgive that little scream of yours, because it was just damned rude of me to jump off there without warnin'. But any more noise and you'll be gettin' it, savvy?"

I nodded shakily, and he pulled me with him across the hallway. I tried to walk, but every step hurt my ankle. The man tugged, but I didn't follow.

"You got a deathwish, pretty boy?" he hissed.

"N-no," I said in a small voice.

"Then hurry the fuck up!"

"I- you hurt my ankle," I stuttered. "I can't walk."

He rolled his eyes. "Legs as strong as a whore, this one," he muttered sarcastically. He furrowed his brow in frustration. The sound of the staff bustling around, woken from the noise, drifted into the hallway, and my heart jumped with the hope of rescue. "Motherfuck," the pirate mumbled. "You and your stupid ankle."

"It's not my fault," I argued, rubbing my injured ankle. "You didn't have to jump off the bloody balcony just for show."

He raised his eyebrows. "Don't you sass me," he snapped.

"You get what you fucking pay for," I bit back, gaining confidence. "Or what you don't pay for, in this case."

He glared at me, seething for a few moments, and then lunged, grabbing me and hoisting me up into his arms in one swift movement. It was a massive achievement that I managed to keep from squealing. "It's fuckin' lucky for you that you're a pretty one," he growled. "Cos I'd have blown your brains out if it weren't for that."

He started to walk again, dragged down by my weight, and I suddenly noticed that he had dropped all the jewels he'd collected before in order to carry me. "You dropped all the gold," I pointed out, hoping that by the time he had turned around to collect the money, the staff would have come to help me.

But the pirate just ignored me and carried on walking.

"The gold," I repeated. "Don't you want to go and get it?"

"You're more valuable than all of that," he said darkly, and I shuddered.

Nausea flooded over me as I realised my fate. My mind raced over the options of my future. I was going to be used as currency, to be handed around by grubby fingers. I was going to be sold as a slave and be worked to death. Or worse, as a whore, for dirty bastards like the man who'd taken me.

I wanted to cry. It was taking all my strength not to. My eyes were pricking with tears and I felt weak and pathetic. I don't know what my father had been thinking, putting me in the navy. I wasn't a man. I was still a boy.

I buried my face in the man's coat to hide my face, squeezing my eyes shut and trying to ignore the smell of tobacco and rum woven deep into the fabric. I don't know how long he carried me for. I don't know how far we walked. I was tired and distressed and too scared to open my eyes, and I think I fell asleep.

When I woke up, my hands were cold from being bound tightly behind my back, and I was slumped on the floor, tied to a table leg. There was a weird, uncomfortable sense of movement about the whole room, and the muffled sound of waves lapping against a solid surface, and I guessed that I was probably on a ship.

A pirate ship. Holy shit.

Fear filled me, and my chest tightened as I heard the sound of metal soled shoes clicking on a hardwood floor. The footsteps were evenly spaced, heavy, confident. My stomach twisted into a knot and I struggled desperately against the bonds around my wrists and middle. But my attempts were futile. I slumped back against the table leg miserably.

A door swung open behind me and then slammed swiftly shut. The heavy footsteps slowed, and neared me. My eyes were fixed on the floor as the shadow of a man entered my vision. He took a step closer, and paused. I could feel his eyes burning into me.

He nudged at me with his foot, trying to get me to look up. "Why so shy, sweetheart?" His voice was deep and throaty, much tougher and less of a feminine drawl than the pirate who'd taken me here.

"I'm not shy," I muttered.

"Then brave my hideous face and look up, kiddo," the man said gruffly.

I glared at him, and he looked almost taken aback for a second, but his sea blue eyes soon returned to cold and shallow. The man was blonde, and his clothing looked richer and better made than that of the first pirate I'd seen. By the permanent sneer on his face and three swords fastened in the holsters on his belt, I made a guess that he was the captain.

"Captain Bryar," he said, nodding at me courteously.

I raised an eyebrow at the sudden politeness. "Frank," I said in turn.

"Well, 'Frank'," the captain said. "Welcome aboard the Black Freighter."

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This is just a teaser, really. I'm going to start updating this regularly as soon as May comes around. Oh, yeah, and my birthday's on the third, so y'all can start showering me with birthday wishes when that comes up.

Remember, good comments earn dedications.

Love ya, my pretzels

xoxo