Lost at Sea, a league of legends fanfic

I did this because I thought that I really needed to write a better MF story and I'm not feeling shitty

Enjoy

Lost at Sea

The bottle hung loosely in her fingertips, the red nails biting down into the orange glowing bottle. Candles barely lit the room but the dull glass bottle caught them stupendously. Like cruel irony the warm glow didn't catch her. No. The brilliant white light that had lost her the battle shone down upon her. She would never escape it or forget it now. She looked at the little liquid left in the bottle, seeing the waves in which she was clinging onto life with. It drowned her and saved her at the same time. It threatened to kill her, to do something reckless, even more than she already had done so. There was no relief from this despair she decided but her hand gripped the bottle all the more tightly. No relief at all. It had not even been him. She had hunted, and hunted, and hunted. She who was feared, she who had become, she who had won. But that pale light, that radiant light. It had cost her everything. She knew how to win against them, she was sure of it. She had needed no help. She did not need help to survive. Damn to all of them. Damn to them all.

When the clouds came in the crew started to despair. She remained steadfast despite feeling the pressure coming from the men surrounding her. They all turned to her, the she-devil of Bilgewater, blessed with his hair. She said nothing to them and did not meet a single eye. She simply looked forwards into the abyss of clouds, the white light illuminating the ship as well as the burning sun. They knew what was going to happen. It didn't make any of them less scared and now it was their turn. They had no choice. It was either that or give up their life in Bilgewater. And these scum? Go somewhere else? What choice did they have? They silently went back to their duties. One man started a sea shanty. He was alone singing it and remained alone singing it. Every man did something, drink, talk, stamp, watch, climb, walk, preach or mutter. She did nothing but stare ahead. They all waited, prepped, alert, focused. But it most likely still would not be enough. They all knew that. Even her. But to defend the place they called home, they went forwards.

Three stamps. By the entire crew, all at the same time. All men in unison.

Thud.

The Harrowing had come.

Relief. Relief. She craved for relief. This bottle was useless. She had gotten used to it. It wasn't the same anymore. She needed something fresh. Something new. Something that would break her. So she didn't have to do it herself. She couldn't give in though her entire body shook. She couldn't blink though her eyes were wet. All she needed was a damn drink to break her. She couldn't let herself break. But a drink? Ah now that was an excuse. She could cry, swear and thrash out as much as she liked if she was drunk. Let herself break though? Not the she-devil. She with the blood red hair. No. Not her.

She swilled the remains of the bottle around and watched every wave and ripple appear in the whirlpool where hops and yeast came to die in a frothy mess. She raised it to her blood red lips and allowed the liquid to stream down her throat. The bubbles hit the back of her throat and she coughed, dropping the bottle. It bounced off the floor and rolled away as she punched her own chest, the pain sparking emotions inside of her she didn't want to feel. She calmed her breathing and glared at the bottle. Another enemy to her now. No more drink. But if not for drink, then what? What would give her the relief she needed? Relief from this pain from screaming out, from breaking down another door.

She pushed herself up from the wooden worktop, dragged her feet along the floor and out of the room. Her hair fell around her, slopping against her shoulders. Argh. Not that shoulder. Why the same place. Why. Not that shoulder. The pain stung hard as it came flooding back to her, unable to ignore it any longer. Tears started forming at the edges of her vision but she didn't let them fall and add to the trail of water that she was leaving behind her. She didn't grip it, or try to close the wound. It would close on its own, she knew that. The new bullet had gone, only the original still remained in her. The one that had defined her. She never wanted to be shot there again but she had been. Again she had lost everything. She wasn't even sure though she wanted to climb back up a third time.

She winked out candles on her way past to her room. The housekeeper the owner employed was nice enough to believe that she'd be coming home tonight and had lit all the candles in her room. God she was a fool to have such hope. Or maybe she just didn't care. Sarah didn't. Not now. She had done this before. And for now, she was prepared to wallow in it. Just for a while. Not like last time. Last time she had ignored it, let it fester. It changed her to what she was now. And where had that gotten her? Right here. That's where. No crew, no ship, no life. Not even a nemesis to go after.

Sarah Fortune stood in the doorway to her bedroom looking down at the red sheets that matched her hair so well. It had been her theme. The she-devil. Was she wrong to be that? No. She was right. She had always been right. Just… not completely right. She was soaking wet. Her hair stuck to her face and body, long and thick. Her clothes stuck to her body, the white button shirt flaunting off her chest, pushing up her ample cleavage as the top three buttons lay open baring the succulent wet skin. The black leather trousers stuck to her legs, her ass practically swallowing the material as it carved out her butt's perfect form. The heavy brown belt sat tightly inbetween her waist and hips, holding everything together. She slammed the door behind her and grasped the clasp of the belt unbuckling it. It dropped to the floor with a heavy thud. She would pick it up later. She slammed the door behind her to announce to everyone else in the place she was back. It didn't matter. It was empty. The rooms here held sailors and many wouldn't turn up until morning. Whether in the water or out didn't matter. They all arrived back at Bilgewater's Slaughter Docks.

Her shoes slipped off her feet easily as they dumped their water onto the floor. She stared at the bed and slowly collapsed down upon it. Her waterlogged form seeped into the sheets and assumed warmth filled her but the spell was broken soon enough. Her hands ran over her body as her mind swam in despair, coming up to her breasts and clutching them comfortingly.

Oh she knew what she wanted for relief.

They say fortune favours the bold. It quite literally did this time round.

Confidence was sexy, but confidence in the face of confidence was even better. It meant it wasn't a front. It was the real thing. This boy believed in himself and no matter what she said otherwise would stop him. Talking him down wasn't going to do it anymore, neither was flaunting that she was the captain, the Sarah Fortune of Bilgewater. The kid was gonna do whatever the hell he wanted. She liked people like that, she wished she had more of them on her crew. Made it more interesting, especially if they thought about mutiny.

She had called him The Kid. He was by far the oldest and most experienced of her crew but soon the name stuck, so it stuck. He was older than her and he looked it though apparently it wasn't that big a difference. Gramps was often used whenever the rest of the crew was messing around with him. It had soon been stamped out by The Kid himself even though Sarah saw it as a compliment. Being old in Bilgewater was weird. Nobody there survived long unless you made it to the top.

And sure he was a few years older than Sarah but still, maybe he had wished for youthful looks. His hair was already tinging grey. She liked that a lot. So he was known to the entire crew as simply The Kid. His real name was Walker though and she only knew that from when he had signed the papers saying he would work for her.

The bar they sat in was closed to all but her crew after hours. A personal "Favour" to her as she lorded over the owner of the bar after she had saved it from going down from the Black Kregs. It was just another gang she had been hunting down but being able to milk the thanks of the owner had just made it all the sweeter. She now owned him and his ass. Too many of the barrels beneath his bar were filled with stashed goods of hers that she had stolen. She licked her lips as she thought about it. Fair's fair in a world of thieves and pirates.

Her mind swam as the alcohol got to her. It was always better drinking with her crew, the bastards they were. At least here if anyone was going to stab her she at least knew who they were. Didn't do you any good not knowing who was attacking you. Betrayal made everything so much easier to process. She learned forwards on the table as she downed the last of her drink. Her breasts felt painful, she looked down and spilled the last of the bottle on them as her mouth became disconnected from it. She was pressing her ample orbs into the table, unable to keep herself up. She pushed herself back up, shook her head making her hair fly out and buttoning up her top, hoping the crew hadn't seen her.

Walker had noticed it and downed his drink, the froth getting in his grey moustache. It had gone first. Cursed for an eternity he had always said. Never good at anything other than knowing how much he didn't know. And he didn't know a lot of things. That and the grey hair. Suddenly he stood up, crossed the table, grabbed her arm and surprised her by knowing something she thought he didn't know.

"Hey," He whispered in her ear, his head in her red hair as he pulled her up. "I want you, and I know you want me. Go up to your room. I'll meet you up there."

He smiled at her and squeezed her ass. She held in the gasp as she glowered at him, emotions rushing through her. If anyone saw that she was going to kill him, but the fact that he had done that in such a dangerous place… She breathed in deeply, looked down at him with the simple look of 'Do it again and I kill you' and walked unsteadily towards the stairs.

Her stomach went on spin cycle with emotions that shouldn't be mixed without a catcher.

Fortune favours the bold…

They came screaming.

It was terrifying to all. Sarah only stopped herself from shaking by gripping the wheel tightly, her entire face set into a snare. She knew that they were stronger than them, the material her ship was made from easily outclassed the ships of the damned so the initial tactic went well. She sank three ships simply by ramming them. Their hulls had creaked and groaned, snapping and splintering under the weight of her ship. But then the dead never really cared about what they had. They only care about what they can take.

Even from the ships that were falling apart the damned jumped. Hooks went flying, shots were fired, explosives thrown. It was a rush to remove all the hooks as quickly as they could whilst fighting those that had crossed the distance in a single bound. The body when freed from its natural limitations of the mind was an insanely powerful machine. Her men fought well. It only took two hits from gun or sword to drop them but those that weren't fast enough to take out whatever was in front of them were quickly torn apart. Limbs went flying as rusted swords were bared and very human strength took care of the rest. The air was filled with orange lanterns from ships and the pale white light of the Harrowing's Moon. The other ships weren't having much luck, every so often you saw an orange light through the clouds wink out of existence. Sarah's teeth hurt as she gritted them harder with every one that disappeared.

Then it appeared in front of them.

The clouds moved aside and suddenly the entire battlefield was open to them. Sights of flaming ships half sunken filled her vision as their ship could see everything around them. She looked up. It was the magical field of Radiance Ethereal. The flagship of the Harrowing. Its pastel grey colour was stark against the black background of the night. But more importantly to Sarah. It was fully intact.

"Prepare the barrels!" She shouted immediately to her crew.

Few had ever survived a meeting with Ethereal, even less had come back with a ship intact. The son of a bitch Gangplank had done it, so now it was her turn. She looked down at the ropes surrounding the barrels and the men holding onto those ropes. Walker gave her the thumbs up. She looked up, steeling herself against the dread that bore down upon them.

Here she would become.

Walker closed the door behind him lightly illuminated by the candles. Deep shadows were set into him as he walked closer, and closer, and closer. She could hold herself no longer.

Sarah threw herself upon him, her mouth easily finding his. She smothered his mouth with her in a drunk attempt to show she was in charge but she knew she wouldn't be soon. The bristles against her lips felt so good and then the roughness of his tongue against her as it slipped into her mouth. She groaned as he grabbed her ass again and picked her up with no problem making her feel extremely light, not just light headed.

They fell down onto the bed together, Walker on top of her. Her fingers tried and failed to get his shirt open to see the body she had seen so many times before. But now she didn't have to hold back on touching him. He unbuttoned the white shirt and allowed it to slowly slide off his body, teasing her in the little ways he could for the bulkier man that he was. He was taller than her by at least 6 inches which she had only managed to defeat with heels and the captain's hat. Muscle bristled as she ran her fingers over every contour that she could. The hard flesh felt so good and she raked her nails across it, getting a welcome growl from Walker. His hard body against her soft body. And he got right to it. His fingers quickly went to her white shirt and started unbuttoning her top. Her breasts popped free as he unbuttoned her and pulled off the shift above her head, her arms high above her head as she lay back down. She wiggled her breasts as him teasingly. Take what you want kid.

The breasts for him though were only a distraction she quickly realised as his hands slid their way down her black leather trousers. Whilst she panted at his talented tongue, his hands managed to unbuckle her belt completely needless of sight. Her eyes flew open as she suddenly felt her legs exposed to the cool night air and a hand possessively claiming her crotch, plucking away any defence she had and the black panties that went with the trousers. Unable to contain it any longer her throat let out a moan as his fingers started working the pumps down inside her satin curtains, his mouth slowly working its way down her body towards the ultimate prize. She heard a "Thunk" as she realised he had also discarded the bottom half of his clothing but was soon brought back into not giving a damn as she felt his mouth come into contact with her pussy.

All the air in her lungs disappeared as his tongue went forth, but even better his moustache bristled against her clit. Her body jerked as pleasure flew through her, sweat starting to form on her head as the heat within her rose further and further towards the dangerous spectrum. She felt the pressure within her rise even more as she crossed her legs around his head to force him down further. Her breasts itched as they realised they were unattended and she cupped them, her fingers unable to completely surround them. Her mouth let out a steady stream of cries as he fingers pinched and squeezed the pink buds at the ends of her orbs of flesh. She suddenly felt like sucking her own breasts and seeing what sweet nectar she herself produced. Her mind lost itself to ecstasy.

Now this she could get used to.

She growled at him as he managed to get out of her leg lock and disengage himself from the furnace between her legs. She almost kicked him but she noticed his hand around his cock. She had seen it many times before as men changing on the ship wasn't exactly a rare sight. But to see it at full mast, hard and red and pulsating. Arteries ran along it, throbbing with the blood it was engorging itself in. Holy shit she wanted it.

She wanted it now.

And she got it. Sarah plunged her fingers into her pussy as she moaned loudly, the memories flooding her. Pleasure wracked her body as she twisted and turned, unable to make herself look away from her mind's eye. One finger wasn't enough, two was getting there but finally three made it work. She panted into the pillows as she hated herself, tears spilling out from her eyes. Pleasure and pressure built up within her as she rolled around in the sheets, her fingers plunging in and out at breakneck speed in some effort to distract herself. Her breasts squished under her fingers and sat unattended too as she tweaked her own nipples. The sponge-like breasts cushioned her uselessly between her and the bed as she turned over and heaved her jiggling butt up into the air, her free hand spanking herself. The pain made her tingle and she slapped again, harder. The feeling was coming back, just this momentary fleeting feeling filled her. It felt so good.

She could punish herself, cry, self-pleasure and forget it all in the same night.

Something she didn't deserve. It was too good for her.

The men span round and flung each barrel in turn towards the ship. If they got it on, it was just a simple matter of her shooting the barrel and it would explode. And boy did they explode. 3 out of the 9 thrown actually landed on the deck of the Ethereal. Flames went up all over the ship as screeching enemies jumped off the boat from the explosion but landed straight onto hers. The men immediately went to the defence of the barrel throwers, cutting all of those down in the renewed vigour that they were doing damage to the Ethereal. The screeches from the enemy hadn't been to scare them, they had been in pain. And everyone, not just pirates, can easily tell the difference.

Sarah laughed at the Ethereal tried to outrun her smaller ship in an effort to get the cannons trained on them. She never gave them the chance, sailing right in front of the Ethereal out of their cannon's line of fire. She watched as the commander that had been up on top came down to the very front of the ship to look at her.

The ghost that stood there did not show any emotion. Sarah doubted they had any other than the craving for life. But this one looked different. There was life behind those eyes, but it chose not to display anything. Or maybe it couldn't? It had no bearing on it, no hat, and no holster.

Wait.

That wasn't the captain.

She watched in full dread as the ghoul pulled out a spear that had been stuck in her back. The ghoul captain appeared next to her and pulled the pistol from his holster and aimed it at her. Immediately she knew what was going to happen. She shouted at her crew to run from the barrels, throw them away, anything! Get rid of the barrels!

Walker turned, hearing her over the cannon fire of the battle.

The pistol fired.

The spear pierced the barrel.

She moaned loudly as Walker pounded her into the bed, his hands around her wrists arms above her head stretching her out. Pleasure made her spasm as her breasts bounced with every slam into her. His big meaty dick disappeared inside her again and again and again. She watched, completely sober by now, as their hips met, her legs doing the splits, and slopping sounds filled the room. Walker grunted and moaned with her as she felt him shake from the pleasure and the brutal slamming he was giving her.

Her mouth hung open as every moan, gasp, pant, mewl came out in a stream as she called his name over and over and over again. He called out her name with her as sweat dripped off his body and onto her. She could feel him building up along with hers. But she was getting there quicker. The alcohol was probably helping as she locked her legs around his hips and pulled him into her. She pressed her body up against his, her soft form meshing against his hard form. Her mouth went to his neck, teeth bared. Her ass swung in motion with his thrusts, pushing him deeper, clashing in the middle.

"Finish in me," She panted in his ear.

Sarah moaned loudly as she came. Her pussy spewed out her juices, all of them running down her legs and onto the bed as her eyes dropped all of her tears into a different puddle on the bed. She moaned into the pillows, despair filling her. She broke. Sobs echoed through the room as she clutched the pillow she was crying into. She didn't want this. She wanted something more. Something better. Isn't that what she had been trying for? Why did this have to happen again?

Why did she have to climb again? She had already been at the top.

Sarah clung to the flotsam as the battle raged around her, struggling to stay afloat. The Ethereal turned away from the wreckage of her boat. She pulled out her pistol and pulled the trigger in some hopeless attempt. The gunpowder was wet. Shit. Fuck. CRAP. The sounds of the battle seemed to become less as she floated. She watched as lights winked out of existence, signalling the sinking of Bilgewater's ships. She wanted to know no more of this. Her legs went into automatic and she started kicking towards Bilgewater, her mind not registering emotions. Just the fact it would be surprising to find a sailor walk out of the water. A female made it even more surprising probably, the sexist bastards. She could now only hear her kicks and the splashing of the waves. And something whirring. Like… as if something was cutting through air.

The Ethereal jerked. That wasn't something that was really possible for something in water and dictated by the rules of buoyancy should usually do. It jerked across the water, making a massive wave suddenly appear. Then the sound of what happened came. It sounded like a gong that had been thrown at wood. She watched as out of the darkness the two fiery lights of pure red was filled out by the rest of the gigantic diving suit surrounding them. The thing… stood in the water. Well, it looked like it floating… and standing? In a diving suit? A gigantic one at that? A chain was connected to its outstretched hand and she saw the anchor attached to the Ethereal. The anchor was as big as the diving suit. And it was pulling it in. The thing just grabbed the chain and pulled, and pulled, and kept pulling. The Ethereal's masts were completely full but it was slowly being dragged towards the monstrous being unable to be released from its grasp.

Sarah watched, amazed as the being laid a hand on the ship. It pulled the anchor free. Wood splinted from the ship, a massive hole where an anchor had once been impaled on it. Then it started climbing onto the ship. Screeches of the enemy turned into something she never thought she would hear. Pain, yes. Fear, never. It filled the air like the grating of a knife, cutting through everything. The entire battlefield seemed to stop momentarily as the being finally stood upon the deck in its full form.

The being started glowing an unearthly green, light spilling out from every chink or connecting point. She watched at the water around him suddenly start flying away from him, then part of the ship crumpling from the explosions of force surrounding the being. The being's hand glowed. It held something. She watched as the hand dropped onto the ship's deck. Then listened to the explosions and the sounds of shattering wood fill the air as the charge ran right through the middle of the ship. The main mast creaked as the wood beneath it disappeared. In this windy night the sails caught the wind, pulled the entire mast up into the air slightly then it crashed back down onto the Ethereal. Sarah watched the carnage as she realised.

This was the power of The Deep.

She wanted to keep watching, to look and see the carnage as some hidden desire wanted to see the revenge rose within her.

Yet the waves took her.

And like the rest of the sailors, she ended up at Bilgewater's Slaughter Docks. She picked herself up from the pile of dead bodies surrounding her.

And walked to her room.

Thud.

The Harrowing is over.

Sarah punched her pillow and kept crying. She was going to have to climb again. But all she wanted was rest. All she wanted was relief.

Thud.

"I GET IT! IT'S OVER!" Sarah screamed at the door to make the housekeeper go away.

"Can you open the door please babe?"

Sarah's eyes flung open.

Walker stood there, covered in blood, missing a quarter of his moustache, and had a lot of hair missing. He was the shittest looking man she had ever been in a relationship with.

That didn't stop her from hugging him.

Or from him collapsing.

Well, as I said I'm dealing with depression and I managed to write all of this in about 4 and a half hours. I don't feel great, but I don't feel like shit either. If I can keep this feeling, it's better than feeling like shit and not being able to write. BECAUSE THAT WAS A LOT OF FUN!

Sorry, this is just such good news for me. I don't feel like I'm unable to write or watch a fucking tutorial (Seriously, I struggled to watch a tutorial, that's how crap I was feeling)

So yeah, currently happy that this is a good sign. It may just be a single day that I'm not feeling crappy, but the more days like this I have, the more it means I'm improving. I'm off to get some food, play some league, learn more French, play a different video game! ARGH! THERE"S SO MUCH I WANNA DO! THIS IS SUCH A GOOD FEELING BEING ABLE TO WRITE AT MY STANDARD AGAIN!