#old wooden ships

[krumpkin]

The Gotheborg - Sweden 😁

This is a replica of the original East Indiaman Gotheborg ship from ( 1738 )

[byzantine-nectarine]

Ottoman fleet in the Indian Ocean in the 16th century Matrakçı Nasuh, 16th century

16th century Turkish painting depicting the Ottoman fleet protecting shipping in the Gulf of Aden. The three peaks on the left symbolize Aden. The artwork is now preserved in the Bridgeman Art Library.

[world-of-yana]

[riwooga]

A quick Zephyr to welcome the new update 👀✨

[aeztheticzforthemuzes]

All Roads Lead to Kennywood

[random-apollo-child]

I want a wooden sloop so I can sail the seas but a good sloop would cost a lot of money

[ozzgin]

It is the 19th century and you are returning home by ship. Before you embark, you happen to find a glowing shell abandoned by the docks. It seems that the sea creatures are searching for it. Or maybe it's something else they're interested in. content: gender neutral reader, violence, dubious consent, based on Return of the Obra Dinn

January 1802 What's the matter with me, I wonder? As if my luggage wasn't heavy enough already, I had to drag around a big shell of sorts. Found it by the docks while I waited for my ship to arrive. It has a strange glow to it, this shell. Can't quite place it.

January 1802 Cheeky bastards! The seamen are such a flirt. From the moment I stepped onto the main deck, a handful of them haven't dropped the whistles and stares. One of the topmen - I recall he's Scottish? - he's been pestering me about the ship. "I'll show ye around, can't find a better guide," he says. His mates laugh and clap to his petty attempts.

February 1802 Some of the sailors are dying from lung illness. I was on the orlop deck, playing cards with the three Russians, when the surgeon rushed to one of the cabins ahead. "If it was contagious, we'd all have it by now. Damned if I know what it is, or where it comes from," I could hear him groan. I wondered out loud if I might catch it myself, but then I noticed one of 'em rascals trying to cheat the cards. February 1802 I saw it again tonight. Ever since we launched from Falmouth, as soon as the sun sets, there's an eerie glimmer in the distance. It reminds me of this damned shell. Are my eyes playing tricks on me? Oh, the sea is so terrifying in the dark. There's nothing but black stretching all around. My window is low; whenever the waves break against it, the wooden walls let out a groan that awakens me from the deepest slumber. Surgeon gave me pills to sleep. The creaks of the ship sound like a weeping maiden. February 1802 I think the cursed glow is getting closer. I couldn't sleep anymore, so I snuck onto the main deck. Scotsman found me wandering towards the bow, so he quietly hoisted me up by the waist. I thought he'd tell the Captain, but he sat me on the lower rigging, next to him, and we listened to the waves. I was afraid I'd fall off, but he kept a steady hand on me. I wish I could tell him about the light stalking our ship. Would he think I'm mad?

February 1802 Second Mate returned today on a small boat. We heard shouts coming from upstairs, so we rushed to see what was happening. Bosun had his pistol readied next to the Captain, and the sailors lifted the cargo from below. I thought I was dreaming at first. Some creatures, unholy beings, were caught in the net. They had the body of a human, but thick, fish tails covered in spikes. One of the Formosan passengers muttered something in Chinese, and some of the tail spikes suddenly pierced him dead. The old Miss next to me fainted on the spot, and the stewards urged us to leave. Right before I turned, I noticed one of the beasts pointing at me. It had a monstrous grin on its face. Oh, what a sight! The Scotsman guided me away, but I can't forget those eyes. Was it malice? Such an intense stare, burning straight into my soul. Now that I'm writing all this, a memory has come to mind: the creature had the same shell as mine, dangling from its neck.

February 1802 The pills no longer work. I can't rest anymore. Every time I close my eyes, I hear its wretched voice, calling me from the lazarette. That's where they locked those sea monsters. It sings nonsense, blasphemous lies. We're not fated soulmates. I've nothing to do with those devils. I should've never picked up the shell. I can only pray we reach land soon.

March 1802 God, oh God, what disaster has befallen us? I don't have much time. The gun deck is in shambles, more than half the crew dead. Underwater beasts have crawled their way up our ship; strange humans with spears, saddled on top of crabs larger than I've ever seen. The poor midshipman, oh, a young boy! He set himself on fire to stop the nightmarish fiend. Threw the lamp across the floor, and the flames swallowed both of them up. I scrambled up on the main deck, but there was no peace to be found; colossal tentacles sprawled around the ship, pulling the rigging apart, tearing humans like insects. The Captain's wife was struck by a falling pillar, I saw her crumble right before me. Scotsman is still alive, but his arm is missing a good chunk of it. I don't know where to find the surgeon.

March 1803 They left. They took the last boat, I only found out this morning. I tried to join them, but one of the sailors stopped me. "Witch," he shouted at me, "the beast down by the cargo hold screams your name. You must've called it here, brought this curse upon us." I don't know what he's talking about. Tonight I'm going to the lazarette, I can no longer bear the calling. This blasted fiend, oh, he's ruined me. I'll rot on this wreck. Mother, I don't think I'll ever reach the shore.

Your steps are hesitant as you tiptoe your way around the dried blood and debris, until you reach the locked chambers. The door is bent and folded away, as if hit by a great force. You do indeed notice the round prints against the rusty surface: giant suckers from a blasphemous being.

There he is, the wicked varmint who plagues your sleep! A pale creature is propped up, halfway out of the water, welcoming you with a toothy grin. The shell around his neck glows mockingly.

You throw your own shell at him. The small, ivory object rolls with a hollow thud.

"Is this what you wanted, damned monster?"

"Why, what am I to do with two?"

His voice is harsh and deep, rapping against your eardrums, scratching the inside of your head.

"I've been waiting for you. Can't leave this place without my beloved, can I?"

"There you go again with this nonsense. Villain! Drown me if you must, but spare me your deceit."

His smile falters, eyes narrowing in a frown.

"Is that how you find my love? Some petty lie told by a charlatan? Ungrateful brat, who do you think freed you from their shackles? Who do you suspect has summoned the leviathan, from the deepest trenches of the sea, to save your mortal soul?"

"The kraken left with the storm," you counter as the blood drains from your face. Could it be that you were to blame, after all?

"No, it left after the bargain."

He pulls himself up and sits on the edge of his former cage. You observe his features in mild awe: the texture of his skin, the dark locks of hair reaching all the way to the tail, the spikes breaking out of the thick, hard scales.

"What bargain," you ask fearfully.

"The last ones are free to escape, if they leave you to me."

Why, your horrified expression is not quite something he expected. Surely one must feel relief once their freedom has been guaranteed. And not just any kind of freedom - you've been returned to your soulmate.

He's spent weeks chasing the currents, trailing the faint glow in the distance. He hasn't stopped once, tail pushing forward to the promise of a reunion.

Yet, you seem unsure. Perhaps his approach has been too hurried, too nonchalant. You need a little bit of convincing, and he happens to be a master of courting.

His thorax suddenly expands, and you can almost hear the twisting sound of his ribs cracking and breaking under the pressure. A sweet voice rolls out of his mouth, a song you've never heard before. Your heart pounds tremendously, threatening to burst out of your chest, and a foreign panic floods your senses.

Despite your desire to flee, your lids are heavy, eyes slowly closing. Through your lashes, you can discern the beast crawling towards you, the same defiant grin plastered on his face.

It's time for you to come home.

[lay-z]

WALK THE PLANK | Part 1

Happy Mermay! 𓂃𓂁𓂃 ོ

— mershark!Simon Riley × fem!Reader — 18+ | Pirates of the Caribbean AU; magic; strangers to lovers; slowburn-ish; monsterfucking; possessive/territorial! Simon; breeding kink; time skips; loss of virginity; canon-typical violence; smut; fluff; dub-con (to be safe)

You have been drawn to the sea since your mother gave birth on a pirate ship.

Even though your father warned you to stay away from the Gems Cove many a times while growing up, told you to stop swimming there, stop feeding the fish, stop praying to Calypso, stop serenading the bloody sea at dusk when the last golden rays of sunlight disappear behind the horizon, because you cannot even comprehend what lingers in the depths of the reef, sweet lassie, you never listened, and when your father left one last time to follow after his Captain’s orders one last time, there was no one left to tell you to stop going there.  

And with your dear father’s disappearance, your feet only carried you towards the cove with more purpose—and a lot more spite. 

Raised and fed by kind townspeople who took pity on your situation, you continued to spend your teenhood at Gems Cove, glaring at the horizon and quietly cursing ever ship that sailed by and didn’t magically take you away. 

A warm breeze sweeps through your hair, swirls around your bare legs as you stand there in your flowy white undergarments, dress and boots discarded in a haphazard heap in the shade of a rock, salt curling the strands and sticking to your dewy skin, sunrays dancing on the crystal-clear water, sparkling like a million gemstones. 

“Perhaps I’ll become a bloody pirate like you, eh? How does that fucking sound, father?” you sneer again, angrily flicking another broken seashell over the glittering surface as you stand on the rotten boards of the old jetty, gentle waves lapping against the jagged rocks and wooden pillars supporting the planks. 

It’s what you’ve been doing for the past decade, whenever you realize once again how incredibly meaningless and mundane your life has turned out to be, like a ruffled feather blowing in the wind—working as a hierling on fishing boats to get by, helping out as a seamstress and barmaid, selling self-made jewellery to drunken travellers, and avoiding the local brothel at all costs like Davy Jones avoids dry land. 

Your father had always promised to take you with him—“when you’re old enough, sweet lassie”—though it was too late when you realized that he was simply staving you off. You would have never been old enough, always his little lassie, too soft for the ocean—a pebble with no edges, smoothed by the current. 

“Perhaps... Perhaps I’ll have a child only to abandon it, too, huh? Or even better, I bloody snuff it givin’ birth to it like mother did!” You scoff, and the sound ricochets around the enclosing cliffs sharply, like the shot of a well-maintained pistol. 

A murder of crows and a few scattered seagulls feeding on a large mutt’s cadaver at the beach nearby, are startled by the sound and take off flight; distracting you momentarily as you glance over your shoulder, squinting against the slowly setting sunlight. 

You barely register the gentle sloshing of waves behind you. The mass that heaves itself out of the water to peek up at the jetty, and the quiet, steady dribble of fat drops dripping off sleek skin, back into the ocean.  

When you turn around again, you let out a surprised yelp and nearly jump backwards at the sudden sight that greets you, stumbling on bare feet, almost slipping on slick algae. 

He’s huge, and it’s barely half his torso that’s sticking out of the water. 

Black, beady eyes—marbles containing the depths of the sea—staring at you, with a rather curious twinkle, from behind a mask crafted out of what you assume must be a cracked human skull, secured around his head with a frayed string of hemp rope, its upper row of teeth twinkling with a gold tooth. It exposes a crown of short brown hair sticking to his skull, the sharp curve of jawline and a plump, rosy bottom lip. 

His skin is pale, with a silvery shimmer and faint grey stripes along his upper arms and ribs, depending how the light catches it. Paler than the white sand on the beach, like it has never been kissed by the afternoon sun. 

Blessed with wide shoulders, a bulky chest, chiselled abs, and large arms with bulging muscles and protruding blue veins running along the inside of his forearms. Half a brown leather harness is secured around his upper torso, a short and tattered sheath attached to it, the blade’s ivory handle seemingly carved from some great fishbone. 

You’ve never seen a man quite this large, not even on your father’s crew, but once you spot the row of gills on each side of his neck, you know that you’re not faced with a man, but a beast—and suddenly, all doubts you once held vanish. 

As it turns out, your father didn’t lie in his bedtime stories, didn’t exaggerate when he warned you all those years ago: “There are things–beings–lingerin’ below the surface that might not make sense to us, but it don’t mean they’re not real. Aye? If ye feel like ye’re bein’ stalked by the water, chances are bloody high tha’ ye are, lassie.” 

“Who–Who are you?” You shake your head, rubbing your eyes on wobbly legs to make sure you’re not dreaming again. 

He doesn’t answer at first, only regards you with those dark, soulless eyes, head tilted like a puppy experiencing something new while his chest rises and falls with shallow breaths, until you find your footing again, slowly backing away from the edge of the jetty, holding your breath despite the salty air scratching in your lungs. 

“Wait!” He calls out firmly with a voice like gravel coated in oil, barking like a captain yet pleading like a lost boy. You freeze, exhaling a shuddering breath while your sweaty skin pebbles with goosebumps. 

The water parts as he glides through it with ease, closing distance while your eyes flicker to observe the large silhouette of his lower half moving below the surface, causing your eyes to widen in fear and disbelief—and curiosity as it begins to tickle you in the back of your mind. 

You should grab your clothes and run far away, but you stay where you are, mesmerized by the creature who is now pulling himself out of the water, bracing his forearms on the edge of the first planks while they creak under his added weight.  

For a moment, you’re distracted by his body and the sheer power emanating from him; his hands so brawny and veined, he looks like he could crack a coconut without any effort. 

“My name,” he takes a deep breath as if it strains him to speak, “is Simon.”  

“Simon,” you repeat, and something splashes sharply behind him, breaking the surface like he’s excited to hear you utter his name, and you wonder if your eyes have deceived you—or if you’ve truly just seen a shark tail. 

There is a brief yet tense pause, then he speaks your name, loud and clear, and your heart throbs inside your chest. “Why are ya so angry again?” he asks casually, as if he’s talking to an old friend. 

Simon belongs to the mythical merfolk. 

Different than the mermaids and men you’ve heard of through legends and lore, and the heresy fishermen and pirates alike love to spread, the creatures who call the territory around Whitecap Bay and Isla Sirena their home, he’s a maverick, a lone sea ghoul. 

Unlike them, he doesn’t belong to any pod. He’s been on his own for most of his life. 

Mershark, they call themselves. “Aye, stronger than those pretty fish,” he tells you one day two, chortling when he adds, “smarter, too.” 

He does look like a ruthless tiger shark, his lower half nearly twice as long as a human body, with tough skin, criss-crossed with battle and other scars. And when he catches how your gaze lingers on his unique body, a rare smirk tugs at the corner of his lips, nearly preening under your attention. 

Simon lets you inspect and learn as you please, answers your questions about his tail, and why it doesn’t look like any of the merfolk drawings you’ve seen in books—his large caudal fin like a shark’s, undulating from side to side rather than up and down whenever he swims. 

And you start spending more time at the cove and less at your hometown, ignoring your lack of money and possibilities in favour of being with him—your scarily handsome sea beast. 

After five days, you bring what is necessary, along with a tattered pillow and thin blanket as you stay more nights at the beach, reading aloud old books to him as he can neither read nor write, and sleeping in the sand while Simon prowls his territory underwater, hunting at night. 

You’ve never had a friend quite like him, if any at all, but neither ever did he, from what you can tell. 

He gets terribly restless when you do end up leaving the cove a couple of hours a day, pacing while the big trademark fin of a shark swims circles in the bay until you return, and Simon ends up bringing you fish to cook over an open bonfire and fresh clams to slurp with lemon juice to keep you from having to leave him again; always making sure you’re fed while he lingers; sometimes sitting awkwardly in the shallows with you, when the tide is lowest, and the temperature burns too hot. 

It’s peaceful, being with him.  

“Everyone always told me to stay away from Gems Cove. Said it’s too dangerous and cursed,” you remark, kissing your teeth in snide as you gaze out on the calm water. “Nothin’ ever happened, and they stopped pestering me eventually, though.” 

There is a pause after you tell him, and you wonder if he’s even listening to you, but then he opens his mouth to speak, and you realize that he’d been hesitating. 

“I’ve watched over you whenever ya swam here. Nothin’ would’ve ever happened to you, because I never allowed it,” he admits sheepishly after barely ten days of knowing each other, as the late afternoon sun inches towards the horizon. He points a finger at the span of the cove. “F’all these years, y’know?” 

Simon looks straight ahead as you gaze up at him, his skull mask resting in your lap after taking it off for him, and you use the moment to admire how the sunlight makes his dark blonde hair shine, the unruly strands now close-cropped, thanks to you, exposing the three deep claw marks at the side of his skull from a fight with a merman.  

Then his jaw clenches and his cheek ticks as if he regrets telling you now, but your heart skips a beat at his admission, utterly touched by it.  

“Why?” you croak, and your eyes sting with salty sea spray.  

His head tips down at your hand now resting where his hip should be and where his body turns twisted, abnormal. Still, your thumb rubs soothing circles on his sleek looking yet rough skin, sharp like sand and fine glass shards. 

Reaching out, he takes your right hand, turns it over to look at your palm, tracing the jagged scar in the middle of it, and huffing through his nose at the memories flooding his mind, before he speaks: “Because you saved me and almost bloody died doin’ it.” 

You don’t remember it, but Simon recounts that you’d lost consciousness back then. He could never forget it—stuck and tangled up in a net, thin ropes biting into his skin while a fat hook was piercing his dorsal fin, his own blood attracting more sharks. 

You’d jumped into the dark water without hesitation, the full moon the only light illuminating the restless waves, and you cut him free with a rusty pocketknife before pulling out the hook. And Simon remembers your sharp cry of pain, the one that made his heart drop heavy in his chest, then the sweet and copper scent of your blood as it dripped onto him and into the sea, when the hook went through your palm.  

Barely a decade old the both of you, when he had to watch from afar how loud men hauled you out of the angry water, pressing down on your still flat chest with force until you sputtered and coughed gallons of salty water while death kept clinging to your complexion. 

Simon still wishes he could’ve kissed you back then, protect you from drowning like that, but he was still a silly pup—oblivious to his own powers, because nobody close to him was still alive to teach him. 

His shoulders slouch, dry skin pulling taut over his muscles after spending too much time out of the water. 

“I never even got to say ‘thank you’ back then.” 

The sourness of lemons from supper is still sticking to your lips as you lick them, the taste of seafood lingering in the back of your throat as you listen and watch, barely breathing while Simon paints a vivid picture in your head; lifting the fog of a sad, lonely childhood for a smidge to teach you how you got that nasty scar on your hand. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” you reply, not moving your hand as he keeps cradling it in his. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat.” 

Then, your father’s words come to your mind: “Whenever the sea calls out to ye, ye walk the plank and take a jump, lassie.” He’d always laugh fondly. “One fearless minx, ye are. Every pirate cap’n would fear the lass who’d cheated Calypso of another innocent soul.” 

It makes more sense now, but before you can think about it, Simon turns to you, his eyes dark pools of nothingness, swallowing up all the molten golden brown in his irises.  

“That’s what I’m afraid of, love. Bloody reckless y'are.” There is no malice in his baritone voice, just a hint of exasperation and fatigue, as if he’s done with your bollocks after years of playing guardian angel and keeping himself hidden in a desperate attempt not to scare you away, but then there’s a faint smile lifting the scarred corner of his lip—a gnarly scar caused by another fisherman's hook, he’d told you. 

A genuine smile graces your lips when you entwine your fingers with his, feeling the smooth, translucent webbing between his fingers, while his body tenses, nostrils flaring with a sharp inhale of breath. 

“Wouldn’t have met ya if I was some prudent, Si.” 

It’s still a foreign feeling for him to feel air burn in his lungs for so long, but Simon can’t help the way his breath stutters and hitches whenever you’re close to him—whenever you touch him so effortlessly, just as confidently as when you’d jumped into the water to save him from a cruel death. 

And Simon is almost sure you don’t know, not yet anyway, but you’re doing things to him he’s never experienced before. 

The naturally fearless mershark continues to crumble under your gaze, your voice, your every touch, like a delicate sandcastle blown over by the breeze. He’d endure the burn of air in his lungs, of sunrays on his sensitive skin, a thousand times over if it means he can spend another moment in your bright presence. 

“Aye.” He returns your smile, squeezing your hand lightly as you hold his gaze. “Guess ye’r right.” 

For the first time in his pathetic life, Simon doesn’t feel that cold and crippling kind of loneliness, and unbeknownst to him, you feel very much the same. 

After two weeks, when the Caribbean sun burns too hot at noon, Simon steals you away from the Gems Cover, has he listened to you hiss and moan about your townspeople and the desire to leave the island one too many times in this short amount of time. 

“Bring water,” he keeps calling out to you like a mother hen, bracing his arms on the jetty as he watches you fussing about in your makeshift camp at the beach. “Can’t have ya faintin’ on me,” he adds with a teasing lilt, and you roll your eyes, stuffing your flask into your old leather rucksack. 

When you sit down at the edge of the jetty, bare legs swinging while the hem of your yellowed tunic flutters around your thighs, Simon feels a different kind of warmth stirring in his chest that spreads down to the tip of his tail, pooling and pulsating low in his gut. 

His hands twitch below the surface, clenching into fists to keep himself from reaching out to feel your supple flesh give under his brawny hands, nose twitching as he gets a whiff of your scent—luscious sweat and salt coating your skin, a trace of coconut water on your hair, a whiff of your heavenly womanhood when you squirm on the rotten planks and your knees spread apart.  

His mouth fills with saliva and the urge to shove his face between your thighs becomes unbearable as something wild claws and thrashes behind his ribs, razor sharp teeth tearing him apart from the inside while he tries to tame his instincts. 

Simon exhales slowly through his nose, dark eyes flickering up to observe your gorgeous face from behind his skull mask as you secure your rucksack on your back, so unaware of this predator—lusting, wanting, adoring you so openly.  

Sometimes he wonders if you know that you’re his salvation, and he hates himself for not bracing that surface sooner, for not taking that leap and show himself to you. 

“Now c’mon, little legs.” He clears his throat and water splashes as he lifts his arms up, waiting for you to make the final jump. “I’m takin’ ya for a swim.” 

Your pearly teeth flash with a grin and then you slip off the edge, right into his embrace before he cradles you close to his buff chest while a pleased rumble bubbles up in his throat at the weight of you finally in his arms, legs wrapping around his midriff where man meets shark. 

“Fuckin’ hell, ye’r squishy,” Simon mutters under his breath, earning a glare as he snorts in amusement and slight embarrassment, pale cheeks flushing under the bone of his mask. “I–I mean... soft. In a–a good way.” He adjusts his grip on you, cupping the back of your thighs, squeezing involuntarily. 

You squirm against his body, lashes fluttering against the spray and breeze whipping around your body, while your heart beats rapidly against your ribcage, overwhelmed by the closeness to him, not having expected nor ever experienced this effect from a anyone.  

“Hold on tight now, aye?” 

Adjusting your grip around his neck, you nod, and Simon eases himself into the water, floating on his back while he has you lay on his broad body, keeping you secured to his chest while he starts moving his tail underwater, gliding through the waves as he manoeuvres you both out of the familiar cove, past the colourful reef where the sheltered bay opens up into the vast ocean. 

“Haven’t been out in open water in so long,” you start shakily, eyes darting around, but the sun’s reflection on the surface blinds you too badly. “What if someone sees us out here?” 

Simon shrugs. “Don’t ya worry ‘bout that. I know these waters better than anyone,” he assures you, sounding proud while his chest puffs out. 

“Sounds like you expect a pat on your head for that,” you quip as you play with the hair at his nape underwater, and there is a brief pause before his tail breaches to splash a cold wave of water on you.  

You squeal and Simon smirks triumphantly at the sound you make, and he can’t stop his hands from roaming over the curve of your back, the thin fabric of your drenched tunic now clinging to your body like a second skin. His fingers twitch to rip it clean off and shed the barrier between you both, but again he pushes the urge far away into the darkest depths of his mind. 

The secret he’s so determined to show you turns out to be a cave halfway around the island; unreachable from land, its entrance hidden behind large lumps of boulders covered in moss, seaweed and barnacles. An old smugglers hideout he had discovered in his years of calling this island his territory, though no one has returned here since the Royal Navy has been patrolling close to the island occasionally. 

As Simon takes you farther inside, the pool of turquoise water ends in a U-shaped landmass of dark glimmering stone, surrounded by a solid rocky wall with large cracks at the ceiling where daylight spills inside and illuminates the cave. It smells sweet and clean, like a source of fresh water is nearby. 

When he sets you down on a dryer spot of stone, you push yourself up slowly, your gaze wandering around the cave in awe, head tilted back, while Simon watches, eyes crinkling deep in the corners with a pleased smile at your reaction. 

“You like it?” You nod eagerly, a breathless laugh erupting from your lungs. “Yes! This place is beautiful, Si!” 

The water ripples around Simon’s midriff while his tail swishes below the surface, like a mongrel wagging its tail. 

A few hours later, Simon is lounging on his back on a larger, flat rock in the middle of the pool while listens to the gentle padding of your bare feet echoing around the cave, enjoying the shade and warm, damp air, while you continue to explore each nook and corner curiously, letting him know whenever you find something worth mentioning. The sound so soothing to him, he nearly dozes off with one arm propped up behind his head. 

You’ve found the pile of driftwood that he’d brought to the cave a few days ago, when he’d shoved them into place where the sun shines the brightest through the cracks in the ceiling to let them dry, and you’ve been trying to build and start a fire for a while before you call out his name suddenly.  

Simon cracks one eye open, waiting. “Is this your home? Uhm, I mean... Is this where you stay when you’re not at the cove with me?” He lifts his head up and catches you standing at the edge of the pool, dipping your toes into the water tentatively.  

“No,” he answers eventually, his tone curt. “I don’t have a home.” You are his home, but he can’t possibly tell you that now.  

“So,” you start again, and Simon props himself up on his elbows as he notices how you suddenly avoid his eyes. “Why did you never,” you shrug, pulling your toes from the water, “y’know... try to find a–” You make a vague hand gesture in the air, and his stomach twists into a thousand tight knots. 

Simon utters your name, though it comes out as a growl. “A what?” 

Your pretty eyes snap up to meet his and you look so innocent, he can barely endure the sight. His chest heaves and his tail slashes briefly before he speaks: “A pod? A family? Come on, say it.” 

You lick your dry lips as your cheek warm up. “A mate, Simon.” 

His tail swishes, stirring the water. A muscle in his jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth tightly. This question alone nearly offends him, especially coming from you, and he doesn’t quite know what to say while the truth is already trying to claw itself through his gills and up his throat, burning in the back of his tongue as if he ate something rancid and rotten. 

Then he huffs. “Why don’t you have one?” He doesn’t even want to know the answer, and fear clogs up his veins when he briefly imagines that you already have one, that you’re simply spending time with a lonely bastard like him out of pity and kindness.  

You kick a tiny seashell into the water as you shrug, looking like a child that doesn’t know how to explain itself.  

“Never liked anyone in my town. The men are all just–” You sigh, shrugging again, unaware that Simon is already seething at the mere mention that you’ve looked at males in the past.  

But the truth is mundane—you feared you’d end up like your mother, with a man who loved his freedom and a life of piracy more than her, only to die scared, giving birth to her child during a storm on a pirate ship. 

“Not bloody good enough for you.” He finishes your sentence with a frown on his face. They’re not the words you would’ve used, but deep down, you agree with him.  

A dreary smile tugs at your lips as you finally look at him, regarding him lolling about in the rock, muscles stretching and flexing in a way that twists and turns your insides warm and your smile more bashful.  

“Perhaps, aye,” you agree, and Simon perks up at that, heart fluttering with hope. “Perhaps that’s it.” 

Yes, I planned this as a oneshot, but things got out of hand and I'm having way too much fun in this universe. 🙃 I hope you've enjoyed the first part! If so, I'd always appreaciate your feedback, likes & reblogs. Thank you so much! 🧜🏼‍♂️🩵

[thewriteadviceforwriters]

🐚⚓️🫧List of Random Things For Your Dark Coastal Settings | For Writers🐚⚓️🫧

Since you all loved the list of random things for Dark Academia, here’s a list of items, things, sights etc.. you might find in a Dark Coastal setting.

The Cliffside 🌊

Jagged slate-gray rocks jutting out from the churning sea

Swaths of wild, windblown grasses and mosses clinging to the cliffs

Crumbling stone ruins half-hidden in the fog

The eerie cries of seabirds circling overhead

Gnarled, salt-weathered driftwood scattered across the shoreline

The Cove 🐚

A small pebbly beach tucked into a sheltered inlet

Seaweed-covered tide pools teeming with mysterious marine life

Centuries-old fishing nets and lobster traps hung to dry

Weathered wooden rowboats moored at a rickety dock

The salty, briny scent of the sea lingering in the air

The Lighthouse 🗼

A tall, round stone tower with a flickering lantern on top

Faded nautical charts and weather-beaten log books inside

An antique brass telescope trained on the horizon

The heavy thump of the lighthouse bell in the distance

Coils of fraying rope and a tarnished brass spyglass on the windowsill

The Shipwreck 🛥️

The rusted, half-submerged hull of an ancient sailing vessel

Tangled knots of kelp and barnacles clinging to the metal

Fragments of shattered wood and twisted metal debris

The eerie, echoing creaks and groans of the wreckage in the waves

Fragments of weathered, sun-bleached bones glinting in the murky depths

The Coastal Cottage 🏠

A small, weathered wooden house with peeling paint

Tattered sheer curtains fluttering in the salty sea breeze

Shelves lined with antique glass bottles and driftwood sculptures

A wood-burning stove with a teapot whistling softly

The distant sound of foghorns cutting through the mist

The Shipwreck Cove 🚢

Jutting black cliffs, their bases strewn with the bones of broken ships

Seaweed-covered ribs of an old shipwreck, barnacles clinging to the wood

Rusted metal and shattered glass glittering in the crashing waves

Cawing of crows circling overhead, their shadows flickering on the rocks

The hollow, echoing sound of the wind whistling through the caves

The Seaside Cemetery 🪦

Rows of crumbling tombstones covered in moss and lichen

Twisted, windblown trees casting long, ominous shadows

The faint scent of night-blooming jasmine on the breeze

A rusted wrought-iron gate creaking open to the path

Fog rolling in, obscuring the distant sound of the surf

[nekoashiii]

⠀ ⠀ Tides of Treachery

pairings: Pirate!caleb x Mermaid!reader.

notes/warnings: violence, brief mentions of blood. Nearly drowning. Reader is intended to be afab!bodied and gender neutral. no smut in this part, part 2

The sea has always been Caleb’s first love. The way the waves rolled and crashed against the hull of his ship, the scent of salt thick in the air, and the endless horizon stretching beyond his reach—it was all he had ever known.

Years ago, he used to happily laugh around and run in the water, throw sand at his friends and enjoy the rays of warmth radiating from the sun. But all good things come to an end, Caleb had learned the hard way that nothing in life was permanent—not love, not safety, not even the land beneath his feet.

His father had gone out to sea one morning to fish for their humble family business, promising to return before nightfall, but the tides swallowed him whole, leaving behind only whispers of his name in the crashing waves.

His mother, left to raise him alone, had done everything she could to keep him safe. But safety was a fragile illusion. The night the world flipped upside down for him, the thugs came, she had fought for him, desperate to keep her boy safe as she hid him in a corner, tears streaming down her face as she hugged him for the final time. Caleb still remembered the way her blood pooled on the wooden floor, how the coppery scent mixed with the salt on his skin as he was dragged outside, kicking and screaming.

He was meant to die that night. The leader of the gang had loomed over him, blade in hand, expression cold and indifferent. But something in Caleb’s eyes must have reminded him of himself—some old, bitter ghost of the past—because he hesitated

“Take him,” the man had ordered. “Teach the boy how to survive.”

And so he did.

Caleb was thrown into a world of cutthroats and thieves, learning how to wield a dagger before he could grow his first beard. The boy who once ran across the shore, carefree and full of laughter, had long since vanished. In his place stood a pirate feared across the seas, his name whispered in drunken taverns and city guards.

He should have felt satisfied. He had carved his own place in the world, commanded a crew that would die for him, listening to his every whim and commands and sailed waters that no man dared to cross.

But sometimes when his crew went to their beds and bunkers, he would step out of his own, in the quiet of the night, when the ocean was calm and the stars burned like embers overhead, he thought of the past. He thought of a life that had once been his before fate stole it away.

A creature he recalled, a siren. an abomination mix of fish and human. he never entertained the talk of catching a siren to keep it for him to sing. if one was unfortunate enough to fall in the nets of his ship would immediately have its scales taken away and itself shipped off and sold to some lord with fortune, that easily explains the amount of coats he has with shimmering scales.

It was on one such night, when the sea lay still and the wind barely stirred the sails, that Caleb saw them.

A shape, moving just beyond the reach of the lanterns’ glow, barely a ripple in the water. He narrowed his eyes, stepping closer to the edge of The Wayward Star, gripping the wooden railing with steady fingers.

Then, the moonlight caught them.

A figure, half-submerged, skin glistening like pearls beneath the pale light. Their hair floated around them in thick, damp strands, creating an illusion of ink swirling around them, and their eyes—dark and knowing—locked onto his.

Caleb inhaled sharply.

A mermaid.

Not the kind sung about in sailor’s tales, with golden curls and gentle voices. No, this was something else entirely. Their gaze held no innocence, no wide-eyed wonder. Instead, they studied him, unblinking, as if deciding whether he was prey or something more. It made a humming gurgling noise, the odd scent of seasons and spices had attracted it towards the ship.

His fingers itched toward the cutlass at his hip, but he hesitated.

“You watching me?” he called out, voice low, roughened by years of salt and rum.

The mermaid didn’t answer, not in words. Instead, they tilted their head slightly, eyes glinting like two beads covered in obsidian in the dark.

Something about them made the air feel too thick, too heavy in his lungs. He had spent his life commanding men, stealing from those unfortune to pass his ship, fighting battles and staring death in the face without flinching. But this? This was different. that thing unsettled him.

Then, as silently as they had appeared, they slipped beneath the waves.

Gone.

Caleb exhaled, only then realizing he had been holding his breath.

Caleb barely slept that night. He couldn’t. After returning to his bedchambers, his eyes wouldn’t stay closed, he felt like a nail was being jammed into his head, and when he felt comfortable enough for sleep to lull him away, a thunder would wake him up.

Caleb gave up trying to get a brink of sleep. He sat at the bow of The Wayward Star, staring out at the sea as if drilling his gaze into the water infront of him would will the mermaid to return. The waves lapped lazily against the ship’s hull, rocking it. and the stars shimmered like scattered silver, but the water remained empty.

By dawn, the mermaid still hadn’t resurfaced.

He told himself to let it go. He was a pirate, not some fool enchanted by sea myths. There was plunder to seek, ships to raid, and yet—he found his thoughts drifting back to them. The way the moonlight caught the wet sheen of their skin, the quiet intelligence and stupidity in their dark eyes, the way they had simply watched him, like they were trying to understand him.

He had spent his life being feared, respected, hated by most. Never had someone looked at him like that before.

He shook the thought from his mind. Damn that fish, he had better things to do.

But fate, it seemed, had no intention of letting him forget.

The second time he saw them, it was in the middle of a storm.

The sea raged, tossing The Wayward Star like a toy, and rain pelted the deck in thick sheets. Caleb barked orders over the howling wind, his clothes soaked through, his hands raw from gripping the ropes. The storm was bad—worse than most—but he had survived worse.

Then, amidst the chaos, he saw them.

A shadow beneath the waves, moving too fast for the current to carry. At first, he thought his mind was playing tricks on him, lack of sleep always did funny tricks on people, but then the ship lurched violently to the side, nearly throwing him off balance.

He barely had time to react before a massive wave surged forward, hitting the ship with unnatural force. The wood groaned under the weight, and his crew yelled in alarm, struggling to hold the vessel steady.

Caleb barely had time to brace himself before the wave struck.

The impact sent him staggering backward, boots slipping on the rain-slicked deck. His fingers scrabbled for purchase on the rigging, but another violent lurch of the ship sent him sprawling. The world tilted—dark sky and raging sea spinning together in a blur—before the deck vanished beneath him.

Cold, crushing water swallowed him whole.

The ocean was deafening. It roared in his ears, filled his nose, dragged him down with merciless hands. Caleb kicked, fighting against the force pulling him deeper, but the storm churned above him, tossing him around like he was nothing more than a scrap of driftwood.

For the first time in years, true panic clawed at his chest.

His lungs burned, muscles screaming as he thrashed against the weight of the sea. He had survived battles, betrayals, and the cruel hand of fate itself—but drowning? Dying alone beneath the waves? The thought sent a sharp bolt of fear through him.

Then, just as the darkness at the edges of his vision threatened to consume him, something moved.

Not the waves. Not the current.

Something else.

A shadow slipped through the water, too fast, too smooth, circling him like a predator. a creature made for water.

He didn’t have the time to register the shape before arms wrapped around him—strong, steady, and colder than the sea itself. A rush of movement followed, the water parting as he was dragged downwards with unnatural speed.

Then—air.

Caleb’s breath came in ragged gasps, his throat raw from seawater and the force of the storm. His hands pressed into the damp sand beneath him, fingers curling around the fine grains as his body shook with exhaustion.

The cave was dimly lit, the glow of bioluminescent corals and strange, shifting lights casting eerie shadows on the walls. The air was thick with the scent of salt and something else—something unfamiliar, earthy, and deep. The sound of dripping water echoed in the cavern, mixing with the rhythmic crash of waves outside.

His mind reeled.

How was there air here? How was he even alive?

A flicker of movement made him tense.

Slowly, he raised his head.

The mermaid was there.

They lingered at the water’s edge, half-submerged, their dark eyes watching him with the same unreadable intensity as before. The glow of the cave cast shifting patterns across their skin, highlighting the smooth muscles of their shoulders, the glint of scales that shimmered with every small movement.

Caleb swallowed, still breathless.

“You saved me,” he rasped, voice hoarse from nearly drowning and coughing out salt water. He didn’t know why he was stating the obvious, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

The mermaid tilted their head slightly, considering him. Then, slow and deliberate, they moved closer.

Caleb’s instincts screamed at him to be cautious. He had spent his life surrounded by liars and thieves, men who would slit your throat for a handful of gold. Trust was something he had long since abandoned.

And yet—

He didn’t move as the mermaid reached out.

Their fingers brushed against his cheek, cool and slightly rough, like they weren’t quite used to touching something as fragile as human skin. Caleb held still, his breath catching as they traced the outline of his jaw, their expression unreadable.

Their touch lingered for a moment longer before they withdrew, retreating slightly into the water, as if waiting.

Waiting for what?

Caleb exhaled sharply, running a hand through his soaked hair. He needed to think, to figure out where he was, what they wanted. But the storm had drained him, and the warmth of the cave—unnatural as it was—lulled his body into something dangerously close to comfort.

He should have been afraid.

But for the first time in a long, long while, he wasn’t.

Instead, he found himself staring back at the creature before him, heart pounding, pulse thrumming with something dangerously close to curiosity.

“…What are you?” he murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

The mermaid didn’t answer in words.

But they smiled—slow and knowing—before slipping back into the water’s embrace.

After a few hours, you returned. Different types of fishes for your lovely guest you had dragged to your home, could you be blamed? the deep ocean was starting to get boring and dull, hunting fishes would not excite you. Days weren’t looking brighter and you felt like day by day you were evolving into a sea cucumber laying uselessly on the sand waiting for your eventual demise.

You swam through the water effortlessly, the cold depths parting for you as you carried your prize—an assortment of fish clutched in your hands, still fresh, their scales gleaming under the soft glow of the cave’s bioluminescent corals.

It had been years since anything had truly interested you. The ocean, vast and endless as it was, had lost its thrill. Hunting was easy. The other creatures of the sea were predictable. You had seen everything there was to see, done everything there was to do.

But him—the human—you had never encountered something quite like him before.

He was fragile. Small, in comparison to the beasts of the sea. His limbs were awkward and unfit for swimming, his body weighed down by the very waters that carried you with ease. And yet, despite his weakness, he fought.

You had seen the fire in his eyes, the defiance that burned even as the sea threatened to swallow him whole. A lesser creature would have gone limp, accepted their fate, but he had thrashed, struggled, survived.

That made him interesting.

And interesting things did not come often in your world.

So, really, could you be blamed for dragging him here? For watching him as he gasped for breath, the air in the cave filling his fragile lungs? For wanting to see how long he would last before his fear turned his survival instincts to recklessness?

You breached the water’s surface, the fish still held tightly in your grasp, and your dark eyes immediately sought him out.

There he was.

The pirate.

He had not moved far from where you left him. His body was curled slightly, one arm slung over his bent knee, head resting against the damp rock. His breathing was steady now, slower, but his exhaustion was evident.

You took a moment to observe. Poking his feet to test the waters before crawling out of the water and on top of him.

His skin was warm, unlike the cold-blooded creatures you were used to. His hair, still damp from the ocean, clung to his face in uneven strands. His chest rose and fell in slow, rhythmic motions, his lips slightly parted as if caught between sleep and wakefulness.

The fish in your hands flopped weakly, their gills opening and closing in vain. You had chosen well—fat, fresh, the best you could find. Surely he would be pleased.

But as you placed the offering beside him, he did not react.

You frowned.

You reached out, fingers ghosting over his skin, pressing against his shoulder. The warmth of him startled you, even now, and for a brief moment, you simply felt—the rise and fall of muscle beneath your touch, the way his breath hitched ever so slightly in response.

You raised your webbed hand and slapped it down on his firm chest.

Plap!

His eyes snapped open with a gasp. For a long moment, you two simply stared at each other.

Then, slowly, ever so slowly, his gaze flickered downward—to the fish beside him, and to the naked scaled-covered chest of the mermaid hovering over his face, blocking his view of the cave. he averted his eyes to the fish, it was still twitching, their silver scales glinting in the dim light.

A pause.

Then, he exhaled through his nose, something between amusement and disbelief flickering across his face.

“…Did you just bring me food?”

You blinked.

Of course you did. What else would he eat? Rocks?

He let out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he sat up. His fingers brushed over the fish idly, as if testing to see if they were even real.

“Well. Can’t say I’ve ever had a meal delivered to me by a sea creature before.” He glanced back at you, his lips quirking at the corners. “Guess I should be flattered.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him.

Strange.

You had given him a gift—an offering of peace, even—and instead of taking it seriously, he was… laughing, what was laughing supposed to mean here? humans were so so strange.

You narrowed your eyes, leaning closer, your face mere inches from his. His breath caught slightly, his gaze flickered to your lips that were inching just centimeters away from his, but he held his ground, his eyes returning up to watch you in return.

Interesting.

Your lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile but wasn’t quite a threat, either.

This was going to be fun.

[gravegoer]

i humbly suggest pirate sevika in small letters

thank you for your service

Sail the Seven Seas ☠︎︎

i had this in the works ! you read my mind, we have cowboy sevika, but we absolutely need pirate sevika, i did a little "how you met" before the hcs ! also ill greatfully take any other requests for pirate sevika i love her sm (i hope you appreciate the pirate hat i edited on her lol)

She found you when her crew was raiding a ship, you were kept prisoner in the dark dungeons below deck after the pirates robbed a bar.

Sevika was inclined to leave you there, as she was in a rush. But your pleading eyes convinced her.

She told you to back up and pulled the flimsy metal door right off the hinges. Your only experience with pirates was your former kidnappers.

They were ruthless and had not a care in the world. They were greedy enough to pat you down even though you cried and insisted you had no form of money on you other than the jewelry they had ripped from your limbs.

But after she ripped the door off, she simply walked away, not sparing you a second glance. She set you free, but now what? Were you supposed to swim to land?

You hesitated before running up the old wooden stairs, the faint moonlight beamed on your face. It smelled fresh on deck, no longer having the musky odor of mold and wood filling your nose.

You were also greeted with the sight of the woman that freed you, her back facing you and pointing to crew members, yelling orders. She must be the captain, signified by her detailed hat and especially the way the crew listened to her.

People scurried under her gaze almost cowardly. Boxes were being hauled onto a much bigger ship (which you assumed was hers) over a wooden plank.

She was tall and obviously built. You could tell even though she was adorned with many layers, straps, and belts accentuated her curves and edges. She had a metal prosthetic that looked dangerous. Not only that, but a gun and two swords hung from her waist.

You approached her timidly, the floorboards squeaking under your bare feet. When you sat a hand on her arm, urging her to turn around, she put a larger hand on the hilt of her sword defensively and spun to face you.

At just the force of it, you stumbled back. She was strong. Your eyes widened at her hands, hovering over the holster of her weapon. She spoke, "What are you trying to do?"

Her voice was gruff and demanding, leaving no room for questions. "I don't have anywhere to go," you stated honestly.

"And what do you expect me to do about that."

Although she put on the front of a rough demeanor, her eyes scanned your frame in curiosity. Worn clothes hung from your body, hair a mess, and despite it all, you were quite pretty.

She knew she couldn't take you on a ship with a bunch of men. In her eyes, it was almost as dangerous as leaving you on the ship to fend for yourself.

Almost.

She took you onto her ship with the promise that at the next stop they had, she would drop you off there. Whether or not you knew where you were.

Having no better option, you opted to go with her. She didn't shackle you up or restrain you, knowing you could do little to no harm to her or her crew.

She refused to put you in the berth with other pirates. It was stuffy and cramped, and all in all, no place for you.

So you had a room next to her (and an odd blue haired girl). She said it was fine because it's temporary anyway.

She gave you some clothes that fit, and a pair of shoes to put on your feet. And the room was more than you could ask for. It was spacious and contained a lavish bed.

You assumed it was someone else's room previously as it was already decorated. (Plus, she told you not to meddle in any of the stuff)

Sevika didnt expect you to do anything, thinking you werent fit to operate on a ship so, you were not asked to do any work. In all your boredom you found yourself roaming around the ship, looking at the stuff that was collected in each corner. Some trinkets, belts, broken weapons, etc.

Sevika watched you closely, making sure you didn't have any ulterior motives. Eventually, she realized that you were nothing but curious.

Then she watched you closely to make sure you didn't fall overboard.

At meals, you stuck close by her side, not really knowing anyone on board yet. She gave you things off her plate, saying you looked starved. And you didn't complain. You weren't really fed in the dungeons.

She started to show you around the deck, answering your questions about the sea and her ship. When you started to ask too many questions, she sighed and shook her head, wandering off to attend to her duties.

She was truly a mystery to you, not being able to read her gaze or body language. But what you did know is that she was a ruthless captian. Always having something for her crew to do and ordering them around with her loud, booming voice.

She was intimidating in theory, yes. But towards you, she seemed a bit more.. lenient?

Nontheless, in a few days, you finally arrived at their next destination, and you stepped off the ship with everyone. Taking in the way the ground felt against your feet, no longer swaying from side to side.

You had no idea where you were, and even though it didn't seem like a bad place, you couldn't just start anew again. I mean, how were you supposed to rebuild your whole life?

Sevika sensed your anxiety as you wandered through the streets with her crew. She saw your eyes flick side to side, looking at the buildings and people.

She might regret it, but she couldn't just leave you here.

You were growing more worried by the hour, and when night fell and everyone started back to the docks, you felt lost. You stayed behind, watching them load back onto the ship when you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. "You coming?"

Looking up, you locked eyes with Sevika, her brow was cocked and her lips slightly upturned. "You're letting me stay?" You questioned, in shock.

"Well, the ship is leaving soon, so only if you can make it." She teased.

You hugged her tight, wrapping your arms around her large frame. Her eyes widened in shock, not returning the hug before you ran off to the ship.

HC time !!

Now that you were deemed officially a part of the crew you had work to do, scrubbing the deck was a daily task. Even though other crew members seemed to dread it, you enjoyed smelling the fresh ocean air and feeling the wind on your back.

Sometimes you could feel Sevika's eyes on you as you cleaned, she sat at the helm, supposedly watching everyone. But when you turned around you would lock eyes with her and she would smirk.

When she sent the crew out on missions you grew to never be afraid, picking up on how to use weapons easily and fight alongside other people.

She almost admired this about you, it was like you were a natural. Like you belonged on her ship.

You didn't know what was on her mind most of the time. She was always closed off and didn't converse with anyone on ship except for Jinx, who was obviously closer to her than the rest of the crew.

But one fateful night you ran into her when you couldn't seem to get to sleep

You approached the bow of the ship, watching the moonlight reflect off the waves, and the clouds move with the wind. It was quite beautiful at night even though there wasn't much to look at other than water.

Hearing footsteps behind you, you put a hand to your holster but spun around to see Sevika. Seeing her in this light reminded you of the day you met her, but now you were in front of her, compared to the day she found you.

"Up so late?" She questioned, her voice indicated she had waken up recently.

"Yeah, I couldn't fall asleep," You let your guard down again and leaned against the wood, hand cradling your face as you stared back into the sea.

"Y'know.. I didn't think you had it in you." She commented.

"Had what in me?" You chuckled, "The guts to be a pirate?"

You talked for a long while after that, the sun hit the horizon by the time you said your goodbyes. You had a feeling that Sevika wouldn't be a mystery to you for much longer.

Eventually, she would come around to teach you how to fight properly, as you mostly fought based off of what you saw others do. She held your body close to hers, helping you mimic her movements. Feeling the buckles of her belts on your back, the coldness of her metal arm on your waist.

As a matter of fact she taught you a lot of things, like how to steer the ship: putting her hands over yours, pointing in the direction of where to go. Teasing you when your hands got tired, and taking over for you, letting you stand between her and the wheel.

She joined you in the crows nest, sitting beside you on the railing with a hand on your back, making sure you didn't fall. She would direct your telescope to look at nearby land or into the horizon.

You had a lot of talks up there.

Sometimes, the crew wondered what was going on between you two, as you were practically always together. (She denies all allegations.. for now)

She taught you how to wield a sword and fought with you for fun. Letting you win from time-to-time, you knew she let you. I mean, there's no way you'd be able to pin Sevika to the wooden deck without a struggle.

You would catch her sleeping on the helm, her feet kicked up on a chair and her hat on her face. As punishment, you would take her hat and keep it until morning. Then, prancing around the next day with it on, commanding the crew jokingly, pretending to be her.

When she finally caught you, she would sweep you up and take the hat right off your head, chuckling at your mischievousness. Sometimes, she would let you wear her hat, only if you promised not to lose it.

After particularly stressful missions, the crew would throw a small party for their winnings, needing time to wind down. You grew accustomed to the crew, even making a few friends with unlikely people.

You and Jinx drank a bit together and danced around on the table, singing sea shanties loudly. But eventually, Sevika would catch you all. And make you clean up. (But not before having a drink herself)

And it was almost a nightly routine to go up to the deck and talk once everyone was asleep, gazing into the moon with her. It felt natural. You felt like you belonged.

God i love her, i dream about her I swear. I love pirates... and I love sevika, pls send in more pirate sevika asks i wanna do a siren one too ngl maybe how Sevika isnt drawn in by your siren call because the captain is a woman AUGHHHHH

[krumpkin]

Amerigo Vespucci 😊

[sfiddy]

[sleepymarimo]

𝐣𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡?

zoro x gn!reader // sfw! we've all seen reader walking in on zoro and hiyori, but what if zoro stumbles upon you with someone else? it's just a big misunderstaning, of course!

𝐙𝐎𝐑𝐎'𝐒 cheeks are colored a light pink, bordering on red as the icy wind continues to relentlessly nip on them. the snow isn’t a problem, thick, powdery, yielding for each rhythmic movement of his strong legs.

it’s early, much too early, and he should be on the ship just like he was commanded to do, but when does he ever comply?

no, he wouldn’t be staying on the ship, not when he knew you were out here somewhere on this frozen waste of an island. zoro doesn’t often kick himself, taking things as they come, but he feels it’s his personal responsibility to go after you.

a part of him isn’t quite sure what had happened the day prior.

the crew was together, united, exploring the island when the peace was disrupted by an ambush from some not so friendly inhabitants. it wasn’t a problem, shouldn’t have been a problem, but when the snow cleared, when the last of the flurries were blown away, you were gone.

not only were you the closest one to him, but he prided himself on being the protector, the man who safeguards his crew mates.

zoro walks along, his green hair sticking out amidst the snow white landscape. he scoffs, looking all over. had he came around here already? he doesn’t know, but he looks up toward the sky, nose wrinkling as a few flakes melt into his skin.

his body knows before his brain, his steps coming to a halt before he takes a last minute turn toward the east. instinct; it’s all instinct, his good eye honing in on a structure just beyond a few trees. he’s found what he’s been looking for and he knows it.

the scent of pine gives way to something smoky as he trudges closer, one of his hands wrapping around his wado. there’s hints of alcohol, the medical kind, and alcohol, the drinking kind, but more than that- there’s you.

old wooden steps creak as he makes his way toward the entrance of a worn down cabin, his muscles tense, ready for action. it’s quiet inside, much too quiet, yet he doesn’t bother concealing his own presence. the door opens, hitting the wall, and he steps inside, the light from a nearby window illuminating all.

he’s prepared to see you, knows you’re here. would you be starved and injured? frightened and in need of help? he takes his role as a pillar, but this isn’t what he expects to see.

you don’t look like you need help, that’s for damn sure. thick blankets shield your form from the morning chill, but so do a strong pair of arms. who the hell is that laying next to you? why are you letting him so close?

"eh?" he finds himself saying, keeping his sword pointed and ready for action.

zoro doesn't recognize the man beside you, enveloping you in a safe embrace. it's...surprisingly irritating and he doesn't know why, but he has enough mind to place his wado back into it's sheath.

those damn arms tighten around you and zoro decides he's had enough. "oi," he calls, crossing his arms, taking another step toward you. "what the hell is this? get. up."

beneath the blankets, you and your partner huddle a bit closer. and when you stir, letting out a soft, sleepy grunt, your new companion opens his eyes and tenses, ready to protect you.

oh, how it makes the marimo's eye twitch. doesn't this guy know that zoro should be protecting you? it's made even worse when you hold the man a little tighter, your eyes just barely starting to open.

"watch it." the swordsman growls, not trusting this man one single bit.

zoro says your name again, more firm, a little more demanding of your attention. for a moment it sounds like he's scolding you, clearly not approving of this whole situation.

it's only when you fully wake that you sit up, then the swordsman silently thanks the stars above. he relaxes once you shake yourself from the stranger's hold, a relieved smile on your face.

his protective instincts swell, a certain satisfaction filling him as you scoot away from the man.

"zoro!" you tug the blankets off and the marimo tenses again. bandages are snuggly wrapped around your leg, you're injured, but you've been tended to. cared for.

he takes some steps closer, a flash of concern in his eyes, yet he remains strong, not wanting to let his guard down around the man who is still a little too close to you for his liking. crouching down beside you, reclaiming his place, he assesses the wound.

his nose wrinkles. you smell like that bastard right beside you, the one that had probably been cuddling up to you all-

zoro shakes his head, focusing on the important things.

you explain everything that led you to this point. you'd taken a tumble during the initial fight, sliding down the snowy mountain and hurting your leg in the process. the so-called stranger had been the one to find you, tend to your wounds. of course he was skilled at first aid, of course he cooked you a hot dinner, of course he kept you warm while the snow fell outside in soft flurries.

damn, it pisses zoro off. none of this would've happened if the swordsman had kept you safe to begin with. yet, he has to begrudgingly voice a quick thanks.

you don't leave his sight though, not for one bit.

once some goods are packed up, zoro gets you situated on his back as he prepares to return you to the ship. he watches as you wave at the man one last time, your eyes bright, thankful, and zoro feels his cheeks warming at your expression, wishing it was directed at him instead.

he grows more comfortable as the cabin fades away and out of view. his shoulders relax, his breaths even out, and he's acutely aware of every move you make.

your arms snuggly rest over his shoulders, face resting in the crook of his neck as you seek refuge from the light snowfall. with your thighs wrapped around his hips, you rest and he makes sure to keep a secure hold on you.

it's as though all is right again. you'll be back with the crew, and it's a reassuring thought. or maybe it feels right because it's just you and him? zoro doesn't know.

either way, he makes a pledge to be better, to do better, to keep you safe.

at the end of the day, he doesn't even make the connection that he simply can't stand to see you in the arms of someone else.

[scvrgrl]

something stupid | roronoa zoro x fem!reader

the time is right, your perfume fills my head the stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue and then I go and spoil it all by saying somethin' stupid like, "i love you."

word count: 1.3k

cw/tags: roronoa zoro x fem!reader, drinking and drunken confessions, short&sweet, sfw and fluff!! inspired by something stupid - frank sinatra & nancy sinatra

the sound of the crashing waves against the ship’s hull mingled with the cacophonous laughter that erupted from the two of you. after a long, stressful day of evading one of the many nefarious foes that tailed behind your crew, zoro had the brilliant idea of winding down with a cool bottle of sake. 

zoro's head swayed with the restless current, bobbing against the wooden panels that lined the crow’s nest. his beautifully tanned skin prickled with goosebumps as the ocean breeze grazed his exposed arms. when he was with you, zoro felt like he could come alive — lowering his guard and allowing himself to be ignorant to the outside world, just for a moment. his stoicism faltered whenever you were around, effortlessly tugging a gentle smile at his lips with a single, all-knowing glance. despite only being a part of the crew for a few months, you grew to understand zoro better than anyone else on the crew — hell, sometimes better than himself. the relationship between the two of you was easy and comfortable, two feelings zoro had never been familiar with. his life always flashed a million miles a minute, encountering death more times than he’d be willing to admit. but when you were around, his life slowed down, making time to commit your soft features to memory. 

the feelings zoro had for you were more than romantic. sure, he allowed his mind to wander to not-so-appropriate places over the last few weeks when he finally realized his feelings for you. but the fluttering in his chest and stomach were not the only distinct symptoms that accompanied this crush. it exceeded the bounds of love and lust, crossing over into an unbridled admiration. he appreciated you in his life, finding himself unable to imagine a world that you weren't in, weren't a part of. and in the brief moments that he did, his chest hollowed and an aching loneliness burned through his heart.  

so yeah, he liked you.

the alcohol that ran through his system made him feel light, its buzz causing his cheeks to flush. although, his blush wasn’t attributed to the alcohol alone. no, he had been watching the way you threw your head back, your loud and chaotic laughter erupting from your rosy lips. he loved how comfortable you were around each other, not afraid to unleash your “ugly laugh,” as you had called it once before. anything you did was a sign of beauty in his eyes, a treasure that he wanted to keep all for himself. 

unbeknownst to zoro, you had felt the same way for a long time. ever since you met him, you recognized how undeniably handsome he was. the macho-man front he put on in the beginning had been a little off putting, constantly walking on eggshells to avoid disturbing him. however, zoro warmed up to you quite nicely once you had proved yourself trustworthy. you’d teased him once about being like a grumpy old cat — distant at times but always coming around when it mattered, showing affection at random periods, yet welcomed all the same.

your sweet, floral perfume fused with the salty ocean air, creating a dizzying sense of pleasure through zoro’s head. he knew he was staring at you, probably making you uncomfortable as the silence ran long. but he didn’t care. instead, he kept his eyes soft and his lips slightly parted into a smile, drunk off your presence alone. the alcohol was merely a confidence boost for what he was about to say, something he’d been itching to tell you for a long time. 

“i love you,” zoro said, voice barely above a whisper. his eyes were fixated on you, watching you and waiting for the reaction he wanted. his gaze was intense, a tension building in his chest as the nerves bundled beneath the surface.

your heart jumped for a split second, stopping at the sound of his voice. he’s drunk, you reassured yourself, careful not to get your hopes up.

“yeah, yeah. i love you too, zoro” you joked, brushing off his words while you fixed your concentration on the dark ocean below. the tension inside the crow’s nest became heavy, a warmth flushing your cheeks that you begged to stop spreading.

“no, you’re not listening to me,” he slurred, words laced with frustration as he sat upright. something in zoro’s eyes shifted, his relaxation transforming into a seriousness that you had been entirely unprepared for, “i’m in love with you.”

“what?”

the warmth in the air became a tension so palpable that you could’ve molded it between your fingers, grasping it to stabilize your now-trembling hands. rather than accepting his words for what they had been, you’d been filled with a nasty bitterness as your mouth turned sour. you’d grown accustomed to the degrading routine of unrequited love, its loneliness becoming comfortable over time. in truth, the thought of someone possibly reciprocating those feelings terrified you, fearing for the disappointment that would follow.

“you’re drunk, roronoa.” you scoffed. whether it was during arguments or intimate conversations, you’d always addressed zoro by his proper name. it had turned into a safe word, letting him know that you were serious.

you began to rise to your feet, holding onto the wall for support as the alcohol ran wild through your system. zoro had stared at you with fierce bewilderment, brows furrowed as you packed for the night. he latched onto your wrist, grasp a perfect balance between firm and cautious, as if he were afraid you’d break under the pressure. zoro’s eyes were staring up into yours with an intense desperation, pleading for an ounce of your undivided attention.

“i’m serious, [y/n]. i love you. but you don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. i know it’s weird coming from me — hell, i feel weird just saying it. but i know that if i don’t tell you now…i don’t think i ever will.”

the apprehension in his voice told you that he was telling the truth, a very scary truth at that. there were many times during battle, both on land and sea, where zoro should have been afraid. but nothing could have scared him more than the thought of losing you. he was worried that you’d reject him, forever tarnishing the beautiful friendship that you both worked so hard to build and protect. he was worried that you’d no longer come to him when you needed someone to talk to, afraid that he’d made things weird with his stupid crush. i’m such a fucking idiot.

however, nothing could have prepared him for the way you leapt into his arms, tackling him to the ground. the impact caused him to lose his balance, the both of you rolling onto your backs. drunken laughter filled the room once more, only this time it was accompanied with relief. you made your way into his arms, chests pressed against each other as your hearts synchronized. the kiss you planted on his lips was shy, testing the waters. zoro’s rough hands raked gently through your hair, grabbing a handful as he pulled you deeper into the kiss. you could taste the sake as your tongues mingled together, drinking in the remnants through his saliva. his grip on your waist tightened as you bucked your hips against his, hungrily begging for more and more of him.

“you have no idea how long i’ve been wanting to do that,” you huffed, cheeks and lips flushed as you catch your breath.

zoro’s lips traced your jawline, traveling downward as he placed a trail of kisses and nibbles down your neck, “who said we have to stop?”

cranked this one out real quick cause i just had to get it off my chest. i’ve been such a zoro and sanji girl lately it’s becoming an issue someone please sedate me

[blairenqs]

୨୧ STORAGE ROOM SHENANIGANS ✧ SPENCER REID

───── IN WHICH you and spencer get carried away in the bau storage room and suffer the consequences !

𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝖻𝖿!spencer 𝓍 𝒻! 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝟣.𝟤𝖪 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿, 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍, 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍, 𝗌𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂���� ♡ ⎯⎯ 𝖠𝖱𝖢𝖧𝒾𝖵𝖤

THE BAU WAS A FAMILY, a family in the fires of late nights, depressing cases, and all trauma bonded for life—among that family, you and spencer reid were the youngest members.

from the minute you joined the team, it was clear you and spencer had an uncanny connection.

you were just as smart as he was—chatty with your knowledge, sharp with your logic, and often very prone to rambling about random facts. the team loved to tease you both for it, naming the two of you the “bau brainiacs” or, as morgan would call it, “unit of the nerds.”

it was all in good teasing of course, but little did they know there was far more to your relationship with spencer than banter and battles of who’s the smartest.

you and spencer have been secretly dating for months now—the bond between you grew naturally, beginning with long conversations about case theories and late night cups of coffee in the precincts.

the night it became official, you two had stayed up talking until the officers literally had kick the two of you out, and spencer had kissed you after walking you to your hotel room—softly, hesitantly, as if he were testing the waters. —READ MORE!

from that moment on, the two of you were quite literally inseparable—but you both agreed to keep it a secret from the team.

it wasn’t about fear of losing your jobs or professionalism—it was about keeping this one sacred thing just between you two. besides, watching the team try to “ship” you together, so completely unaware of the truth, was much too entertaining to pass up.

it was a quiet and uneventful day at the bau when hotch approached your desks.

“i need those old case files from the storage room,” he said, handing spencer a list. “it’s a long list, so you should both go. faster that way.”

spencer nodded. “got it.”

“be quick,” hotch added, although his tone was more amused than serious.

as soon as the elevator doors closed, you shot spencer a nervous look. “do you think hotch knows we’re dating?”

“i doubt it,” spencer replied, grinning. “i don’t think he would send the both of us alone to the storage room if he did..”

you let out a humoured giggle as the elevator dinged, and you followed spencer into the dark and eerie storage room.

it was a barely lit space with rows of wooden shelves and rows of filing cabinets. the buzzing of the creepy lights filled the room, adding to the already creepy atmosphere. “alright, let’s get started,” you suggested with a sigh, scanning the list. “you take a through m and i’ll handle n through z.”

spencer gave you a sarcastic salute and headed to the opposite side of the room—you were halfway through your section when spencer yelled out, “found the first batch!” you turned to see him holding a stack of folders, a teasing smile on his face. you couldn’t help but smile back.

“such a show off,” you joked, walking over to him.

“it actually wasn’t that hard,” he said, though his voice was tinged with pride. you rolled your eyes affectionately, stepping closer. “you’re so impossible, you know that?”

spencer’s smile softened, his doe eyes locking with yours. he had that look again—the one that made your heart flutter every time.

without thinking, you closed the distance between you and kissed him. it was gentle at first, his lips warm and soft against yours—but as his arms slid your waist and pulled you closer, the kiss deepened.

spencer kissed you as if he was memorizing every detail about you, his fingers tracing slow, tingly patterns along your back—your hands found their way into his hair, tugging gently, and he let out a quiet, almost desperate sound that sent a shiver down your spine.

the folders slammed onto the floor as he pushed you gently against the filing cabinet, his lips moving with more urgency. the cold metal pressed against your back, but the heat of spencer’s body made you forget everything else.

“spence,” you whispered against his lips, your voice breathless at this point. “hm?” he replied, not pulling back. his lips trailed down to your jaw, then your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses in their wake.

“we should—” you gasped as he found a sensitive spot just below your ear. “—be working.”

“we are working, love—” he mumbled, his voice heavy and desperate. his hands slid to your hips, holding you firmly in place.

your laughter faded as he kissed you again, slower and softer this time but the tensity still held. it was rare to see spencer so bold, so utterly lost in the moment, and it made your heart race.

and unfortunately, neither of you heard the door open.

“ahem.”

the sudden clearing of a throat made you both freeze—you turned your head slowly, dread pooling in your stomach, and found hotch standing by the doorway, arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

spencer stepped back so quickly he nearly tripped over the discarded folders. his face was a deep shade of red, and he stammered, “hotch—i—we—uh—”

hotch held up a hand, silencing him. “i don’t need an explanation,” he said, though his lips twitched like he was trying not to smile. “i assume this has been going on for a while?”

you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “this is so embarrassing.”

“it’s fine,” hotch said, his tone gentle as he felt your embarrassment reflecting across the room. “i just hope you’ve both been keeping this out of the field.”

“yes sir,” spencer blurted, his voice higher than usual.

hotch nodded, his expression softening. “good. because the team already thinks you’re secretly married with children, and this will only confirm it.”

you ran your fingers through your hair, whining as you tugged in frustration, “they’re never going to let us live this down.”

“probably not,” hotch agreed, a rare smile breaking through. “but i think you can handle it.” he turned to leave, before saying one last thing, “don’t forget the files. and maybe try to keep the pda out of the storage room next time.”

the door clicked shut behind him, leaving you and spencer both stunned in silence. when you finally made it back to the bau office, morgan and garcia pounced onto you both immediately.

“what took you two so long?” morgan asked, his grin teasing and glowing on his face. “don’t tell me,” garcia said, holding up a hand to her mouth dramatically. “you got lost in the romantic atmosphere of the storage room!” you groaned, burying your face in spencer’s shoulder—done with everything at this point. he chuckled, wrapping an arm around you.

“something like that,” he said, a small smirk playing at his lips.

morgan’s jaw dropped. “wait—you two aren’t denying it?”

hotch’s voice cut through the chatter as he stepped out of his office. “leave them alone, morgan,” he said, his tone dry but amused. “they’ve had a long day.”

the team burst into laughter again, and you whined, “hotch, you’re supposed to be on our side!”

hotch just smiled faintly before retreating into his office, leaving you and spencer to endure the teasing—despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but smile. you had spencer by your side, and all the teasing in the world couldn’t ever ruin that feeling.

𝖱𝖤𝖡𝖫𝖮𝖦𝖲 𝖠𝖯𝖯𝖱𝖤𝖢𝖨𝖠𝖳𝖤𝖣 ૮₍ ˃ ⤙ ˂ ₎ა

© blairenqs 2025 do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

✧ 𝑓. can u tell i love this trope LOL 😭 spencer reid as my bf would solve all my life problems like somebody switch me to the criminal minds world plz 🧘‍♀️

𓂃ㅤ 𝓉𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ୨୧ @ihatethecrowdsyouknowthat @lcvealwayss @viennasolace ♡ thank you so much for joining !