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velidewrites · 9 months

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Get In The Water

To bargain with an ancient death-lord, Captain Elain Archeron must acquire the rare, magical scales of a siren. Little does she know her target is no ordinary Mer—but the Prince of the Undersea himself.

Pairing: Elucien

Tags: Pirate!Elain x Merman!Lucien

Notes: For the beautiful talented stunning @areyoudreaminof for the @acotargiftexchange! I wasn't your original Secret Santa, but I tried to include some of your favourites here (this is your official warning for Jurian being a canon-typical little shit). Sending you so many smooches!

Thank you @ablogofsapphicpanic for being my beta<3

Read on AO3

“With all due respect, Captain Archeron, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

Elain’s answering sigh was deep enough to rustle the waves ahead. She tossed them a final look before turning back to her quartermaster. “You know exactly where you can shove your respect, Jurian.”

He bounced off the mast with a grin. “Up my arse, no doubt,” he mused, a large, tanned hand stroking his much overgrown stubble. They’d been out at sea for weeks—for good reason, too, though Elain realised it was a sentiment less and less of her crew continued to share.

Still, she nodded with a smile of her own. “Same as last time.”

“Then I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it would have been wise to dock in Adriata two weeks ago.” He crossed his arms. “We’re not exactly welcome on Day Court waters.”

That was certainly one way to put it. Elain was half-expecting the High Lord’s army, ready at arms and lined up on the shores of Port Denera to arrest her and her crew. It would hardly be the first time.

Elain’s smile only grew wider. “There’s nothing quite like coming home.”

Jurian rolled his eyes, no doubt remembering their latest excursion himself, and leaned over the bulwark. “It’s been a while,” he remarked, his brown gaze drifting off to the azure sea. In the waning hours of the afternoon, the golden sunlight reflected off its surface, shimmering quietly as though unaware of the chaos to come. Where she came from—a little town bordering the Eastern Coast—the fishermen used to say the future was carried in with the waves. Elain was never much a practitioner of such belief—after all, if it were true, her ship would surely be on the verge of utter collapse right now, sinking underwater with the crashing force of the raging sea.

Instead, they continued to peacefully make their way northeast, the sun warming their skin as though in greeting. The irony wasn’t lost on her, but she supposed it was much easier to enjoy the bliss while it lasted. The silver blade strapped to her side flashed at the thought, undeniably in protest—she’d had it dipped in the Cauldron a few decades ago (before her sister, the High Lady herself, had somehow lost the whole damn thing), and since then, the sword had seemed to develop a mind of its own. Elain didn’t mind. It was bloody useful in battle, and she was smarter than to argue with a deadly, magical artifact. Even if it was a real fucking smartass.

The sword flashed again—and a lot brighter this time, too bright to mistake it with a random glimpse of the sunlight.

“Sorry,” Elain muttered.

Jurian—she’d nearly forgotted he was still here—glanced down at her belt. “You need to stop talking to the damn thing.”

She could have sworn she felt something sharp twitch against her hip.

“Would you like to talk to it instead?” she asked sweetly.

Jurian’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“I thought so.”

“Seriously, Elain,” he sighed, apparently foregoing her usual title. “I would have gone to the ends of the earth with you to get those scales. Hell, I will go to the ends of the earth, and you know I won’t so much as hesitate.”

Elain did know. The stakes were too high—too personal, especially for her second-in-command.

“But the crew needs a break,” Jurian continued. “Adriata was supposed to be our goldmine, and we found nothing—nothing, Elain, not even one of those gods-damned—”

“I know what happened in Adriata, Jurian,” Elain cut in. “I was there.”

“I only mean—”

“I know what you mean. And I agree, even if I do not show it sometimes. Jurian, I…” She closed her eyes, letting the salty mist pearl on her skin, her lashes. “I miss her too. Every day.”

For a moment, there was only silence—silence and the quiet whoosh of the deep blue waves.

“I know you do,” Jurian whispered beside her.

“She’s out there, somewhere—somewhere on the Continent. With that monster to do with her as he likes.” She could practically hear Jurian grit his teeth beside her. “I won’t give up, and we’ve been out here together long enough for me to know you won’t give up, either.”

“The Death God is persistent,” Jurian seethed. “He demands too high a price.”

Indeed he did. Koschei, a being so ancient even the fishermen in her small Day Court village had no legends singing of his name, had been magically bound to his lair on the Continent millennia ago—and, apparently, had been trying to find a way out of his chains ever since. The only thing in the world able to release him, though, was—of course—the Cauldron, the creator of the world itself.

And, up until sixty years ago, Elain would see it in her sister’s dining room every Solstice. It was ridiculous, really, the power the Night Court used to have in its grasp. That wasn’t to say it had not been deserved—the Cauldron had been won in a war full of blood and sacrifice, one her sister and his mate had nearly lost their life in, but…well. Surely they could have found a more secure place to display it than their townhouse in Velaris. A place where it could not have gotten stolen by only the Mother knew whom, or better yet—a place where no one, not even Feyre and Rhysand, could ever find it again.

It was too late for such semantics. Despite an entire Valkyrie region searching the skies for a sign of it, the Cauldron was simply…gone.

Nesta believed it to have been an inside job. After all, there were only a handful of people outside of Velaris aware of the city’s existence at all, let alone the High Lord and Lady’s private residence. But the Head Valkyrie had questioned them all—and found nothing at all.

For the first twenty years, Elain searched for it, too—anything to get out of her village, really, and the ghosts of a life she longed to leave behind. An engagement to a local lord’s son might have been the dream of many females back home, but it was, and never would be, Elain’s

The missing Cauldron had given her the opportunity she’d been searching for, and Elain did not look back when Feyre asked for her help. In her travels, though…she discovered a beauty to the seas, to the vast world they opened up for her taking—and so, after too many hopeless clues and tearful conversations with her sister, Elain had let the waves consume her entirely.

She did not think she would ever have to worry about the Cauldron again. She’d hoped, perhaps foolishly, that it had lost itself to the world just as she wished it would. But then Elain had met Vassa, and then Vassa had been taken by Koschei, and, well…

Her fate belonged to the Cauldron once again.

This time, though, it was hardly a chore, or a favour she was doing her little sister. It was a matter of life or death, of the family she’d found sailing the seas of Prythian. Vassa was a sister, too, a sister she loved dearly enough that when Koschei’s demands began to invade her visions, Elain did not hesitate.

She and Jurian had devised a plan—it wasn’t exactly foolproof, so to say, but she hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

“Do you know how much just one of the Mer scales runs for on the black market, Jurian?” Elain asked, more to prove a point than to get an actual answer. He knew—they’d been chasing them for the past two years. Still, she said, “Ten thousand gold marks. You could buy a manor in Spring for that kind of money.”

“I have allergies,” Jurian murmured.

“I know I didn��t just hear that.”

Jurian sighed. “It just seems…I don’t know, Elain. The Mer people are folktale. If your so-called Undersea were to exist, we would have found it in Adriata.”

“The High Lord’s libraries clearly point to the seas of Day,” Elain pressed.

Jurian snorted. “Are you sure you read that right? We didn’t exactly have a lot of time in that library, you know.”

She cut him a look sharper than the sword at her side. “I’m sure. I got the information we needed with a few minutes to spare.”

“I think your posters are still hanging at the entrance.”

Elain wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the way my hair looks in those ones.” When it came to painting, the Day Court forces were no Feyre.

“They put quite the bounty on your head, you know,” Jurian added. “If that isn’t flattering, then I don’t know what is.”

Elain grinned. “Well, I stole some really valuable books.”

“I’ll bet.” He looked out to the sea again, that rugged face turning more solemn as he studied the horizon—and the shore stretching far ahead. “How do you know the scales will be enough to get Vassa back?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know. But, if we can find the Mer here and get the scales we need…perhaps we can bargain with Koschei to take them instead. Their magic is forgotten, just as he is. He might find them to be enough.”

“That’s a big if, Elain.”

She shrugged. “At the very least, we might be able to use them to trace the Cauldron. I’ve sent a letter to Velaris—Amren volunteered her assistance.”

Jurian shuddered.

“Don’t be a baby,” Elain rolled her eyes. “She’s useful. Ancient.”

“Precisely.”

“I just…” He shook his head, his brown curls catching the sunlight. “Things are weird enough as they are. You Fae are hardly accepting of pirates, let alone humans.”

Elain tucked a loose strand of hair behind an arched ear. “I’m a pirate,” she declared, letting some of the pride she’d buried deep in her chest creep into her tone. “I am happy to share at least half of the burden with you.”

Jurian’s warm hand covered her own. “You’re a good friend, Elain,” he said. “You could have left—could have sailed off after that whole fiasco with Koschei.” He gave her a light squeeze. “But you chose to stay.”

She could not meet his stare—not when the salt in her eyes had begun to burn too much, blurring her own gaze as she turned to face the shallowing water. “I’ve run away before,” she told him quietly. “No more.”

“No more,” Jurian agreed. He had a past of his own—and, when the time was right…he would tell her. And she would embrace it without question.

“I’ll tell you what,” Elain started, her throat suddenly tight. “It’s a big day we’ve got tomorrow. Tell the crew we’ll be dining at the local tavern tonight?”

Slowly, Jurian turned to her—and smiled. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

***

The Pearl was a small ship—small enough not to raise suspicions when they’d docked in Port Denera. The flag—a Mer tail with a pearl resting between its fins—had been carefully folded away prior to their arrival, the sigil of Elain’s crew all but too recognisable in those parts of Prythian.

It wasn’t that Elain had no moral compass whatsoever, but, over the years, she had learned that sometimes, taking her life into her own hands had a tendency to pay off a whole lot more than simply letting it run its course. Had she lived by a different set of rules, she would have long been married to the new Lord Nolan, never having left her hometown and spending her days at the beach, looking out to the sea and wishing for a life never to be.

It could have been a good life, perhaps—but it would never be the life she wanted, the life she craved. Besides, it wasn’t like Elain had ever been given a good example to follow. Feyre, after all, had escaped her own arranged marriage and ran right to the deepest, darkest corners of Night, Nesta following shortly after. It was only fair that Elain followed the family tradition.

Father had been devastated—Elain’s engagement, after all, had been his final, desperate attempt at seeing his daughters well off before his passing. After Feyre and Nesta’s disobedience, as he’d called it, Father had assumed his daughters had simply rebelled because they wished to remain home. Perhaps that was why, after having tried marrying Feyre off to Spring and Nesta to Hybern, he’d settled for seeing Elain with a small, local nobleman.

Elain did not care for riches—well, she hadn’t cared then. Now, having seen all that the world had to offer, she supposed she did enjoy having a few pearls and gold around her neck at times. But it hadn’t been the match itself that bothered her—she was sure Greysen Nolan was perfectly nice and well-mannered—but the fact that Father hadn’t even asked if he was who Elain wanted, if he’d even cared if she could ever love Greysen at all.

As cliché as it sounded, love was exactly what Elain craved so viciously. And now, decades later, she had finally found that love—here, out at sea, with the waves embracing her wholly and eternally. This—the Pearl—was her home.

She sure hoped home wouldn’t mind seeing her stumble back aboard in a few hours, when she was well and thoroughly drunk out of her mind.

Aside from pearls and jewellery, Elain had developed a taste for ale, and it just so happened that the Port Denera tavern was famous for the golden drink. It tasted like liquid gold in her cup, leaving a tinge on her tongue that sent her senses spiralling and flushed her cheeks with bright-pink heat.

The crew seemed to be enjoying themselves, too, and it was only for that reason that she’d allowed her instincts to abandon ship for a moment or two. Well, perhaps three. She hadn’t seen Jurian this happy and relaxed since Vassa had been taken—a sign of how truly tired he must have been these past few weeks, of how badly he needed an evening to forget.

The thought sobered her up just a little, and Elain remembered the true reason she’d allowed this unusual night out in a town where the entire army was on the lookout for Captain Archeron. She did feel slightly guilty for misleading Jurian into thinking it was simply out of the goodness of her own heart—into omitting the one, small ulterior motive that had lately seemed to be driving nearly every decision of hers.

Information.

While the fishermen in the East of the Day Court had no knowledge of the Mer, the folk of Port Denera no doubt sang of the old creatures lurking beneath the sea. She’d already picked up on a few shanties on the way to the tavern, humming the words quietly to herself as she searched the lyrics for anything valuable. The Mer’s magic appeared to be as sharp as their teeth, capable of stirring the waves and calling upon storms. The strongest of them could lure the innocent, hungry wanderers into their traps with a lulling voice and mesmerising eyes, ones that reflected the soul’s deepest desires just as the surface of the sea reflected the sun above. Once captured, they’d sink those teeth into the flesh of their prey, and drag them under—never to be seen again.

Elain hummed the tune again cheerfully, excitement bubbling up in her chest—well, she supposed the bubbles might have had to do with some of the barrels of alcohol she’d consumed. Still, this was promising. All she needed was a name—a lagoon, or a hidden grotto, perhaps, where she could locate a lair. Her Cauldron-blessed sword would do the rest of the job.

Somewhere far beyond her peripheral vision, she heard the silver hum happily, already summoned by the rather bloodthirsty thought.

It was not that Elain wanted to murder the Mer in cold blood. She did not enjoy killing (she could have sworn her blade huffed at the sentiment), but if there was no other way to acquire the scales, she would do it. She loved Vassa enough to do whatever it took—the exiled, Firebird queen would do the exact same for her.

For what had to have been the hundredth time, Elain looked around the tavern, her somewhat blurry gaze scanning the bustling area. It was a lot more crowded than she’d expected—which proved a good thing all the same. It was a lot harder to get spotted in a sea of creatures of all shapes and sizes, and it sure helped that they all seemed piss-drunk, too.

The local shanty found its way onto her lips once more, and she sang it absently, her attention entirely focused on some old wraith somehow downing two bottles of wine at once. Her sharp nails scraped against the glass as she drank, and Elain watched, completely entranced at what she’d never thought could be accomplished before.

In the morning sun so bright, the sailors set to sea,

Their hearts as bold as brass, their spirits ever-free.

But careful, sailor, please, beware the waves that dance and play,

Beneath this sunny surface, a wicked mermaid lay.

“Sounds terrifying.”

Elain jumped.

The ale in her hand fell to the ground with a loud clunk, the sound immediately drowned out by a rumbling laughter of the crows. The golden liquid spilled over her, sticking to the skin of her neck, her collarbones, the curves of her exposed breasts—until finally sinking into the white fabric of her corset. Elain swore under her breath, cursing her choice of garment for tonight, before finally looking up.

“Shit,” she swore again, for the lack of a better word—or, perhaps, because there was no word to describe the male standing before her.

The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

A pair of shining eyes of molten gold looked her up and down, an auburn eyebrow quirking up in amusement. “Now, don’t tell me you’re disappointed,” he drawled, his voice rich and deep and smoother than the liquid she’d swallowed down her throat. “I spent a lot of time on my hair earlier tonight.”

Elain blinked—then blinked again. “Are you…hitting on me?”

His mouth—full and plush and gods she needed to get it together—twitched. “And here I was, thinking I was all too obvious,” he quipped.

She peeled her gaze off the soft waves of his hair, glistening under the tavern’s candlelight. “Perhaps you’re just not very good at it,” she remarked, thanking the Mother for keeping her tongue sharp when her mind bordered on insanity.

The stranger smiled openly now. “What’s your name?” he asked.

Elain angled her head an inch. “Why?”

Did she really just ask him that?

Perhaps it was time to order some water.

The male seemed entirely unbothered. “It’s not often you meet a beautiful female singing old folktales in the middle of a tavern,” he said, offering a one-shouldered shrug. “I find myself somewhat…intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” Elain repeated blankly.

His smile grew wider. “Quite,” he agreed. “Those are old, you know.”

Elain straightened—straightened and blinked again, her thoughts somehow collecting into one, singular stream as she remembered what, exactly, she had come to this tavern for. “Are they?” she asked, “I’ve just picked up on them an hour ago.”

“An hour?”

She offered a smile of her own. “I have an excellent memory.”

Those golden eyes glistened. “Is that so?” the male asked, his gaze sweeping down her body as though he had all the time in the world. “If I tell you my name, will you sing it for me, too?”

Focus, Elain. He’d mentioned the Mer shanties, did he not? “I doubt anyone will hear it,” she remarked. “I never see Port Denera this busy.”

“You’ve been here before?”

Elain waved a dismissive hand. “Once or twice,”

The male hummed. “Then you know today is an important day,” he said, that strange shade of amusement playing over his features once more. “The High Lord is mourning the loss of his dear wife and son, and we are drinking in a show of, ah…solidarity,” he finished, a passing faun raising his glass at them, as though emphasising his agreement.

Elain waited for him to get out of earshot. “Wife and son?” she questioned, searching the corners of her mind that stored everything she knew about her Court.. “Didn’t that happen three hundred years ago?”

Those eyes narrowed at her slightly, and the stranger tilted his head. “Do you think he should have moved on instead?” he asked, the question so quiet it may as well have been a breath—and yet, she’d heard it perfectly over the bustling crowd.

Elain considered. “I think it must have been a beautiful kind of love, if he’s mourning it so many centuries later.”

His auburn brow arched in surprise. “What did you say your name was, lady…?”

Elain snorted. “Oh, I’m no lady.” She set her glass on a nearby table. “Haven’t been for a while.”

“You certainly look like one,” he remarked, that smile once again creeping back onto his ridiculously handsome features.

She couldn’t resist. “Do I, now?”

He chuckled, the sound low and honeyed. “Oh, absolutely.”

“And are you in the habit of flirting with all the ladies you pick up in a tavern?” Elain teased.

“No, no. I usually let them come to me.” He winked. “I can be a good singer too, you know.”

Elain smiled.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she laughed. “So, you know those shanties, too?”

His eyes glittered.

There it was.

“Some of them,” he agreed.

“Do they hold any truth?” she pressed. Come on, come on, come on…

“Sometimes,” he nodded. “Does it matter?”

You have no idea, Elain thought. “It does. I’m looking for…” she hesitated. “Information.”

“Oh?”

“The books in Day’s library state I might find it here,” she added carefully.

Something like realisation crept onto his features. “You wish to know about the Merpeople,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elain’s gaze flickered to the movement. “How did you get access to those books?” he asked.

“It’s not important,” she told him, eyeing the golden-brown muscles flexing under the candlelight.

“I disagree,” the male said, “those books are extremely well-guarded.” Was that admiration she’d heard in his tone?

“What was your name, again?” Elain asked him.

The male smiled. “Would you like to come outside with me?”

As if. “I’m not exactly in a hook-up mood right now, sorry,” she told him, though uncertain if the words rang entirely true.

He smiled—as though he knew. “What about information?” She felt her brows flick up. “I thought so. Now, shall we? It’s more quiet out back,” he added, gesturing to the tavern’s back door.

“I like it loud,” Elain countered. The more people drowning their conversation, the better.

“So do I,” he winked. “Another time, baby, I promise.”

Elain rolled her eyes. “Very funny,” she said, then dared a quick glance around the space again. Come to think of it, the couple at the table near where the two of them stood were awfully close—close enough that Elain decided not to risk it. She nodded to the stranger. “Let’s go.”

“Just so that we’re clear,” he started as they made their way through the crowd, “once you get those scales, we’re splitting the profits.”

“We can discuss the money later,” Elain countered. Like hell she was going to share anything with him.

“If that is what you wish,” he nodded, and opened the door.

The fresh air hit her almost unexpectedly, but it was a welcome change from the stuffy tavern in the back. She breathed in the salt carried in by the sea, her thoughts clearing up enough that she could finally focus on the matter at hand without unnecessary…distractions.

The distraction flashed her a smile, the beach behind him illuminated by the dying sunlight. “So, Mer scales, hmm? What do you need those for?”

“That,” Elain said firmly, “is none of your business.”

He chuckled again, the sound different this time—less than that deep, raspy sound she’d heard before, but more…fluid, like tea stirring in a cup. Warm. Inviting. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said quietly—and reached out his hand.

“Come with me,” the stranger told her.

Elain frowned. “I’m already here,” she pointed out. “You wanted to leave the tavern,” she reminded him.

He hummed—and she could have sworn it was like a melody pouring from his chest. “Yes,” he told her, stepping back until his feet—bare, she now noticed—reached the sand. “Let’s go a little further, alright?”

Elain stepped forward. “I…don’t understand,” she said. Still, she moved in closer.

He offered her a gentle smile. “Just one more step for me, gorgeous, please,” he tried again, his hand still outstretched.

“Okay.” She reached the sand now, too—but he had somehow moved back a few steps again, inches away from the waves’ embrace.

“Good girl,” he purred, the water now kissing his skin. Elain stepped in closer. “You’re very beautiful, you know,” he told her, angling his head slightly. She watched as his long hair spilled down his back in waves softer than the very sea—and met his gaze again, only to find it dark. “Almost beautiful enough to hide that rotten soul of yours.”

That gold had tarnished—enough to hide that bright, enticing gleam.

“Yes,” Elain agreed.

“Mmm, I thought so,” he mused. “I just need you to take a few more steps, alright? We’re almost at the shore,” he added, his voice like a lullaby, reassuring.

“Yes, I’ll follow you,” she agreed again.

“You’re doing so well for me,” he praised. “I might even consider making your death painless,” he whispered, watching her closely as she, too, neared the edge of the water. “Though that wasn’t the kind of death you had planned for my kind, was it?” he asked, a certain sharpness to his tone that made her open her mouth. “Oh, no need to answer that, baby,” he interrupted, “but I do appreciate your eagerness.”

Elain nodded. “Whatever you wish.”

He smiled, flashing his teeth. A perfect, pearly set of sharp blades—sharp enough to tear her flesh apart. “That’s a good girl,” he hummed, and she could have sworn she heard her soul sing in answer. “Now, step into the sea.”

Elain stopped inches from the seafoam. “Will you give me your hand?” she asked him shyly.

His features softened—though the sharp, predatory smile remained. “Of course, my rotten, terrible lady,” he purred. “Come with me.”

Elain slid her hand in his—and waited.

His skin, surprisingly, was warm—sun-kissed, as if he hadn’t spent an entire lifetime in the dark depths of the Undersea. He felt smooth, too, with some coarseness here and there that let her know his palm was no stranger to holding a weapon—a trident, perhaps, if the songs of the fishermen had, indeed, held any truth to them.

The leaves behind her rustled—and Elain finally, finally released a breath.

“No,” she told him, her voice still feigning that blissful softness. “No, I don’t think I will.”

The merman blinked. “What?”

Elain gave him a smile that was purely Fae—one that let him know she was a monster, too. “It was a nice try, really,” she said, her free hand reaching back to her belt. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”

A pair of iron cuffs appeared in her grip—and, in a flash of a second, found its way onto the merman’s wrists.

His skin sizzled, and he hissed sharply, those dark eyes wide and not leaving hers for one second—but Elain held on, murmuring the spell she’d memorised under her breath.

She could never come to the land of the Mer unprepared.

“Duck!” Jurian yelled behind her.

She only had a fraction of a moment to see the bow in his hands—to stop him before he released the arrow.

Elain didn’t stop him, though.

She ducked.

***

“I can’t believe you caught one of them,” Jurian said in disbelief. “Good work, really, Elain, but did you have to bring him onto the ship?”

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement behind the bars. The merman rose to his full height—he seemed taller in the constrained space of the brig, somehow—and met her gaze directly.

“Your name,” he said as though in a daze. “Elain.”

Elain cut her friend a look. “Thank you, Jurian.”

Jurian bounced off the wall. “Sorry,” he shrugged, his tone suggesting he wasn’t sorry at all.

“It didn’t work,” their prisoner said, more to himself now than his jailors.

“What didn’t work?” Jurian asked him sharply.

The merman looked at him—and Elain knew it took everything in her quartermaster not to flinch under his scrutiny. “My spell,” he explained slowly, then turned toward her again. “It didn’t work on you,” he repeated.

“Perhaps you’re not as good as you thought,” Jurian said.

He scoffed, as though the remark pulled him out of whatever fog had clouded his thoughts. “My name is Lucien Spell Cleaver,” he declared, his voice louder now, stronger. “Firstborn son of Helion Spell Cleaver, Prince of the Undersea—and heir to the High Lord of the Day Court.”

Beside her, Jurian went entirely still. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she was moving at all, either.

She may have been a pirate, but kidnapping a High Lord’s son—nay, his heir—was an act of treason, and Elain really wished to see one hundred before eventually dying a horrible, undoubtedly painful death. Quite common in her profession, really.

“Impossible,” she whispered. “Helion’s son is dead—as is his wife.”

“Clearly not,” Jurian murmured.

The male—Lucien—narrowed his gaze at the two of them. “We have been in hiding for the moment I was born. There was no denying what I was, not until I learned how to glamour myself, and my mother—she took me back to her people to protect me,” he explained.

“Does the High Lord know?” Elain breathed. He was lying. He had to have been.

Still, it was nice to at least know his name. Fake or not, it pleased her, for some reason. Lucien.

“Of course,” he scoffed. “The ‘Summer Estate’ he leaves for six months every year is Undersea.”

The answer was detailed enough that Elain’s heart quickened. “You really are Lucien Spell Cleaver?” she asked.

“And you,” Lucien nodded, “are Elain Archeron. Pirate…and Mer killer, apparently.”

“I haven’t killed anyone,” Elain protested.

“Yet,” he finished for her. “You were going to kill me,” he said, those golden eyes—back to normal now that he was at their mercy—settling on her as he added, “You still are.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she scrambled. Some pirate she was—some of her rivals back East would have made her walk the plank for her hesitation.

Still, Elain could not bring herself to remember why…

“Why do you want my scales?” Lucien asked, interrupting her trail of thought—completing it, really.

“I told you, that is none of your business,” she told him, though her voice lacked her previous conviction this time.

“It is, if you still want them,” he countered.

“Why on earth would you give us your scales?” Jurian demanded.

“Well, I wouldn’t,” Lucien shrugged, then lifted his iron-bound hands into view. “As you can see, I am not in my Mer form, and will not be until you release me back into the sea,” he argued. “So, why don’t you just let me go, I give you my scales, and everyone wins?”

“Because you’re very obviously lying,” Elain cut in. “And you and your little Undersea army are going to sink my ship the moment it sails.”

The corner of his lip ticked upwards. “Is the word of a Prince not credible enough for you, Elain Archeron?”

“Not particularly,” she replied calmly. Princes, Lords—she’d heard their promises before, and ran to the sea to escape them.

“You are unlike any Mer hunter I’ve ever met before,” Lucien hummed, as though in thought.

Elain frowned. “There are hunters?”

“Of course,” he told her. “My father has disposed of as many of them as he could, but some still emerge every few years, hoping to see if the songs are true.” His expressions sombered. “Our scales are very valuable.”

“So we’ve heard,” Jurian said.

Lucien’s gaze flickered up. “It is money, then,” he said matter-of-factly, though something like anger lingered in the back of his throat.. “You wish to kill my people for a few gold marks?”

Elain swallowed.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, princeling,” Jurian seethed.

Elain placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Take a breath, Jurian,” she told him quietly. “Why don’t you leave us alone for a moment?”

Jurian looked at her—then back at Lucien again. “Let me know if you need help killing him,” he said darkly. Then, “For the record, I don’t care what you are,” he told Lucien. “You’re just annoying the shit out of me.”

And with that, he was gone, the wooden stairs carrying the echo of his steps. Only when they faded did Lucien finally say, “I like him.��

“He shot you,” Elain reminded him.

Lucien shrugged. “It wasn’t an ash arrow, now, was it? We live to forgive. Besides, I’m healed now.” Indeed, the wound in his shoulder had now closed almost entirely. “Well, almost,” he said, pointedly raising his wrists back into the light.

Elain had hoped the iron would work—it was an old superstition the humans thought could harm the Fae, but it had to have stemmed from somewhere. With Day’s libraries proclaiming the Merpeople as millenia older than the Fae, Elain figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Sorry about the iron bars,” she said, nodding to Lucien’s cell. “Precautions.”

“I would have expected nothing less,” Lucien said—then leaned back, letting the back of his head rest against the wood. “So.”

Elain released a breath.

“Alright,” she braced herself. He was her future High Lord, apparently—if she lied, she was already dead. “What do you know of Koschei?”

“Who?”

“Nothing, then,” Elain sighed. “He is a death-lord—a god-like being trapped somewhere deep in the Continent. His magic is even more ancient than yours.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “And you seek to…take his magic for yourself?”

“I want nothing to do with his magic,” Elain told him hotly, earning an arched eyebrow in response. “It is revolting. But, it also currently binds my friend’s soul to Koschei himself, and he will not give her up unless we offer him something in exchange.”

“Mer scales?”

“He wants the Cauldron,” she explained. “We are hoping the scales will do for now.” She fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. Was the plan truly that hopeless? Was Vassa going to be trapped…forever?

In her misery, she hardly noticed Lucien had gone strangely quiet.

“Our scales do not even compare to the sheer power of the Cauldron,” he said, the words barely above a whisper.

Elain laughed bitterly. “If this is your way of talking me out of it, you should know I’m pretty desperate,” she told him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get my friend back.”

At that, Lucien said nothing. He only stared at her in thought, his eyes shimmering despite the darkness she and Jurian had shoved him into.

Then, “I see.” He stepped forward then—and halted an inch from the iron bars. “I was wrong about you.”

That, Elain did not expect.

“I told you, your spells do not work on me.”

“I’m well aware,” Lucien hummed. “I speak the truth. What is your friend’s name?”

Her throat threatening to close up, Elain managed, “Vassa.” She shook her head. “She’s like a sister to me. She’s Jurian’s…”

Understanding dawned on his features.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Lucien said.

“Yes,” Elain whispered. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Lucien studied her closely. “And do you have a…?”

Elain almost laughed—though she supposed it was better than breaking down in front of the man she’d imprisoned aboard her own ship. “Don’t tell me you’re back to your flirting strategy now,” she told him.

Lucien smiled—a true smile this time, though Elain wasn’t sure how she knew. “Was I truly that obvious?”

“I knew what you were,” she gestured over him as if it was enough of an explanation. “No one else has eyes like that.” Like the morning sun itself.

“Now who’s the shameless flirt, Elain?”

Elain chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She met his gaze again. “The song summoned you, did it not?” she asked. “You weren’t at the tavern when I arrived.”

Lucien nodded. “I heard it from beneath the waves.”

“I’m not that good a singer.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, his smile fading with the words. She found herself wanting to see it again. “It was for another reason that I heard you. I recognise that now.”

“Recognise what?”

Lucien hesitated. “I need to…” He shook his head. “I—I can’t be sure, it doesn’t…” He locked his eyes with her own again, and she watched him patiently as he searched her gaze. “Elain,” Lucien tried again, and she could have sworn his voice trembled with the word. He loosed a breath. “Come with me.”

Elain looked at his outstretched hand—careful not to let the bars graze his skin. “I told you—”

“I’m not using my magic,” Lucien interrupted. “Just…come with me. Undersea.”

“Like hell I will,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t trust you.”

Lucien just stared at her—started as if some internal battle was playing out deep inside him, one she could almost feel in her own chest.

Then, his hand pulled back, and he laid his palm flat over his chest. His heart, Elain realised, her gaze dipping toward it.

She heard it, then—a quiet, yet powerful sound, like a wave crashing over the shore. The steady beating of his heart.

It couldn’t have been—and yet…

And yet, somehow, Elain heard it. Continued to hear it even now, even stronger as Lucien proclaimed, “With my life,” he began, “I promise to do you no harm.” There was an urgency in his gaze as he pleaded, “Just get in the water with me, and I will be yours.”

Elain paused. “Your scales, you mean,” she corrected, suddenly finding herself entirely out of breath.

“Yes,” Lucien agreed. “That.”

Elain studied the bars keeping him away—then the iron key strapped beside her Cauldron-blessed sword. She swore on the Mother herself she could hear it whisper: Do it.

Perhaps she was simply losing her mind.

“Are you going to make me regret this, Lucien?” she asked him.

He simply stared back. “Are you?”

She supposed the question was reasonable enough. “Don’t tell Jurian I’m doing this,” she warned Lucien. “He’s going to kill me.”

Two minutes later, Lucien was free.

It was a blessing that they’d somehow missed Jurian, really—that she’d guided Lucien through the narrow space upstairs until they arrived at the starboard hand in hand, the sea soft and patient. Waiting.

What the hell was she doing? The only thing Elain knew for certain right now was that she was almost certainly going insane, and that Lucien’s hand in hers was warm and steadying in the buoying ship—and that those steps she was hearing somewhere behind them were, without a shadow of a doubt, Jurian’s.

Whatever Lucien was trying to prove, he had to do it now.

“Do we…jump?” she asked him.

“ELAIN!” Jurian yelled.

“I guess so,” Elain answered for him—and, together, they jumped.

The water, surprisingly, was warm despite the middle of the night. Helion liked to keep his Court warm at all times, but she supposed the sea, at least, would have carried some chill to it. It was then that she realised she’d never swam in those waters before—that she’d spent her lifetime admiring their every corner, but had never actually felt their beauty herself.

Everything happened so quickly.

The moonlight shimmered atop the sea, then sank deep beneath its surface, illuminating the space between them. Illuminating Lucien as his glamour faded and revealed the Prince of the Undersea in his true, unmasked form.

Elain could have drowned there and then.

The scales dotting his body glimmered under the light in a symphony of golds, bronzes and maroons, glowing even underwater as they formed a long, finned tail that floated gently with the current. He was sunlight come to life, the forest on a warm, autumn morning, the golden thread coming to life as it wrapped itself around her ribs, and Elain knew—knew this was the true beauty the sea had meant to show her from the very first moment she’d set sail.

“You…” She struggled for a breath. “You’re so beautiful.”

Lucien smiled, a webbed hand reaching for her own. “So are you, he said, placing her palm over his bare chest—just as he did aboard her ship moments ago. This time, though—this time, Elain could hear as their two heartbeats blended into one, a melody that made her own soul sing as Lucien whispered, “I am yours.”

The thread around her ribs tightened, forever to remain.

“You…” Elain blinked. “Oh.” She covered their joined hands with another, as if to make sure. “Lucien.”

“I needed to make sure,” he breathed, pulling her in. “You are my mate.”

There was reverence in the way he’d spoken the words—like some sacred spell only Elain was privy to hear from his lips.

She wanted to try them too.

“You are mine.”

“Yes,” he assured her.

“And I am yours.”

“Yes,” Lucien whispered again.

“Your scale—”

He squeezed her hands tighter. “Everything I am belongs to you now, Elain,” he interrupted. “But you will not need them.”

Elain blinked once more. “I don’t understand, I—”

Lucien smiled. “We have the Cauldron,” he told her. “My father took it—from Velaris.”

Elain wasn’t sure she was breathing.

“No.”

“Its wards protect us—have been keeping us safe for decades,” Lucien explained. “I think it is time we take our safety into our own hands,” he added, his thumb brushing over her palm.

Did he mean—?

Elain shook her head. “I couldn’t—”

“Where you go, I go,” Lucien said. “I am yours, Elain, and you are mine. Together, we’ll get your family back. And,” he hesitated, “If—if you still wish to have me around then—”

Her mate.

“Kiss me,” Elain demanded.

Lucien stilled. “What—”

“Now, Lucien.”

And he did.

Her eyes fluttered shut as Lucien’s mouth clashed into her own, and the world around then exploded—he tasted of salt and the sun-warmed breeze. He tasted like the rest of her gods-damned life, though she supposed eternity could never be enough to satiate the hunger one kiss had instilled deep inside her. Lucien kissed her as if she was the world, as if she was the light illuminating the sea embracing them, his lips hot and soft and all-consuming.

They had a war to face—but, as long as they faced it together…

Elain pulled back, their hearts pounding as one. She smiled at the sound.

“Let’s do this.”

#acotar gift exchange #elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #elucien fic #elucien fanfiction #acotar #my writing

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snippychicke · 1 year

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It's Just Business Part One

Go ahead, say it. 'Eliza, don't you have enough WIPs?

Yes. I do. But One Piece has brought me the most productive Muse I have had in a long time. And who am I to resist? Especially this face

Hopefully my last WIP for One Piece LA, and I can get all three done.

Fandom: One Piece (LA mainly)

Rating: Teen so far

Pairing: Sanji/Reader

Warnings: No real warnings, but god, I hope you like pining

Summary: You felt like you had known Sanji forever, considering your family had been the main merchants Zeff used to supply the Baratie. You had a small crush on him, but knew it was hopeless considering you were the one woman he didn't seem to pine over.

It was fine. Or so you thought until you ended up on the Going Merry as a bookkeeper and supply manager. Being around him 24/7 was a lot more difficult than just a few days a week.

(Please note 》°《 denotes a scene in the past while -*- will be a regular scene break. Because yeah, I like my non-linear story telling.)

Masterpost | Ao3

Destination:

You grew giddy as you saw the lights of the Baratie against the darkening violet sky. The trip had been longer than usual after getting blown off course by a squall you had encountered midway, and you had worried it wouldn’t be until late in the night before you were able to reach your destination.

Lining up your ship with the deck at the back of the restaurant was pure muscle memory at this point. You had been doing this run since you were a child living on your parent’s merchant boat, after all. Patty called your name as you approached, a large grin on his face as you threw the rope to him to pull the ship in and anchor to the floating deck. "We were beginning to think you weren't going to make it tonight!"

"A small squall pushed me off course," You explained as he boarded, and you gestured to the barrel before grabbing a much smaller package along with your bag. "But you can rely on me, promise!"

The dark man huffed as he picked up the crate. "Uh huh. Just make sure to tell the others to come help before you fall too deep in Sanji's blue eyes."

"Patty!" You hissed, face burning as you paused. " I don't--It's not like that!"

The cook's laugh echoed across the deck and into the night. "I was young once too."

Theoretically, you knew he was right, yet at the same time to think of him, or many of the other veteran cooks of the Baratie as young seemed wrong.

Like Zeff.

The aforementioned chef greeted you by name as you entered the kitchen not long afterwards, his eyes crinkling as he smiled towards you. "Good to see you made it, I was starting to worry!"

"Just took a minor detour!" You excused over the clamor of the kitchens, your eyes scanning discreetly for the other blonde chef. (Sous chef, chef, cook, you still were confused by the differences.)

"Eggplant is waiting tables tonight." Zeff called, meaning your attempt at being subtle had failed spectacularly.

"Oh no," You laughed despite the blush at being caught red handed. "What'd he do this time?"

"Bein' a little shit like always,” Zeff finished whatever he was working on and washed his hands before bellowing out over the clatter of the kitchen. “Those not actively working on orders go unload Lil' Miss' ship! And you, lil' lady, let's go discuss business."

You carried your package with you back to Zeff's office. The place was nothing like the clean organized chaos of the kitchen. Instead it was pure chaos with papers and log books piled everywhere. It felt like home to you, honestly. You had been raised by merchants, after all. Your parents had taught you the motto that if a person’s office was clean and well organized, business was bad. Chaos meant business was booming and they barely had time to keep things tightly organized.

And business was always booming at the Baratie.

You took a seat across from Zeff’s desk and you two quickly fell into a heated discussion as you haggled over prices, giving each other needlessly hard times for the hell of it. After finally settling on prices, the topic moved onto what was needed for the next run.

"Alright then," Zeff said as you placed the order in your bag, along with the stack of money as payment. "You run off and find Sanji. I'm sure by now he's heard you're aboard and getting antsy."

Your smile faded as you blushed. It was a very common tease from the crew, and you were fairly sure they were just playing around. Giving everyone a hard time seemed to be the cooks’ mutually favorite pastime. "Hardly. I'm sure he's been chatting up some pretty gal or three and hasn’t even noticed."

Still, you held the package close to you as you made your way to the restaurant proper. Nemo, the Maître d’ smiled as you entered, showing you over to one of the smaller tables on the second floor balcony where you could watch the rest of the restaurant. One of the benefits was always having a table reserved on the days you were due to come in.

Even with the late hour, the Baratie was still rather busy. Couples mainly filled the tables, though you saw a few groups you assumed were friends and others that were likely business meetings. With the melting pot that was the baratie, there was no way to really tell who was civilian, marine, or pirate.

"Well, there's the lady of the hour," A familiar voice stated, pulling your attention back. Sanji smiled at you as he placed your favorite drink in front of you. "I was relieved to hear you made it safe and sound, though I did miss our usual lunch date."

"Me too, but the weather wasn't very cooperative today," You smiled as you offered the package to him. "Fresh from the tailors, as requested."

Despite being on the clock, Sanji took the seat across from you before opening up the garment box, revealing the silk button-up shirts he had ordered. There was a faint smile on his face as he examined the shirts--he had left the color and pattern choices up to you so you had went with ones that would make those sky blue eyes pop.

"You never disappoint," he said softly, apparently satisfied with your choices.

"Gotta keep my favorite business partners happy." Which was true in a sense. It was just business. He had paid you in full last time for you to go buy the shirts. But seeing Sanji smile at you like that, his blue eyes sparkling from behind fine blonde hair, woke the butterflies in your chest and was a payment of sorts all in itself.

"Well then, let me go see if those lazy asses have your usual ready. If not, give me a minute and I'll whip it up myself."

》°《

You could remember first seeing the fishshaped restaurant emerging from the fog as a child. The Baratie wasn't quite as famous as it would be, but your parents, both descended from profitable merchants themselves, could sniff out a good partnership in the making.

That's when you met the infamous Zeff. You could remember peeking out from behind your father's leg to look at the tall muscular chef, amazed by his braided mustache.

And also when you met Sanji--not much older than yourself--and at the time a fair bit thicker.

And you got along like cats and dogs.

Years passed and while you and Sanji were more likely to glare daggers at each other then say something nice, he was also the only person your age you saw the most. Your merchant ship visited every few weeks with produce, and both of you were usually roped into unloading and putting things away.

"Damned oregano," You heard him mutter as you stocked the spices.

"Doesn't that go in spaghetti?" You asked as you carefully poured sugar into the large barrel.

The look Sanji had could've killed, but you were used to him shooting daggers at you whenever you were in the same room. "What did you say?"

"Oregano,” you repeated as if he was dumb (in your defense, you were eleven and firmly believed he was.) “I do know how to make spaghetti sauce now."

"I'm just going assume you mean some kind of marinara sauce you put on spaghetti noodles," He sneered as if you were the thick one, making you roll your eyes.

"Oh right. Sorry Mr. Fancypants, but not all of us literally live in a restaurant." So many sauces and different types of noodles hardly meant anything to you when you typically ate the same thing every day when out at sea.

"Yeah, some of us weren't allowed in the galley until she was ten,” Sanji muttered under his breath not-so-quietly. “And can barely boil water as it is."

You lost your temper despite promising your family you would be on your best behavior, and impulsively grabbed a handful of the white crystalized sugar before throwing it at Sanji.

He yelled as the sugar hit him, glaring at you with murderous intent before giving another yell as he tackled you.

And the fight was on. Punches, kicks, spit, everything flew as you tussled on the floor, trying your best to make the other conceded..

"What the hell is going on here!" Zeff boomed as he pulled you both apart by the back of your shirts just minutes later, swearing both of your names. "The fuck do you think you were doing?"

"She started it by throwing sugar!" Sanji snarled.

"He was making fun of me!"

"I was just stating facts!"

“I don’t care who started it!” Zeff snarled. “But that is the wimpiest fighting I have ever seen! Absolutely disrespectful. I’m dragging both of you outside for a lesson.”

#one piece #one piece live action #sanji #sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji

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6okuto · 2 months

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hai everypony. used some of u and ur ocs as my muses for a little (big) (rough) spread :3 So u know u r perceived and enjoyed.

if ur surprised because we don't talk um. i recognize ur user and or did some tag lurking so. hey... um. Hey...... tags and notes under the cut!

@khalixvitae - KHALIX ! do not know this guy At All but i decided to mix things up and use him!! if u have any thoughts to share abt vil i'm all ears! >__<

@sweet-milky-tea705 - JAYCE! yasenia. smoking duck gif. is anything else needed 2 say... i didn't forget her ears i just. upside down. hair. and. giuspelazpe

@koyukiki - Leon Kennedy. LMAO he's literally the most random guy on here. "why hoseok da bus driver" vibe LIKEHEEBFHSB but u know. hiii koyuki!!

@shobvrry - wehehehe... hiii friend,, little shoto for u!! :3 do u like the placement of frozen joke bear. get it. bc. because. he. and. get it

@dira333 - kENMA!! this is evidently Not the thing i wanted to give u but. this has taken a while and i actually want 2 redo the other thing so. haii dira!! \o/

@satorisoup - tHe Only self ship other than me on here. based it on ur existing self ship comms and picrews.. R ur eyes green. like. ..IMCRYING . ROCK ON LENE!

@last0bread - !! azalea has SUCH a cool + unique design!! she's also quite satisfying to draw?? LOL. i also like doodling flowers so thanks for letting me do that :3 🩷 /silly

@mustddart - oh my god i didn't know u changed users and just got so scared. I rock w these guys. i don't know their dynamic i based it solely on this post (& it being percy) but I ROCK W THEM!!! U r one of the people i recognize by user btw. Hiiii stay awesome!!!! 🩷🩷

@luv-indigo - SOOO lovely!! loved reading about nadine and seeing her in each step ^__^ !! i recognize u by user too. Haiii all ur art and ocs r super nice and cool!!! 🙆🏻‍♀️🩷

@vaultureculture - bro i am rocking w this design so hard. elvia is stunning like okkk???!! leander i see u. i get u 🙂‍↕️🔥 phlomis is also Awesome i love the dynamics and story going on IM ROCKING SO HEAVY!!

@kandy-katz - omg. i did the chibi first and by the time i got to the last empty space i realized sol was the only one who was a sole (haha) chibi and !! 😭 i felt so bad bc his full design is SO SO cool so he's here twice. HE'S AWESOME!! 🩷🙆🏻‍♀️

@dreamtydraw - smoking duck gif. apple bag trio.. lOVE THEM!! 🩷💌 wasn't originally gonna do all 3 but i saw this pose and thought it was silly and fun.. yeagh. all ur ocs are always so lovely and unique!!! everypony reading this go check dreamty on itch.io and play all 5 games NOW!!!

@evanox - SARA RAAAHHHH!!!! saraahhhhh!!.???? haha get it. ...just looks like i spelt ur name wrong. Let's carry on. MAEHWA!!! 😭🩷🩷 worked off jayce's art I hope she looks ok. sage is drunk and saying something stupid /affectionate Idk what.. hehe she's lovely!!

@anonymous-eggy - Big Fan of masks and i love this one. HIS DESIGN IS SO FUN!! i finished drawing them the fastest fr fr i want that shirt so bAD and their hair is so nice yeahh i rock w az HEAVY!! 🩷🩷

@someiicecube - cannot overstate how heavy i rock w esther. u hooked me at an awesome stunning design and reeled me in w reading too many romance books and wishing it was him. so me. SO COOL!!! 🩷🩷

da process........

yeahgh. 👍 i wud like to draw some for real in the future but actually if i draw anything in the next few days my brain will explodeo.

#🖍️nia.draws #i have no idea what the saturation situation is going to be outside my laptop. whatevah...#this was suppossd to be simple little gifts so i refuse to look any longer. good god #Imembarrassed and shy so im going to queue this and pretend i didnt post it. i think u r all very cool and lovely and #i hope u have a good day!!! and remember people rock with u. yeagh #can everyone appreciate all the joke bears btw. i stopped myself from adding more.#** omfg tumblr user mustddart Soz i didn't realize i fucked up ur tag.

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syndrossi · 7 days

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resonant ch27 dvd commentary

Favorite line:

The red priestess had thought Jon’s resurrection irrefutable proof of her god’s power, yet at times Jon had wondered if he was so different from the wights he faced across the battlefield: something dead, with fire breathed into him rather than ice, intended instead to be a puppet for R’hllor.

It's an interesting parallel, and one that I'm sure Jon has mused upon before. The dead are not allowed to rest; they are tools to be used by unknowable forces. Unlike the wights, of course, Jon is alive and has free will, but that doesn't mean his return to the living wasn't meant to serve a purpose, as the wights do.

Favorite detail:

The gifts! I had a lot of fun picking the first batch out. Rhaegar's gifts are pretty easy/obvious, and we even had Daemon musing last chapter about getting him charcoals and parchment. The book written by Aenar Targaryen will definitely be important/useful as they go through it. With the dragons left in the care of the Dragonkeepers, it's not a book that anyone has likely read in a century. Aegon or Visenya could very well have been the last to do so, other than Viserys briefly scanning it for information to reconstruct the hatchery in his model.

Meanwhile, the generational cartography is something that felt fitting for dragonriders to do. It is far easier to map something from a bird's eye view versus going about slowly on foot, though it requires recalling the details later, as dragonback is not the most stable position to draw from! One eagle-eyed commenter on the chapter guessed at Daemon's reasoning for Jon's gifts: in both chapters 24 and 26, he's shown interest in ship movement on dragonback and the landscape in general. So he gets a map and wooden model ships!

(Obviously Jon is attached to his bronze knife, but Daemon needs more lead time to have a Targaryen equivalent made.)

And the gifts also reflect aspects of Daemon that he shares with both children: a curiosity about the lay of the land and the movement of people and things below (a strategic eye), and his own interest in their family's history and dragons. Daemon's similarities to Jon are often more obvious, because their personalities on the surface are closer, but he shares many things in common with Rhaegar too!

Favorite dynamic:

The cousins, naturally. Aegon and Aemond's childish jealousy (enhanced by their existing dislike for their nephews) of their shiny new cousins spending time with other children, doing that thing that kids do where they demand you admit that they're your best friend obviously and far superior to any other friends.

Then we have Aemond "letting" Jon be Aemon so that he can be Rhaegar's brother instead, living out the dream of having a brother he likes and can relate to / have adventures with. While Aegon wants to buy "cool points" with his secrets.

And the sibling sabotage with Aegon's secrets, of course! With Otto as their grandfather and Viserys as their father, they are privy to some interesting conversations, which is a resource that Jon and Rhaegar can try to leverage in the future.

Meanwhile, no one has made any guesses yet as to the secret Aegon wants to show them...

Quick hitters:

I hate the flow of "Princesguard" but it's KINGSguard and QUEENSguard, so symmetry demands it. It's also very patriarchal (it's not called Princessesguard), but so is the Kingsguard tbh. I imagine "Princesguard" will be considered a neutral term.

I quite enjoyed delving into Jon's musings on the gods, and his conclusion that he'll pray to whoever keeps his family safe. It's a sentiment we've seen from him before, when Rhaegar has been in danger, where he throws out prayers to whatever god might listen.

Jon opens himself a little bit to Jon Redfort and receives a memory in return. A few folks on AO3 have wondered why Rhaegar can remember parts of Raymar's life but not Jon, and it comes down to Jon being very resistant to opening himself up that way. He keeps a very hard line of separation, which can make his emotions more volatile (Jon Redfort's emotions reach a boiling point that spills over).

I considered writing the gift-giving from Daemon's POV after I finished writing it in Jon's. I'm fond of the "least knowledgeable" POV principle, aka writing a scene from the POV of the character who knows the least about what's going on. Daemon lacks context on the candle, and he has no idea what the boys feel about his gifts, so we'd get his reads on both their reception of the gifts and what they're feeling about the candle. But it also felt reasonably fine from Jon's POV and I usually don't bother rewriting a POV unless I'm unhappy with a scene.

Harvest festival + ball name drop! It's about two months out for the start of the monthlong festivities, which gives interested knights of the land time to make the trek for the Princesguard tourney at its close (3 months from now).

The toy ships were a bit of a bust from Jon's perspective, since he's not actually all that interested in nautical matters aside from their implications for conflicts/supplies. But he wouldn't ever want Daemon to think so, so we'll see if Jon forces himself to play with them for his benefit later. 😅 Laenor+the Velaryon boys are more likely to be interested! (Laenor: You know, Daemon, if you ever need someone to teach you about seamanship...)

I really like the godswood as a setting. It's quite peaceful.

This chapter in general was quite peaceful, until Daemon dropped not one but two "famous last words" remarks at the end.

No deleted scenes or even deleted bits this time to share!

#resonant dvd commentary

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evcns · 18 days

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i've had a cleanup of my servers and closed the inactive ones, meaning i'm now looking for new writing partners on discord.

my name is evan, i write rapid-fire to small paragraphs in length to move the story along, i can write longer responses on the occasions that the plot requires it, but i don't like writing just to pad space.

i'm 26 and will not interact with anybody under 18, preferably you'll be over 21. minors do not interact with any of my posts.

gmt timezone but open to writing with any.

i have a long list of ocs i have information on for you to play with and am also happy to create new ones, i play both males and females but lean more to male muses.

i write mxm and mxf ships, as well as switching any party out for a non-binary muse. i write trans and cis muses.

i am happy to write nsfw content, and can do plots with as much as 80% smut - but there has to be some form of plot to make it interesting for me - similarly, i can write plots that don't include any smut at all, if you prefer to fade to black.

with regard to nsfw content, my established list of muses are a mix of doms, subs and switches as well as tops, vers and bottoms, so if you want to include nsfw content, please let me know what your muse is so i can match accordingly. similarly, i myself have limits which i can share, but my muses have their own individual kinks and limits also. i don't want to write any nsfw content without discussing what your kinks and limits are to be included.

big fan of including text/call elements to our plots for days when we just want very quick back and forths and don't have time but do have muse.

will consider single plots, multiple plots and multi-muse words depending on how many characters you want to throw in and what plots you have in mind.

interested in slice of life, supernatural, horror, college, fame, historic, western and apocalyptic plots. open to ideas not listed here to, however.

happy to write non-fandom, if you want to write fandom content - here are some of the fandoms i will write (not exclusive):

movies

marvel (mcu)

childs play

halloween

friday 13th

saltburn

video games

the quarry

heavy rain

the dark pictures anthology

until dawn

detroit: become human

wolf among us

telltales the walking dead

god of war

dead by daylight

far cry 4, 5, 6

bioshock & infinite

life is strange 2 & true colors

uncharted

skyrim

#discord rp #discord 1x1 #1x1 rp #1x1

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goddessofmischief · 10 months

Text

AUGUST (SHANKS X READER)

A/N: This is part of this series, which requests are open for! These fics are all one-shots, so they can be read separately. Also, I highly recommend listening to the song linked in the title while you read, and please leave a comment when you've finished!

It took six weeks and a shipwreck to get you into the arms of the man that you loved, and you didn't regret a thing.

Little known pirate fact: the Oro Jackson's final resting place is a little island in the murkier side of the East Blue, far from pirates or Marines or anything at all. Here it lies to this day.

It arrived at this spot on a fated morning on an afternoon in August, when you, Shanks and Buggy were embroiled in the most terrible of arguments.

The tension had not dissipated from the days earlier, when Shanks had unceremoniously declared himself Captain, and Buggy was comfortable voicing his feelings - almost all of his feelings - out in the open now.

Starting with this one.

"We're not moving fast enough," Buggy complained. He had this particular feeling a lot.

"The ship can only go so fast. You know that," Shanks chided, jokingly. "...You've been on it for years."

"You know that's not what I mean. The One Piece is out there and we're supposed to be trying to claim it - now everyone's trying to claim it, aren't they? - but we're still wandering."

"We're preparing for the journey!"

"Oh, sure, like we really need all these maps. The only one that we really need is the map to the Grand Line, and we haven't even gotten it yet."

Shanks had been dispatching the two of you out for maps for the past few months, and many of your efforts had ended unsuccessfully. Buggy was beginning to tire of it.

"We're doing the best we can, Bugs, you know that," you tried, and Buggy cut you off.

"'You know that,'" Buggy imitated, and you and Shanks blinked at him with wide, vacuous eyes. "You two are even beginning to sound like each other, you know that? What, do you two get off on bullying me?"

"Yes," said Shanks, at the same time you said "No, of course not."

"No, of course not," Shanks amended, all too late.

"Fine," Buggy snapped, grabbing his satchel.

"Hey, where're you going-"

"You're not threatening to leave again, are you?"

"No, idiots! I'm going down to the port for a drink. Don't join."

You and Shanks sighed, exchanging weary looks with each other as Buggy departed the ship.

"So... what do you wanna do while we wait?"

...

"Careful," you warned idly, watching Shanks jerk the captain's wheel from one side to the next.

"Sorry, I'm just - I'm still getting the hang of this, I'm not used to steering-"

"It's alright," you assured him. "We're all learning things."

He had promised you there was an especially appealing island close by - something he'd discovered on his own and was anxious to share with you.

"Maybe you could let me try-"

"It's fine, I got it-"

"Shanks, let me steer-"

"I can do it-"

"What are you trying to prove?!"

"Nothing!"

The ship found that island, alright. It slammed right into the rocks in front of it.

"Oh, my God," you uttered, hand covering your mouth. Shanks stared ahead in total disbelief.

The ship was wrecked. You crashed. The ship was crashed. You and Shanks crashed Roger's ship. You and Shanks crashed Roger's ship. Buggy would never forgive you.

It was your fault.

It wasn't really - you would realize this, later on - but in the moment, that's how it felt.

"Shanks?" You shook him a little. He was seemingly catatonic, still staring straight ahead at the rocks.

"We..."

You nodded, grimly, trying to get him alert again.

"Come on, we're stuck. We have to figure something out."

...

Well, at least it was a nice island to be stuck in.

You and Shanks started a fire on the beach, after hours of searching and confirming there didn't seem to be anyone else on the island.

"Can't believe we wrecked it," Shanks mused. "It was the only home I've ever known."

"...Buggy's going to kill us."

Shanks glanced at you, a hint of amusement on his face.

"That's really what you're worried about?"

"Aren't you?"

"I think I'm more concerned with how we're going to get off this island. I'm beginning to realize that we can't. I guess we could try swimming out, but- no, it's too deep."

"So, we're stuck?"

Shanks confirmed your worry with a weary nod.

"We're stuck."

...

You didn't speak to each other again for another four days.

There was enough fruit on the island to live on, enough water stored on the wrecked Oro Jackson. The two of you could barely look at each other, repulsed by the shame of what you had done.

On the fifth day, you began to worry.

"Shanks?" you called out, shouting his name loud enough that he should have heard it. "Shanks, look, we better start making more permanent plans-"

He didn't respond.

"Shanks, come on, I don't wanna fight-"

You stopped dead in your tracks. Your brain couldn't handle what you had saw.

Shanks, flat on the ground under a palm tree.

You realized he must've fallen - the flares beside him indicated he was trying to call for help - your fault again, everything is awful and it's your fault, Shanks was dead and it was all your fault.

"No," you whispered, breath scarcely escaping your body. You collapsed to the ground, searching his face for signs of life, cradling his head in you hands. "Wake up, please, wake up- please, I need you to come back, I don't want to be alone-"

Shanks coughed, suddenly breathing again, and you realized with a rush of relief that he'd only been unconscious. His eyes scanned over you, a little smile teasing at the edge of his lips.

"Are you an angel? Am I in heaven?"

You cried in relief, not even having the energy to make fun of his stupid remarks.

"No, you idiot, you're here on earth with me."

Shanks noticed your hand was resting over his heart, and he brought his own hand up to meet it.

"You were crying over me?" he asked, cockily. You shook your head as the tear tracks staining your face betrayed you.

"I thought you were dead."

"I think I was."

"Did you see Roger?" you asked, almost laughing.

"I don't think I was dead long enough," he said. "I had to come back, you see. Had to be where you were."

As long as you had known Shanks, you had carried with you a indecipherable ache. It was today that the ache finally rose out of you, and today that you bent your face down far enough to connect your lips to his - on purpose, this time. He met them.

"We're still stuck on this island, you know," you murmured, finally pulling away.

His eyes sparkled.

"I'd forgotten."

...

For the next three weeks, your life was a montage of sun-drenched beaches, bare shoulders and tanned skin. Water everywhere, sand in everything. Salt air stung your tongue and infused all your kisses.

You barely felt like a pirate anymore. Life was that good. You felt more like a creature of the sea, tossed by the waves, unbothered by the silly human things that had once so concerned you - what One Piece? What Buggy? What Mihawk? You and Shanks were connected by everything, ebbing and flowing out of each other like it was the only thing that made sense.

Despite this backdrop of love, there was one thing that was clear. You were going to die. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon. The water from the ship would run out, and the fruit would run out, and then there would be no more left, and you and he would merely be skeletons left scattered on the shore, then dust.

"I can't even regret it," you sighed, head on his chest. "Not with everything that's happened."

"Do you think Buggy will miss us?"

"I don't know," you said with a guilty pang. "I guess I hadn't thought of him for awhile. I wish I could let him know what became of us. Mihawk, too."

"Could you not talk about Mihawk during moments like this?"

You laughed, kissing him lightly on the nose.

"I wonder how many sunrises we have left."

"Enough," he said, and after that the talking ended.

...

Little did you know, Buggy hadn't slept for weeks.

Okay, hadn't slept was an overexaggeration - he had little winks now and then, just a few, just to keep himself alive. He'd be no good to you or Shanks dead.

He'd been to four islands by now, and had scoured every one of them. What he really couldn't understand is how the Oro Jackson could have gone anywhere unnoticed. The citizens of the island he had been on recalled it in the port, when you dropped him off, and then it vanished like a ghost. The one ship every Marine in the world was looking for, and not one person would admit to seeing it.

It was killing him.

He couldn't imagine what had happened to you - Shanks, too, but he worried more for you, mostly for the reason that he was sure you would never leave him on purpose. It was possible for Shanks to have left, but you, too? Wouldn't happen.

The thought crossed his mind, once or twice, that the two of you had gotten sick of him and run away together, but it seemed impossible after how desperately you'd tried to keep him from leaving. You wouldn't just leave him now.

Maybe you were kidnapped. Or hungry. Or cold. Or-

Wait, was that the ship?

"Buggy!" he heard a chorus of familiar voices call out, frantically waving their arms on the beach. A familiar burst of red hair was immediately apparent amongst the grains of white sand.

"What the... the hell," he muttered, rowing the small boat he'd attained to look for you beside the crashed ship. He'd never realized how absolutely massive it was until it was in pieces. Even now, weeks later, rotted wood planks scattered the shore.

"Buggy!"

He barely had a moment to climb out of the boat and throw his oars aside before you and Shanks barreled towards him at full speed, both locking him in a tight embrace.

"You saved us," you whispered, burying your face in the nape of his neck. Shanks hugged him gratefully, too. It felt good having both of you back again. For a little while, Buggy had feared he would have to walk the world alone.

"What the hell happened?"

"Crashed," you explained, your cheeks flushed from the excitement.

"Did it just... did you not see the rocks?"

You shook your head, still completely overwhelmed.

"We thought we were going to die."

"I was beginning to think you were already dead!"

"You saved us," you emphasized, salt water stinging your eyes. "I could kiss you."

Buggy's face went blank, as did yours. Clumsily, you reached over and gave him a peck on the cheek, and smiled. In one fluid motion, you pulled back, and Shanks looped his arm around your waist. You and Shanks glanced at each other, still grinning, and you rested your head on his shoulder.

That was the moment he knew something had changed. Something was different, since the last time he'd seen you.

"You guys..." he tried to put the words together. "You guys... what, uhh, what did you guys do for six weeks?"

Buggy had a few guesses.

taglist: @sawendel @twinklesnake @literaturewithliz @sordidmusings @foggyturtleknightangel @toertchen @96jnie @lunanight1021 @trafalgardvivi

#shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x you #buggy #buggy x reader #op buggy #buggy one piece #buggy the clown #it was rare i was there

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reginarubie · 3 months

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Just read your new work and as much as I adore anything you write I must confess seeing the past jonsa tag hurt me. I just adore them and have been patiently awaiting for the day the jonsa inspires you again! I hope this doesn’t offend you, it was meant to be a compliment. I’m just awful at wording, like I meant your my go to jonsa author of choice so seeing that tag just left me with feels that your moving on but I know experimenting and dabbling in other ships are great for authors!! I don’t know I’m just in my feels I guess?? So many talented Jonsa authors have become in-active or deleting their works, discontinuing, etc and while I know it just part of life and I’m glad some still continue to write or are SELF PUBLISHING!!! (Although sadly they won’t share their official works-I hunt it down one day) I just feel an odd pang in my chest when another one goes down like dang I just wanna hold you all and never let go. God this sounds like I have abandonment issues, I’m just going stop now before I embarrass myself even more

Aw...hello!,

I am your to-go Jonsa author? That like made my day, so thank you! Also don't worry, you are neither pathetic, not have your embarassed yourself. You have just shared in our common love for Jonsa, which I still believe will be the open endgame of the books, tbh, and I could not appreciate you more for it.

Of course I love experimenting and for a long while I have been uninspired in Jonsa, mostly because I have been hyperfixated on Aemondsa (which I think Jon and Aemond share so much traits it's ridiculous), but I have not forgotten all my wips for Jonsa, to which I mean to return in the Summer (I am a perfectionist, procrastinator so unless I am on the wave of hyperfixation I am never quite satisfied enough with my work to share it, but the updates shall come soon).

You know what else shall come soon, because my muse actually is never satisfied with just one story and just one ship at time?

A new Jonsa story I have been keeping under wraps, a season 7/8 rewrite with specks of book canon as well.

Look, I'll even leave the edit I've done for it, and the summary. I plan to get it out by the end of June with the first chapter, so prepare your popcorns, seatbelts and fav comf food because I'll be back on my Jonsa shit again. And it's gonna be epic!

A song for wolves,

The South has a new queen, a dragon queen who wears her name like a true Targaryen. Mother of the Dragons. Mother of monsters. Dark mother, brought ruin, death and fire to the Realm, and put to torch her enemies. With Fire and Blood she has torn at the lioness of the Rock and the whole world shall bend the knee to this foreign conqueror, or endure become ashes. And yet, to the North a new enemy rises. House Stark. The ancient kings on winter, the last defence against death and ice; battered, exiled and tortured they rose again in the name of the King in the North. A bastard deserter and his sisters; a Lannister's wife and a girl. “They are Starks, and the northerners never forget,” When winter comes... You'll hear no lions roar... No stags grazing the fields... No roses growing in the meadows... No snakes in the sand... The krakens will freeze where they swim... The flayed men will rot and wither... No trouts swimming in the river and no falcons flying in the air... Not even the dragons breath will warm you in your halls. Only the wolfs howl in the night... Winter is coming.

As always, hope you stay tuned, and yes the edit's got better since I started to make them, but alas no, those clips, music and quotes do not belong to me, we all knew how things would go if they did.

As always sending all my love ~G.

#jonsa #ask the hag #as if I ever forgot about Jonsa #don't you worry nonny #I've gotchu #I've got your back #I may experiment and sometimes even put pastJonsa tag because in every universe these two had something but doesn't mean I have moved on #quite frankly those two owe my muse #which is why I have a new work in the makings #and yay #more wips #but you all should be used to it by now #never fret my sibling-in-Jonsa I'm always here lurking and working and sometimes I may drop a new chapter or another #nonny love #anon love

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nethhiri · 3 months

Text

Siren Charms: Chapter 15

Zoro x Siren!Reader

Warnings: blood

Murky Waters

The entire ship was awoken by a bloodcurdling scream the next morning. Usopp stood in front of the aquarium, shaking, as the rest of the Straw Hats ran in. A few gasped and covered their mouths. The water in it was murky red and there was not a single fish to be seen. There was, however, a dark shape in the center, slowly moving towards the glass. Your front half came into view, face up. Your mouth was open and your eyes were closed. It looked like you were a floating half of a body.

"Oh my god. She's dead!"

"Is there a shark?!"

You floated closer to the glass until there was a soft bonk as your forehead connected with it. Your eyes flew open, causing more screams, including from yourself. Everyone looked upside-down to you, and not just because you were hungover. You spun yourself around to be facing them and your tail came into view. It seemed neither Robin, Franky, nor Zoro had told anyone about yesterday's discovery, because everyone who was not them was pointing and yelling. You pressed your hands on the glass and waved. It was difficult to hear, but you heard someone distinctly say the 'm' word.

"Not. A. Mermaid." You poked the glass with every word. The water distorted your voice, but you made sure they understood. You looked around. "How do I get out?"

"How did you get in!?" Nami yelled.

Sanji gleefully skipped off to the hatch that led from the deck to the aquarium. "I'm coming, darling!"

There was a rectangle of light that revealed itself several minutes later and you swam to it. You poked your head through and then pulled the rest of your body out. You slapped the hatch closed with your tail and rolled on your back, groaning. Your stomach was killing you, from the drinking or from the one or two fish you ate, you didn't know. You must have sniffed out the fish when you were near-drunk.

"Holy shit," Nami's mouth hung open.

The rest of the gang was similarly surprised by the sight. You were a lot bigger than a mermaid would be proportionally, your tail was longer and your fins were bigger. The black scales glittered in the sunlight in a way that made them look like thousands of small rainbows, something that was not visible in the murky water.

"I think somebody ate all your fish." You said nonchalantly. "Probably that mermaid girl."

"Yeah, somebody." Usopp eyed you. "You have something there." He pointed at the side of his mouth.

You reached up and wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, brushing away a scale that was not your own. "I might have had one."

"My darling Ether should be able to eat whatever she desires." Sanji dramatically put the back of his hand on his forehead. "Though it pains me deeply to think she was so hungry, she ate unseasoned, raw fish."

"I'm pretty sure it wasn't me." It definitely was, but you couldn't actually remember.

"Do you know how long it took to get that many fish?" Usopp whined. "It's going to take forever to get more. What if we run out of food and have to resort to eating each other!?"

"I call Zoro," you said way too quickly. "I mean I'll help get more fish. Even though it for sure wasn't me." Everybody was staring. "What?! He has the most meat."

Luffy had his fingers in an L-shape, resting on his chin. "You have a point."

"Hah?! Look at her she's way bigger than me." Zoro pointed at you.

"Only sometimes!"

"We could be the first people to try siren sashimi," Robin mused.

"When you put it that way, I bet we could sell it for a fortune," Nami was lost in a daydream.

"Nobody has to eat anybody. It'll be a cinch to catch more." Franky piped up. "Check it out. While you guys were arguing over who to eat first, I made this crazy awesome winch with a giant net. We plop it in the water, Ether can chase fish into it, we pull it up, and whammo-blammo we got a buffet, baby! Wa-OW!"

"Wonderful idea, Franky," Robin patted him on the arm.

"That sure was fast," Usopp commented.

Hachi and Camie, who were asleep in their own ship, still tethered to Sunny, heard the commotion and came on deck. They were both wide-eyed when they saw you, and Camie moved behind Hachi, along with her starfish.

"Ah... You guys didn't mention you had a siren on the crew." Hachi might have been more wary had he known. He couldn't tell just from looking at you now. You sort of resembled one of those exotic, deep-sea mermaid types. He had seen you yesterday with wings though, and could put it all together.

"I thought they were made-up!" Camie hid further behind the fish-man. "They used to tell us as kids that if we misbehaved, they would leave us in the middle of nowhere for the sirens to eat."

You snickered at that.

"You don't have to worry about that now. She's probably pretty full from eating our entire aquarium's worth of fish," Usopp grumbled.

"I told you already. That probably wasn't me!" You slapped the deck with your tail, causing Camie to flinch.

The plan was explained to everyone, and Camie and Hachi were enlisted to help as well. You decided to wait until dusk, when the fish were more active. In the meantime, you were guilted into helping clean the aquarium of bones and other debris, while the water was changed. You hugged your tail when you were done, floating around aimlessly, stomach still killing you. It was around mid-afternoon when you heard clinking, rousing you from a half-asleep state. You turned to see Zoro taking a bottle from the bar outside the aquarium. He saw you watching and walked over, opening whatever his drink of choice was on the way.

"Hey."

You swam closer to him, bringing yourself eye to eye.

He stared at his drink a minute before looking, not directly at you, but sort of past you, so he didn't have to meet your eye. "I, uh, didn't mean to hurt your feelings yesterday." He ran a hand through his hair and scratched the back of his head. "I'm, uh, glad you took it out on the fish instead of eating me. Since apparently, um, I'm your first choice."

You looked him up and down. "I didn't take you for the apologizing type."

"I'm a nice guy!" Zoro paused. "I guess you haven't really gotten to see that though since I've been keeping my distance."

"And if you had gotten to know me, you would see there's no- barely any reason to keep your distance."

Zoro grunted and took a drink.

"Guess we have to get to know each other, huh?" You winked at him.

Zoro choked the sip down and mumbled a goodbye, leaving abruptly.

Sheesh. Normally your flirting made people stick around. Actually your feelings may have been more hurt by him running away just now, than by his words yesterday. You went to the hatch and pulled yourself out on deck. It wasn't comfortable to move across wood in this form. You positioned yourself to roll towards the railing. Then from there, it was easy to pull yourself up and over, diving into the water. Your goggles and mask were snuggly on your head, acting as a headband. You only used them in combat for the most part. You didn't need the mask to breathe or the goggles to see, they just aided those things when you were moving very high, very deeply, or very quickly.

You passed time swimming around at a leisurely pace. When the fish started to become more active, you started rounding them up, chasing them towards the ship. The sun was sinking below the horizon and the sky was gradually darkening. Hachi and Camie did the same as you from flanking sides. Only when the winch started to whine with the weight of their catch, did they stop. Franky was able to craft it in a way where the fish were deposited directly into the aquarium through the hatch.

"We only lost a day to stocking up, thanks to this one," Nami tilted her head in your direction, "but we're still making good time."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you retorted, not-so-subtly pointing at Camie. You were on deck with your tail curled under you, observing the fish be dumped into the tank.

"I'm startin to think maybe I ate the fish," Luffy mused.

"No, Luffy. You didn't." Nami rolled her eyes.

The nap from earlier prevented you from finding rest that night. You had shed your tail before dinner and were walking on deck without purpose, every so often looking up at the stars. Sometimes when you were on your own, you would float on your back and watch the sky. Your eyes caught the lights of the crow's nest. Maybe you could lay on the roof of it and you would eventually fall asleep. You figured Zoro was up there since the lights were on, so you grabbed a bottle of booze to bring up to him as a token of good will. You knocked on the hatch and invited yourself in. You could have flown up but you didn't want to waste your energy on wings just to get to the roof.

"Hi. Brought ya something." You set the bottle by Zoro, who was cleaning his swords. Then you headed towards the top hatch.

"Thanks." He didn't look up from what he was doing.

You went to the roof and laid out, thinking about your time with the Straw Hats so far. It hadn't been that long, and you had been apprehensive at first, but you did like being with them. It was weird to have people that did things for you and it was weirder for you to do things for them, but it felt nice. You weren't sure how much time had passed when you heard the hatch open.

"Uh, hey, Ether." Zoro pointed to the sword around your waist. "Do you want me to do yours?"

"Hm? Do what?"

"Clean your sword."

"Why does it need to be cleaned? It's in the ocean all the time."

A vein popped out on Zoro's forehead. "Are you saying you don't clean it AND it's in salt water all the time?" You didn't answer him. "Come on." He disappeared down the hatch.

You followed him and handed over your sword. You sat next to him on the bench.

"It's actually not that bad."

"Yeah cuz the ocean water cleans it."

Zoro shot you a look.

"I'm only teasing. Jeez you take swords seriously."

"I have to if I'm gonna be the world's greatest swordsman."

You watched him as he worked with your blade, making sure to clean between each of its joints. "You're the only swordsman I've ever met, so you're already the greatest to me." He cursed under his breath and stuck his finger in his mouth. That wasn't even meant to be flirtatious and he turned pink. You were only stating facts. Then the grin on your face faltered when you smelled the sweet iron of blood.

Tag list: @bbnbhm

#one piece #x reader #siren charms #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #straw hat pirates

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