#Crew of The Sea Maiden

[narcissarina]

His Serenade˚⊱🪷⊰˚

Tw: mermaid breeding, threat, idk if leon keeping reader for himself count as kidnapping but idk, excuse my mermaid thingy explanation:3

Pirate!Leon × Mermaid!Reader

Word count: 2,569

(I used his romantic outfit since I couldn't finy anymore pirate-y but it suits this outfit for a pirate too!:])

“Captain!” The pirate member called, knocking to his office door as the one whom they call Captain stood and open the door, he cock a brow as they spoke: “we captured something big, will definitely be rich with gold!” they exclaimed and ran off to the net.

The Captain sigh, stepping out from his office as the sea breeze hit his face—the blonde captain turn his head to his crew and see what’s the fuss is all about, “what do we have here, fellas?” He asked. The heel of his boot clicking as he steps down the stairs and look over the net.

“Captain Leon.”

Leon Kennedy, their captain. Even though he did some good things in his pirate life but no one knew that he’s involved in the black market where he sells valuable ‘things’ he sees in the sea, you’d be lucky if he doesn’t want to share you with anyone else.

“I swear I did no harm!” voice squeak out, you were trapped in the net they set—it was only for luring other living things in the sea, but you; you are a mermaid, the most valuable thing and could cost up to millions and make them rich.

You were holding shiny things, silver spoon, gold plate, pearl necklaces and other things that catches your eye. As they say, mermaids like you have a knack for shiny and pretty things. Just like how when the captain they have called came to see the most precious thing they’ve caught came to see what’s happening. Your eyes shine like you have caught something more pretty and shiny, more than the accessories you have in your arms.

He has a pretty face, his eyes glows like the sea. You were mesmerized by his look as you felt breathless for a second.

His voice break your trail of thoughts as he snicker at the sight, “well, well. Didn’t think we’d get a fine maiden in a tight situation.” You hear most of his crew chuckle, probably a bad joke but you smiled at the man awkwardly and try you way of escape.

“W-Will you perhaps let me go?” you plead, the man name Leon, kneels in front of your vulnerable form, he saw your fin flinch as you curled your lower body and feel yourself shrinking under his cold gaze. He spoke, “what will benefit me and my crew once we let you go?” he scoff.

Racking your brains out, trying to find something to make them let you go. And as if on cue, a light bulb lights up in your mermaid brain, “I could find you lost relics and treasures deep within the ocean water.” You beam, Leon swears that your smile is part of the radiation of the sun. It was bright and he thought he had gone blind.

But his interest was piqued, he listens in and pulls the net up to your head to have it not block your face. “and, what kind of treasures are we talking about here, sweetheart?” he chuckles, snatching one of your shiny accessories from you and took a closer look of it.

“Pretty thing like you likes pretty and shiny little things huh.” He remarks, giving it back to you as you yelp and mutter a hush, “thank you.” His eyes still bore into yours, waiting for you to answer his question.

You start to stammer but eventually found your words, “I remember I saw a chest lying deep beneath the sand, the lock looks rusty and it could break easily when forced open.” You mutter, eyes glistening to let him know that you’re telling the truth, “you don’t know, probably a hundred or other things could be worth selling.” You try to tempt them to give in.

Leon turn his head and see his crew mumbling, piqued and tempted by the offer. “Are you true to your words? If not, we might do something worse.” You squeak at his threat and quickly nod, “I swear.” You swore, blinking your pretty lashes at the man—pleading to be let go.

The captain snap his fingers to his men and have you untangled and free from the net, “I’ll be giving you twenty-four hours to get us that so-called treasure, if not. We’ll have you sold to the black market.” Leon threatens, he picks you up and put you on the edge of the ship.

“See ya.”

He drops you off like you were nothing, back at the ocean as the things you collected were now forgotten—you got a new objective to finish, you don’t want to lose your fins and scales now, do you?

But first, you need to get home and show your presence to your father and sisters. They must’ve been worried sick that they couldn’t find you anywhere, “dear heavens! Where have you been?” mother asked, brushing a few strands of hair away from your face and angle your head to see any bruises or wound if you might’ve potentially hurt yourself.

You went to your sisters and father to let them know you’re safe and unharmed, “I told you not to go far from home.” You father sigh, stroking your hair as his eyes speaks with worry “I’m fine,” you mumbled as you assured, “are you sure?”

“Yes.”

He nodded and left, back to his throne—you guess. After assuring everyone and blessing them with your presence, you get back to work and ask some sea friends to help you lift the heavy chest. You know you still remember the path on the way there. It was a bit dark, but the way that the gold shines makes it easier for you to spot and tell your friends to take to the surface.

The ocean was wide as it sends waves, you turn to spot his ship and swim over there. “Knock, knock!” you yelled, knocking on the wood of the ship since it was stop to a halt, “c’mere.” You gesture to the dolphins as they help you lift the heavy treasure chest, “just as I promise!”

Leon look over and smiled at the sight, “lift her up.” You heard him yelled, little did you know—you swim right to their net. Your sea friends panicked and left you with the treasure, you can’t blame them as they don’t want to be harmed.

You let out a yelp, flopping over in the net as the treasure was lift with you. “You have one strong net, captain.” You praised, swaying your fin as the net was put down in the ship, he smiled and mutter to his crew and lift the chest to his office. He’s the one handling golds.

“so uh…” you start, “I did my part, kept my word and brought it back to you and it hasn’t been twenty-four hours yet…” you mumble, fidgeting your finger and your fin flops to the side of the net. The crew looked at each other funny but didn’t utter one word.

Silence was all the answer they could give you.

You look over the blue water of the ocean as the waves crashes, lost in your thoughts as you felt hands around your body—lifting you up like a bride, you shudder at his touch as you snap your eyes to him. It’s Leon, and he was walking towards to the door of his office.

“No,” he says firmly with a grin, his hold to your tail tightens, “I’ll be keeping you as my trophy.”

Living in his ship was not that bad, you thought. He put you inside his office, build a tub for you to swim in even though it’ll be cramped—his office is wide and a little too spacious for him so he didn’t object about constructing a tub inside his office for you to swim in.

Plus, it’ll be good for your scales. Don’t want the beauty to fade away because of the surface air.

Truth is, if you stay in the surface too long—the air will dry you up and make you look like a dehydrated fish and Leon doesn’t like that thought, he had a book in stored that came in pretty handy.

A book about the legends of Merfolk.

It has saved his ass and saved yours, building a tub inside was a dumb idea—thought by the crew but Leon doesn’t give two shits about it. As long as he could keep you to himself, that is all that matters to him, keeping you as his little valuable trophy mermaid.

You didn’t mind that the pretty man took you in though, his eyes shines like the blue sky and sea—how could you also say no to the face he has?

Father, Mother and your sisters would kill you if they knew that you left them for this ‘evil’ pirate that they so-called evil pirates that hunt their beings down so they could make profit or food.

Would it be twisted that you had to agree on that but had to object about the idea of Leon being an evil pirate?

The blonde Captain gives you whatever shiny pieces of trash that you desires and you store them at the bottom of your tub that you now call your second home.

In return, you give him your scales that’s been falling off. Shredding is what they say call it as you grew a new shiny one. Leon was intrigued and once wore it as a necklace to show his appreciation for the gift. It was a beautiful color and a vibrant fade on it. You were one beautiful mermaid, after all.

It once shocked Leon that most people wanted to buy his “jewelry” as they say it captivated their eyes and would pay a ridiculous amount of gold, he didn’t refuse the offer though and experimented what they’ll do with it. One merchant asked a stock or a jar of those scales.

Only fuels Leon’s idea.

You only lie low in your tub and flick your fin out of boredom and blew bubbles on the water, your eyes darted to the male who’s sitting in his chair—reading a book about Merfolks. Your hand scratches at the almost end of your fin as one scale fell off, “Leon!” you called, he never grew tired of that voice that sounds like melodies of a song.

“yes?” he put down his book and focus on you as you held your scale and stretch your hand to give it to him, “another one fell off..!” you beam. He reach out and took it in his hand, placed it in the jar with your other scales; he has been collecting them ever since, “I’m glad I can help you with profits.” You mumble, squishing your cheek to the wooden floor as you bow your head down.

He nodded and got down with you, soaking his clothes as he pulls you into his arms. His hand on the lower back of your waist, his face buried on the crook of your neck. “Just want you to know, you don’t have to force yourself to shred.” He mumbles, kissing your neck as you shudder at his affection.

It feels nice to be held in his arms once in a while, making you to take your mind off with your worries about your family in the ocean. You feel warm.

But this is bad, mermaid goes in heat every after three months and you’ve been craving—desperately wanting to breed, that is the reason why you have your own room and lock yourself in there until it calms down, or you calm yourself down.

You hear him groan with content, your back pressing against him real close. His hand travels down to your tail and feel every each of your pretty gradient scale, “so pretty for me.” You hear him mumble and bury himself to the crook of your neck, heat rising from your cheeks and ears—squirming to his touches.

“You know, I read something interesting…” he mumbles, kissing your skin and resting his chin on to your shoulder. Shifting his position, he got to his knee and push your body to the edge—bending you over, your fin tap his leg lightly as your body grew excited.

“I read that mermaid goes into heat after every three months.”

His statement made you embarrassed, you look away to avoid his gaze—he chuckle as he trail down to your hip and your tail, finding if there was an entrance to pry open. “Is that true, princess?” he asked, his fingers massaging where your rear is. Leon felt something off and move the scales aside that’s been covering something.

You felt his fingers enter you, gasping and tensing up at the stretch.

Leon chuckled and leaned back to look, “found it, I assume.” He pulls and plunge in slowly, making you mewl as your face was planted onto the floorboards and your lower body still in water. He could feel your gummy walls pulse around him, “you're so wet.” He coos and speed the pace of his fingers, you gasp—desperate for air as you whine at the stretch.

“You’re too tight for me, let me help you hm?” Leon coos, while he busy his fingers stretching and curling inside of you—he’s also taking some of your scales that’s been falling and tossing it to the side.

He found your sweet spot.

“oh my—!” you screamed, eyes widen as tears drops, feeling your orgasm when he pressed hard on to your sweet spot. “Can’t have you too loud, you’re gonna distract the guys.” You nodded at his words, twitching as he pulled out—belt buckling and zippers unzip, he positioned himself and slammed himself at ease with one thrust.

You screamed, your gummy walls clenching around him as he groans at the tightness, “fuck, that’s some mermaid pussy.” He hisses, pulling and plunging in—building his pace as he ravages you. Your moans loud and tears couldn’t stop from falling.

“please, I—” you cried, you sing so beautifully as the pirate fucks you to oblivion, “damn, you sing so fucking pretty for me.” His thrust becoming harsh and hard, the familiar warm sensation approaching. Eyes rolling back, Leon grip on to your hips, his fingers digging to your flesh as he chases his high.

Not long until he finally painted your insides white, “fuck!” he curses under his breath, fucking his orgasm inside and being sure to not spill a drop. He pulled out and see the masterpiece he created, your hole twitches as his seeds ooze out from you.

To his surprise, your scales move to finally cover up your used pussy. He laughs at the knowledge he just gained and help himself up, don’t worry—he didn’t forget you and your marvelous singing ability, your ocean friends and family probably heard you.

He stayed inside the tub with you, you snuggling close to him—clinging as if your life depends on it—he drew circles around your abdomen and pepper kisses to your temple.

“I wonder if it’s possible to have a mermaid pregnant with my child.”

“If it is, I want to carry yours and have a family together.”

He smiled and finally lets your rest.

Both of you slept on the tub, being in each others warm and embrace.

How lovely.

◇ asks are open for request!

[nagislemontea]

Shanks & his Empress of Amazon Lily. 

Summary: Just as every former Empress of the Maiden Island had succumbed to a love sickness, you were not the exception. 

Idea: Shanks / Empress of Amazon Lily 

2594 words. 

After Shakky departed from Amazon Lily due to her love sickness, her position of power had fallen onto you. As the new Empress of the Kuja Tribe and the Captain of the Kuja Pirates, you upheld the image as the island’s pinnacle of womanhood. You were a rose that stood apart from the rest of the garden, though every rose has its thorns as well. You were respected, admired, yet also feared across the seas all the same. Creating a reputation as a notorious Pirate Empress created instances where individuals or groups were seen as fools to challenge someone so formidable, this current event in particular being one of them. 

The Kuja Pirates were presently docked at an island in the East Blue rich with agriculture, stocking up on a multitude of food supplies for the venture back towards Amazon Lily. Unfortunately for you, a particular red-haired captain and his crew happened to dock at a harbour on the other end of the island. This placed you in your current predicament, the stallholder felt nervous as he watched the two captains in anticipation, wondering whether he should intervene or not. You glared at the man in front of you as he did the same, both so thoroughly invested in intimidating the other for a fresh batch of lobster… Besides that, you knew of the captain standing in front of you to be Red-Hair Shanks. He was a pirate recently gaining more attention because of his battles against Marine Hunter, Dracule Mihawk. His trademark besides his striking red hair was the straw hat, shading the rugged look he had. 

Meanwhile, Shanks– while glaring at you– had been attentively observing the details of your face. Like you have heard about him, he has heard twice as much about you. He’s heard about your strength and accomplishments that have made you the threat you are today. Though he’s also heard about your beauty and grace, like a rose covered in thorns, prickling anyone that dares to cross you. He thought of you as a dangerous beauty, with your eyes as the most striking feature. Shanks imagined you’d make an amazing addition to his crew even if you already had one of your own, it couldn’t hurt to ask, right? But it did hurt to ask, just a little. He watched as the tension in your shoulders fell as a look of shock and confusion harboured your face, before bursting out into a fit of laughter, a pleasant mix of disbelief and amusement. Shanks felt rather flushed but quickly sank the feeling down as he took in the joy that was in your laugh. He found it endearing. So once again, he asked– not for you to join his crew– but for you to join him in walking around the island while gathering supplies. 

He watched as a flash of hesitancy crossed your face, but chose to wait for a verbal answer. You, after gaining quite a good laugh from the man, felt a slight pull towards him. You were intrigued by the enigma presented before you. The newspapers formed a rather serious and unapproachable impression of the red-haired captain, though it seems to be quite the opposite now. You wanted to take a walk with Shanks, but as a resident of a Maiden Island, particularly being its Empress, you weren’t expected to casually frolic with that of a man. However, when you thought back to the stories you had heard from your former Empress and her experiences with the man named Rayleigh, you wanted to see if you could experience the same. Shakky had described it as elating, unforgettable, yet a fleeting experience for a Pirate Empress tied down to their duties. So, you accepted his invitation. In response, he gave you a bright smile. One that stunned you in place as you took note of how his lips curled up into something so radiant. If anything, it was like the sun allowing the roses of its garden to thrive in its light. You felt your heart begin to blaze, though buried it deep as you fell into place beside him to walk through the village. It was at this instance, that both captains had completely forgotten about their competition over some lobster, and the duties that their crews required of them to complete. 

You found his presence to be freeing, there was no need for formalities. Shanks made that clear when he tried to amuse you with chopsticks in his nose, to which you walked away in response. You thought of the man as a fool, but a kind one. You noticed how he interacted with the children he came across, they all gleamed up at him with admiration despite his rising infamy as a pirate. You even noticed his subtle acts of service when he stopped a cart of fruits from spilling over without the villagers noticing, or when he ‘accidentally’ dropped a few coins for the man wishing to buy his child a dessert. He continued to smile ever so brightly, setting the whole island alight even as the sun began to descend. Shanks was a fool, you continued to think, but a charming one at that. You wondered if this is what Shakky experienced in her own time alongside Rayleigh, and if every single moment from today would continue to be something alike now. Surely not, life was not perfect. Though your eyes displayed such exuberance that made you want to cherish this experience and the others that may follow after this one, even if it was fleeting as you were once told. 

Shanks almost couldn’t remember the last time he felt that he could rest. Typically, he’d be more elated at gaining more acknowledgment as a pirate, though the attention from the Marines and the World Government had begun to weigh more on his crew. He could see it in their expressions, even on his own when faced with a mirror. Hence his crew was currently sailing around the East Blue to rest up, leading up to his current situation. As he stuck the chopsticks up his nostrils, he turned to you for your reaction. He took in the way you covered your mouth to stifle a laugh, your fingers creating an opening to see how your lips went up into a beautiful curve. Shanks felt pride in being able to make you smile at his foolishness, even when you walked away to hide your own amusement. You were a rose with thorns, but still possible to grasp as long as you gently pulled out its spikes. He watched as you interacted with the environment with such grace in each of your steps and inquisitiveness in the enchanting eyes you possessed. He noticed how you usually came to the villagers with questions regarding things you held curiosity for. You were fascinating yourself, but still so intrigued by the world around you that it urged him to show you more if possible. Shanks was quite aware of who you were, an Empress of the Maiden Island and notorious Captain of the Kuja Pirates. He’d assumed you already knew a vast amount of knowledge about the seas and more, so he wanted to help with things you might’ve not known about. Shanks would beam when he explained something and the way your eyes would gleam at the discovery of new information. You were indeed a rose that flourished in the sun even as it set on the horizon. 

As you parted ways with Shanks, you continued to stare back at the island aboard your ship, even as it became a minuscule block in your sight until it disappeared. Shakky was correct, it was a euphoric and unforgettable experience, though fleeting. Fortunately for you, this first meeting would not be the last. One year later, on an island in the Grand Line, you found yourself sitting beside the same red-haired captain. Only this time, he was without donning his straw hat and missing an arm. You took note of how his eyes held a new hope and how his personality only became increasingly charming the last you’d seen him. Though most of all, you noticed how his foolishness stayed present, despite seemingly becoming more serious in his role as Captain of the Red-Hair Pirates. The two of you chatted over a few drinks, ending with you inviting him to take a stroll around the island, to which he accepted with the same brilliant grin he decided to grace you with months ago. This became a daily occurance should you dock on the same island as Shanks, each conversation turning into a walk-and-talk around the archipelagos. Your crew, including his, noticed how every few islands their captains would disappear for hours, only to come back with their duties having been forgotten. Benn Beckman in particular, saw how every once in a while, Shanks would return with a more elated expression than usual, his mind elsewhere until Beckman would scold him for discarding his duties. Unbeknownst to his first-mate, he was only that ecstatic because of the time spent with you. He thought of you as a rose that he could hold without its thorns making him bleed. 

Though you both continued to hold your own goals as you two sailed across the seas, there were times where one would linger in the other's thoughts more often than not. This became apparent after Gloriosa noticed how you’d stare off into the sea every time she would address you in your sleeping chambers, as if you had something else you’d rather be thinking of. Your mind drifting off continued until Gloriosa returned with news regarding a new Emperor of the Sea, the mention of Shanks’ name had your head turning in a speed that startled even Gloriosa herself. Your elder stepped in beside you as your eyes gazed upon the paper with an image of the Red-Hair Pirates claiming their glory, taking note of how your hand lingered over the captain’s face. It had been long since your last meeting with the red-haired captain, longer than usual, and it may have tore away at your thoughts at times as you had come to enjoy his company. You thought of him as a sun that you allowed yourself the privilege to bask in without burning. Gloriosa, staring at you with suspicion, began a subtle interrogation on your connection to the Emperor. You were able to answer her questions without faltering until she had asked a rather forward one, did you hold feelings for Red-Hair Shanks? 

Without warning, Gloriosa watched as your face burst into a shade of deep red, almost the same shade as the mentioned man’s hair. Your lips parted multiple times to speak, yet your mouth ran dry at every attempt. Your gaze went everywhere but the paper that held the image of the red-haired captain, never letting your eyes linger for more than a second if it did. You felt the thumps of your heart making an attempt to burst out of your chest, your back falling against the sheets and taking deep breaths in an attempt to quell it. You felt warm, like the sun had invited itself into your room. You felt like you were burning, though unaware of the reason why. Normally, you disliked burning, though this felt more passionate and embracing, rather than the burning of an emotion like hatred. Gloriosa gaped at you with shock as she watched the same sickness she’s seen for generations overcome the current Empress of Amazon Lily. The elder ordered the concerned guards out of the room, fanning you with a nearby folding fan as you gathered your thoughts. As soon as you were able to sit back up, Gloriosa ordered you to listen to her carefully– that the sickness you had caught was not a joke. You’d thought her to be serious until she told you that you were in love, your face becoming warm yet again. You then allowed your mind once more to focus on Shanks. You thought him to be captivating. His smile, his charms, his foolishness, his warmth. These were only a few of the traits that you’ve come to admit that you admired so deeply. Gloriosa watched as your mind drifted off once again and sighed, leaving you to sort out your love sickness on your own.  

However, as soon as the elder had opened the doors to your chambers, a warrior had stumbled in with a rather frantic expression. The young woman’s gaze switched between you and Gloriosa, apologizing profusely for her interruption before reporting that there was a situation along the island’s coast. Upon hearing the urgency in her voice, you stood firm on your feet, the symptoms of your love sickness having disappeared for the time being. Immediately, you took your cloak as you headed out into the halls of your tower, commanding the warrior to report on more details of the issue. Apparently, there had been a break-in on the island and multiple groups were currently out looking for the perpetrator. Gloriosa followed closely behind the two of you, only halting in her step when you did. The older woman behind you watched on in horror as your breaths became shallow and the thumps in your heart began once more. Though you had felt warm inside of the walls of your room, you were sweltering now, holding yourself against a windowsill for balance support. Despite the condition you were dealing with, you continued to walk forwards. Ignoring the pleas of the two to rest, you only turned back when Gloriosa said you would not be able to handle the situation accordingly in your condition, cutting her off with a single look. As it was clear that you would deal with the perpetrator, you commanded the warrior to retract their forces as you headed out into the sun. 

You stared at the fool standing across from you with utter disbelief, before glaring at him as his head hung back from laughter. The red-headed captain was drenched from his swim across the Calm Belt, his black coat hung up to dry allowing you to admire the way his white button up presently clung to his skin. You observed every detail of the elation that he displayed, from the way his eyes crinkled expressing genuine joy to the way he held his hand to his stomach when laughing too hard. You took notice of every crease around his eyes, the veins on his hand reaching up to his arms. Even his tousled red hair that you’d be able to discern in any crowd. Everything. Though you’ve always believed it, you thought him to be more radiant than ever as the sun graced his figure as he stood before you. Meanwhile Shanks, as his laughing ceased, took in your grace as the roses around you seemed to flourish more than they did when he arrived. He thought you were more beautiful than the last he had seen you, just as flowers bloom when the sun has risen. He wanted to hear your voice, to see your smile, to have the privilege to hold you even if he is pricked by thorns. Shanks would bleed for you. You made no attempt to stop him when he embraced your figure, feeling the burning sensation in your body despite the water seeping from his clothes to yours. His warmth was welcoming and passionate, he is the sun that you would allow yourself to burn in. The sun had invited himself into your garden.  A/N: i suck at dialogue so i avoided it woo

[n3on-graveston3s-calling]

Dinner & Diatribes

Series: Think I Need Someone Older

Word Count: 4,840

Rating: E

Characters: Dracule Mihawk, Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut. Pure smut. Mihawk is on his knees for you and he is hungry.

Tags: Smut, cunnilingus, eating out, squirting, fingering, Mihawk being a tease, cannibalism as an allegory for love and/or sex

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The island was larger than you had initially thought. With how Dracule had explained it, the picture you’d painted in your mind was something more akin to Windmill Village. But this- oh, this towering city floating in the middle of the sea was everything and more. Canals that traced through each level, making essential roads that yagura-led -gondolas wound through. Water 7, the legendary floating city full of shipwrights, pirates, and civilians alike. One of the very few places without a strong Marine presence- a relief for you.

The two of you had met a few years prior. One thing led to another, which led to a room in an inn, which led to you sobbing and begging for him to not stop. Now, anytime the two of you having been in the same place at the same time, hitching a ride hadn’t been much of an issue. A break from your own crew for a “date night” as your First Mate had put it, much to your annoyance.

“Here,” Dracule murmured, reaching a hand down to grasp your own, helping you step down onto the dock. The sound of laughter and yelling drew your attention away, gaze trailing over the shipwrights and dock yards. You’d heard stories of Water 7, but had never found a reason to seek out the aid of the legendary builders. Yet here you were; as he led you away from the ship, you found yourself distracted by the large galleons that were being built, repaired, or setting sail on their maiden voyages.

“This is… Wow,” you breathed out a laugh, shaking your head at the craftsmanship. “Now that I’m here, I can only picture what’s wrong with my own ship,” not necessarily a joke, though your tone made it sound as such. Dracule hummed as he dropped your hand, his own gaze sharp.

A target on the back- one for each of you separately, and a much larger one for you two to be spotted together. But who would dare encroach upon Dracule Mihawk? Haughty swordsmen who thought themselves better than the Greatest, that was who. Luckily, it seemed that reputation did matter in Water 7, as the two of you were given a large berth. “I’ve business I need to attend to before our dinner,” his voice drew you from your thoughts; you glanced up, meeting the keen golden eyes of your not so secret lover. “The hotel I’ve booked is two tiers up. Take the yagura to this address,” always demanding, he placed a slip of paper into your grasp. “I’ll be there soon.”

“What, no time to stroll along with me?” You teased, stepping closer. He tensed, but didn’t push you away- no, rather, he drew you even closer with a hand upon your waist, pulling you flush to his own form.

“If I remained with you, I would get nothing done.” He leaned down, lips brushing against your own in a ghost of a kiss. “And I would much rather save that for after our dinner.” A nip of his teeth against your lip had you gasping before he pulled away, adjusting his hat. He turned sharply on his heel and ducked down an alleyway- and within moments, you lost sight of him.

Not even a goodbye.

With a sigh, you turned to flag down a yagura to ride on. While you wanted to spend time exploring the city- the knowledge of what this night could bring was sitting at the forefront of your mind, making you adjust your skirt to cross your thighs a touch tighter. Even so, you did enjoy the sights you were able to see: a grand water fountain, plenty of storefronts that looked promising, restaurants that you were certain were above your normal indulgence range.

It wasn’t long before the yagura- a sweet thing that had more spots than you’d ever seen on one- pulled up to the front of a large hotel. Nearly four floors tall, you felt your heart stop as you looked at the people coming and going from it. You were almost- no, you WERE certain- some of these people were famous. With their clothing, the way they had their own security detail- oh, Mihawk, what did you do? You stepped from the yagura onto the sidewalk and reached over to offer it a gentle pet on the snout before turning towards the front. The door was covered with a black awning- and had a red carpet leading beyond golden doors. The outside architecture was elegant- older, speaking back to a time before you had been born, but beautifully attended to.

You felt under dressed. Clenching your jaw, you made your way inside, ignoring the sideways glances sent your way as you approached the front desk. “I have a room.” You stated with confidence, chin raised, gaze level with the man behind the desk.

“Name?”

“It should be beneath Mihawk.”

“You-… You are his guest, I presume?” Stumbling over his words for a moment, the concierge leaned down to procure a golden key with the room number etched onto the body. “You will be staying on the top floor. The Garnet Suite.” He rushed to explain, gesturing to someone behind you to take your bag from your shoulder. “Please- let us know if there is anything- anything- you desire.”

“Thank you.” You glanced to the bellhop curiously- a petite woman whose eyes were wide in awe as she followed you to the elevator. “How long have you worked here?” You asked as she rang the elevator.

“Only a few months,” she answered quietly, her cheeks rosy. “Sure must be important to be… His guest.”

“You think so?” You teased, watching the way her mouth opened and closed a few times before she bobbed her head quickly, dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement. “I think you’re right. I mean- if you can keep a secret?”

“I can!”

“He isn’t the only one with a large bounty on his head.” You winked as you stepped into the elevator. She followed after with an expression reading of awe. It took her a moment to close the door and to select the floor- but that was alright. “You aren’t used to pirates, yet?”

“No, ma’am. I’m still… This is all new to me. I’m not even from here! I just- I wanted to see more of the world, and Water 7 is the social hub!”

“Where are you from?”

“The North Blue, ma’am.”

“You certainly are a long way from home, then!” You couldn’t help but smile fondly; she was sweet, this bellhop. She still had a lot to learn, certainly, but she would do well. “What’s your name?”

“Liliana, ma’am.”

“Well, Liliana- I think I can handle it from here. But thank you for helping me,” you opened the coin purse that hung from your hip, fishing out a few berries that had her eyes widening even further, if that were possible. “For your trouble.”

“Oh, thank you!” Her grin was bright as you stepped out into the hall. “Thank you very much!” She reached out to grasp the door, shutting it once more. Turning, you made your way to the room; plaques hung beside each door with the name of the room.

Ruby, spinel, jasper… Ah, garnet. They must separate floors by the colors of gemstones, you thought to yourself as you unlocked the door. Stepping in, you had to pause to take in the sight. It was breathtaking; a large balcony separated by twin glass doors, covered with semi-sheer, off-white curtains. The bed was a four poster with black sheets; golden detailing was etched into the wood, but that wasn’t even the show stopper. No, it was the rest of the room. The walls were painted a rich garnet tone with ivory pillars set into the walls with decorative filigree carved into both stone and wood. As your head turned, you realized with a flush that it was one large room- the claw foot tub sat across from the bed, a shower tucked into the corner. Twin sinks were posed on either side, though a large mirror ran across the length, framed by gold.

How much had Dracule paid for this room alone? You were almost afraid to ask.

Closing the door behind yourself, the lock clicked into place. You set your bag down at the foot of the bed and crossed over to the large mahogany wardrobe, opening it, only to find that no, it wasn’t empty. A garment bag hung with a note scrawled in Mihawk’s hasty handwriting:

“Wear this for dinner.”

Curiosity piqued, you unzipped the bag and slipped the cloth off to reveal a stunning gown of ruby, silken in it’s make. Your size, you noted; draped collar with thin straps, the back plunging and crisscrossed with thin straps you knew were only there for decoration. A slit clear to what would be mid-thigh, too-

“Sweet Aphrodite, Mihawk.” You hissed, shaking your head as you turned away. Now it made sense, why he’d asked you to bring heels. Well, in the meantime- freshening up would be nice. You strolled over to the bath, fingers trailing along the ivory lip of the tub. This close to the mirror, you noticed that it gave a perfect view of the bed. Your lips curled in a mischievous smirk as you turned the tab on the tub. A glance to the left to the windows that offered a lovely view of the sky. No one could see in.

Perfect.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Someone had come to retrieve you- one of the waitstaff for the hotel. You’d had enough time to bathe, apply makeup, and dress before the man had arrived. The dress was, indeed, your size- clinging to your form in a way that could almost be considered sinful. The ruby tone caught the light regardless of which way you turned. You’d paired your lips with the dress, the red stark against your skin. As you entered the restaurant attached to the hotel, you felt eyes turn to take you in.

In that moment, you felt like the most important woman in the world. Your lips curved into a slow smile as you spotted your date, who was slowly rising to his feet. He’d forgone his normal wardrobe, though Yoru was leaning against the wall behind him. His own suit was black, tailored to fit him. “This was a pleasant surprise,” you greeted as he reached out, taking your hand in his.

He leaned in, brushing a kiss against your cheek. “You look delicious,” he murmured in your ear before pulling back to pull your chair out for you. A shudder threatened to dance across your skin as you settled down into the chair. Somewhere in the restaurant, a piano played live. “I hope the room met your expectations.”

“Met and exceeded,” you replied with a shake of your head. “This was too much- all of this-”

“Nonsense.” He waved a hand through the air as if to dispel your words. “For you? It’s worth it. I hope you don’t mind, I ordered wine for the table.”

“Perfect.” A vintage red, perfect to pair with dinner. As you glanced over the menu, you tried to ignore the prices listed. Expensive tastes; of course he’d have expensive taste. “You seem familiar with the island. How often have you visited?”

“A few times.” The dismissive tone had you rolling your eyes as the waiter approached. You gave your order- a pasta dish with white sauce paired with a side salad. Mihawk ordered a steak- medium rare, some sort of a pasta dish you weren’t familiar with, and informed the man that the desert would be to-go. You raised your brow at that, head tilting to study him. “To go?”

“Mhm.” He hummed as he sipped on his wine, gaze trailing along your bare arms, settling on your collarbones for a moment. He was right; the dress had been the perfect choice for you. “I don’t intend to linger here longer than necessary.” The hotel was perfect, one he was more than familiar with. He only hoped it was up to your expectations. “Why?”

“Just curious.” Your gaze slipped away, cheeks flushing under the intense stare. Your legs crossed under the table, thighs pressing closer to offer some relief to the pressure you felt beginning to build. “Did you finish whatever business you had?”

He nodded before settling his chin upon his palm. The hat was still on his head, hiding his features from most everyone at the restaurant- aside from yourself. “I did. Some repairs that I required to be finished tonight before we left in the morning.”

“A shame we have to leave so soon. This truly is a beautiful city…” You sighed, lip jutting out in a pout.

Across from you, Mihawk chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve business to attend to after we finish here, you know that.”

“Some big meeting with the World Government, I’m aware. Tell me, what is so pressing?” No news had broken yet, but there were tensions that had certainly gotten the seas astir. “Or is that some secret you’d have to kill me for?”

“You know the answer to that, darling.” Mihawk purred, leaning back in his chair, a small smirk curving the corners of his lips upwards. He watched you squirm in your seat, affected by the threat and the rumble of his tone. Your fingers drummed upon the top of the table, a telltale giveaway of how much you were anticipating the events that would follow this dinner, much to his delight. “How did you like the room?”

“Oh!” Your attention returned fully, gaze sparkling as you gestured vaguely. “It’s stunning! The latticework was so intricate- and the filigree? Oh, Dracule, you outdid yourself this time. And don’t get me started on the way the room is set up? That four poster is simply to die for! And the bathtub? It was big enough that I couldn’t touch the other end- a perfect soaking tub.”

“So you enjoyed it?”

“Oh, certainly. The balcony is a fun touch. I had the doors open while I bathed to get that warm sea breeze…” You trailed off, worrying your lip for a moment before releasing it. “The mirror is interesting. Such a perfect angle for the bed…”

“So you noticed.”

“That hotel used to be a brothel, didn’t it?”

“Perhaps, once, many years ago. It no longer serves that purpose.”

“Tell me, Dracule- am I just a high priced whore to warm your bed?” You teased, foot settling on the inside of his calf. Slowly, you drug it up the inside of his leg, watching the way he tensed, the way his gaze darkened. “Someone who can take care of you? Take away all of those stressors-”

“The highest.” He interrupted, sitting up straighter as his gaze shifted to over your shoulder. Food. You smile as your plates are sat before you. “Thank you,” Mihawk dismissed the waiter with less than a glance.

You could have sworn you heard the boy mutter “prick” under his breath.

Conversation lapsed into silence as you ate. You had to hand it to the chef, he certainly knew what he was doing with his pasta. But your mind wasn’t on the pasta- it was on the way Dracule kept looking at you, as if you were the meat on his plate that he was devouring, rather than the steak that was rare enough it still bled, making its own gravy. How long had it been since the two of you had any time alone? Weeks, at this point. Between your own crew, your own plundering, and Mihawk’s schedule, finding any time to be alone had been difficult- until now.

A bag was presented along with the check as your plates were cleared away. “What did you order?” You whispered as he came around, pulling your seat out for you. You had a bit of a sweet tooth, something he was well aware of.

“Something sweet.” He replied as he left payment on the table before settling Yoru on his back once more. Once settled, he took hold of the bag in one hand while his other settled on the small of your back, leading you through the winding tables. Couples of all ages paused in conversation as you passed, shock and awe spread across their expressions.

You couldn’t help the rush of pride that swept through you. Yes, that’s right- Mihawk was yours. He was the one at your back. His hand was the one settled just above the curve of your ass. The one who had rented the hotel room, the one who had paid for your dinner, who had brought you here for time away from your crew- time alone with him.

You were his- and he, equally yours.

Crossing the lobby to the elevators, you shifted, moving his hand from your back to twine your fingers together. A soft hum pulled free from him at the movement, though you paid it no mind. He didn’t care, really- as long as he could touch you, that’s all that mattered to Mihawk. His hand gave yours a gentle squeeze as the bellhop opened the door for the elevator. A man this time, you noted as you two stepped in- and he stepped out quickly, face paling dramatically in a way that had you laughing.

Mihawk looked almost amused as he pulled the gate closed.

Alone, his hand pulled free to reach up, settling at the base of your neck, just above your spine. A gentle squeeze had your eyes falling closed, breath stuttering. “I believe I’m still hungry,” Mihawk sighed, tutting softly. “I suppose I’ll need to have my desert sooner rather than later.”

“Is that so?” You breathed out, features flushing as you reached your floor. You opened the gate quickly, stepping out ahead of Mihawk- who still had his hand on your neck, not allowing you to turn. Leading, guiding you to your room. “And here I was, thinking I had the sweet tooth.” You taunted, pulling the key free from your garter to unlock the door. An old habit- normally, a knife would have been there.

A gentle shove in had you stumbling forward. Mihawk kicked the door closed, already setting Yoru aside with great care. “Do you have any idea how delectable you are in that dress?” He murmured, turning as he clicked the lock into place. Your breath caught in your throat as he removed his hat, hanging it on the door handle- a habit you learned was to know if anyone tried to jimmy the lock to break in. “How I was tempted to cut dinner short just to rush you back up here? To feel the way your skin had warmed the silk.”

“No, I- I hadn’t realized you were affected that much.” He had a remarkable poker face, really. You stepped closer, meeting him halfway as his hands settled on your hips, tugging you closer. His fingers rucked up the fabric with how he gripped you in that moment. It was exhilarating as you reached up, cupping his cheeks as he studied you. “Then why don’t you do something about it?”

And so, he did.

Lifting you up with ease, hands gripping your thighs as he carried you to the bed. A squeal had escaped you at the sudden movement, though you couldn’t help the laughter that followed as he tossed you down. It was rare that Dracule became playful, but oh, how you relished it. The way he crawled over you, trapping you beneath his body- and within his kisses. Full of passion, you reached up to tangle a hand in his hair. One leg rose, hooking around his hips, tugging him down against yourself.

He hadn’t been the only one affected, after all.

“I could devour you,” Mihawk sighed into the kiss, trailing more down your jaw, to your throat, where he busied himself with making sure the world knew who you belonged to by leaving bruise after bruise. When he reached the juncture of neck and shoulder, he paused, teeth scraping the sensitive skin before biting down. A surprised yell escaped you, prompting you to tug on his hair. “May I?” He breathed against your skin, soothing the bite with a swipe of his tongue. “May I devour you? My dessert?”

“Mihawk,” you were panting already, heart hammering within your chest. His pupils were blown with lust, you noted; no doubt your own were the same. “Gods above, please. Please- I need you. I need you so badly, I ache for you.” You whined, shifting your hips as he sat up on his knees, tugging off the tie he wore, followed by the dress shirt- all but ripping it to remove it, tossing the ruined fabric aside.

He moved back off the bed, only to kneel at the end. You reached back, grabbing hold of the pillows to make things more comfortable for yourself- and for you, too. You tossed one down for him to kneel on, drawing a genuine smile from him as he shook his head. You placed a pillow behind your head, and one under yourself to raise your hips up. A better angle, you’d learned.

Carefully, he removed your heels, taking a moment to massage one foot, then the other. An appreciative hum pulled free from you as you settled back against the bed, eyes falling closed to enjoy the feeling of calloused hands smoothing across the smooth skin of your legs. A kiss was pressed to your right ankle, a nip at your calf that had your leg tensing momentarily. His hand settled behind your knee, prompting you to bend it, to settle it over his shoulder. And then- a gasp was ripped free at the feeling of his tongue laving a slow trail along the inside of your thigh. You sighed, eyes opening to study the ceiling, expecting for him to dive in-

Only to receive a bite on your left thigh. Your leg tensed once more before a surprised sound escaped as his tongue- his damned tongue- pressed against your core through your underwear. “Mihawk,” you whispered, hands fisting the lavish duvet beneath you.

“You’ve already soaked through your panties,” he taunted, turning his head to kiss at the juncture of your leg and pelvis. “What were you thinking about?” He mused as his fingers crept forward. Something clinked- you didn’t register what it was until cool metal pressed against the skin of your thigh. The Kogatana, you realized. “Was it this?”

“If you rip this pair, I’ll never forgive you.”

“I’ll buy you five of the same.”

“… That’s a good deal.” The sound of fabric ripping, of the flat of the blade pressing against your skin had goosebumps breaking out. He tugged your underwear off and away, the ruined fabric joining its predecessor- his shirt- on the ground somewhere. You’d find them later, it wasn’t important right now. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched as he carefully slid the Kogatana back into its sheath before removing it entirely from his neck. He looked up, meeting your gaze as he guided your thighs to settle back upon his shoulders. With a tug, he had you laying back once more with a breathless laugh that morphed into a moan as his tongue licked a slow path along your core.

Once.

Twice.

Three times before his thumbs settled on your lips, spreading you for him. “It’s almost like the nectar of the Gods,” he murmured against you, tongue laving against you from entrance to clit in firm, broad, warm strokes that had you gasping for air quicker than you thought possible. “I could get drunk off the taste.”

“Dracule,” you whined, a hand coming to settle in inky tresses, tugging none to softly, drawing a growl out from your lover.

In retaliation, he turned his head and nipped at your thigh, though it only drew a startled moan free. He returned to his goal, licking like a man starved, as if he truly did intend on eating you. His lips settled around your clit, creating a momentary vacuum that had your toes curling and your back arching. He hummed around you, tongue flicking over your clit quickly, mercilessly. Where he’d learned how to pleasure someone like this, you would never know. But by the Gods, you were melting against his mouth. “Oh, sweet Aphrodite,” you whimpered, hips shifting to grind against him, craving more stimulation. You needed, wanted, craved more.

“Greedy girl,” Mihawk growled, pulling back from your pussy to settle an arm over your hips, holding you down in place. “You’ll take what I give you, when I decide to give it. None of this nonsense.”

“Oh, you fucker,” you huffed, but try as you might, you could never move his arm. As you looked down at him, you caught a glimpse of yourself in that damned mirror, giving you pause. The dress was rucked up around your hips, your skin flushed in the soft light that spilled through the doors. And Mihawk was kneeling between your thighs- oh, you could watch him. You could watch the way his head bobbed with each pass of his tongue, the way his other hand was between his thighs, moving quickly-

Touching himself.

The knowledge sent a shudder through your body. “Good girl,” he murmured against your core, voice ragged. How close was he? Too close- he turned his full attention back to you, his now-free hand settling on your thigh. “So fucking wet, all for me.”

“You’re- oh, fuck- vocal tonight, aren’t you?”

Instead of answering, one of his fingers slid in smoothly, clear down to the knuckle, drawing a loud moan from you in retaliation. Slowly, he pumped, crooking his finger on the draw out to brush against your walls in a way that had you seeing stars- only from one damned finger. “Should see yourself,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Greedy, greedy girl- already weeping around my finger. Do you need another one?”

“Please!” You cried out as he withdrew his fingers, only to replace one with two. The stretch was delicious; you thought you could handle three, but couldn’t find your voice- not with how he started fucking you in ernest, not with the way he focused his talented mouth solely on your clit suddenly. “Oh- oh, there, there, there!” You cried, tossing your head back against the bed.

Good, he thought to himself. If he played his cards right… Crooking his fingers, he pressed upwards, grinding his fingers in, deeper than you could ever manage by yourself. Tongue rolling against your clit in hard passes that had your thighs tensing each time, you felt that familiar ball of tension begin to form quickly. “Can feel you getting tighter,” he taunted, letting his tongue hang out as he lavished your clit in attention.

“Mi-Mihawk, oh fuck. Oh- oh my god, your fingers!” You whined, reaching up to palm at your chest, tugging on your nipples before raising it higher to settle around your own throat. “I’m close, so close, please-”

“That’s my good girl. Come for me,” he rasped, watching the way you rolled your hips as best you could, as your stomach tensed. It was like watching a living piece of art, the way your orgasm washed over you. How your jaw dropped open, how your cries spilled free as your release spilled over his fingers, onto the floor below. “That’s my good girl.” The praise fell upon deaf ears, your heartbeat racing within your ears. You shuddered as you began to come down, the feeling of his fingers still gently thrusting almost too much for you. Weakly, you reached down to push at his shoulder, the telltale sign. He sighed, leaning forward to press a kiss against your oversensitive clit as he withdrew his fingers.

“Gods, Mihawk,” you shook your head, chest rising and falling with deep breaths, trying to calm yourself as he rose to his feet. He used the shirt he’d ruined to clean his arm up before tossing it over the small mess made on the floor. At least it didn’t hit the pillow, he thought as he grabbed it to set at the head of the bed.

“Oh, I hope I didn’t tire you out,” he murmured as he rounded the side of the bed, leaning over to draw you into a slow kiss. You could taste yourself on his lips, on the brush of his tongue against your lips, against your own. His chin was drenched in you- in your essence. You rolled over, rising to your knees to reach him properly, dragging him closer, chest to chest. “Why’s that?” You breathed into the kiss, pulling back just enough to study your lover. His hands reached up, brushing your hair back from your face, his lips curving into a grin full of mischief. “Because, darling, I want seconds. I haven’t had my fill yet.”

[littlefreya]

Summary: Whatever madness drove this woman to board a pirate’s ship of her own free will was beyond comprehension. Yet there she was, in velvet and silk, marching toward certain danger and the sinful desires of the monstrous Captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker.

Pairing: AU! Pirate August Walker x OFC (no mentions of body type or ethnicity)

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: 18+. No smut, but sexual themes are mentioned, as well as dark themes - he is a pirate. Possible historical inaccuracy. This is not the real Blackbeard. Mentions of kidnapping.

A/N: Not beta’d. Many thanks to @agniavateira @luna-aestas and @wolvesandhoundshowltogether for the support, and thanks to @geralts-yenn because this story started as a 15-minute challenge, and I ended up writing a whole shot. There might be a part 2, and this might turn into a series. We will see after my anxiety runs its course :D

Thanks for reading, and please reblog and comment if you enjoyed :)

Neptune's Snare

The soggy wooden platform creaked beneath her feet as she climbed onto the main deck. Each step eliciting s husky wail - a sorrowful hymn to the lost maidens of the sea - those who would never return, those devoured by the sinful desires of monstrous captain August ‘Blackbeard’ Walker. 

Whatever madness drove women to go there willingly was beyond comprehension. No more than a tomb, the ship alone looked like a carnivorous maw; black iron spikes stood firmly at the bow, and the sheer size of it was enough to strike fear at the heart of even the bravest sailor.

Yet, there she was, draped in a black velvet cloak and an ivory corset dress, willingly marching toward grave danger. 

Dozens of ragged men welcomed her onboard, filthy scoundrels, all drenched in an exotic mixture of sweat and alcohol. Hungry, their eyes gnawed at her tender flesh, but none would dare touch her. If August’s crew knew one thing, it’s that some fates are much, much more worse than death. 

It didn’t stop them from taunting. Suckling their lips, they followed the girl on her march toward the captain’s cabin. Cheer and chortle in their voice as they imagined the obscenities their captain was about to perform on this naive girl. 

“Pity, he never let us look…” whined one of the pirates while the other bood.

“Aye, you mad to come ‘er tonight. The cap’n hasn’t had his fill in weeks, lass. He would sure pillage each of you’ holes tonight.”

“He gonna paint her full of his sea foam!”

The entire ship roared with their laughter. The girl, however, kept a blank face and, without spending any minute longer, opened the door to the captain's cabin.                                                                                                                                                

Bright, golden luminance blinded Lizette’s sight as she entered the cabin. The walls were plated by ornaments made of gold, reflecting the sparkle of the hundred candles that burnt at the decorated candelabras and crystal chandelier. Fine works of art hung from each wall, and on a vast lacquered table stood a plethora of delicacies that made Lizette’s belly gurgle. 

She stared at the table momentarily, almost fooled by the obvious seduction. In complete opposite to the murky exterior of the ship, the captain’s chamber was a room fit for kings, sputtering style, elegance and riches. Perhaps this was how he lured them. The poor naive girls truly believed he would give them a better life. But Blackbeard was no king, nor was he a gentleman. He was the deadliest man the world has ever known - a serpent, nightshade - all he could give a woman was death. 

“Take off your cowl.”  

A deep voice called from behind, dark and mysterious as the ocean. It struck like an icy shard through her spine, making her shoulders jerk and stiffen. It was odd to know someone by hundred of myths and stories spun around them and have men mimic their voice in an attempt to portray them but never know what they truly sounded like. 

As it turned out, August sounds like a man one doesn’t refuse. 

Obedient, Lizette pulled the cowl from her head - slow as she would unwrap a much-anticipated present. Her gaze kept to the floor still, continuing to play the coy virgin the Captain wanted her to be, though if she had to be honest - she was terrified of whatever hideous monster she would soon have to face. 

There must have been a reason why the women who came here never left. Lizette was willing to bet every dime in her pocket that August was the most gruesome, repulsive creature, and the only way for him to keep people from knowing was by murdering each woman he bedded!    

“Shy, aren’t we?” Blackbeard murmured with a dry chuckle and began to circle her, observing his bounty from side to side.

“I quite enjoy shy,” he chuckled once more, his voice almost a groan. 

She forced herself not to flinch too much. She could sense his glare upon her, stripping her garment by garment, weighing what he earned tonight and considering all the ways in which he would pillage her body. It made her feel like she was one of the delicacies that rested on his table rather than a person. 

After gyrating around her and inspecting each crease of her body, August finally returned to his starting spot behind her and, in a low, delighted groan, demanded, “Turn around.” 

Doing as he commanded, she turned to him, still keeping her glance plastered to the floor, her breathing now shallow as the air in the room grew magically stuffy. She could spot his blurry silhouette from the corner of her eye; a tall and fit man, rather broad. It seemed that he was doing a loose white cotton shirt and dark trousers, and from his waistband - a gleam of silver winked back. 

“Are you a mute?” 

Another chill shot through her as he spoke. Absentminded, she swallowed. “No…”  embarrassingly, her voice cracked; she took a deep breath and reprimanded, “No, sir. Just nervous.”

“Captain,” he corrected. 

Lizette nodded but did not repeat him. She couldn’t. Words died on her tongue as the Captain made a bold step toward her, drawing dangerously near. He paused for a shy second, fingers laced together, contemplating, before he reached a fist beneath her chin and, in a ceremonious tenderness, lifted her chin.  

The air drained from her completely. Her lips parted in a mixture of fear and astonishment. 

It couldn’t be.

Perhaps she had the wrong man?

Grey, ocean-eyes peered at her through a face that women and men would damn themselves for. No! Even angels would. His jaw was sharp and profound, statuesque like cut marble - dashed with dark stubble and a thick raven-black moustache. His lips, though chafed from the salty sea breeze, were plumped and shaped to be kissed, and while some of his curls were streaked with silver, he still had a healthy mane of hair on his head. 

‘He could have been a decent man,’ she thought, ‘and yet he chose this?!’

There was an obscure attractive melancholy to his looks - almost tragic. 

August took another moment to study her face, a frown slowly forming on his ridged brow. “You look familiar…”

“I work the docks,” she answered almost immediately.

His stare deepened, eyes dropping to her cleavage momentarily before returning to pierce back into the back of her skull, “Skin too soft. Too shy to be a prostitute.” 

His fingers wrapped around her chin, caging it between his thumb and his index in a tight grip, making it hurt. He tilted his head, daring her to come up with another lie.  

“The tavern,” Lizette answered, firm and steadfast. She did not flinch from his touch, even though every instinct begged her to.

“And you came to me. Why?”

“What girl wouldn’t give everything for a night with the notorious Captain Blackbeard? The living legend… the king of pirates.” She softened her eyes as much as possible and offered a shy pout to reconcile him. 

August chewed on the inside of his cheek; storm clouds gathered on his pale eyes as he contemplated. They both knew she was flattering him to gain his trust and save her pretty little neck. It wasn’t a situation he hadn’t encountered in the past. They both also knew that he was stronger, bigger and armed and could snap said pretty little neck in less than a split second. 

“Are you a virgin?” He proceeded. 

She nodded, her throat clenching. 

August lingered on her response and, after what felt like an eternity, offered a small grin and pinched her chin sweetly as if to praise her before moving a step closer. Lizette smiled back nervously. She could sense his rum-drenched breath on her face. The scent was so pungent it made her moan invulnerably. 

Or perhaps it was the anxiety that was eating into her heart. 

“Ever sucked a cock, pet?” 

His question was answered by a small click that echoed through the quarter and the press of hard, cold metal against the bare parts of his chest. 

Not stepping back, he slowly, almost theatrically, spread his arms into a gesture of defeat while peering at the girl. No rage nor fear painted his face, and as he spoke, there was neither surprise in his voice. 

“Heh. So you ARE a whore.”

Lizette held the pistol determined, not saying a word.

“What is it that I do, pet?” 

Offering a sly grin, the pirate pressed against the barrel; the oceans in his glare darkened. As Lizette stared back, she could have sworn the many shades of blue in his sights shifted and swayed like angry waves. Quickly brushing the thought away, she cocked the gun in a warning, her little thumb grazing the trigger.

But to August, it was clear that the girl had never killed anyone before, and the longer she stalled, the more shaky her hand became. Taunting, he moved further into the barrel, which forced her to take a step back. 

“Do not move closer!” She finally spoke. 

August brushed her warning away, moving forward instead. He had been so nimble in his movement, fluid, like a sea creature himself. Only now she realised that his hands were no longer in the air. 

“Was it your dear mother?” He suggested. “Father? Sister?” He paused and offered a vicious smirk, “Ah… I see, A lover. Well, to that, I surely deserve to die. Go ahead, pet, pull the trigger.” 

His slender, heavily ringed fingers reached to envelop the barrel, holding the pistol steady for the girl. Every breath he took pressed the metal harder against his sternum. Lizette could sense his heartbeat pulsating through the barrel, the thrum of his blood nearly mingling with her own. No longer steady, her digit quivered around the trigger and in her throat, she felt the strenuous hold of anger, guilt and hatred. 

“You have taken everything from me!” She simply answered. 

Soon her sight became blurry, and wetness gathered beneath her eyes.  

‘Do it, do it now.’ 

Another click sounded in the room. Louder than the cocking of a gun. 

Lizette’s eyes flared in shock, and before she could pull the trigger, August had carefully veered the gun from his chest and, in a tenderness that was accustomed to lovers, snatched it from her hand. His other hand laid still on her neck, fastening the iron collar he granted her.

“Good girl,” he teased and then leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to the forehead of the girl who was too struck by her own misfortune and stupidity to react. 

With the pistol safely placed in his waistband, the pirate stepped back, face alighted, eyes sparkling with starlight cascade, like a child who had just earned a new toy.  He clasped his hands together, ecstatic; thick silver rings chiming as they collided.

 “I haven’t taken everything from you, pet. but I am going to…”

With one last slanted grin, the pirate turned on his heels and marched toward the door, not bothering to bid farewell as he left and locked the door behind him.

Panicked, Lizette reached her hands to the iron collar, desperately trying to pry it off her neck despite knowing there was no logic in pulling at the heavy metal. 

“Please!” Tears trickled down her cheeks and chin, “no! No! No! Please!”

Through the open window, she could hear the captain's voice barking orders, commanding his men to lift anchor and set sail. 

****

Chapter Two

[frieschan]

𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭. pt 2 // genshin men

➳ character/s featured: thoma, kazuha, albedo, xiao x f! reader

➳ unrequested | scenario // fluff

➳ TW: not proof-read

➳ summary: you and said character have started growing close, finally they open up to you about their personal life.

➳ AN: part 1 with ayato, diluc, childe, and zhongli here.. part 3 with cyno, alhaitham, tighnari, and kaveh is coming soon :)

—THOMA ; protector from afar !

TRUST LVL. 4 ; about y/n

"y/n? she's quite a helpful hand here in the Kamisato estate! Though she isn't an official worker, she does as much work as me around here when she gets some free time from being a shrine maiden!"

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about lover

"ahh heheh.. you've heard about my lover? F-From Yae Miko?! Godd... That's just embarrassing.. y/n is my girlfriend, I love her till the end of time but I tend to avoid visiting her since she'd be at the shrine and a certain Fox lady would be there.. If you get the chance to pass by the shrine, could you tell y/n that I want to eat hotpot with her?"

YAE MIKO ; about Thoma's lover

"oh? y/n? she's quite an adorable lady.. she works so hard at the shrine! I sometimes wish she would have worked my publishing house instead, pity. She could always lend a hand at the publishing house but, all her spare time is spent on her boyfriend, Thoma. Such a cute couple, don't you think?"

—KAEDEHARA KAZUHA ; scarlet leaves pursue wild waves !

TRUST LVL. 4 ; about y/n

"y/n is a very reliable pirate aboard Beidou's ship, a true comrade of the ship. At the time I was wanted, I was being followed by groups of patrol soldiers.. That's when I witnessed the strength of the right hand woman. She truly is never afraid to pull out her sword in the face of injustice."

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about lover

"Hm? my lover? Ah, y/n is my lover. You look quite surprised traveler.. I thought it was quite obvious... You had your suspicions? Ehe.. I can't help but admire beauty. y/n is very dear to my heart, everyday I ask myself just what I would be doing at this moment if y/n wasn't here.."

BEIDOU ; about Kazuha's lover

"y/n.. that little devil is quite a handful when we're at sea! Even when she's such a rascal, I'm grateful that she is here on this boat.. Always tending to the crew, especially Kazuha. Young love, ey? Best you keep this between us though, lest you want the crew to have swords at Kazuha's throat for 'stealing y/n' hahahaha"

—ALBEDO ; kreideprinz !

TRUST LVL. 4 ; about y/n

"The second daughter of the Gunnhildr clan.. She holds the title 'blade of snow' with how much of her time is spent here.. With that, me and her hold a close relationship.. Another part of that is Klee always looking for her...."

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about lover

"You've heard rumors of me and y/n being engaged? That is something I cannot deny, you have already seen the ring on our finger. She holds a place in my heart, she is just as special as Klee actually. Sucrose and Klee adore her very much.. they always seem disappointed when she is busy and cannot visit. I can't help but be disappointed too.."

KLEE ; about Albedo's lover

"y/n is the best! She always plays with me! I don't get why Albedo always pulls her away, I wanna play with her too!"

—XIAO ; vigilant yaksha !

TRUST LVL. 4 ; about y/n

"y/n? her presence is far more comforting compared to other mortals, though there is something very odd about the aura she exerts."

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about y/n, truth

"It seems as though y/n isn't mortal afterall, she is adepti. How could I have missed this..."

TRUST LVL. 6 ; about lover

"What is it that you want with y/n, traveler? y/n as my lover..? just who has told you this information... tsk, mortal lives can't help but meddle in the business of others so it should be expected. So what if she is my lover? Though, I sometimes worry if I really will be able to protect her from the horrors and years of pain I have endured. No matter, I know that you will protect her also."

GANYU ; about Xiao's lover

"lady y/n? I have heard the fellow adeptis mentioning her every once and a while.. but from what I have experienced with her, she is a very gentle and soft-spoken lady.... I have just learned recently that she is the lover of Xiao! I wonder what it's like to be with her.. I can't help but be a bit envious of Xiao, lady y/n seems to be such a goddess!"

copyright © 2022 | frieschan

reblog or like if you enjoyed!

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Can I please have the Whitebeard pirates with an Mitsuri Kanroji reader? I feeling like everyone would tease Ace for having a crush on her

-You were one of the very few women that Whitebeard allowed in his crew, only because he knew that you could handle yourself. You were a delicate maiden, personality wise at least, being a total girly-girl, but you were a very strong and intimidating warrior, especially with your unnatural strength and that weird ribbon sword of yours.

-When they plucked you out of the sea, after you dropped there due to a blood demon art going wrong, they had no idea who you are or what you were wearing, your strange uniform with your long socks and the sword at your side.

-You looked injured, but when they got to dealing with your wounds, Marco and the nurses were stunned, seeing the condition of your body, as the wounds you had would have been fatal if they had been on anyone else.

-Whitebeard welcomed you to the crew, once you woke up and you had smiled so brightly, happy tears in your eyes that you had a place to call home in his new world, you bowed so deeply thanking him.

-You learned of this new world and the strange abilities some had, called Devil Fruit abilities, but you fit in nicely, as everyone else had oddball skills as well. You found kinship with them, as none of them thought your unnatural strength was monstrous at all- many claimed that you were a catch for anyone, which of course embarrassed you to no end.

-The crew was quite protective of you, as they could see that you were a bit of an airhead, but also a lover- you loved to make eyes at anyone who was strong and goodlooking, which had led to a few incidents of others, outside the crew, who tried to take advantage of you.

-However, you had a hidden savior that your crew, many whom had adopted you, telling you that they were going to be your big brothers now- to protect you, but there was one who actually had feelings for you.

-Funny thing was, he would always get tongue tied around you, turning bright red, and could barely be around you without tripping over thin air!

-Ace was a total sweetie, but the crew was merciless about his crush on you- many claimed it was painful to see him stuttering or fumbling around you.

-You weren’t the brightest either, you liked Ace- finding him strong and handsome, as well as a good person, as you’ve seen him defending others, but you were always confused about why he was the way he was while around you.

-The whole crew could do nothing but face-palm around the two of you, you were both hopeless!

-That day changed when you were going around with Ace, getting supplies at port, when a man grabbed your wrist, “Hey pretty lady- how about we go and have some fun!”

-You easily pulled your hand back, throwing him over your shoulder, before you both realized he was part of another, no-name crew, who were now pissed that you fought back.

-They started making comments on how strong you were, not recognizing you or Ace, claiming that you were like a gorilla and freakishly strong, and how they should go and find a real woman to get with.

-Ace handed you the bags of groceries he had been carrying, not realizing that you had teared up, hearing the words you had heard back in your old world while Ace took care of business easily.

-When Ace came back to you, he froze, seeing you in tears and he panicked, not knowing what to do before he hugged you close, making you gasp, your eyes going wide, “You’re not a gorilla- you’re just Y/N- and you’re a real woman- you’re beautiful and- and…”

-Izo and Marco found the two of you moments later, both of you bright red, covering your faces with your hands which made them exasperated before you all headed back to the ship.

-Later that evening, you sought Ace out, who froze, seeing you there and you smiled down at him, looking a bit nervous, “Did you really mean it- am I really beautiful?” He was stunned by your question, as if you didn’t know exactly how beautiful you were, before realizing that you had some self-esteem issues.

-Ace stood and hugged you again, surprising you, but he froze, realizing what he had done before he nodded his head softly in your shoulder.

-You both didn’t move for what felt like a long while before Marco groaned, “Just kiss her already!!” you both pulled apart, shocked as you both saw everyone staring at the two of you which made you turn bright red again, embarrassed as Ace charged for them, yelling at them as they all laughed- finding the situation hilarious!

[usafphantom2]

Blackbird pilot recalls when his SR-71 Flew so Fast that he and his RSO Landed at Beale AFB almost a Day Before They Took Off from Kadena AB

SR-71 Pilot tells the story of when his Blackbird flew So Fast that He and his RSO arrived at Beale AFB almost a Day Before They Left Kadena AB

The SR-71 Blackbird

The SR-71, the most advanced member of the Blackbird family that included the A-12 and YF-12, was designed by a team of Lockheed personnel led by Clarence “Kelly” Johnson, then vice president of Lockheed’s Advanced Development Company Projects, commonly known as the “Skunk Works” and now a part of Lockheed Martin.

SR-71 T-Shirts

CLICK HERE to see The Aviation Geek Club contributor Linda Sheffield’s T-shirt designs! Linda has a personal relationship with the SR-71 because her father Butch Sheffield flew the Blackbird from test flight in 1965 until 1973. Butch’s Granddaughter’s Lisa Burroughs and Susan Miller are graphic designers. They designed most of the merchandise that is for sale on Threadless. A percentage of the profits go to Flight Test Museum at Edwards Air Force Base. This nonprofit charity is personal to the Sheffield family because they are raising money to house SR-71, #955. This was the first Blackbird that Butch Sheffield flew on Oct. 4, 1965.

The Blackbird design originated in secrecy during the late 1950s with the A-12 reconnaissance aircraft that first flew in April 1962 and remained classified until 1976. President Lyndon Johnson publicly announced the existence of the YF-12A interceptor variant on Feb. 29, 1964, more than half a year after its maiden flight. The SR-71 completed its first flight on Dec. 22, 1964.

The Blackbird was designed to cruise at “Mach 3+,” just over three times the speed of sound or more than 2,200 miles per hour and at altitudes up to 85,000 feet.

Blackbird pilot recalls when his SR-71 Flew so Fast that he and his RSO Landed at Beale AFB almost a Day Before They Took Off from Kadena AB

David Peters in SR-71’s cockpit

The incredible speed of the SR-71 Blackbird

So, it comes as no surprise if, thanks to its astonishing flight characteristics, the aircraft has set numerous speed and altitude records throughout its career.

To give a real perspective of the incredible speed the iconic Blackbird could attain, SR-71 pilot David Peters tells the following, fabulous story.

‘We were TDY to Det. 1 at Kadena AB, Okinawa. One of the birds was scheduled for swap out and my back seater, Ed Bethart, and I were to fly it home. The replacement came in on Friday and we were to leave Saturday morning. So, in true Habu tradition we welcomed the incoming crew and went to happy hour Friday evening at the officers’ club.

SR-71 Pilot tells the story of when his Blackbird flew So Fast that He and his RSO arrived at Beale AFB 17 1/2 Hours Before They Left Kadena AB

David Peters and Ed Bethart

A true story

‘We got up Saturday morning and got ready to go home. Departure was scheduled for 1000. Everything went well and we departed right on time. Headed out to do a pass through the Korean DMZ then into the tankers in the Sea of Japan. Good refueling and climb out headed for the Sea of Okhotsk and the Kamchatka peninsula of Russia and from there to more tankers off of Adak in the Aleutian Islands. Another good refueling and on to Beale AFB California.

‘We arrived with a low approach pulled up into a closed pattern and landed. Following de-suiting and debrief we deposited our classified flight documents jumped in a car and arrived at the officers club for Friday night happy hour at 1630 17 1/2 hours before we left Kadena.

SR-71 print

This print is available in multiple sizes from AircraftProfilePrints.com – CLICK HERE TO GET YOURS. SR-71A Blackbird 61-7972 “Skunkworks”

‘Try that in any aircraft other than the SR-71. Besides this is actually a true story.’

Be sure to check out Linda Sheffield Miller (Col Richard (Butch) Sheffield’s daughter, Col. Sheffield was an SR-71 Reconnaissance Systems Officer) Twitter Page Habubrats SR-71 and Facebook Page Born into the Wilde Blue Yonder for awesome Blackbird’s photos and stories.

Photo credit: David Peters and U.S. Air Force

@Habubrats71 via X

[gaysindistress]

Running from the Daylight - two

pairings: pirate!James “The Scourge of the Sea” Barnes x royal governor's daughter!reader 

Summary: based on this request

Warnings: reader uses She/her/hers pronouns and is AFAB, mentions of the female body/parts, cursing, suggestive sexual content, violence and mentions of death, sexual content (p in v), some dark shit (like I can’t tag it without spoiling it but people get freaky over someone who’s bleeding) I'm actually awful at tagging things but there's smut. for the love of all things holy, do not read if you are a minor.

Word count: 3.6k

part one | my master list

Tag list: @talesofreading

disclaimer: credits to original creator/poster of image/gif, found on google/Pinterest/tumblr. Credits to @boltlightning for the gif on the bottom left & @owenhcrper for the gif on the bottom right

Begging, pleading, and sucking him dry did nothing to convince James that I’ve been ready to take his cock since that first night.

He would be a monster and allow me to believe that he would finally take me only to stop right before it went too far. He would give me hollow reasons like “the sea is too rough,” “you are too tired,” “we don’t have a proper bed and I will not take your maiden hood without one.”

Useless excuse after useless excuse was all I received for months on end. A part of me wondered if he was growing bored but when I confessed this to him, he spent the following several hours between my legs. He lapped and sucked at my core until I was crying and shaking but kept pulling climaxes from me until I very nearly passed out.

I tried to tempt him by wearing thin nightdresses or simply nothing at all but it all failed. I even convinced Natasha to play along with a scheme in which James would just so happen to find us in the middle of fucking but nothing. All he did was sit in his captain’s chair and watch with sharp eyes, occasionally telling us what to do.

Months of pent up frustration finally came to head when we docked in New Providence to replenish our supplies. My father had been overjoyed to see me again but his happy mood was as soiled when he observed the way that James and I were.

“My darling please tell me that he has not ruined you,” my father harshly whispers to me as he pulls me aside.

I gasp in disbelief and rip my arm away from him.

“Excuse me! You are not allowed to ask me such a thing!”

“I am your father, Y/N Stark. It is well within my rights to know if my daughter has been abused by a pirate.”

I catch the watchful eye of James as he’s instructing his crew and he gives me a concerned look. I brush it off and look back to my father.

“Your daughter has not been abused,” I sneer as I spot the Commodore approaching us, “I’ve been kept safe and protected.”

Steve makes a face at my words as he stops beside us but my father seems satisfied. He backs away and nods goodbye to us before retreating back to his fortress.

“You may speak freely with me; has the pirate lord abused you?”

“The only abuse to be had is that what my throat endures from taking his cock every night,” I calmly state before also leaving to find my captain. I don’t wait to hear or see Steve’s reaction but I can feel his piercing stare on my back.

“You said you wouldn’t fuck me until we had a proper bed,” I say lowly as I drop myself onto the canopied bed behind me, “and I think this meets that requirement.”

James narrows his bright eyes at me but doesn’t move from his place leaning against the raging fireplace. It’s odd seeing him look…normal? He’s out of place in this world of luxury and refinement but here in the room that I once called my own, he looks like he belongs. A part of me wishes to pretend that our pasts were different and that he had been the man who proposed to me, yearning for me for years. I wish that time had been kind to him and that it hadn’t stolen his heart and soul. I wish that I could’ve been the one he fell in love with all those years ago so he wouldn’t have had to face that curse. I wish we could delight in being together alone in my room at my father’s estate, a situation I would’ve blushed to even think about a few months ago. I wish we could ignore the reality of who we are and wholly engulf ourselves in the opportunity that presents itself.

“I did say that, didn’t I love?” He muses for a moment, allowing his eyes to trail down my barely covered body. I’d found an even thinner and smaller nightdress to wear for tonight, hoping that it might finally be what breaks him.

Maybe my last wish would come true.

He pushes off the mantle and prowls towards me. As he gets closer, my body starts to burn with anticipation and I inch back to accommodate his imposing stature. James knocks my legs apart with his knee and slots between them as he leans over me. Both hands cup my face and my eyes flutter closed at his warm touch. He dips down to whisper in my ear and chuckles when my breath hitches.

“You need sleep my love.”

I let out a snort, “no I do not. What I need is…”

He interrupts me with a gentle peck and mutters against my lips, “I know what you need and that is sleep.”

James presses another kiss to my lips with a subtle roll of his hips into mine while wearing a wicked smirk. I stick my tongue out at him as he pulls away and waits for me to settle into bed. He finds his place in the huge and ugly arm chair that my mother insisted I needed in front of the fireplace. His hat is sat on the small table beside him and his feet are kicked out in front of himself. Crossing his arms over his chest, James settles himself into the chair as if he’s going to sleep there and I frown at him.

“I can feel you thinking, love,” he quips and although I can’t see his face, I know there’s a smirk.

“Is that where you intend to sleep? In my armchair that I know is most certainly the most uncomfortable piece of furniture in this house?”

His shoulder shrugs and he makes a show of making himself comfortable with a loud sigh.

“It’s perfectly comfortable to me, your highness,” the jab at my upbringing doesn’t go unnoticed, not with the way he elongates the word and lowers his voice.

Scoffing, I throw a pillow at him and he chuckles when it flies past, missing him.

“Remind me to work on your aim in the morning,” he teases me before adding that I need to be going to sleep.

“We’re not on your ship anymore so you’re not my captain,” I snipe and that catches his attention. He perks up and goes to say something smart back but the doors fly open, slamming against the poor walls.

James stays seated albeit ready to jump up if needed. Seeing as he’s playing it cool, I do the same and remain tucked into my bed.

The person who dared interrupt our night is none other than the Commodore. He stands at his full height with a scroll in his hand as he glares at James.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure of being granted your presence so late at night, commodore?” James mocks as he watches Steve.

The wigged man says nothing but sends a death glare towards the pirate before looking at me. He takes a step towards me and James makes a clicking noise, telling him to stay put.

“Y/N,” Steve starts as he ignores the subtle warning, “your father has found a way to free you from your deal with this vile creature.”

I glance around him at James who’s smirking to himself and raises one dark brow at me. He’s no longer stretched out like a cat but instead is leaning back against the chair with his head resting on his fist as he watches us.

Turning my attention back to Steve, I ask him to elaborate and elaborate he does.

“You were under duress. You cannot be expected to uphold a deal that you made when you were in fear for your life. Your father and I handled everything, Y/N, all you need to do is say that you were afraid for your life and otherwise would not have made the deal.”

In another life the gut wrenching way that Steve is pleading with me would’ve worked. I would’ve jumped up and ran for him, falling into his arms as I sobbed that I was afraid. I would’ve taken his hand and begged him to save me for the sake of being free from a pirate even if it meant being in debt to him for life.

That is if I hadn’t met James; the man who’s shown my unconditional and undying affection. The man that has sworn to protect me and honor me as if I were his ruling goddess. The man that has seen parts of me that no other man has and the man that I want to know every inch of me, mental and physical.

“Steve, ever the gentleman,” I coo as I push the blankets from my lap and slide off my bed.

“There is but one fault in your proposal,” I state as I softly pad toward the two men, “I was not under duress. I was not afraid for my life by any stretch of the imagination. I was not afraid at all, in fact, I felt the safest I had in years in that moment.”

I can feel the heat of James’ stare on me as I come to stand beside him and continue to tear Steve apart.

“If anything, I was concerned for your life but not afraid. I knew that James would not harm or otherwise act in a way that would scare me. I knew that he would agree to my terms but you,” I point at him and allow my voice to become more harsh, “you were the one I was afraid of. You’ve always been a liability, never quite knowing when you’re going to lash out on those around you. You’ve always freighted me and that night at the bar only solidified my fears that you would cause me harm. Even if my life depended on it, I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you or went back with you that day on the Serpent’s Cry. Quite frankly, Steve, I’m perfectly content being bound to this vile creature.”

James snorts from behind me and wraps an arm around me, tugging me to sit on his lap. Steve is fuming, his face turning red with anger at my lecture and I know he’s plotting both of our demises.

The man beneath me grips my chin and tilts my head down so that he can capture my lips in a heated kiss. My hands fly to tangle into his hair as his tongue swipes at my bottom lip. A moan tumbles from me when the hand gripping my chin slides to cup the back of neck.

“Enough!” Steve’s voice rings out and he storms towards us to rip me away.

The familiar cock of a gun halts him and he frantically looks down to see a readied pistol pointing at him. It had been lying under James’ hat, hidden from plain sight so Steve had no chance to draw his open weapon.

James has the audacity to look bored as he holds the weapon and rubs small circles into my hip with his other hand.

“Out,” he orders in a low rumbling voice.

Steve, however, the oaf of a man takes another step forward and James rolls his eyes.

“Is pain the only way you learn, Commodore? Out before I shoot your cock off.”

Steve scoffs at the crude words and I stifle a giggle while tucking my face into James’ neck. He shudders slightly at the feeling and squeezes my hip.

“Y/N,” Steve tries to appeal to me but I’m not having any of it. I begin to plant wet kisses on James’ neck and nip at the soft skin occasionally. Steve calls to me again and I suck a deep red, nearly purple mark into the pirate’s neck which earns me a throaty groan.

A series of sounds ring out and I jolt away from my haven. First is the sound of Steve stepping forward, a gun shot, a cry of pain, and a thud as Steve falls to the ground. With wide eyes I try to look at him but James catches my face in a tight hold, forcing me to meet his eyes.

“Don't look at him, love. Eyes on me, understood?” He whispers, letting his lips dance over mine and holding my eye contact with a fierce look swirling in his blue eyes.

I manage a small nod and he smiles at me before addressing Steve who’s clutching his leg.

“I warned you and you did not listen. As far as I’m concerned, you are to blame for the state of your leg. Now I suggest you drag your cowardly self out of this room before I do depart your cock from your body as I promised."

Lost in the way his eyes captive me and his words cause a fire to ignite in my body, I don’t hear Steve’s protests that break through the cries of pain. It’s not until James breaks our trance and rolls his eyes that I realize our situation. I still obey James and don’t look by hiding my face in his neck once again. He coos to me to go to my bed and turn away from them as he helps me stand.

“Keep your eyes on the ground for me,” he tells me when my hand slips from his and I cautiously make my way to my bed.

From behind me, I hear James let out an exaggerated sigh and the crackling of leather from him bending down.

“You’ve shot my leg, how am I to be expected to leave?” Steve hisses through the agonizing pain.

“Drag yourself like the worm you are. It's none of my concern how you choose to obey my command."

“I will not leave her alone with such a demonic savage like yourself.”

There’s a pause, a tension filled pause as I assume James debates what to do. However his next words are not exactly what I was expecting.

“Pain doesn't seem to be a strong enough deterrent for you, Commodore. Remember; you are to blame for your current situation,” he huffs as he yanks Steve up and drops him into the chair we’d been sitting in.

“Love hand me the sheet,” he says to me without looking.

I quickly bundle up the item he’s asking for and toss it to him. I want to ask what he’s planning but it becomes clear when he starts to wrap it around Steve.

“Since you refuse to leave her alone with such a demonic savage, as you put it so beautifully, you’ll have to watch her damnation.”

Steve lets out a roar of protest and it met with a pistol pressed under his jaw.

“You were told to leave and you did not. Seeing her defiled and ravished as she deserves is a fitting punishment. I think this is preferable to death but I am not the true judge. Love?”

The nickname catches me off guard and my eyes dart between them but it’s the stormy eyes of James that are given my full attention.

“What do you think? Should I grant him mercy and kill him before you take my cock? Or should he watch as I take what he's desired for years?"

As I fail to answer, James adds, "I will only do this if this is what you want. If not, I’m more than happy to show him just how acquainted with the devil I am.”

Words escape me and I just nod.

Apparently that’s not good enough.

“Use your words love. Tell us what you want.”

“I…fuck,” I mumble under my breath and James’ smirk spreads across his face. He knows that I want this, that I want nothing more than for him to finally take me even if it means Steve is forced to watch.

“I don’t think the Commodore heard you. Louder.”

“Yes. I want this. I want you. I want you to take me.”

James cocks a brow at Steve with a sinister smirk, “it appears that your pure angel wants me to defile her while you watch.”

The tied up man jerks forward with a threat on his lips and james lets out a terrifying laugh. He ignores the protests and calls me over with the hook of his finger. My body is trembling as I let my feet touch the ground and nearly stumble as I try to walk. Steve must think it’s out of fear but my captain knows it’s due to anticipation.

I stop at his side and James draws away from the injured man to wrap an arm around me. Pulling me in front of him, my back is to his chest and I’m facing Steve. James keeps his gun pointed at him while bending his head to my ear and whispering to me.

“You tell me when you want to stop, understood?“ he tells me in a voice so low I almost don’t hear him. When I don’t acknowledge his statement, he squeezes my hip with his free hand and repeats it.

Breathlessly I agree, “Yes, please James. I need you.”

He nudges my legs apart and drifts his hand from my hip to my core, pulling up my night dress in the process. My head lolls back, falling onto his shoulder and he captures my lips in a searing kiss. Moans and sighs fall without hesitation as he begins to run firm but slow circles into the bundle of nerves that only he can seem to find. His name becomes a chorus that is caught between our lips as the pressure builds within my core. He releases my lips and lets me sing my song for Steve to hear clearly. I feel him smile against my temple as I grow louder and louder. Just as I’m about reach my climax, he pulls his hand away and I nearly cry. A few tears leak from my eyes and he coos sweetly to me.

“Shhhhh love, I promised to defile you and I intend to do that. Lean forward and put your hands on his shoulders.”

“James,” I whimper when I feel him back away.

“Do as you’re told.”

The sounds of his belt and pants dropping silences me. I lean forward and with hazy eyes, look Steve straight on as my hands grip his shoulders. There’s a fire burning in his light eyes and I’ve come to know what it truly is. He can try to deny it but we all know watching me is causing him to grow hard and angry.

“Y/N,” his voice breaks as he whispers my name and I blink hard trying to look at him.

The heavy heat of James behind me distracts me and I drop my head at the feeling of him rutting against me.

He taunts Steve with cruel words as he drags the head of his cock through my folds and pulls wanton moans from my swollen lips.

“James,” I plead, “please.”

He coos mockingly as he lines himself up.

“Louder, my love. I don’t think your fiancé heard you.”

“He’s not my fiancé,” I grit out angrily but it falls flat when he pushes his entire length inside of me. It turns into a wince and pained moan but he doesn’t pull out. He keeps it there, watching me struggle with the pain that morphs into blinding pleasure. Only when I push back against him does he withdraws a few inches but keeps most of his length inside me as he starts to rock his hips into me. He’s slow and deliberate at first, focusing on pulling the loudest and most embarrassing moans he can from me but as his own body betrays him, his hips increase their pace.

Below me Steve is a mess. His breathing is ragged and the color is draining from his face as the blood loss becomes too much. I can’t bare to look at him and James must see that in the way I keep my head bent down. A sharp tug on my hair forces my head up and I see the devastation written lines on his face. The cold barrel on a gun rubs against my scalp and it dawns on me that the hand that’s in my hair is holding the gun. He grunts as he pumps his dick into me and I cry out as pleasure washes over me. He keeps one hand coiled into my hair as the other slips to my core, rubbing me and drawing my climax from me.

James tugs me up against his chest and I tilt my head back to rest against his shoulder as we continue to move against each other. His cock drags against my walls in a nearly painful way but I don't care. I’m pulsing around him and pleading with him to let go with me. As my eyes flutter shut from the white hot pleasure, he tugs my hair again and demands I look at Steve.

“Look at the Commodore, love. Look at what just watching you does to him,” he mumbles against the skin of my neck. My eyes are heavy and it’s a struggle to do as I’m told but I do and it earns me my climax.

James thrusts up hard one final time and we’re both moaning as I finish. He’s not far behind and groans out my name as he releases his hot seed into me. We’re a panting mess as he slows and eventually stops. He loosens his grip on my hair with a sweet kiss to my temple and whispers praise into my ear.

Intertwined in those sweet phrases is a promise and at first I think it’s for me. Only when the second shot of the night rings out do I realize that it was intended for Steve.

“I hope for your sake that your false god takes pity on you and allows you to die before morning.”

With that he tucks himself back into his pants and lifts me into his arms. My final memory of commodore will be blurred in pleasure and blood but I don’t care. He can bleed out for all I care after he dared to lay a hand on me and insult the man I love.

[tylermileslockett]

POSEIDON

“I begin to sing about Poseidon, the great god, mover of the earth and fruitless sea, god of the deep who is also lord of Helicon and wide Aegae. A two-fold office the gods allotted you, O Shaker of the Earth, to be a tamer of horses and a saviour of ships!”  

(-Homeric Hymn, translated by H.G. Evelyn white)

POSEIDON(puh-SAI-din) is the God of the seas, earthquakes, droughts, and horses. Pulled along in his seashell chariot by half-horse, half-fish creatures called Hippocampi, he holds his sacred trident high, bringing a tumultuous storm behind him. Standing beside him is his sea nymph wife, Amphitrite, who is the eldest of fifty nereid daughters of Nereus; the “old man of the sea.” 

Amongst the waters are the god’s faithful followers. The half-fish, half-man creature at bottom right is Triton, herald son of Poseidon, who uses a conch shell to calm the waves and announce the God’s arrival. In the middle is a Nereid, a female sea nymph, typically portrayed as a maiden riding a dolphin. Bottom left is Palaimon, sea god and protector of sailors, sometimes depicted as a boy on a dolphin. 

The god of the sea is known for his savage retributions. One fascinating episode involves Poseidon and Athena entering a competition to become the patron god of Athens. Upon the Acropolis, Poseidon produces a salt water spring for the Athenians, while Athena wins by creating the first olive tree. The sea god, in his anger, sends a flood to punish the mortals. In the odyssey, after Odysseus blinds Poseidon’s son, the giant cyclops Polyphemus, the god causes havoc and disaster for the hero and his crew as they attempt to sail home. Poseidon sends Cetusthe sea serpent to punish QueenCassiopa for her hubris in comparing her daughter Andromedato the nereids. And, he sends a bull from the sea to terrorize Theseus’ son Hippolytus’ chariot.

Want to own my Illustrated Greek myth book jam packed with over 130 illustrations like this? Support my book kickstarter "Lockett Illustrated: Greek Gods and Heroes" coming in early 2024. check my bio LINKTREE

Thanks for looking and reading! :)

[bestialchorus]

DATING YOUR SIREN/SEA MAIDEN GIRLFRIEND INCLUDES:

-You both meeting after she saves you from a horrendous shipwreck, the very same where you assumed you’d lose your life. Instead, you were met with the gaze of an angel looking back at you as you came back to the land of the living

-You both spending days explaining each other’s world to the other. She finds walking on feet so slow, and you can’t really argue with her when you see how she soars through the water.

-Sensual make-out sessions in steady waters under a brilliant night sky. The scales covering her body shimmer beneath the tapestry of stars above you both. Now and again, she’ll nibble your bottom lip with her sharp fangs.

-Her taking you to secluded caves and spots only known to her kind. Now and again, you spend evenings reading her poetry to her in caves covered in gemstones that light the entire space with but a ray of sunshine. She admires you as she lays her head on your lap while her body floats in the water below.

-The worlds of land and sea being connected through your love for each other. Soon a treaty is signed between your crew and her clan, a relationship that is quite fruitful for all sides.

-Reaching the point in your relationship where she feels comfortable giving you a mark of scarification native to her clan and all those connected to it. It’s a painful process, but the significance isn’t lost on you.

-Her bringing you brilliant treasures lost to the ocean’s touch and the passing of time. 

-Her kiss giving you the ability to breathe underwater temporarily. You spend hours exploring the world lost to your kind, welcomed by creatures whizzing past you and vegetation as tall as trees. 

-You French braiding her beautiful long hair

-Her having a call that can only be registered by you. Regardless of how far you are from one another, you will always find each other

-Her having the ability to clone herself temporarily. She and her clones enjoy “engaging” with you in all kinds of ways in your more intimate moments. 

-You being able to hear her call at a frequency most humans cant once you’ve truly bonded. No matter how far you both are, her call keeps you connected and always leads you back to her

-Her ensuring you and your crew are safe from even the deadliest sea creatures. Her kind holds a lot of power throughout the seven seas and its inhabitants. If there’s any chance of you or your crew falling overboard, you’re safely brought back to shore by any nearby creatures.

-Her being extremely ticklish around her gills, you often send her into long giggle fits as she feigns annoyance and hits you with her tail.

-Legends written about your relationships across the seas. Poems and songs are sung about the beautiful pirate and her stunning maiden, covered in mini prism-like scales. 

[greenaway-torres]

Do you mind if I make a Captain James Hook x reader request? 🪝❤

I don’t mind at all lol. Coming right up!! Sorry if this is a bit short.

The water lightly hit your face like rain, the salty air filling your nose as the Jolly Roger went down the water at half sail. The soft sea breeze sending chills down your spine. It was some time after the sun kissed the sea. Most of the crew were either eating dinner or were playing cards on the lower deck. You could hear the cheers from them as they continued to place bets.

You had been on the ship for little over a year now after your night with Hook. I mean, James. It didn’t take the crew long to warm up to you. It was the first time in a while that they saw their captain with a genuine smile. He was always around you, a hand around your waist.

But that wasn’t the case now.

Outside of the occasional kiss, you’ve rarely seen him. At least during one-on-one time. His mind was preoccupied with his pursuit for Peter Pan or anything that would lead him to him. He was close a few times, but not close enough to get him which frustrated him. Hook spent his time in his quarters, planning and scheming to catch his nemesis. And that meant you went to bed alone, your eyes getting heavy as you watched him at his desk scribbling and mumbling.

You would feel him in your sleep, cradling you in his arms and his mustache tickling your neck. But when you woke up, he was off making his rounds on the ship.

You looked up to the window where his quarters were. You wanted to see him, but you knew by the light that he was more than likely working away and you didn’t want to disturb him.

You turned your attention back to the water before you felt a hand hold your hip. You quickly turned around to see his face. His smiling face. “Hello, my dear. How’s my sea maiden?”

You relaxed, letting out a sigh you didn’t know you were holding. All you could do was hug him, taking in the warmth of his arms. You really did miss him.

He took your hand and led you to his quarters. When he opened the door, you saw a table set with wine and dinner set for two with a flower set in the middle.

“I know that I’ve been pretty busy lately.”

“Very busy,” you added while crossing your arms.

“Yes, very busy,” he said with a laugh. “And that hasn’t been fair to you. I want to make up for that, and do better.”

He pulled out a chair, inviting you to take a seat. When you sat down, he kissed your temple. He then squatted, making himself lower so that he could look up at you. “Am I forgiven?”

You couldn’t resist those eyes of his, and he knew it. You kissed his lips, missing the way they felt against yours. As rested your forehead against his, you took his face into your hands. “Forgiven.”

Wine was poured and the food smelled good. Even though you weren’t hungry before, you sure were now. Outside of the sounds of silverware against dishes and the sound of glass, your voices filled the room. Well, yours mostly did as you shared stories of the crew. Of the bets they were placing on card games and some dares they had to fulfill if they didn’t have the money. You told him of the routine you started to keep yourself busy, and how much you were learning from the crew.

And the whole time, he listened. Never taking his eyes off of you. And you loved him for it.

[unknownbyme]

~ A voyage come to rest ~

Summary: Y/N returns home after a long voyage outside the borders of Prythian.

Warnings: None

Word count: 688

Tightening her leathers, Y/N made sure to double check her leather bag. Counting up her daggers and medical equipment she smiled slightly to herself as the ship slowly made it ever the closer to land; to Prythina. A high and mighty voice caught her attention as the ship crew quickly sprang into action, adjusting the sails as the wind shifted. It seemed to have gotten stronger the closer they approached land, stronger and more unpredictable. The sea was merciless, it didn’t care for anyone who took to sailing the ocean. It had a soul of its own.

Y/N grabbed the rail with a steady grip as the ship tried weave through the ocean waves. The sun stood high and mighty in the sky, and Y/N didn’t want to spend a second inside the ship. Her tan was prominent and her hair had gotten a bit lighter thanks to the exposure to the sun. Her travel across the sea had made her love the open sea, her heart had opened up for the people she met on her travels. The high lord of the Night Court had sent her out with a small crew to help with upcoming conflicts across the sea.

Their travels entirely depended on the sea and wind. Their departure from Prythian had been as smooth as it could have been, the rest of their voyage had not been kind, and as such their travels had stretched on for longer than predicted, everything had depended on the emotions of the sea and the goddess in the sky. Stormy weathers had keept them ashore for sometimes longer than they had wished. After a full year she would finally be able to rest her eyes on Velaris again, and on her mate.

Upon leaving they had come to an agreement, they would close off their bond so they could solely focus on their own work. The distance between them would consume their energy if they would try to keep a connection. They would only open the bond if one of them were to find themselves in absolut danger.

Her smile widened as she thought of him, her cheeks warmed from not only the sun. She felt like her younger self in that moment, deathly in love with the Shadowsinger, keeping her love for him a secret. Y/N opened up her bond for the first time in a year, she was glad she held onto the railing as a wave of emotion hit her all at once. It was everything Azriel had sent down the bond at the times he had opened it up, hoping for her being there. Pain shot through her chest at the guilt of never opening up the bond once during her voyage. The thought of him always being met with the deathly silence from her side made her chest ache. She took a breath as she called out for him "Azriel, are you there?".

Her heart sang as he tugged harley on the bond that was now open. "Are you hurt? Where are you?'".

"Nearing land, would you be a kind batboy and pick up your maiden from the ship?’"

A loud and cheerful laugh could be felt through the bond and Y/N smiled as she could envision Azriel in her mind. "On my way, don’t move".

"Where would I go? Into the sea?’"

‘'One never knows, desperation makes one do stupid and reckless things".

Her gaze locked unto the sky and then shifted to look towards land, there she saw Azriel flying with a great speed towards the ship. ’’We got a big seagull incoming crew, better watch your heads’’ Mariza the captain shouted with a smile on her lips as she too had spotted the Shadowsinger.

Azriel came down upon them in a sweep of shadow and wind, he had landed before y/n with a feral smile upon his lips. His smile reached up to his eyes as he locked eyes with her, "Ready to go home my love?"

"I'm home, you are my home Azriel, wherever we may go, you will always be my home".

[monstersandmaw]

Changing Tides - human prince 'cursed' into merfolk body (sfw)

Hello! This has been up on my Patreon for my $3 and $5 tiers to read for a week now. If you want to get early access to stuff, and to access my entire back catalogue, here's a link.

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

Anon sent me this message and I responded with almost 8000 words:

"human prince who got cursed and turned into a merman, and while his family and the royal court struggle to find a way to break the curse he finds he's actually happier as a merman"

It's 3rd person, sfw, and features an orca clan who adopts our frightened prince, and there's a hint of mlm romance for one of the orcas with a human in the future... Anyway, I hope you like something a little different. 

Content: some mild elements of body horror during the curse/turning scene, brief but not gory/too explicit mention of marine animal death, some implied trauma resulting from a transformation against his will/separation from family and previous existence at a young age, brief description of blood/injury from a harpoon to another character

Wordcount: 7965

Dusk gathered over the gentle swells of the open ocean, gilding the new yardarms and painting the perfectly crisp, white sails of the Royal Navy’s flagship with a pink and orange watercolour glow. The ship’s guests drank and laughed, and celebrated The Sea Rose’s maiden voyage, utterly unaware that they were enjoying their final few moments of life as they knew it.

Unremarkable in almost every way, a small porpoise had been playing in the bow wave, its small, dark body darting mere inches from the stem each time it plunged in and out of the spray and waves.

It didn’t hear the warning from the sea witch racing to catch up with it, and when the young porpoise’s concentration slipped and the black-painted stem of ‘The Sea Rose’ collided with its solid little body, no one on board noticed the tragedy of its passing. Even if the guests hadn’t been half drunk on the heady mix of wine and their own self-importance, there was no one on lookout in the crow’s nest that day; the new ship was flanked for her safety by two frigates a little way off, both crewed with the Navy’s finest and bristling to the gunwales with cannon and ammunition. There was no need to keep a watch this time.

There was, after all, no danger.

And yet, the animal’s accidental death would not go unmarked, unmourned, or unpunished.

Heedless of the vengeful danger rising swiftly from beneath the ship, the king himself strode along the main deck in his white and gold finery, leaving his guests for a moment as he spotted his thirteen year old son standing at the taffrail on the afterdeck and staring out at the ship’s trailing wake.

He slapped the skinny boy on his shoulders by way of a greeting, and nearly sent him toppling over into the sea from the force of his jovial blow. Hauling him upright again with a meaty fist at the scruff of his velvet doublet, the king laughed, cheeks red with drink and the bracing sea air, and he grinned down at his second eldest son.

“What’s got into you, lad?” he asked, his words a little thick and his green eyes a little glassy. “You’ve begged me for years to be allowed to go to sea, and now you’re here, you look like you’d rather be anywhere else! You’re not seasick, are you, lad? You’re going to be Admiral of the Fleet when your brother ascends the throne — can’t have you turning green at the slightest bit of swell!”

“It’s not that, father,” he said, mustering a smile for the king. “I’m sorry. I was just… thinking.”

Down below on the deck, the little prince’s older brother was talking with a few of the captains and admirals, and the boy felt suddenly every bit as young as he was. ‘King’ Eolan was a title that would suit his brother one day, with his regal bearing and his noble features, while the younger boy was gangly and too skinny to fill out the doublet he wore or the fine leather boots on his small feet.

He didn’t get the chance to observe the Crown Prince in action for much longer though, because a shudder ran the length of the new ship, and conversation sputtered and died.

The sails quivered and the rigging shook like spiderwebs before a coming storm. All the hands looked to their stations while the royal guests shifted uneasily and someone dropped a wine flute into the silence of the swelling sea. The Crown Prince scuttled up the stairs to the afterdeck and joined his father, tense and alert, though not before laying a hand on his little brother’s shoulder and offering a reassuring smile.

While the ship sailed past the stricken porpoise in a foaming, heedless rush, the creature bobbed past with its back broken, dead on impact, and the sea darkened around it and then began to boil and churn along the sides of the ship.

Finally, a shout went up and someone standing by the rail on the port side pointed and then reeled back in alarm. They were joined by more guests and sailors until half the ship’s company was hanging off the side and staring into the water that had turned an inky black around the corpse of the sea creature.

The thirteen year old prince followed his father to the railing of the high afterdeck and peered over in time to see a humanoid figure rise from the water. Her long, wet hair hung around her shoulders like a veil of moonlight, and her eyes flashed the colour of the ocean on a summer’s day. Her skin was freckled and oddly iridescent and the air around her seemed to shimmer like the road on a summer’s day. In her right hand she held a staff that was the silvery brown of old driftwood, wrapped around with seaweed like the leather on the grip of a quarterstaff, and her lower body appeared to be that of a leopard seal.

The prince’s breath caught and he stared, slack jawed down at her, forgetting to be afraid.

At the sight of her though, the guests recoiled and grabbed at the charms and holy pendants they wore around their necks, but it would do them no good. The witch raised her staff and let out a wordless scream of grief. As if whisked by a winter squall, the sea rose up around her at her call and a huge wave sloshed against the side of the ship, rocking it and sending a wall of spray and foam across the main deck.

Wherever the droplets of water touched, a flurry of white feathers appeared, and from the afterdeck, the king and the two princes watched a flock of startled seabirds flounder upwards into the sky. In their wake, the main deck lay completely deserted.

The king swore and unsheathed the steel sword at his hip but the young prince simply clung to the wooden railing and continued to stare down at the sea witch.

All his life, he’d heard tales of merfolk and of the magic they wielded, but he’d never dared dream they might be real. He’d spent hours begging the merchants who came to the castle for stories from the fish markets, since every sailor claimed to have fallen in love with a selkie or kissed a mermaid on one of their voyages, but he’d never truly believed that merfolk really did exist.

“What is the meaning of this?” the king bellowed down at her over the sound of the settling sea. “Return this ship’s crew and my guests to me at once, witch!”

“Never!” she snarled. “They’ve flown far away now, oh great king,” she added sarcastically, still sneering, “Your pretty birds won’t return to you now!”

“Why? What prompted such an act?” he barked. To his younger son, he suddenly gestured and added, “Come away from there!” With a desperate look over his shoulder, he hissed at the Crown Prince, “Eolan, protect your brother!”

The witch smiled and the younger prince saw tears tracking down around the corners of her smile as it turned from malice to grief. “Father…” he breathed, wanting to warn the king, but not knowing quite why or of what.

“Quiet!” the king hissed with a sharp motion of his hand. “Eolan, fetch a harpoon. I will have her hide on my wall!”

The Crown Prince snuck away down the stairs, out of sight of the sea witch, and then disappeared below decks. As he left, the younger boy finally let go of the railings and came to stand behind his father.

“Your ship,” the witch called above the wash of water against the sides of the vessel, “Is an abomination! You toss your refuse into the sea to choke the life from those who live there, tangle us in your nets, capture us… skin us!”

She paused and choked something raw and visceral and far beyond articulation. Drawing energy into the staff in a swirl of mist, she came to the real crux of her grievance.

“Your ship took my familiar from me and you didn’t even care to notice!”

“Your what?”

“Shadow!” she wailed, and that sorrow finally crystallised into rage. She pointed as the body of the dead porpoise floated over towards her and then with another heartbroken shriek, she raised the staff not at the king, but at his son. “I curse you!” she spat at him. “I curse you! May your son’s frail human legs fail him and may he know the plight of our people first hand! May the air choke him and the water you disdain be his only solace!”

A bolt of lightning seared down out of a clear sky and struck the deck of The Sea Rose behind the king in a spray of splinters. Ozone and singed wood filled the air as he turned around at the wheezing gulp that left his son’s throat. At the sight that greeted him, the gilt steel sword dropped from his fingers to clatter across the deck at his feet.

The boy’s legs had gone completely limp and he hit the deck hard, eyes wide with terror.

“Father,” he tried to choke in panic, but the sound lodged in his throat.

He brought one hand up instinctively to claw at his neck as he failed to breathe, suffocating in the ordinary sea air, and a moment later his fingers found the three slits of gills in his skin that had not been there before the lightning of the witch’s curse had struck him.

Before the true terror of his discovery could sink in, however, a blinding pain erupted in his chest and his hips, and his legs began to spasm.

The boy tore at the trousers which were suddenly constricting and strangling him, cutting into his legs, and he rolled on the deck as he ripped them off to reveal the distinctive opal-green and black pattern of a mackerel’s skin beginning at his hips. He clawed wildly at his skin in horror trying to halt the change, and his father dragged the fabric away just as the transformation ran its course, and his son arched his back and writhed on the deck like a landed catch, unable to breathe and blind with terror.

Footsteps on the stairs announced Eolan’s return and when he saw his brother lying on the deck with the barbed tail of a mackerel, he crashed to his knees beside them, the harpoon forgotten.

Not knowing what to do, the king knelt at his son’s side and stroked his curly, black hair out of his eyes which were bulging as he failed to breathe.

“Father,” he mouthed, chest spasming.

The skin of his remaining human body turned a grayish silver, like tarnished pewter, and between his fingers as they scrabbled at the deck the king could see a thin webbing stretching and flexing. Black, wickedly sharp claws raked the wood of the deck to splintered furrows as the boy twisted and panicked.

“What do we do?” Eolan whispered, tears filling his eyes. “Father? He’s dying… He can’t breathe!”

Acting on the most fragile of hopes, the king picked his son up in his arms and held him briefly, kissing his forehead. “I love you,” he said. “I will find a way to reverse this.”

Before the cursed prince could work out what was happening, he had been flung over the side of the ship and hit the water with a heavy smack.

The rush of cold seawater across his new gills was a relief beyond anything he’d ever felt. Instinctively, he drew in water through them and let his body start to sink.

Above, the shadow of a second ship, the frigate ‘Persistence’, announced itself with a volley of musket fire, and the sea witch dived out of sight, dragging the body of her slain familiar with her into the depths, the young prince forgotten entirely.

In all the commotion, the prince disappeared into the depths of the coastal waters, alone and afraid for the first time in his life.

__

The clan of orca-folk cautiously breached the surface and paused to watch the selkie on the shore light the driftwood pyre with the tip of her staff, and dipped their heads as one in respect. The creature at the heart of the kindling blaze was most likely her familiar, and they decided not to trouble the witch in her grief.

Leaving her, they swam in silence out of the cove and moved along the rocky shore, casting uneasy glances at each other. Magic was rare among the merfolk, but those who changed their shape at will, like the selkie folk and their distant, inland relatives, the kelpies, had it more strongly. There had been turmoil on the sea that day, and even now that the stars had blinked to life in the sky above, the waters still churned with unease.

A younger member of the clan swam on ahead, not quite understanding the wary reverence her relatives had for the sea witch, and, distracted by the passing of a very ordinary but still very quick seal, she raced off in a stream of bubbles to play with it. Yes, her kind hunted seals, but when they were being that obvious about their pursuit, the seal was in no danger.

She blasted around the rocky promontory but splayed her wide flippers to bring herself to an abrupt halt when she spotted a boy about her own age lying curled on the sandy bed of the next cove’s floor. He was hunched in on himself and seemed to be in some kind of distress, so she swam slowly over to him. He had the dizzying markings of a mackerel — black lines and opal shimmers like summer sunlight on the sea’s surface — and she wondered if perhaps he’d been left behind on the annual migration.

As she approached, he raised his head and his mouth opened in a soft ‘o’ of surprise, gills flaring.

“Hi,” she grinned. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she said. “You alright?”

He shook his head.

“Pearl?” Her older brother’s voice sounded from close behind her, wary and warning, and she glanced back over her bare shoulder at him. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” she said honestly. “I just found him.”

Hook swam past her, pushing her roughly to one side, and he loomed over the terrified stranger and bared all his sharp teeth at him. Hook was only a year older than Pearl, but he liked to play the grown up with her, and it irritated her no end. She grabbed the wide flat of his tail as it wafted past and yanked him sharply backwards. It wasn’t enough to move him much, but it brought his long, black and white hair drifting into his face and undermined his attempt at a tough persona a little.

The strange boy cringed away, hands above his head, and Hook relented when he saw he was no threat, and clearly terrified.

“You hurt?” he asked, though he could taste no blood in the water. “Where’s your shoal?”

In no time, they were joined by the whole orca-folk clan, and it was decided that the stranded boy would swim with them for the winter until his people returned to these waters to claim him. The boy didn’t speak, but he seemed able to understand them, and something told Pearl he’d been through something more awful even than being abandoned by his shoal.

Over the next few weeks, she first coaxed some tentative smiles from him, and then, when they had stopped to rest one night in another rocky cove further to the south, he laughed.

It happened when Hook got his finger clamped by a massive lobster and he swore and flung the thing away before washing it further from him with a great sweep of his tail, scowling. He was growing into his body and would one day outgrow even their father, and the motion sent the offending crustacean spiralling away on the temporary current.

When the wash of water in their ears had settled, they heard a quiet giggling and looked around to see him sitting near a bed of kelp, one hand over his mouth, and laughing softly. His eyes were the most beautiful brown, like a seal’s, and when Hook saw who was laughing, his indignation at the incident melted away like the ice in the spring, and his whole body softened.

Pearl watched as Hook swam over to the strange boy, the one they’d taken to calling Mackerel for the beautiful patterns on his tail, but the boy stopped laughing almost immediately. Hook’s shoulders dropped and he looked mortified when he saw unease and uncertainty in the boy’s eyes.

“It’s alright,” Hook said with a half-smile. “I deserved to get pinched the way I picked her up,” he said. “I wasn’t thinking. You want to see if we can find another one and I’ll show you the right way to do it?”

Tentatively, the boy nodded, and Pearl watched as the boy swam off at Hook’s side. He didn’t swim like normal merfolk, but more like a newborn still getting used to his tail. Sometimes he started to sink and panicked, and the first few times it had happened, Hook had actually had to lift him up to keep him from sinking completely. Unlike them, he was a piscine merfolk, meaning he could breathe water and not air, while they were mammalian and needed to surface. When Hook went up to gulp fresh air those first few times, Pearl would watch the boy and make sure he didn’t sink until Hook returned.

He seemed to grow in confidence though over the winter, and by the time of that first laugh, he was just a bit awkward in the water. He couldn’t hope to keep up with Hook, but her brother had a kind streak to him for all his brash bravado, and he kept pace with Mackerel. Slowly, the boy began to talk with them, but he never spoke of what had happened to him, and any time they asked him where his shoal was or where he’d grown up, he shut up tighter than a clam and refused to talk. Eventually, they stopped asking.

He did till them his name though, and they were surprised to learn it was a human name. Pearl had been named for the lightness of her irises — such a pale blue it was almost silver — and Hook had been named because the patch of white under his tall dorsal fin looked like one of the barbed devices that humans used to catch fish. Mackerel, however, turned out to be named Theo, and when asked why he had that name, he just shrugged and said his parents must have liked it. They stuck to calling him Mackerel, or Macks, and he didn’t object in the slightest, only smiling shyly the first time Hook used his new name.  

When spring came to the waters where Pearl’s clan hunted, no piscine merfolk came looking for Mackerel, so he simply stayed with the orca folk.

One year became two, became three, became five.

Hook grew into a monster of a merman, with muscles rippling over his body and a reputation for taking on anything he deemed a threat to his clan, from great white sharks to fishing boats. Mackerel grew as well. Gone was that awkward, faltering motion as he swam — he could out pace any of them in a race and he was lithe and graceful and elegant when he moved. He laughed a lot too.

Pearl noticed how he would watch her swim past and then look away, and when Hook caught him staring at her like that, he washed him playfully away with a wave of his massive tail and sent him spiralling off into the murky depths with a laugh and told him to come back when he could win against Pearl in arm-wrestling.

Then, one summer evening, Mackerel disappeared.

They’d been swimming nearer to the shore than was wise in the warmer months, when humans often gathered on the shore with their fires to dance and sing and make a strange music of their own. Hook and Pearl’s mother called the clan back from the shallows and led them away when they heard the strange notes of human song and saw the orange lights dancing on the shore like strange, swirling blooms of plankton that spat sparks into the sky, but when Hook turned to Pearl to ask her something, he tensed and looked around.

“What?”

“Where’s Macks?” he asked, his hold tightening on the driftwood spear he usually carried in his right hand. Its ghostly-white blade was made of honed whalebone, and it had gutted a great white from nose to tail only the week before. The colour had drained from Hook’s usually tanned face, and he looked around frantically in the gloom that night had cast on the sea.

“Maybe he didn’t hear mother calling?” Pearl whispered.

“Stay here. I’ll go back for him.”

“Careful!” Pearl hissed, but he was already sliding away like a shadow, consumed by the growing darkness.

Hook searched the cove where they’d been intending to rest until they’d discovered the humans too close for comfort, but found nothing. Panic began to rise as he looked further along the dark, jagged rocks of the shoreline.

Eventually he started to run out of air, and surfaced carefully, mindful of the massive dorsal fin that stuck up like a sail behind him now that he was full-grown. If the humans spotted it glinting in the dark, they’d hurl harpoons at him or try to snatch him for a trophy. Merfolk — both saltwater and freshwater — didn’t last long in captivity, and he had no intention of being taken.

Then, at the far end of the sweeping cove, he spotted the opalescent glimmer of Mackerel’s scales and saw his greyish body draped over a rock. He was leaning on it, staring at the humans. His black hair, which, in the water, was flat, had started to curl, and Hook couldn’t believe he was out of the water at all. He was going to asphyxiate if he stayed up there too long, but the orca kept watching him a little longer. He liked Mackerel’s body; how it was different from the powerful orca folk. He was built for speed and agility where Hook was built for a combination of wild bursts of power and slower endurance. He might have begun courting him, bringing him gifts of carved whalebone and rare trinkets from the seabed, if Mackerel hadn’t clearly been attracted only to his sister or her female friends. So, he’d kept his affection for him chaste, and now as he watched, he realised with a jolt that Mackerel was crying.

Slowly, he swam over to him, keeping in Mackerel’s line of sight, and when his best friend turned to look at him, Hook’s heart cracked and sheared apart at the look on his face.

“What?” Hook asked, pausing and bringing his hands up to speak in the Hunter’s Tongue they used with each other when they needed to be silent in the water. He’d taught Mackerel himself, and he’d soon picked it up like he’d been speaking it all his life.

Mackerel only shook his head though and then dipped his neck below the waterline to breathe before rising up and staring again at the humans.

Hook turned to watch, but didn’t he understand. Humans were fascinating, sure, but they weren’t beautiful enough to make grown merfolk cry, surely?

Strange structures had been erected on the soft, pale sand, which looked like they were made of the same material that humans used to catch the wind and drive their boats and ships. These though were coloured the same shade as the urchins and starfish that hunkered down in rock pools at high tide, and whatever they were made of glittered occasionally like the sun on the water. The humans were laughing and moving around in odd patterns around their fires.

“What is it?” Hook whispered when he was close enough to Mackerel that their bodies touched all along one side.

“I miss them,” Mackerel rasped back. His voice didn’t work very well above the water, needing the cool caress of the waves to make it audible.

“Miss who?”

“My family.”

Hook went still. Macks had never talked about his family in all the years he’d lived with Hook’s clan. He looked from Mackerel to the humans and back again. “What do you mean?”

Mackerel bit his lip. “These people…” he said. “I know them. Hook, I was —”

A shout went up and something lanced down out of the dark, piercing the water and glancing off Hook’s large, rounded flipper. He cried out in shock at the sting of it as blood blossomed in the dark water, and he yanked Mackerel down into the waves just as another spear flew into the waves like a diving bird.

This one landed in Hook’s flat tail, and it wasn’t a spear. It was a harpoon.

Thick and barbed, the weapon lodged itself in his tail and he found himself hauled up the beach by a small party of humans before he could even flounder or lash out. His own spear had been dropped when he’d reached for Mackerel and he only prayed that his friend had the sense to swim for the depths. Not that he was about to go down without a fight, he thought as he readied himself to lash out with his fists, and even his teeth if he had to.

Of course, Mackerel had the self-preservation instincts of a piece of seaweed in a Spring Tide, however, and he breached the water a second later with a screech of distress that made even Hook’s eardrums hurt. For an instant, the tearing pressure on his tail was relaxed and he heaved his body with all his might, knocking the shadowed figures aside and sending them tumbling into the sand.

Then he saw Mackerel hauling himself up the beach, and the men started to run for him too.

Panic set in to Hook until he heard Mackerel yelling at them. He was yelling a name. A human name.

The figure at the front of the group skidded to a halt in the wet sand and stood there in shock while a wave washed up the shore to him and sloshed over his boots. “Theo?”

“Eolan…” Mackerel wheezed. “Please… Let him go…”

The figure crashed to his knees in front of Mackerel and tilted his face up to look him in the eye.

Hook seized the opportunity and swung his tail again, scattering the last of the humans tugging fruitlessly on his line now that there were too few of them. The barb of the harpoon was right through the meat of his tail and it was bleeding everywhere, turning the sand a nasty dark hue.

“Let… him go… Eolan. For me.”

“Brother? Little brother?” the human choked, bowing over him.

“Yes. It’s me. Let. Him. Go.”

The human turned his face to look at Hook then, and Hook recoiled. He looked like Mackerel, just… older. And harder too.

“Get back into the water,” Hook growled at Mackerel. “You’ll choke up here.”

That made the human — his brother? — look sharply back at him, and when Mackerel nodded and his lungs started to seize, the human dragged him unceremoniously into the water himself by the tail.

Hook meanwhile clawed his own way back down the beach, dragging the harpoon with him. If it ripped out of his tail, he’d bleed to death, but if he didn’t get away from these humans, they’d hang him up like the sharks and the tuna they took great pride in catching, and they’d wait til he bled out or died from the stress of it.

He yanked at Mackerel’s tail and dragged him the last way into the water too, then half-swam and half-sank down into the safety of deeper water. Pearl was waiting for them with Hook’s spear in her hand and swam at him, crying out when she saw the harpoon in his tail.

“It’s bad, Hook. We have to take you to the sea witch,” she said. “Mackerel, what in the name of the Deep were you thinking?”

“I…” he croaked. Like a piece of flotsam caught in the grip of the tide, he didn’t know whether to return to the beach or follow them into the sea. Hook didn’t have time to wait though, and he let his clan bear him away, looking back over his shoulder at Mackerel in disbelief and confusion.

Pearl drew Mackerel after them, and he followed in mute shock.

The sea witch’s lair was somewhere most merfolk avoided, mostly because magic was as unnerving to them as human fire, and the sea witch was powerful. She had never been known to turn away anyone in distress however, and when she scented blood in the water and saw Hook being borne into the protective ring of rocks around her home by two of his kind, weak from blood-loss and pain, she darted over immediately and hissed a curse.

“Humans,” she said through gritted teeth as she instructed the orca folk where to leave Hook. He found himself drifting in and out of consciousness on a soft bed of woven kelp, and when he looked up she smiled at him. “Easy, sweetheart. We’ll get you taken care of. I’ll need you to be brave, and you might need to hold onto someone while I take it out. There’s no easy way to do it, but my magic will patch you up afterwards. It’ll scar, but at least you’ll have your tail, eh?”

He nodded. “M… Mack…” he moaned, but Mackerel didn’t appear. When he cracked his eyes open again, he saw Mackerel staring at the witch with abject terror in his big brown eyes.

“It’s alright, lad,” she laughed, waving him over. “Come. Your friend needs you now.”

But Mackerel didn’t move.

When he remained, drifting on the currents like a mindless jellyfish, the witch tutted and gestured more impatiently, until she went still and really looked at him. “You’re… You can’t be… By the Deep, you’re him, aren’t you?”

Slowly, he nodded.

When Hook let out a groan as the water drifted over his injury and moved the harpoon, the witch focused again and said, “No time for that now. Someone hold him while I heal him up.”

Mackerel did move then, and he swam right around her and came to hold Hook’s hand in a firm grip. “I’m sorry,” he said.

“Not your fault. Humans are awful. I hate them,” Hook spat. “I hate them all, I —” He cut off as the witch yanked the harpoon out and immediately began to heal it. Hook’s eyes rolled and he lost consciousness at last.

When he came to, he found Pearl at his side, curled up asleep the way she had done when they were really young. He stroked his hand over her hair and she stirred, blinking and rolling over.

“You’re alright?” she asked and he nodded.

Moving his tail experimentally up and down, he found that the pain had gone, and the wound had been mended to leave a silvery scar in the top and a pink one in the white of the flesh underneath. “Where’s Macks?” he asked and she swallowed and looked away. “Pearl?”

“He’s gone.”

“Gone?” Hook jerked upright and glared at her. “Gone where?”

“He talked with the sea witch for ages and she gave him something, and then… he just left.”

“Without saying where he was going?”

“He swam to the surface like he was one of us running out of air. I don’t know what happened.”

“Where is she? Where’s the witch? I want to ask —”

“I’m here,” came the witch’s harsh voice from nearby. “Don’t get your flippers in a flap,” she added, rolling her eyes. “And something tells me your boy will be back…”

“He’s not my boy,” Hook growled.

The witch just rolled her eyes. “Maybe not in the way you wish, but he’s not for you anyway. Your blood told me an interesting story when I drank half of it in by accident earlier. How are you feeling?”

She moved her seal’s lower body from side to side in a sinuous sweep and lifted up his enormous fluke, nodding with a satisfied grunt when she inspected the scar.

“I’m fine. Tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s not really my story to tell, if he’s not told you already,” she said carefully, “But I lashed out a long time ago when humans took my familiar from me, and I took it out on the wrong person. I wanted the humans to know what it was like to suffer at the hands of someone you feared, so I gave one of them a tail and gills in a fit of pique to make his father pay. I was so wrapped up in my grief at Shadow’s death that I clean forgot about the lad when the humans opened fire on me, and I’ve not thought about him from that day to this.”

“Mackerel…” Hook exhaled, his blue eyes wide. “He… He was human, once, wasn’t he?”

The witch nodded. “Pampered little princeling out on his father’s brand new ship. Shadow got too close and the ship hit my familiar. The shock of it broke something inside me that day, but I never should have taken it out on an innocent child.”

“Where is he now?”

“I gave him the means to return to his people. If he stays on land for longer than a single cycle of the sun and moon, he’ll stay there and never return. If he returns to the sea within that time, he’ll never be able to return to his human form again.”

“Why would you make him choose like that?” Hook demanded, face like a thunderhead.

“My magic isn’t infinite, boy,” she scoffed. “I can’t give him a shifters gift. He must choose, his family in the water or his family on land. By all accounts, the humans have scoured the land looking for a way to get their cursed prince back, but no witch has been willing or able to help them.”

Pearl shook her head. “Probably no one wanted to go against the Sea Witch…”

The witch blew a stream of bubbles from her mouth and shrugged. “If they had, I might have heard about the situation and remembered the poor boy I tossed into the ocean like a piece of discarded bait. Your clan shamed me with your honour in taking in the boy as your own.”

Hook swam out of the witch’s lair not long after that and made straight for the cove where the humans had been frolicking on the shore like spinner dolphins in the surf before they’d spotted him and Mackerel.

There, sitting close together on the beach by the dying embers of the fire, he saw his best friend and the human who’d called him ‘little brother’.

For a long time, he watched, transfixed.

Mackerel was wrapped in a piece of fabric that looked like a small, patterned sail, only it fell softly around him, and from under it, Hook could just see a pair of feet. His gaze snagged on them, and he wasn’t sure how long he stared. He wondered what it was like to have two limbs instead of one — perhaps it was like controlling his flippers and his tail separately…?

Suddenly, on the rocks above him and to his right, a male voice cleared his throat, and Hook jumped, lurching away with a snarl.

“Sorry,” the man said with an earthy chuckle. “Didn’t want to spook you, but I figured you should know I was here, and that you’d better not try anything either,” he warned.

Hook’s upper lip peeled back to show his row of sharp teeth. “If he wants to be there, I won’t stop him,” he growled. “Who are you?”

“Crown Prince’s bodyguard. You?”

“His friend.”

Hook eyed the man up and down and found he didn’t dislike him, physically. Like Hook, he was clearly a warrior, since he had what the humans called a ‘sword’ belted to his hip, and he carried a long spear in his right hand. His clothes looked like they’d been made of fish scales though, and Hook immediately wanted to touch. The fabric shimmered in the torch light and clinked softly, almost musically.

When he saw where Hook was staring, the man chuckled. “Yeah, mail’s a bit like fish skin, I suppose.”

“Mail?”

“This,” he said, plucking at the shirt that ended halfway down his thighs.

He crouched down, leaning on the spear for balance, and at the sight of the dark, soft fabric underneath the mail and covering his legs, Hook’s curiosity surged and he swam a little closer.

“Fuck,” the man breathed when he saw the way Hook moved.

“What?”

“Never been this close to one of your kind.”

“Without hurling a harpoon at us, you mean?” Hook growled, gripping the rock at the man’s boots and raising himself up out of the water enough to reveal his entire torso. Then, with one hand, he grabbed at the man’s mail shirt near his neck and hauled him close.

The spear dropped from his hand and clattered onto the rocks, but the human didn’t resist him.

“Holy shit,” he exhaled instead.

Hook snarled, lip rising again on one side, and he heard a shout of alarm from the beach.

Flinging the man aside so that he toppled and landed hard on his backside on the rock behind him, Hook looked over to find Mackerel standing shakily and staggering on the sand. The ‘sail cloth that wasn’t sail cloth’ fell to his waist and he grabbed at it, just as his brother lurched to his feet and helped to steady him.

Together they walked shakily around the cove and over to the rocks that jutted out into the sea like a dock, but the shore was too jagged for Mackerel’s bare, human feet, and besides, he was too unsteady on his unfamiliar legs.

He beckoned Hook over though, and Hook glanced back at the Crown Prince’s bodyguard, then sloshed into the water and drove himself at the shore with a few powerful sweeps of his tail. There, he half-beached himself, looking up at Macks.

Mackerel crouched, keeping the soft fabric around himself and half hiding his strange limbs from Hook’s view for some reason, and the older man stepped back when Mackerel nodded at him. “You’re human?” Hook croaked, looking up at him.

Mackerel made a little sideways motion with his head. “For now. I’m sorry I never told you what happened. I… I was afraid you’d… that you wouldn’t want me in your family anymore if you knew the truth. I know how you talk about humans…”

Shame twisted in his gut and he looked back at the man on the rocks who was standing up at the approach of Mackerel’s brother.

“You going to stay with them?” Hook asked.

“I’m not sure. I want to talk with my brother a bit longer. While I can. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”

Hook nodded. “I understand.”

“Hook…?”

He met Hook’s blue eyes with his brown and reached for him. His skin was warm and soft in the firelight, and Hook found he missed the stony grey it had been before. Being human didn’t suit him, but he didn’t feel it was his place to say that, so he just swallowed and nodded. “Take your time. You know where we’ll be.”

“Hook, whatever I decide, you're family too. All of you. Pearl and you and the whole clan. You took me in and cared for me in a way my family on land never really did. They sheltered me and they loved me, but… not the way you did. I’ll always love you all for that. You know that, right?”

Hook nodded once and shoved his weight backwards in the sand, awkwardly carving a channel in the wet shoreline with his massive body. He glared as Mackerel’s older brother strode back across to join them, and he helped Mackerel to stand. His legs trembled and wobbled, and he laughed and leaned into his brother, and the two retreated up the beach to talk some more.

At the whispering of metal rings sliding like scales across one another, Hook glanced to his right and saw the guardsman approaching along the sand. He set down his spear and held up his hands, laughing softly. It was a warm, chuffing sound, and it stirred something in Hook’s gut that he’d thought only awakened for Mackerel.

“What do you want?” he asked, though it came out more petulant than threatening, and it only made the human warrior snort another little laugh. “You sound like a seal with a cold, making that noise.”

That made the man’s laughter grow and he shook his head. Hook saw that his hair was wavy and dark brown, and it looked impossibly soft. A shiver ran down his whole body and he felt a spark of arousal thrum through him. He was glad he was lying on his front, for one.

The two princes talked long into the night, and Hook stayed with the guardsman.

Slowly, he got over his hostility and started to ask questions about the humans’ world, and once he’d started, he couldn’t stop. The guardsman had plenty of his own questions too, and by the time the sun was well up into the sky and hammering down on them, Hook’s deep voice was hoarse and his golden-brown skin was dry and prickling.

“I should…” he rasped, jabbing a thumb over his shoulder at the water behind him. “I’m going to turn into one of your baked fish soon.”

“Shit, I’m sorry,” the guardsman said. His name was Kit, it turned out, which Hook thought was a very funny sounding name. “You need a hand getting back in the water?”

He didn’t, but the thought of having this human’s hands on him sounded suddenly and bizarrely appealing, so he shrugged. “You strong enough to actually help me, or are you just looking for an excuse to get your hands on a merman?” he said, raising an eyebrow.

Again, Kit laughed. It seemed so easy, so natural for him to laugh, but Hook felt a little flicker of pride all the same at having made him do it.

“With all that muscle you’re packing? Probably not,” Kit admitted. “Seemed polite to ask though.”

Hook snorted too, and shook his head. His hair had dried while they’d been talking and it was tickling his face. The guard surprised him by reaching out and tucking it behind his ear with a smile. “I’m glad I met you, Hook,” Kit said. “Maybe… no matter what His Highness decides, you’ll meet me here again some time?”

“His… Highness?”

“The one you call Mackerel. He’s a prince, you know?”

“He’s just… Macks,” Hook scowled.

“Yeah.”

Kit straightened with a grunt and dusted the sand off his legs, and Hook used his forearms to back himself back out into the surf, tail lifted so it didn’t drag like an anchor.

His back was burned, and the saltwater was agony to start with, but it had been worth it to spend so long in the company of the strange human. He ducked beneath the water without a word and vanished, deciding to wait out the rest of the time until Macks’ spell conditions were met in the solitude of a nearby kelp bed.

Occasionally he surfaced, but he didn’t go back to the shore, and finally, when the moon was starting to rise again, he breached the water one last time and looked to the beach. There was no sign of Macks this time, and he realised he’d probably made his choice.

Grief struck him a worse blow than even the harpoon, and he curled inwards with a grunt as saltwater leaked from his eyes and he realised he was crying. He doubled over and turned towards the open ocean. His scarred tail gave a throb of pain as he pushed himself to the limit and blew past his clan who had been waiting nervously out in the open water all day.

Pearl yelled after him but he ignored her. He wasn’t sure how far along the coast he swam but eventually he doubled back to familiar waters and located his clan.

And there, in the middle of all of them, was Mackerel.

Hook halted and stared, and the motion of his black and white tail attracted his best friend’s attention enough that he stopped mid-sentence and darted away from the girls, his body flashing like a minnow between the figures of orca merfolk. He shot out and blasted over to him at a pace even Hook hadn’t known he was capable of, and collided with him with the speed of a racing tuna fish. He gave a soft ‘oof’, a cloud of bubbles rising up to the surface in a foam as the air was knocked from his lungs and he started to cough. Mackerel tugged him up to the surface and made sure he got a good gulp of air before hugging him again.

“I know you don’t see me as your brother,” he said, “And I’m sorry I can’t give you what you wanted, but… I hope you’ll accept me back into the clan all the same.”

“I love you,” Hook said, “No matter what, or how. I can’t believe you stayed though. I thought… I thought…” He squeezed him tightly, using his flippers as well as his arms, and Mackerel laughed.

“Turns out I actually prefer being a merman,” Mackerel laughed. “I was always out of place on dry land, but here… I think I’m meant to be here.” He waited a beat and then said, “My brother’s guardsman seemed quite taken with you. Maybe you can keep flirting with him when I go and visit my brother?”

Hook shoved him away and then used his trademark tail-wipe to wash him even further away, and the two of them laughed.

“Race you?” Macks asked.

Mackerel did an easy back-flip in the water, rolling gracefully and then twisting like a strand of kelp in the current. When Hook thought back to how he’d been in those first few weeks — when, he now knew, he’d only just acquired a tail instead of legs — he realised how Mackerel had really grown into that pretty tail of his.

As pretty as it was though, it somehow wasn’t as appealing as Kit’s legs anymore, and Hook hid a secret smile as he let his slippery friend scoot away from him before setting the muscle of his tail to good use and powering after him like an incoming breaker.

Relations with the humans changed after that. The old king died some years later, though not before he got to see his lost son one last time, and over the course of the next year, trade and new laws governing fishing rights and shipping lanes were established for the safety and benefit of the merfolk.

And if Hook disappeared from the clan for extended periods of time, and if those periods happened to overlap with Kit’s time off duty, well, it was only a sign of better things for both worlds, surely?

__

I really hope you enjoyed this. If you did, please consider showing your support by reblogging. It really is the best (and totally free!) way to help the artists and writers whose work you enjoy.

Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar) | Patreon

[jeanbie]

SHARKBAIT ★ masterlist.

pairing: tolya x reader

warnings: long distance relationships, set after s2 | wc: 6.9k

note: i'm pining over tolya right now. also i know a loooot of fans view tolya as aroace so hopefully this reaches the right audience (and if the show runners or leigh ever confirm this then pls tell me)!!

⏤ Tolya can go months without seeing your face, but he can make out your shape in the darkness of the ship when you steal your visits, fleeing when the sun begins to light up the decks.

Tolya knew what it meant to long, to pine, to wonder and yearn for something you couldn't have. He saw it a thousand times with his poems, between the lines and in each stanza where a romance formed with metaphors and analogies; he saw it in his crew as they busied themselves across an unsteady ocean, searching for purpose and meaning in the vastness of blue and brown. He even saw it in his sister and passing maidens, in his captain and his need to be seen as something more than an amplifier, and he saw it in his own life- with his faith and his resilience, with his own novice works of poetry tucked into journals in his bunk, and in the whispers of silence between the two of you whenever he saw you again, and especially in the stretches of days where he didn't see you at all.

On board the Volkvolny, for what felt like years on end, Tolya had nothing but time to become familiar with what it meant to long. He'd stare out across the expanse of the sea, outlining your body in the clouds as they dipped below the horizon, in the waves rippling under the ship as it sailed away from Os Kervo to Kerch. Sometimes he thought he could make out your shape in the darkness of his bunk, a thin ghostly outline come to haunt him in his sleep, to torment his dreams. Often he woke up to a fading outline of body just to the side of his hammock, remembering that you weren't there, and wouldn't be for some time.

He supposed that he was lucky to be on this ship, with the world at his hands. There were days where he was so caught up in the passion of his work, alongside his never-faltering faith, that he didn't have time to think of you, instead only stumbling into your body through dreams, where you came to him as easily as the sea to the shore. Today hadn't been one of those days, and he feared that the crew on board the Volkvolny knew it too well.

It started off with his last nightmare. Taking steps together on a shoreline that looked like it belonged to a dip of earth in Shu Han, Tolya met you on the sands, his hand slotted into your own as he followed behind you, stepping into your sunken footprints. Tolya had been inches from your mouth before he was ripped away with the sound of horns and laughter, drops of water leaking through the deck overhead. Work was demanding his consciousness, and the image of you remained only on his eyelids as he groaned, rubbing his eyes sleepily. He'd gone about his day relatively normally after that, or about as normally as he could stomach it. Tamar had seen the worst of his mood- she watched him heave himself up the stairs to the deck with a frown deep on his face, an ache at the corner of his lips tugging down. The front he performed of happiness did little to arouse his crewmates, although they joined the spectacle, letting him think he was giving a performance of a lifetime.

For a while, his mood had settled. He'd only counted seeing you in hallucinations maybe three times, but he'd stopped counting after the third, and couldn't be sure if his mind was allowing him to stick with three for the sake of his own sanity. He'd spotted you in the twist of water under the bowsprit, once in the ripple of the sails and again in the clouds. After the third, his mood was so sour that he opted to be silent for the day's voyage. People never thought they'd miss the sound of his poetry until he took his pitiful vows of silence.

Saints, how he missed you. Each time you were gone, Tolya regretted every second of silence between the two of you, every time he passed up the chance to tell you how much he loved you. And each time you were here, back with him in his arms, he couldn't seem to find the words. You weren't part of the crew on voyage with the Volkvolny, although you were never not welcome as far as Sturmhond was concerned. It was just that you preferred being on land, seeking out thrills and leads and injustice, trying to piece together the gaps in your history. Tolya knew that was what held you to the Crows, and what Inej often said was your lifeline away from him. Still, Tolya yearned for the days you were back with him, however short and fleeting. Months could pass at sea and when he saw you again, it would be like no time had passed at all.

Kerch loomed in the distance. From the crow's nest, he was told that through the spyglass, the oblong shapes of Ketterdam ports could be seen, the buildings packed together tightly and the smoke rising in the air, thick and dark like fires were blooming in the streets. It would be about two days of sailing, if the winds kept up, but if they were lucky, they might arrive ahead of schedule. Tolya couldn't count the moments quick enough- two days would be agonising until he saw you again.

"Yeesh. I kinda miss your poetry right now." Tamar crept up from behind Tolya on the hull of the ship. Not far from where Tolya was standing, with his elbows holding his body up on the side of the beams, was Jacob's ladder, hitting the side of the vessel with irritating small clicks.

Tolya glanced at her, a smile naturally falling into place. As foul as his mood might have been, there was always room in his heart for his sister. "That's something I'll never hear you say again."

His sister grinned. "I'm serious! Go on, give me something?"

Tolya replied with quiet laughter, and Tamar did the same. The twins shared their laughter for a moment before finishing in silence, and Tamar stole a glance as her brother cast his gaze to the water, curving like ribbons around the underbelly of the ship.

"Missing her?" she asked softly.

Tolya rolled his eyes, but saying nothing was as good as admitting it. 

"You know," Tamar continued, spinning so her back was pressed against the beams, "you could always just ask her to come with you." She gestured to the prow, "come with us."

"She wouldn't want to do that," Tolya said, shaking his head.

"Oh, so you asked her already?"

"Well— no."

"Then how'd you know?" 

Tolya sighed, twisting his head. He knew that you were as good as a Crow— although not exactly affiliated in whatever Kaz did or did not do, anybody who knew you knew that you did work for Kaz that filled the gap Inej made on the quest to find her brother. Even before that, you'd told Tolya that Kaz occasionally found himself asking for your help with requests that extended outside of his immediate access. You had been of some help to him finding the name of the slaver ships and traders, of which the Volkvolny was sailing back to Kerch to deliver rescued shipment (one lacking Inej's brother in tow, and the slaver who sold them). 

Your place was on land, on high ground. A bird could fly at sea, yes, but he feared you'd grow restless with little purpose on the ship. Everybody had a place and a role—he knew that simply being there for him wouldn't be a good enough reason for you to abandon whatever work you had unfinished on dry land, which is why he'd never asked you to come in the first place.

Tolya turned to face Tamar, eyeing her side-profile as she meticulously assessed the state of the ship. Many crewmates were down below, rifling through Shu poker cards and coins and sharing ghost stories with cups of ale and wine. 

"Have you ever been so scared of losing something good?" he asked suddenly, making Tamar look back at him. 

"All the time," she replied. 

Tolya dared a glance back at the ocean, relieved that he didn't find you there. "Every time I see her again, it's like magic. Bigger and grander than any kind of Saint-like act. She becomes the most important thing in the room." He blinked. "I don't want that feeling to go away."

Tamar tilted her head, as if to say, 'Go on'. There was a comfort in their twinnish bond, but even with that, Tolya struggled to find the words. Writing poetry was easy—every embarrassing thought could be passed off as fictional prose, but in a conversation it wasn't quite as easy to put on a façade. At the best of times, Tolya was as cool as a sea-cucumber, with an easy going air that put people at ease. Just another performance of a lifetime, but he didn't have to pretend sometimes when he was with his sister.

"We're just very different," Tolya said cautiously, almost like he didn't believe it were true as he said it. "I'm worried she might grow too used to me. Might get restless."

"Bored, you mean?" Tamar interrupted. When Tolya said nothing, she threw herself into extended conversation, "Brother, she adores you. That kind of love is special. And if she didn't love you more when you were doing what you do best- as in, meandering around this beast with your poetry and stupid jokes-" He looked at her with a rising smile- "-then you'd be better off for it."

His stomach churned. He didn't want to be better off without you. 

"Besides," Tamar offered her last words of comfort before pushing herself up and away from him, "there are thousands of men and women in the world for her to see each passing day, and yet she still falls into those arms of yours when we arrive in Ketterdam. If she can love you from a hundred miles away, then I think she'll manage loving you and your quirks on the open sea."

There was an insufferable ache in Tolya's chest whenever he thought back to his conversation with Tamar. 

He'd busied himself the next day, throwing himself into heavy work around the ship as it sailed nearer to the coastline. His crewmates were thankful to see him in reasonably good spirits— Sturmhond had been particularly put off by his lack of comedic timing the day before, and had tried to think back to his own experiences with Alina back in Ravka, putting the pieces together in his own time— but they knew it was bought time with Tolya's pleasantries. Tolya wouldn't be at ease until they docked and only then could his mind be put at ease. It was always the days before returning to Ketterdam where Tolya seemed at his darkest, and it had happened enough times that they should all be used to it, but the sight of his downturned face never got any easier to process.

Night ensued, the moon casting a fickle light to the ocean as it lulled to a cool and calm tempo. The winds were kind tonight, not carrying the wind in an angry gust, and the waves were short and fluid. No storms hid behind thick flurries of clouds, and the creatures below whipped their fins and tails in harmony— no trouble would come tonight, he thought, and glad of it.

Tolya lay in his hammock, staring at the wooden boards above his head. Around him, his crew slept in peaceful slumbers, and to the far side of the room he could see the auburn light of Sturmhond's—now Mal, now that the charade was over— little black lamp sheltered next to a book he'd inherited with his title, now reading to fall asleep. Tolya sighed, his gaze back above. 

The glow of light to his left allowed room for your shape to slowly appear, just an outline that got more hazy in his memory as the months went by. He gulped, the lump in his throat hard and sour tasting, and he closed his eyes quickly to throw away the image of you. Yet you remained, imprinted on his eyelids, smiling as he found sleep to take him away into the night.

When he awoke, he could hear the caw of gulls and loud voices beyond the ship, louder than what he knew his crew to be capable of. Tolya stirred for a moment before coming to his senses, his eyes honing in on the same spot he'd last seen you in above his slumbering form. The forecastle was bathed with yellow light, with the sun at an angle pouring down through the hatch to the upper deck, and as he awoke, Tolya could smell the distinct scent of crab hooks and wet moss, the lingering scent of oil and sewage and copper. Strange, he thought.

Balancing on the hammock, Tolya raised himself with his elbow and stole a glance around the forecastle. Two men lay snoring, too drunk the night before, and he noticed a third figure at the foot of his hammock, their back to him but hiding nothing about their identity. His heart lurched, he baulked, and the hammock twisted beneath him with a sudden jolt and his body was sent to the floor with a thud and a grunt.

"Easy, sharkbait."

Tolya's head whipped up quickly, the click in his neck aching. It was you- Y/N, his beloved Y/N, dressed in a blue coat that looked like Mal's. Underneath you wore a dark brown shirt tucked into your trousers—today the attire was more casual, for when you were at work you wore black and black alone. Inej told him it was to blend in with the night, but Tolya reckoned it was also because it flattered you.

You smiled at him warmly, laughing when he didn't move from the floor.

"Come on. Don't tell me after a few months you've forgotten this face?"

Tolya's mouth opened and closed. "What—no! How could I—wait, is that Mal's coat?"

He heard your laugh again as you drew near, pulling his bicep to pick him up off the floor. You were more than capable of pulling his weight, but you still found fun in pretending you couldn't. Tolya rose from the floor, both of his salt-soaked hands gently wrapping around your wrists as he faced you. A smile dawned on his lips as he drank in the image of you; fully fleshed out, solid, real, not a figment of his desperate imagination.

"I saw him up top," you told him. "He looks good as Sturmhond, right? I was almost charmed." You said it with a grin that made Tolya think otherwise, and you shuffled closer towards his torso, the action welcomed as his grip fastened slightly around your arms. 

"Charmed enough to take his clothes?" Tolya asked. He knew that there would never be anything there with Mal—Saints, everybody knew that. Mal was too busy having his own mental quarrels with Alina to entertain the thought of somebody else, and well, you seemed perfectly content being charmed by a different captain below deck, smiling at you with sleep still hanging in his eyes.

"I always did look good in blue," you said.

Tolya hummed. "Yeah."

Falling into a silence, Tolya's eyes flickered across your face, soaking up the sight of you, making a mental note of what had changed while he'd been away. Not much, he found, bar a few scratches across your left cheek flanking down to your chin, and a greenish bruise under your eye. He frowned, moving his hand to ghost his fingers across the painted skin. Meanwhile, you did the same, observing changes in his appearance, concluding every detail: the richer tan across his skin, the stubbly pricks of hair around his jawline and the appearance of a new mark under his right nostril. Drunk on the image of him, you fixed your eyes back on his, surprised to see him already looking.

"What're you doing down here anyway, sharkbait?" you asked. Your voice was lower, quieter and softer, but he knew it had nothing to do with a shift in mood. Instead, you were just simply close enough for him to hear you without strain, close enough to hear you whisper, to hear you breathing. 

Tolya offered a boyish smile. "You know."

"Had a long night?"

"Terribly long."

"What, enjoying someone's company til sunrise?" you teased, entertaining what could be signs of an insecurity in the bilge of your belly. Tolya pretended to ignore it, yet his heart sank nonetheless. 

"Come on, you know me better than that," he laughed, bringing you in closer to him. Tolya nestled his nose against yours, moving it across your face to your cheekbone and closing you in with his arms around your shoulders. He sighed, comfortable. He'd missed this, the way your body felt against his, the way your arms felt around him. Saints, he'd missed this. Tolya took in a breath, his nose above your ear. "I've missed you."

Tolya heard a hum near his sternum, rumbling with a small vibration. It made his body bristle slightly but he warmed to your touch, his arms tightening around you.

"Me too, moi sol ye tselai," you replied, feeling his nose twitch as a smile grew on his face. 

For a moment you stayed like that, entangled in the quiet of the forecastle. Tolya didn't waste a single second of it, not after the torment he'd given himself just hours before. After some time, Tolya felt you wiggling in his arms and he relaxed, opening the distance between you as he leaned back to look at your face. You looked back at him with a smile, head angled up to marvel at him, and Tolya's eyes shifted into crescent moons as he brought his head down to kiss you. 

His one hand cradled the side of your face, the other at the back of your neck, and you made no resists to his advancements. Tolya kissed you deeply, lost in the familiar taste of your lips, sweet like the breakfast you must have ate before coming down here. He felt you kiss him back, the pressures combined, your hands up around his wrists. Your head leaned back slightly, his dominance slightly more assertive, as he captured your lips once, twice, thrice, never allowing a minute of rest.

When he did pull back, he was met with your widened eyes, shining in the light, and you bit down on your bottom lip to try and refrain from a smile. He saw it anyway, kissing you once more in a swift gesture and bringing himself back in what he thought was a commendable act of self restraint.

"I take it we are in Ketterdam," he asked, more of like a statement. It had to be true, since you were here. Unless he was dreaming, which he had a sinking feeling that he could be, perhaps trapped in a powerful lucid dream, some kind of sleep paralysis that had him smooching something akin to a squid on the prow. Unlikely, but not impossible, given his mood these days.

"How else would I be here?" you replied with a gentle laugh. 

He held you by your waist as you turned, observing the forecastle he sometimes called home. Tolya freed his grasp with reluctance, holding your fingers til the last second and he fell forward a few steps trying to grab you back. You moved around the hammocks, ducking under a lamp with a feigned interest in the bunks. Tolya didn't like to use his heartrending on you, but he could hear your hammering heartbeat even without using his talents. He smiled in private, watching you with adoration.

"I arrived here as soon as you docked," you explained, still looking around. Tolya hummed with interest, leaning his weight against a support beam. "I was having breakfast with Nina when Jesper told me that your Volkvolny was coming to the harbour. I finished, paid and came here as fast as I could. You didn't meet me at the deck, but it was so early, I figured you'd be sleeping. I greeted your crew, shook hands with your new captain, hugged Tamar, stole a coat and then came down here." You smiled, spinning back to look at him. Your bravado was complete. "To answer your question—yes. Welcome back to Ketterdam."

Tolya loved when you launched into explanations like this. He had a series of entries in a journal you shared where you'd given full detailed accounts of your adventures, but the ink never did justice to the words as you said them. Tolya's grin widened. 

"Kaz wanted to speak with you, too," you added, stepping back towards him and stretching out your hand. Tolya's stomach churned again when he took it with his own, feeling the small blisters across your skin from all your ropework and midnight affairs as an unofficial Crow. Like his own, actually, littered with chafes and burns from the ropes to the masts, sea salted splits across his hands whenever he got too heavy handed around the deck or in other ports. 

"Let's go up, then."

You led the way, all the way to the stairs where Tolya enjoyed watching you ascend before following. It'd been a minute, he'd take whatever he could to feel like everything was good again. Once he stepped up out of the dappled light of the forecastle, he cringed in the brightness of the sun. It was never very bright in Ketterdam, but anything was brighter than the lamplight below. The harbour was alive with noise and merchants. He never missed the smell of Ketterdam, although he admitted that it was a stench that one really did grow accustomed to, as it were with any foreign harbour.

From the deck, he could see the stretch of sea behind him and back ahead, a small cluster of faces across the way. He knew them all already, each by both name and face, and he stepped towards his sister-in-command with you close in tow. His body shivered when your hands smoothed around his middle to manoeuvre around him and Tolya watched you meet your hip with Inej's. Tolya spared another hungry glance at you and then looked back at Kaz expectantly, as he launched into an explanation on affairs in Ketterdam.

The Volkvolny would stay in Ketterdam just shy of a day, giving Tolya more anxiety than it did comfort. There wouldn't be enough time for him to remind you of how much he missed you, and there was certainly no privacy for him to put it into actions instead of words. But business needed to be swift, that was if they wanted a good chance at catching the ships that both you and Kaz felt could hold the secrets to Inej's brothers' whereabouts. The Crow Club was magnificent, but no place for a love-filled reunion, and he couldn't see either of you feeling particularly romantic in the streets. With the Volkvolny being groomed for their next sail, Tolya resorted to holding you close at all times, with meaningful stares and listening with colourful interest about your life over a table in the club, while Kaz oversaw his business and friends reunited once more. Tolya ate up what he could learn about your life during the three months he was at sea.

You had been working with Kaz to crack down harder on slavery leads, finding nothing much about your own family and little to nothing about anybody else's. Inej had been given a much narrower list of names thanks to your good work on the streets, and Tolya heard from Jesper that you'd been a useful asset to the Crow's, although always declined the hospitality of their affiliation for some reason. Meanwhile Tolya offered what he thought might interest you the most about his time away; battles against rough waves, giant squids and krakens lurching from below, sharks and dolphins scratching the surface of the water with their fins chased by swirling serpents; funny tales from travellers in different ports, a retelling of Mal's first night getting drunk at sea. 

Tolya thought, as you mused and laughed opposite him at the table with your friends and found-family, that you were most beautiful when you were off guard. As he stared at you, he felt his heart tug once more. In just a few hours, there'd be nothing left to look at, just shadows in the dark, voices in the wind mimicked by sirens as they fondled the underbelly of the boat, enticing deaf ears to the water as the crew grumbled and sang over their call. The thought of leaving you made him feel sick.

He briefly thought about what Tamar had said. It was true that Tolya had never asked you to join him at sea, but he was pretty sure he knew what the answer would be. There would always be something keeping you here, keeping you both apart.

"How long this time?" you asked, when you both managed to steal some time alone to walk along the dark streets of Ketterdam. With Rollins in prison and with Kaz taking command of a smidge of the barrel, you figured it would be safe out here. Besides, Tolya was tall enough to tower over even Fjerdans, and that was no easy feat. Anyone dumb enough to pick a fight with a man his size could break a few bones trying, even if you both knew that out of the two of you, you had more practice taking down the big guys.

Tolya dipped his head. "If we're lucky, then a month or so." He paused, thinking, "You said that list you gave to Inej was accurate, right?"

"I think so. Every lead I had took me right back to those three names," you replied. Inej had flinched at the sight of them, meaning your hunch was accurate enough to give Tolya the hope of coming back soon. 

"If the winds are kind, and the journey is good, we can be back before it starts getting cold here," Tolya said, almost like he was making a wish at a well or a plea to a Saint. "Without any luck on our side, it could be longer..."

You frown, looking over at Tolya and tightening your grasp on his hand. "We'll manage."

"I hope so, milaya," Tolya said, kissing the back of your hand. 

Once you both reached a bright streetlight, you turned to face him. "Do you think it will ever end?"

Tolya paused. "What do you mean?"

"As in…this search. Once you find Inej's brother, what comes next?" you ask. You turn away slightly, Tolya's gaze tight on your movements. "Suppose you'll go sailing to wherever next, right? Or…will you stay a while?"

Tolya knew what you were asking, obvious in what you didn't say. There had been countless times where Tolya had imagined himself throwing his life on the Volkvolny away just to be with you, to retire with you to some peaceful town with no worries, nothing at all but peace gifted by Alina tearing down the fold and enough money and shelter to settle down, explore the world, fall deeper in love. But the Volkvolny was his life, his meaning when he didn't fall into his faith. You were his love, his beloved, but neither one could expect the other to give up their identity to be somebody they weren't.

"I'm not sure," Tolya said truthfully. "And yourself? You're so busy with Kaz here, you may well be a Crow by the next time I see you. Your work seems to spring up like fleas."

Your mouth tilted downwards. He was right. Tolya was the love of your life but there would always be the issue of work. Without your demand with the Crows, what were you? Nothing but a shadow skulking around the city, tailing crooks, locating slaves? You supposed you could be more—you'd thought about it a few times, getting up and going with Tolya wherever he asked you to go. But those were dreams, frightening dreams you weren't sure Tolya saw eye to eye with. His voyages felt to you like escapes.

"Well—" Tolya broke through the silence, using his index finger to pick up your head by your chin. When your eyes met, he smiled warmly, kissing you. "Whatever comes next, I'll be there waiting for you."

Tamar stood beside Kaz and Mal as Tolya heaved himself up the ramp and onto the ship. You were close behind, shadowing his steps, cautious about even a step of distance. Tamar sighed loudly, and Kaz looked over at her and followed her gaze.

"What is it?" he asked. Kaz thought he already knew, but it didn't hurt to be sure.

"Oh, a lovers parting," she said dramatically. 

Mal smiled, not quite reaching his eyes. "If they're trying to be subtle about things, they're doing a terrible job."

Kaz observed the couple. Kaz knew you well enough to respect you, perhaps even call you a friend, and he had no obvious qualms with Tolya. He'd never forget his loyalty before Alina tore down the fold, and had no concerns about him being a weakness to who might just be his next Crow. He stared at the back of Inej's head for a second too long as she helped someone heave some shipment to a different compartment of the ship, and then he looked back to Tolya and yourself with a funny feeling twist in his stomach.

"Why grovel?" Kaz asked. "Y/N can leave at any time if she wishes."

Tamar glanced over quickly, as if the news was surprising to her. "She's not working?"

"Her work is done," Kaz said plainly. Tamar and Mal's look of confusion made him twitch with slight annoyance, but he otherwise elaborated on what they didn't know: "I told Y/N to find leads on the slavers. She supplied the list of three and now you will be on your way to locate them. Her task has been completed, and she is free to go."

"Yeesh," Tamar said, "way to make her sound expendable."

"Everybody is."

Kaz looked back at Tolya, holding you in his arms. "I have Nina on a lead already. Until I have something for Y/N to do, she is free to do whatever she pleases." He added as an afterthought, "After all, she's not under my employment."

Hm. Tamar and Mal exchanged a look, but said nothing.

"Will you be here? When we come back?" Tolya asked you. From afar, he could sense his sister's lingering gaze, and he spared a look, alarmed when he saw her, Mal and Kaz watching the pair of you.

"Most likely," you said. You followed his gaze and nodded your head in their direction, Tolya leading you by the waist back to the step-down where Kaz stood at the top, like a bouncer guarding the way. Tolya greeted each one with a glance and a smile before looking back at you.

There wasn't enough time this time around. Tolya's heart wrenched as he looked at you, trying to remember every detail before he had to leave. Their stops in Ketterdam were never very long, but how he longed for a day more by your side, simply one more hour in your company. The thought of leaving you made his throat harden, tears springing behind his eyes. A blink would surely set them free, but he knew the ways to keep them hidden until he was safe in the darkness, not until you came to him in a premonition like a sick joke.

Tamar and Mal—Sturmhond, now he was back on the wood of the ship— gave a look to Kaz in farewell and stepped around the back of you to move further on the deck. Tolya's heart quickened and you watched them go with a rapid look, glancing back at Tolya with twinkling eyes, twinkles he knew were tears and not reflections of light.

"None of that," he said quietly, with a small smile and he reached out to cup your face. Tolya guided you close for a kiss, and a bell rang from somewhere in the harbour and his heart leaped to his throat. He tugged you closer, kissing you harder. Kaz looked away, fixated on Inej but giving you at least the luxury of some privacy. Tolya lost himself in your kiss, his fingertips brushing your hairline and he swore he could taste the salt of your tears between his lips. Tolya pulled away from you slightly, his eyes slightly wide and breath raspy and all of a sudden: "Come with me."

There was a beat of silence.

If other crewmates heard, they didn't give much away. Kaz had torn his eyes from Inej in a painful defeat, with no option but to assess the lovers before him, and truth be told, Tamar and Sturmhond never stopped watching. Tolya didn't allow the silence to kill his courage. If he didn't say it now, he never would.

"I love you," Tolya said. "I love you so much—eya fyela chi, hm? And I know that your heart is here, with the city and the Crows and your life but, Saints, Y/N I see you in my dreams, I see you in the water and the sky and hear you in the ocean breeze. When I close my eyes, I see you in flashes. You have bewitched me, you are in my soul. I love you. Whenever we are apart, it's like a torment." He gulped. He sounded a lot like some of the amateur poetry he wrote when he felt lonely, poetry he sometimes recited to his crew if he got drunk enough. "So, please, please come with me. See the ocean, go across the sea. Be with me, stay with me—come with me."

His eyes searched your face for a sign, something—anything. You blinked, bewildered, holding his hands as they cupped your face.

"But…" you began to shake your head, and his heart sank deeper, "but my work…"

You spared a glance to Kaz. He could act like he hadn't been listening, but it wouldn't do anybody any good. You were almost startled to see him already observing you. 

"I don't need you," Kaz said simply. "I just owe you a debt."

"But, the slaves—"

"You did your job," he repeated. "So you're free to go."

Tolya was just as surprised as you were. He looked at Kaz with round eyes and met yours in a simultaneous turn. He wasn't quite sure what to say about any of it. Was Kaz telling you to go? Was he giving you permission, saying go, leave, or were you now useless to the Crows? Was it only because he had asked? Maybe you didn't want to leave.

"Am I fired?" you asked dumbly.

For a moment, you could have sworn you saw a flicker of a smirk on Kaz's face. "I expect your contract will need renewing upon your arrival. There are many things to do in Ketterdam, just not now. Not for you, at least."

You blinked. Processing his words felt like an eternity—you were free to go. Kaz had made it clear that you'd still have a life on shore when you arrived, if you even left in the first place. Marvelling at the thought, you looked back at Tolya. Travelling the oceans with him; being in his arms each night, getting to know the parts of him reserved to his crew, his faith and his poetry and his talents on the deck, seeing what caused the scars on his hands, what caused the creases in his skin; what he ate and drank, what he wore on different days, how his hair fell in the mornings when it wasn't fastened out of his face. All of that for the taking, and you just had to say the words.

Tolya's face didn't waver, giving nothing away as you said nothing to him. For a while, he thought he knew what you'd say. Tolya, I'm sorry, but I just can't—

"But where would I sleep?"

He hadn't expected that.

Laughter bubbled in his chest. "I think there's room for you in my hammock, if you'd like." He caught your look of doubt and grinned, "Aw, come on. I'm not that big."

"What would I do?"

Slowly but surely, Tolya thought he could sense hope building inside of him. You hadn't yet declined. Your piqued interest gave food for thought as Tolya studied your expressions.

"Well," he said, thinking about it. Actually he'd already thought about it, more than ten times out at sea, twice within the few hours they were in Ketterdam, "you could do anything you wanted. Gaze out at the seas. Play card games—in no time, you'll be a better player than Tamar. You could paint the decks, climb the masts, sit in the nest all day for all I care. I just want you to be with me, for longer than just a few hours." 

Tolya's eyes were almost pleading. You gazed into them. There was no need to think, you already knew what you wanted to say. Chewing the skin of your inner cheek, your eyes flickered to Mal. As Sturmhond, you figured whatever he said went. Tolya followed your gaze and laughed when he spotted the source of your interest.

Mal's eyes flickered, like he'd been alerted back to the present. He looked around innocently, refraining from smiling when he caught the glimmer in Tamar's eyes next to him. 

"Don't look at me," Mal said to you, shrugging his shoulders and raising his hands, "I'm not in charge."

When you next looked at Tolya, you were smiling. From the corner of your eye, Tamar clapped Mal on the shoulder and disappeared into the crew, helping Nadia unload cargo to a different spot below deck. For a second, Mal looked as though he didn't know what to do with himself, until he shuffled further towards the bow, scanning the horizon. Kaz was no longer on the ship when you turned to acknowledge him. You saw the shape of his coat disappear back into the masses in the harbour, and Jesper extended his hat in a farewell and turned to follow. Nina would understand, you hoped, as you were sure she'd still be occupied with freeing her 'hunk of meat'.

"What do you say, lapushka?" Tolya asked. He knew he was cheating by using the Ravkan tongue on you. You'd mentioned it was your mother language only once in passing, and he'd never wasted a second on charming you with it. He ran his hands up and down your arms, arching to look into your eyes with a wide smile on his face. Tolya grinned as he moved with your shyness, a laugh huffing through his lips. "Hm? Will you come with me?"

You laughed, giggled in his arms, as he brought you closer with a kiss under your eye. Squirming, you faked revolt, wrestling out of his grasp. Your smile told him your answer—the rest was roleplay. 

"I know we're going far from home," he said, watching as someone stepped close to pull up the ramp from the harbour. The distinct clink of the anchor filled his ears, departure would be soon and if you wanted to say no, then now was the time. You never did. "But I promise I'll take care of you."

You gazed at him fondly, reaching up to steal a kiss from his lips. He lingered, his face warm in the rising sun. "You can focus on your business, and I'll keep you safe from harm."

Tolya gasped teasingly. "You know the way to a man's heart, I see."

He pulled himself away, with some reluctance, with a grin and shuffled to aid his mates with assembling the ship. Before he could stray too far, you hooked your finger around the strap over his shoulders, used to hold his ensemble of guns and weapons. Tolya looked back as he felt the pull, the adoration in his gaze never faltering.

"Only the hearts of men I love," you told him, and he smiled, bigger and brighter, tilting his head as his eyes folded into Cheshire smiles before he winked, dipping his head back to look at his crew.

You watched him retreat along the deck, his assertion cool and respectful, commanding the attention of the crew as they fell into their formations. Figuring you had time to find your place, you stood rooted where you had been standing this time, casting one final look at the harbour; you bid silent farewell to the streetlights and carts, to the horses snuffling as they loaded merchandise and travellers into the carriages pulled by their strength, to the place you lovingly called home, until a new one found its way to you in the shape of a man named Tolya, who wherever you were together became your new anchor, the new place you fell to for comfort and safety. The man you loved, yours for the taking, for a life stretching past the horizon across that plane of endless sea.

[kingsanddragonsandgods]

a/n: this is just the story preface, not yet chapter one. for this fanfic i am keeping mostly the book timeline, but there will be a little bit of show timeline further ahead.

it is a AU which blends aspects of book and show canons but is also a lot of headcanons. i am a bit of a history nerd, so there is bits inspired by real life historical events, i also drawn a lot of inspiration from medieval/renaissence royal courts to write how i imagine life at the Red Keep would be, most numbers i will use in this story are also taken from history (noble households, courtiers, armies, ships and crews etc), as are titles for functions an jobs that are not shown on the show or books. There are a couple of Original Characters that are going to be introduced over time, and a few canon characters that are barely mentioned or not seen at all on the show. additional information: I chose to keep the show's 'ages' for some characters, so, for the sake of the story: Viserys was born in 70 AC, Daemon in 74 AC, Rhaenys in 67 AC, and Aemma and Rhea share the year 76 AC.

word count: 2802

warnings: none for this chapter

“...Princess of Runestone, proved herself in her maiden voyage crossing of the Narrow Sea, six pirate ships gave chase as we crossed through the Stepstones, their inferior ships however were no match for our girl or to our brave crew. We had already sunk three carracks when they choose to surrender the remaining three after sighting Archonei descending upon them. We lock the surviving pirates in the holding cells, and seize their cargo, to my great surprise I was able to ascertain that the cargo on the ships once belonged to none other than the Sea Snake.”  Enya reads aloud the letter she received from Ser Orys, her half-brother, coming all the way from Lys, the first stop on his great voyage. “We intend to sell the cargo in Lys, Maester Aldus believes it will yield a great profit, at least 20-times Mother’s initial investment, it seems almost unbelievable that we are only on the first leg of the journey. Gods willing, my next letter home shall be sent from old Volantis. Tell Mother I miss her advice and our morning rides, as I miss your sweet face, and our daily flights. Send my love to everyone home and make sure that young Willam is dedicating himself to his training. Your loving brother, Ser Orys Stone…”  Her granddaughter finishes reading her the letter, folding it carefully and putting it inside the hard cover of the book she has next to her on the wheelhouse seat.

How the girl manages to read in the bouncing carriage is something that marvels her, she feels nauseous just watching it.

Elys would have much preferred to have made the journey by ship, but the early spring storms that plague the East Coast they didn't allow them to leave the safety of the harbour.

The lady wouldn't be making the trip if she could help it, she had just come out of mourning period for her dear husband, all she wanted was to be able to take the time to visit her daughters and spend time with her grandchildren before returning to Eyrie to resume supervising her niece's upbringing. But the beginning of spring means Visenya's relocation to the royal court in King's Landing, to spend the spring and summer with her father and paternal family.

Last time her granddaughter was at court was four years before the death of the Old King, whom she had served as cupbearer when he still had the mental faculties to attend the Council. She had been just a child then, the king's favourite great-granddaughter.

 Since then, she had blossomed into a stunning beauty, no longer a girl but not yet a woman, striking in that way that only those from the blood of the dragon are.

A beauty worthy of a crown.

A crown she had been promised as a child.

If the gods had been merciful, little Prince Aerion would have survived infancy and today he would be a boy of nearly three and ten, the heir to his father’s throne, betrothed to Visenya by the will of King Jaehaerys. But Aenar died in his cradle, followed by his little brother, Aelor, and two early miscarriages. And her granddaughter lost the her chance at the crown promised to her.

“Do you think Orys can one day surpass the feats of the Sea Snake?” Elys turns her head from the window to look at her granddaughter.

“He might,” Elys candidly admits, “Orys has advantages that Velaryon did not, Archonei being the greatest of them."

Elys had disagreed with her daughter's decision to raise the prince's natural son after the boy's mother died—Orys was, in Elys' opinion, the stain on her daughter's dignity, a bastard child her betrothed fathered on a Royce cousin of lesser consequence, during the feast celebrating the union between Houses Royce and Targaryen—as he grew, the boy proved her wrong in her reservations against him. He was as devoted to Rhea as he was to Visenya, respectfully calling her ‘Mother’ after asking permission to do so, loyal and honourable, dedicating himself to every life opportunity offered by his stepmother.

She would never forget his terror when Visenya's egg hatched in his hands, it was the day he won her over, he had tears in his eyes as he asked Rhea for forgiveness for hatching the dragon as it was not his intention, he went on to say that he had never coveted her sister's egg and that she could have the hatchling. Her daughter just laughed, kissing the boy's head and explaining that the dragon had chosen him.

Jaehaerys was not at all pleased with the accident when Rhea sent a letter informing him of what had happened. Daemon finally took an interest in the dark-haired boy Rowena birthed, flying to the Vale to see the dragon, taking it upon himself to have twenty dragonkeepers sent to Runestones.

“I hope he can accomplish it, for himself and for House Royce." Visenya says looking out the window, pulling back the curtains to get a better look, wrinkling her little nose at the stench that enters the carriage and allowing the curtain to fall closed again. “I had forgotten that the city smells so bad.”

“You better get used to it again." Elys passes a bag of scented salts to the young woman. “Tie it to your wrist, you can smell it when the stench gets too much.”

The slums around the city wall have grown considerably larger than Lady Elys remembered from her last visit so many years before.

People beg with outstretched hands on the road as they see the bronze wheelhouse pass by.

It's a sad sight.

The lady sighs before pulling the small dark wooden chest out from under the bench under Visenya's curious eyes. She takes out a heavy bag of coins and pushes the chest back with her foot, hiding it with her skirt. She signals with her hand for any of the knights escorting them to approach the window. Willam Royce, her nephew by marriage, Gunthor’s youngest boy, and Leofric Corbray squire, is the one to come to her.

She contains a smile as she sees the boy blush when he notices Visenya's curious gaze on him.

It's no secret that the boy is sweet on little Enya—just like half the boys of similar age in Runestone—in another life he would be a good match for the future Lady of Runestone, Willam is handsome, with dark curls and blue eyes, and will probably grow up to be a tall, handsome man, and appease everyone in the family that the next heir would retain the surname Royce without the need for major manoeuvres.

“Lady Aunt." He greets her with a nod, keeping his horse's gallop in sync with the carriage. “My princess.”

Visenya just smiles at him, looking at him from beneath her lashes, which only makes him blush more.

“Willam, my sweet, be a dear and hand out these coins to the people." She passes the heavy bag into his hand.

The squire just nods again, looking once more at the Targaryen princess before doing as his aunt asked of him.

Once he is away and the curtain is closed again, Elys lets out the laugh she forced herself to hold in, lightly slapping her granddaughter's knee in reprimand.

“Shameless flirt!” The Dowager Lady of Runestone pointed her finger at the girl.

“I have to train for court life, don't I?" Visenya says with a naughty tone. “I'm of marriageable age, I have to charm all the beautiful second sons, have them all at my feet asking for my hand, there is no better opportunity than during a season at court.”

A beauty of beauties in all the Seven Kingdoms, if not in all the Known World.

Visenya is slender, nymph-like of body, with very pale white skin dotted with golden freckles—the only inheritance from Rhea in her appearance—, plump lips and pretty pearly teeth, a neat nose, and large eyes of an unusual bluish-lilac shade. Her hair is a beautiful flaxen, a few shades lighter than Elys own, curled and long—she's not sure her granddaughter's hair was ever cut more than a little trim at the ends—now ribboned for practicality during the travel.

Elys remembers vividly the Good Queen Alysanne carrying the baby in her arms during her anointment commenting that little Visenya reminded her of Viserra, the most beautiful of her daughters, in appearance.

“Be careful child, you don't want a reputation, especially in the Red Keep."

“I can be discreet." The girl winks at her grandmother amid giggles.

The wheelhouse takes a while to cross the city from Dragon's Gate to the Red Keep, the guards escorting it thought it better to go around Fleabottom than through it. Especially with the four glitzy wheelhouses carrying the noblewomen and their ladies-in-waiting, and the wagons with their belongings coming right behind, with things that attract the attention of the wrong kind of people.

Their retinue arrives at the Red Keep midday.

There is quite a crowd waiting to receive them. The standard-bearers stop between the carriage and the people waiting, proudly carrying the banners of Houses Targaryen, Royce and Arryn, and the Princess of Runestone personal crest: a pearlescent white dragon with the halved shield with the crests of Royce and Arryn between its claws in a black field with bronze runes around the border.

“Princess Visenya of House Targaryen, heir of Runestone.” The Herald announces her granddaughter, as a guard opens the wheelhouse door for them. “Her Lady Grandmother, Lady Elys of House Arryn, Dowager Lady of Runestone.”

Elys arranges the balzo on top of Visenya's head and centres the small jewel on her forehead, pinching her cheek for a healthy blush before the girl pushes back the linen curtain and leaves with the assistance of a Kingsguard guard.

The lady fixes her own skirt before leaving the wheelhouse behind her granddaughter.

The first person she notices is the Queen, her younger sister, in the light blue silks of her paternal House.

A chill runs down her spine as she looks at her sister.

Despite her Targaryen blood through her mother, Princess Daella, in appearance Aemma is an Arryn, with pale sandy hair, an aquiline nose and light blue eyes. Aemma is only eight and twenty, a few months older than her Rhea, however, she looks like a woman nearly to Elys own age.

She looks emaciated, haggard…sick. The Stranger follows her closely. Her youngest sister would not survive a full-term pregnancy and childbirth, it surprised Elys even that she had lived until this moment, with so many failed pregnancies and increasingly long and painful periods of recovery.

Beside her, giving her his arm for support, is Viserys, the King of the Seven Kingdoms, dressed in silk damask of gold and Tyrosh-purple, his grandfather’s crown upon his brow, looking more youthful and healthier than his younger wife. His silver-gold hair is kept short, following southern fashion which has a great Andal influence, he also sports a silver-gold moustache, so thin and pale it almost disappears on his face.

He is a handsome man, but pales in comparison to his dashing younger brother, especially when the two are side by side.

“Your Graces.” Visenya makes a perfect curtsy to the King and Queen and stands as if the castle belongs to her.

The couple is smiling at the young woman with indulgence.

“You have grown beautiful Visenya.” The king says, his eyes fixed on his niece.

Elys recognizes the expression on his face.

Like any woman who was once young and desired, she recognizes the almost obscene expression when older men look at women young enough to be their daughters and imagine themselves as young as their sons.

 The look on a man's face when he lusts after a woman old enough to be his daughter, and who he knows he shouldn't desire.

“Thank you, Your Grace."

“Just stating the truth my dear." In a gallant gesture, the king kisses his niece's hand.

“Brother, stop holding up the line!” The prince’s impatient voice interrupts, causing the King to take his covetous eyes away from his young niece.

Prince Daemon is a tall man, only a few centimetres shorter than his older brother, he keeps his silvery hair long, following the fashion of Old Valyria.

Unlike Viserys's ostentatious clothes, Elys good son is dressed in all black leather, well cut and elegant, but infinitely more subtle than the rest of the court. He carries Dark Sister around his waist, and his only ornament is the livery collar that marks him. as a member of the Small Council and Master of Coin.

Visenya smiles and turns to her father making a new curtsy. “Lord Father.”

“Little dragoness.” There is a smile on the prince's face, he has his hands on his only daughter's shoulders, despite being considered a tall young woman, Visenya looks small next to her father. He puts his forehead to hers, saying something that only she hears, and then kisses her cheek.

“Sister." Elys takes her eyes off the reunion between father and daughter and approaches her sister with her hand outstretched.

“My queen." In a gesture of deference, Elys kisses her sister's pale hand and offers a profound curtsy. “Your Grace.” She bows her head to her good brother.

“Lady Elys, it is good to have you at court again." Viserys says amiable. “I am sure your sisters missed you dearly." He looks at Aemma with a smile and at Lady Amanda Redfort born Arryn, standing next to the queen. “Let's give them time to rest from the road, later we shall have a welcome feast.” The king announces to the court members present, taking the queen's hand in his and guiding her into the castle.

Prince Damon follows them, his arm around his daughter's shoulders, and head tilted toward her as they continue their private conversation. One by one the courtiers follow them, even her ladies and her granddaughter's, Elys nods for them to enter, until only Amanda and her remain in the courtyard.

“How bad is she?"

Amanda approaches until the two are face to face, she looks to the side for a moment, making sure there is no one else around.

Her younger sister, like herself, maintains a youthful appearance, even as they have both now seeing past their forty years of age. It comes with their Upcliff blood, their mother died young, not even thirty years old, yet she still had the appearance of a woman half her age.

Amanda inherited her colouring, beautiful red-gold hair, and blueish grey eyes like a stormy sea.  

“The Maestre has already recommended that she not try to get pregnant again after the last miscarriage, she had a difficult time recovering, almost a year," Amanda informs her, there is concern in her eyes “now she is once again with child, and it is taking a toll on her. I don’t believe she will live to see the child.”

“The child will not be born." Lady Elys declares it like a sentence. She can feel it.

 “There is more." Amanda says. “The Small Council has been hinting that he should set her aside, that he should marry a queen who can bear him heirs.” She lowers her tone, tilting her head toward her sister. “There are rumours that His Grace had a bastard boy with a courtesan, and he might be discreet, but I know for sure that there are mistresses.”

“Does Aemma knows?”

“I believe so.” She nods. “They are, however, ladies of little consequence, barely noble, daughters of second and third sons, some not even that, daughters of knights and rich merchants,” Amanda explains, “His Grace has a king’s an appetite and a queen constantly bedridden who clearly does not meet his needs.”

“Hm.” It's the only reaction Elys gives.

A tale old as time, men will be men, even the best of them.

Viserys may be gentle and amiable, but he was always a man of appetites, and pious Aemma was never an ardent lover.

Elys blames the Good Queen for her precocious marriage and sheltered upbring, Aemma was just a girl, still playing with dolls.

The marriage was not consummated before her four and tenth nameday, and until then Viserys would entertain himself with whores and courtesans usually in the company of his brother and half a dozen favourites.

“We shall have to stay alert to whom he takes to bed." Elys says, linking her arm with her sister's and directing her into the castle.

“What happens if she dies or is put aside?"

Then perhaps Visenya will have the crown she was promised. And we might yet have a king of our blood on the Iron Throne.

[corpsebasil]

Nikolai Lantsov and his crew had sailed and plotted for days now.

The island in the distance was gigantic—more than huge—and it was terrifying, if anything.

"Well, that's not foreboding." He chuckled, leaning his arm against the side of the ship.

It was the Sea Whip that they tracked—had tracked—for days. Days in which the daily meals of eggs and pickles were beginning to make him want to tear his own hair out. The prince stared out at the island with intense curiosity, eyeing the steep mountains covered in greenery and as is any sailor's biggest annoyance, cloaked in a thunderstorm.

"Look," Tolya, his close friend and crewmember said, pointing out into the distance. There, docked at the edge of the island, was a ship. A ship grander than anything Nikolai had ever seen, and its flag, red, white, and blue, bore a symbol he had never seen before in his entire life. "where do you suppose that's from? Is it wrecked?"

"No." Mal, the tracker boy that followed the Sun Summoner around like a puppy, argued. "It's docked. Sails are lowered and it looks to be in perfect condition."

"I'm not really in the fighting mood today." Nikolai mused, casting those brilliant blue eyes over to Alina. "But hey. If whoever these fools are have already gotten your beloved amplifier, it saves us a lot of trouble, don't you think?"

Alina grimaced, her dark eyes locked onto the ship in the distance. She gave Nikolai a weighted glance that could mean anything before whispering something indistinct into her tracker friend's ear. Mal nodded, dark eyes morose, before looking back to Nikolai.

"We're willing to fight for it, if that's what you're suggesting." Mal offered, shrugging one broad shoulder before letting it fall.

A grin pulled at Nikolai's gorgeous mouth, and he slapped the boy on the shoulder.

"That's what I'm talking about." He said, looking back to the island. "Steal it, kill for it, it doesn't matter to me. But we're going to be the ones with the amplifier, not whoever these.... pirates are."

Alina snorted, eyeing the prince with an amused look on her face.

"Says you."

"I am a privateer, Miss Starkov. A privateer."

"Tomato, tomato." She beamed, and the mocking 'ah' in the second word made him roll his eyes.

After confirmation from Mal that it seemed safe enough to land, the prince instructed them to land upon the island, and they sailed closer to the beach. When his boots touched the shore, Nikolai stared up at the ship they had docked next to, admiring its smooth wooden sides and huge, white sails. It seemed to be abandoned, no sign of any occupants in sight. But Mal insisted he could sense the prescence of the amplifier and, with grim determination, they strode away, promising to commandeer the vessel once night fell.

"No use in sleeping outside." Nikolai said, eyeing Mal with distaste when he noticed the boy attempting to start gathering kindling for a fire. What was he, an idiot? "This isn't Wendy and the lost boys."

"Shouldn't we just...ask them for it?" Alina suggested, pointing at the ship. "Maybe they're nice."

"Or," Nikolai countered, smiling sweetly. "maybe they'll cut our heads off and sell you to the highest bidder." He rolled his eyes at her. "I'd like to keep my head, if you don't mind. It's a rather lovely one."

Alina grumbled something under her breath but the prince was already headed back to his ship, considering the dinner options for that evening. Pickles, eggs...and rum. A whole lot of rum.

***

When a loud peal of laughter echoed in through the open window of his cabin, Nikolai sat up from where he'd been resting in bed, reading a novel suggested to him by a girl he'd met weeks before. It involved a cowboy, a young maiden, and lots and lots of—

"STOP!" A voice came again, unmistakably Alina, and Nikolai shot out of his bed. He pulled a white shirt over his head quickly, his compass clacking against his chest, and headed out the door.

The sight on his deck made him almost lose his mind.

Alina and Mal, Tolya,Tamar, and two strangers he'd never seen before sat in a circle on the deck of his ship—his ship—drinking and laughing as the stranger on the right mimed along to some ridiculous story. His friends were drinking and storytelling and no one had bothered to come get him?

"Who in the hell are you?" He demanded, glaring hard at Alina, who's smile was so wide and lazy he was sure she had to have been on something.

"Sturm—" She let out a wheezing cough before passing the pipe—the pipe—in her hand across the circle to Tolya. "This is umm...Harry and..Wesley?"

"Winston." The man who had been telling the story corrected lightly, and all Nikolai could do was stare because...because... "The captain, are you? Lovely piece of wood, this is."

"I'm Harry." The other man said, smiling widely. Smiling drunkenly, and by his behavior, his appearance seemed not to be anything out of the ordinary for him.

He and Winston, both clad in finely tailored suits and coats, wore giant, white wigs, and the oddest makeup Nikolai had ever seen before in his life. White makeup, their faces painted so pale as to be almost clownish, spots of rouge on their cheeks, and a strangely bright lip color...they looked insane.

"You—" Nikolai exchanged a horrified glance with Mal, who seemed to be the only one not partaking in the revelry. He sat next to Winston but a bit back, as if scared the man was going to bite him. "What are you wearing? Where are you from?"

"England." Harry said, as if it was obvious.

"Glorious country." Winston added.

"God save the queen."

"England?" Nikolai's head was spinning with confusion. "Where is..."

"Oh, come on Sturmhond." Alina whined, picking up the bottle closest to her and extending it to him. He took a few careful steps forward and snatched it from her, taking a swig. Then he gagged.

"What is this?" He demanded, staring at the two men.

"Gin." Winston informed him.

"Very good with lemon." Harry added.

"And star anise."

"And what—" he pointed at the pipe Tamar inhaled from. The smoke that she exhaled was definitely not tobacco. "—is that?"

"Don't be a party pooper." Alina sighed, reaching out to tug childishly on his pant leg. Saints she was high as a cloud. "I thought you were the fun one?"

"I am the fun one, damn you."

He moved to turn away, likely to go brood in his room with the new bottle of gin he'd acquired and read his filthy novel, but the figure behind him made him freeze in place. His fingers almost sent the bottle crashing to the deck. He could only stare as the woman, clad in one of tightest, most scandalous dresses he'd ever viewed, reached out and took the gin from him.

"Thanks." She said, holding his stare when she took a long, unflinching sip from the bottle. Her eyes were green as emeralds and her face bore the same makeup as her companions, but on her...on her it seemed somehow dignified. "I'm Victoria. I see you've met my brothers."

Her accent. Her voice was...

"Hello?" She asked, snapping two fingers an inch from his nose. "Lights on up there? Too much opium, huh?"

"I'm uh—" he glanced behind him, making eye contact with an amused looking Tolya. "Sturmhond. Captain of this very fine ship."

"Weird name." She commented, taking another sip. "I like you. See you later." Those beautiful eyes held his for another beat before she pushed the gin back into his grip and sauntered to his crew.

He felt very, very weird, and couldn't remember the last time he'd been truly flustered by a woman.

Do to the severe lack of Nikolai content I've been forced to take matters into my own hands

Preview of my newest fanfiction on wattpad!! Go read Tea and Spices by miashcaluke