#and not on a ship. in the ocean. did they move her | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

nekoashiii · 2 months ago

Text

⠀ ⠀ Tides of Treachery

pairings: Pirate!caleb x Mermaid!reader.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And so he did.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, the moonlight caught them.

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

Caleb inhaled sharply.

A mermaid.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Gone.

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

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

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

By dawn, the mermaid still hadn’t resurfaced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then, amidst the chaos, he saw them.

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

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

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

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

Cold, crushing water swallowed him whole.

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

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

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

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

Not the waves. Not the current.

Something else.

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

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

Then—air.

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

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

His mind reeled.

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

A flicker of movement made him tense.

Slowly, he raised his head.

The mermaid was there.

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

Caleb swallowed, still breathless.

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

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

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

And yet—

He didn’t move as the mermaid reached out.

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

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

Waiting for what?

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

He should have been afraid.

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

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

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

The mermaid didn’t answer in words.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That made him interesting.

And interesting things did not come often in your world.

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

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

There he was.

The pirate.

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

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

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

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

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

You frowned.

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

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

Plap!

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

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

A pause.

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

“…Did you just bring me food?”

You blinked.

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

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

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

You tilted your head slightly, watching him.

Strange.

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

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

Interesting.

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

This was going to be fun.

#Caleb x reader #lads x reader #love and deepspace x reader #caleb x you #lads caleb x reader #lnds caleb #lnds x reader #lads x you #caleb fic

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inseobts · 2 months ago

Note

Hi I have a request if they’re open!! Could you maybe do a Law x reader where she fell overboard and nearly drowned (but he saved her ofc) and him just being worried and protective? 👀

Overboard

law × reader

a/n: hope I made it cuteee

words count: 1.4k

tags: established relationship, hurt/comfort, protective law, fluff, near drowning

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

The sea is calm. Too calm.

You lean over the rail of the Polar Tang, watching the water sparkle under the sun. A soft breeze brushes your hair. You smile. Peaceful moments like this are rare.

Then, the ship rocks.

Just a little. But it’s enough.

Your foot slips. Your hand grabs for the rail, but misses.

You fall.

The cold hits you like a punch. Salt water fills your nose, your mouth. You try to scream, but it’s useless. The ocean pulls you down.

“Y/N!”

Law’s voice cuts through the air. Sharp. Panicked.

Shachi runs to the side “She fell—she fell overboard!”

Law’s eyes are wide. He’s already moving. Fast “Ring. Now!”

Bepo tosses him a life ring. Law doesn’t hesitate. He throws it, eyes scanning the surface.

“Where is she?!”

“There!” Penguin points. Just a flash of your hand before it disappears again.

“Room.”

His fingers twitch. A blue bubble appears over the water.

Law grits his teeth “Shambles.”

In a blink, your soaked, limp body appears in front of him, inside the Room. He drops to his knees, catches you before you hit the deck.

“Y/N!” His voice is rough “Hey. Hey—breathe.”

You don’t move.

“Dammit.” He places you flat. His hands are shaking.

“Move!” he snaps. The others back away. Law leans down. Checks your pulse. Weak. Barely there.

He starts CPR.

One compression. Two. Three “Come on.”

Your lips are blue. Hair plastered to your face.

He gives you air.

Another round “Come on, damn you. Breathe.”

Then you cough. Hard. Salt water splashes from your mouth. You gasp. Choke. Your body shakes.

“Y/N.�� His voice breaks “You’re okay. You’re okay.”

You blink up at him, eyes dazed “L-Law?”

He pulls you into his arms before you can say more “You scared the hell out of me.”

You try to smile, but cough again “Y-You… saved me…”

He holds you tighter “You idiot. I can’t swim. If you hadn’t been close—”

“But you still did it.”

“Of course I did.”

You rest your head against his chest, weak but alive.

He presses his lips to your wet forehead.

“You’re never going near the edge again. Ever.”

It’s been two days.

You’re fine now, mostly. Still a little sore, still coughing sometimes. But breathing, walking, laughing. Alive.

Law watches you like you might fall again.

“Don’t lean on the rail.”

You raise your brow “I’m just standing.”

“You’re too close.”

You step back with a small sigh “Fine, Captain.”

He narrows his eyes “I’m serious.”

“I know. I know, Law.”

You smile at him, soft and thankful. His glare weakens a little. Only a little.

Later, in the mess hall, you sit between Shachi and Penguin.

They grin the second Law walks in.

“Hey, Captain!” Shachi elbows you “Y/N’s not drowning in her soup, you can relax!”

Law stops. Looks at them. Slowly.

“I can throw you overboard,” he says calmly “We’ll see how funny it is then.”

“Okay, okay—jeez, we’re just joking” Penguin laughs.

Bepo chuckles “He’s been checking the life rings twice a day now.”

You cover your mouth, trying not to laugh. Law glares at all of them, then looks at you.

You’re smiling. That smile he nearly lost.

His expression softens again. Just a bit “Eat your food” he mutters, sitting next to you.

You nudge his arm “You okay?”

“I wasn’t” he says, quiet, for only you to hear.

You reach under the table and grab his hand “I know. But I’m here.”

He holds on tight.

The next morning, you walk toward the deck.

Law’s voice comes from behind you.

“Where are you going?”

“To get some air.”

He steps beside you “I’m coming with you.”

You roll your eyes, but you don’t complain.

On deck, the sea is calm again. Sun rising, golden and slow.

You look over the rail, carefully. Law’s hand grabs your waist.

“Don’t.”

You lean back against his chest instead “Okay, okay.”

He wraps his arms around you. Protective. Strong.

“I’m not losing you to the sea” he says.

“You won’t.”

“You almost did.”

You tilt your head back “But you pulled me back.”

He leans down, kisses your temple “Next time, I’ll chain you to the floor.”

You laugh “Romantic.”

He smirks “I try.”

Law is still following you around. Not that you mind.

He doesn’t say much. Just appears wherever you go. Like a very tall, very grumpy shadow with a medical license.

You’re trying to read on the couch in the infirmary. Law sits at his desk across the room, pretending to do paperwork.

But he’s not writing. Just watching you.

You glance up “You can sit with me, you know.”

He hesitates for half a second. Then walks over and drops beside you. Not touching, but close.

You nudge his arm “Still keeping an eye on me?”

He doesn’t answer. Just pulls a blanket from the back of the couch and throws it over you.

“You were shivering” he says.

You weren’t.

You smile “Thanks.”

Later, you lie in bed in your shared room. Law is reading a medical journal beside you, propped on one elbow. Your head rests on his chest, his fingers absently running through your hair.

“You’re breathing normally” he murmurs.

You smile against his shirt “That’s a weird thing to say.”

“Not for me.”

You look up “I scared you that much?”

His fingers pause. Then move again. Slower. Softer.

“Yes.”

You kiss his collarbone gently “I’m sorry.”

He pulls you closer, rests his chin on your head “Just… don’t scare me again.”

“I’ll try,” you whisper “But if I do, I know you’ll save me.”

His chest rises in a small sigh “Always.”

The next morning, you find a folded vest by your boots.

It’s heavy-duty. Bright yellow. With little fish drawings on it.

There’s a note:

“Wear this when you go near the ocean. —L”

You blink. Then burst out laughing.

Shachi sees it and cackles “Captain really went and got you a baby floatie, huh?”

“It’s cute!” Bepo says, tail wagging.

Law walks in. Sees you holding the vest.

His face is completely serious “Put it on.”

You hug it to your chest “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m keeping you alive,” he says “Even if I have to embarrass you to do it.”

You walk over, wrap your arms around him.

He hugs back, burying his face in your neck for a moment.

“I love you” you whisper.

“I know,” he says quietly “I love you too.”

The day is sunny. Warm breeze. Calm waves.

You sit on the deck with Bepo, playing cards. Law’s nearby, reading, but his eyes flick to you every few seconds.

Just checking.

You pretend not to notice. But you smile every time he looks.

Shachi walks by with a broom and stops “Wow. Still breathing, huh?”

You stick out your tongue “Barely. Law’s watching like I’ll spontaneously fall into the sea again.”

Penguin grins, arms crossed “Honestly, we thought he was gonna build a fence around the whole ship.”

Law doesn’t even look up “Still considering it.”

Bepo hums “Maybe a baby leash would work better.”

Everyone laughs. Even you. Law sighs like he’s surrounded by idiots.

But then he glances at you. And his eyes soften again.

That evening, the crew throws a small party.

No reason. Just because you’re okay. Because you’re all together. And because they like to tease.

There’s food, drinks, music from a Den Den radio. You dance with Bepo, then with Shachi, then with Law who only agrees after you pull him in.

He’s awkward at first. But his arms fit perfectly around your waist. You sway slowly, not caring about rhythm.

“You’re still watching me” you say softly.

“Of course I am.”

“You’re kind of overprotective, you know.”

“I nearly lost you in that stupid way” he replies, voice low “I’ll be overprotective for a while.”

You press your forehead to his “I’m not complaining.”

“Good.”

Shachi whistles loudly “Look at the lovebirds! Careful, Captain! If she drowns in your eyes, we can’t save her!”

Penguin howls “Somebody get a lifebuoy for his feelings!”

You groan into Law’s shoulder “Why do we live with these people?”

“I ask myself that every day.”

But he’s smiling. A real, relaxed smile you don’t see often.

You take his hand and squeeze it.

“Thanks for pulling me back” you whisper.

He kisses the side of your head.

“I always will.”

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acosmicbee · 2 months ago

Note

Would you be open to wring a yandere parental woman who’s like a mob boss and wants a child but can’t have any so she finds reader who already doesn’t have a good home life and like kidnaps her into making reader her kid?

Bad Home, Good Kid

TWs: Implied child abuse, referenced drug abuse

Artemis was supposed to have everything, and she almost did. She had the good looks, the large mansion, the perfect control over the city. To any other mafia boss, this would be enough, but not for Artemis.

She was missing the one thing she wanted, the one thing she craved. A dream that had been brutally ripped away from her after a failed murder attempt. She'd never tortured any man for longer, pain mixing with the anger as she made him suffer.

After all, if his bullet had hit just a little higher, if he'd had better aim, her uterus wouldn't have been hit. She'd still be able to have a child, just the way she'd always dreamed. In the mansion the bedroom next to hers had always been saved for a nursery or kids bedroom. But now...? Now, she'd have to find some other way to have the child she'd dreamed of.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

It was a cloudy day, but there was no forecast of rain so you went to the playground. It wasn't a good neighborhood you lived in, there were more than a few unsavory characters on your floor of your apartment building alone. But most in the area followed the moral code of the mafia, if only to avoid becoming a target, and that meant children were to be left alone.

You were often the only child at the playground. You'd get the swings all to yourself, going back and forth for hours at a time. You never had to wait in line to go down the slide or play on the monkey bars, but it wasn't as fun as it seemed.

You've seen things, things no child should have to see. There was a reason you spent as much time as you could outside, pretending you didn't have a home to go back to. There was a reason you knew to never investigate any sudden sounds, especially sharp cracks.

Today there seemed to be a lot of those a couple of blocks over. The sounds rang through the air as you sat on the swing, swaying back and forth. It was easy for you to disassociate from the noises, letting your mind wander somewhere away from the trauma. Instead of the swing, your mind took you to a ship, one that swayed in the waves and carried you far far away.

A small smile crossed your face as you thought to all the shows you'd watched that showed the ocean. The pretty blue water and warm sun. The gentle swishing sound as it came into contact with things. You never noticed the sounds stopping, lost in your daydream as you swung back and forth.

You eventually stopped swinging, the delusion fading away as you got a little dizzy. You let the swing slow, your shoes dragging against the ground as you tried to decide what you wanted to do next. You glanced up when you heard a demanding voice nearing the playground.

A woman, flanked by a couple of others, walked down the sidewalk. Her voice was sharp and cold and she carried herself with an air of command. You noted her clothes, dressed way too nicely to be from anywhere near this neighborhood. You also noticed the gun in her hand that she was cleaning while she walked.

The swing set creaked as it finally came to a stop and all of a sudden you were looking into icy blue eyes. She stopped dead in her tracks, staring at you, and you felt a pit of fear in your stomach as you stared back. Getting noticed was never a good thing, especially not by someone who stood out.

With a trembling hand you released one of the chains, hesitantly waving hi to her. Almost instantly her demeanor shifted as a warm smile crossed her face. The gun was instantly moved out of your view as she waved back, murmuring something to one of the others with her.

You breathed a sigh of relief as they left, your legs shaking when you finally stood up from the swing. You didn't feel like playing anymore, but going home was always the worse option. Instead you tucked yourself out of view on one of the play structures, hiding from the world for as long as you could.

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

"I need info." Artemis' tone was sharp as she approached a man standing on a street corner. He just groaned, looking more put off than anything.

She pulled out her phone, showing the man a picture. There was a flicker of recognition in his eyes as his posture shifted to be more defensive. "What do you want with the kid? I thought it was your rule to leave kids alone."

"I'm not going to hurt them." She said, her voice cold as she glared at him. "And I don't appreciate the insinuation. I want info on their parents and that means info on them as well. Trust me when I say the kid will be fine."

His posture relaxed just a little as he glanced around before speaking. "They're crackhead Corrine's kid, bet you can guess why thats her nickname. No father in the picture, nor has there ever been one as far as I'm aware. Kid's name is Y/N..." He paused before leaning in closer. "They're a good kid in a bad place. Between you and me, someone should've called CPS on Corrine a long time ago."

"And why haven't you? Especially if you're implying what I think you are." Artemis asked. Her gaze was sharp and accusatory, but her info broker didn't flinch, long since used to her intimidation tactics.

"You know the first rule about living here? Mind your own business. If you don't, you'll probably end up on the wrong end of someone's gun. If someone ever traced the CPS call back to me, I'd be labeled a snitch and be shot dead in a week. My job is to give you info, not to act on it. That's your job." He said defensively.

"Where do they live?" She asked, already preparing in her head. She'd need to have your room ready quicker than she expected, not wanting to leave you in a bad situation.

"136 Whittaker Street, I think floor 6 but I'm not sure the exact apartment number." He said, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lighting it.

"If anything happens to the kid, you call me. Immediately." She finally said, slipping him some cash for his information. He just grinned, counting the bills as she walked away.

"Pleasure doing business with ya."

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

You started to find little gifts left for you in the playground. At least, somewhere in your mind you realized they were meant for you. They were always left on your swing, brand new and clean. Even if you tried to rationalize it as someone coincidentally losing things over and over, you knew the gifts were supposed to be for you.

Sometimes, when you played with the jump rope that had been left or one of the balls, you'd see that same woman. She never stayed for long, usually just waving at you before disappearing to go do whatever it is she was in this neighborhood for.

Everything seemed to come crashing down the day you came home late with a small stuffed tiger tucked under your arm. You weren't expecting your mother to be home and flinched when she suddenly grabbed you, pulling you into the apartment.

"Look at you, you little thief! Did you steal that off some other brat?!" She yelled, grabbing the toy from your arms. She dragged you into the kitchen, hissing mean words and calling you names.

She let go of you for a second to grab a pair of scissors which she used to decapitate the poor toy. When she turned to you, still holding the scissors and a dark look in her eyes, you ran.

You darted out the front door and down the staircase, never stoping even though you landed on your ankle funny coming off the stairs. The streets were dark and the worst of the worst were starting to come out, but anywhere felt safer then that cramped apartment.

In your panic, running for the only place you felt safe, you never noticed the man under an awning on the phone. You didn't notice how his eyes followed you or how he subtly stepped further out onto the street to block you mother's view before you turned a corner, leaving her with no clue of where you'd gone.

You slipped through the gate of the playground, panting as you stumbled onto the play structure. Your ankle was throbbing and it felt so hard to breathe over the panic you felt. You started quietly sobbing, trying to force your body to take in air.

You weren't sure how long you sat there, quietly panicking, before you heard the roar of an engine as a car parked somewhere close. There was the squeak of the playground gate, followed by the sound of high heeled shoes on concrete.

You peeked out, seeing a woman standing in the middle of the playground, frantically looking around. It was the woman who always watched you, the one who dressed nicely and waved hello every time she saw you. This time when she saw you she approached the structure quickly.

You were too worn out to run and could only sob harder when she pulled you into her lap, holding you close. She was warm, so warm compared to the cool night. Her hands stroked through your hair as she gently soothed you, helping you find your breath.

When she stood, she took you with her, carrying you towards her waiting car. You hadn't been carried in a very long time and the feeling of being so close to someone without being hurt was novel to you.

She helped buckle you in, holding your hand as her driver started the car. The gentle movement of the car was enough to put you to sleep, your head against the window as the darkened city streets passed.

"Don't worry now, love. I promise you'll never have to run like that again, to be scared like that again. Your mommy will protect you, for now and forever."

#platonic yandere #yandere platonic #yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x reader #platonic #yandere ocs #parental yandere

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gard3nias · 1 year ago

Text

Amor tam pulcher | KTH - masterlist

❁pairing: senior!taehyung x junior!oc (Italian education system)

❁description: Daphne moves from the city to the countryside; objectively, a downgrade, but, emotionally, an upgrade. From the urban chaos straight into his warm embrace

❁synopsis:

"Would you go on a date with me? "Yeah." She nodded. "I'd love to go on a date with you." Voice light and teasing. "Yeah?" His eyes widened slightly. "Yeah." "Oh, God. I thought you'd say no because-" "Why?" Then her voice dimmed, shy and hesitant. "I like you."

❁genre: romance, fluff, smut, angst

❁wc: 246.94k+

❁date: 30/03/2024

❁warning: mature content

❁notes: strangers-to-lovers, teen love story, lots of fluff, smut, senior!taehyung (taehyung is like super smart), junior!oc (academic weapon, she loves herself an excellent academic performance), a lil angst, taehyung is head over heels for oc, nature lovers (oc loves flowers, taehyung loves butterflies), countryside (looks like Italy because that is the only type of countryside I know and love), oc has a lovely family, taehyung has daddy issues, jimin and jungkook are taehyung's besties( they also have other two girls as best friends); oc has a girl best friend (childhood best friend) and three boys as best friends); oc is so fucking prettyyy, like girl pretty; cross-posted on wattpad and ao3

❁chapters (status - ongoing) ⇀ updates every Friday, midnight

latest — 23/05

❀ ❛prologue❜ - 1.52k

Rewriting the story of Daphne and Apollo ⇀ «A love that drives me crazy, a lovely crazy, a sexy crazy, an amazing crazy»

❀ 01 ❛love is all around❜ - 4.24k

On a chilly summer morning, a bouncy curly-haired sun rose up and shone above the flower

❀ 02 ❛ying yang❜ - 4.28k

Photosynthesis: the sun shines bright above the flower providing it with energy which will be transformed into nutrients

❀ 03 ❛the exploratory stage❜ - 5.48k

As the sun shines in its might, it brightens the way for a little flower to see over the horizon

❀ 04 ❛just like old times❜ - 6.70k

The bright rays of the sun show the way to the flower, introducing it to an innocent little bear, a ferret and a little wasp

❀ 05 ❛a monarch butterfly❜ - 4.17k

There, going back home, was an unusual combination of subjects: a cricket, a wing-man, a monarch butterfly, a little pika and a puppy

❀ 06 ❛venus❜ - 4.82k

Who could have ever thought that a flower could grow in space? Who? No one surely and yet... there it was, standing upright in its beauty

❀ 07 ❛a laurel❜ - 4.92k

He knew he wasn't meant to fly to space because he physically couldn't but this thought wouldn't stop him. Was he being pretentious? Trying to exceed his limits?

❀ 08 ❛fuck you!❜ - 6.10k

Normally, flowers are in people's gardens or on a bed of green grass so... what the hell is one singular one doing in the middle of the ocean. Does it know, does anyone know, that too much water will cause it harm... especially when the water is salty?

❀ 09 ❛en route❜ - 5.07k

With its six tiny feet into proper boots, a good protective shield over his wings and an astronaut helmet on, the monarch butterfly embarks on a life-threatening journey, one believed to be a one-way ticket travel

❀ 10 ❛who we are, what we do❜ - 6.01k

Flowers don't have eyes, yeah, and neither does a pika glow even during the day. The flower is used to seeing only the sun shine during the day. The little pika walking by is unusual.

❀ 11 ❛an overly ambitious hedonistic seductress❜ - 6.04k

Cleopatra is the modern definition of the term "femme fatale"; she's known for ruling in ancient Egypt but also for her relationship with Ceaser and Mark Antony

❀ 12 ❛the butterfly, the cricket and the wing-man❜ - 4.49k

A butterfly, a cricket and a wing-man all have wings somewhat. The first does fly, the second mostly leaps and the last doesn't fly unless the first two do.

❀ 13 ❛the Titanic❜ - 7.31k

Between the night of the 14th and the 15th, in 1912, one of the biggest ships of its time sank, going against the expectations but did it? At the time, there was a little competition between countries so when it sank it wasn't so surprising: something so big with very few resources would have never made it across the ocean.

❀ 14 ❛from five to ten❜ - 11.44k

Brighten the mood. Increase the energy. Make a downturned flower rise high and flunt its beautiful petals for others to see.

❀ 15 ❛bold, red and underlined❜ - 14.70k

“You know? That party I wanted to host at mine? You’re so invited. In fact, you’re the first one on my guest list and I’ll underline your name in red as in ‘in great and urgent need of pussy’—”

❀ 16 ❛«it's Daphne»❜ - 11.30k

A monarch butterfly sees a lot of flowers in its short span of life but never has this one, nor its ancestors, seen a flower as pretty as the one ahead. The flower was there, living beautifully in space.

❀ 17 ❛hesperiidae❜ - 6.41k

Right when the sun faded away and the dark clouds took over, the little butterfly's wings fluttered less as it lost hope until something caught his eye, a gleam slicing through the gloom and focusing on a flower.

❀ 18❛opposites attract❜ - 5.59k

Winter and the Wind of the West come to destroy but nothing can touch a flower when it's under a shelter, something that will prevent it from dying in the cold or losing its beautiful petals.

❀ 19 ❛peek-a-boo (boo boo)❜ - 5.66k

Things have been too unusual for this butterfly. Wasn't it trying to embark on an impossible journey? To space? How did it end up in a shiny sea? it's floating and his pupils are swelling. The beauty is indeed out of this world

❀ 20 ❛lifejacket❜ - 6.97k

The wings grew with each flutter. There was a glowing dot on the ocean and it was slowly fading out into the darkness so the butterfly cradled it and protected the leur

❀ 21 ❛monarch and blue morpho butterflies❜ - 4.13k

The weather was chilly and slightly windy. Despite the discomfort it caused everyone, the flower stood out like a thumb as it danced and waved with the soft patterns of the breeze. The butterfly couldn't do anything other than admire with widened orbs

❀ 22 ❛rosy cheeks❜ - 3.91k

Did it see it? Did the flower see the butterfly? Because the butterfly has already seen the flower. Had already memorised every curve, every line, and every dot that brought the flower to life.

❀ 23 ❛caramel macchiato❜ - 4.23k

There was no way he could ever get lost: one look at those eyes and he'd see all the constellations, the map leading him to Venus

❀ 24 ❛butterflies, flowers... and butterflies❜ - 6.03k

«I mean, it's also an evergreen plant like the Laurel but it doesn't sound as special. Lauri does though.»

❀ 25 ❛bittersweet❜ - 4.10k

There were seven lanes, each welcoming an athlete, for a total of seven athletes. Yet, as the contestants got ready for the lace, some chose to acknowledge the presence of only a few athletes, the ones they were marking. Their true competition.

❀ 26 ❛open stage❜ - 9.78k

Floating and hovering around his spaceship, the butterfly moved closer to the round window giving to the dark glittered expanse. There was Venus and standing proudly in its infinite beauty was the flower.

❀ 27 ❛approach, round out, flare❜ - 8.08k

Poor Cinderella. She cried and cried. Then a small woman appeared in a cloud. It was Cinderella’s fairy godmother. “Biddidi, bobbidi, noo!” sang the fairy godmother as she waved her magic wand, but she gasped, hand coming to cover her mouth in bewilderment. Cinderella had turned into a tomato!

❀ 28 ❛a lighthouse❜ - 6.47k

Water flowed through the clothes, the hair strands, and around the body as the flower held onto a wide piece of wood. The water was chilling, the night was silent, and the ambience was dark, but right through the blackness slid the rotating rays of a lighthouse. Blinking to adapt to the brightness, the flower called for help.

❀ 29 ❛sus or sos?❜ - 7.12k

The rotating and flashing lighthouse lights shone upon a cricket, which floated barely a foot away from the flower. Yet, as the butterfly came to rescue, it didn’t see it, leaving the cricket trying to swim for its life, screaming and choking on water.

❀ 30 ❛a coup d'état❜ - 5.95k

Standing on a tower, two neurons patrolled the area, binoculars to their eyes. Suddenly, they sighted something. They squinted their eyes despite the instrument in their hands and tried to make sense of what they saw. "Hey, send in the alarm. Prepare the defensive barrier. Do something. Hurry up!" As this one darted away, the other remained still, binoculars back to its eyes. Confusion bubbled in its head. What had happened for the heart to be heading towards the body's headquarters? And what was that army of hormones behind it?

❀ 31 ❛the sun on the horizon❜ - 10.75k

The butterfly had finally found the flower. After travelling across space, it landed on Venus, where a singular ethereal natural being stood erect in its almighty beauty. After the coup d’etat, the heart realised that the situation was bigger than expected. The heat rose up to every part of the body. Butterflies increased and with that the flutters of their wings, which fanned the fire, expanding instead of quenching it. Infatuation at its peak.

❀ 32 ❛the lily family❜ - 7.09k

A new member of the Liliaceae. “You like butterflies, and she’s named after a flower.”

❀ 33 ❛twinkle, twinkle little star!❜ - 12.75k

1905. Annus mirabilis. Three important elements: Einstein, the relativity of time, Planck, quantum mechanics, and Quantum entanglement.

❀ 34 ❛on the highway to Forever❜ - 11.76k

Livin' easy, lovin' free. No stop signs, speed limit. Hey, mumma, look at me. I'm on the way to the promised land.

❀ 35 ❛collywobbles❜ - 11.57k

Collywobbles: queasiness, intense nervousness… or butterflies in the stomach.

❀ 36 ❛the Daphne odora❜

A pure white bed. Snow. Then a bundle of grace. Pink petals gathered into a flower. Green leaves held the masterpiece, all in a pure white bed of snow.

❀ 37

❀ 38

❀ 39

❀ 40

❀ 41

❀ 42

❀ 43

❀ 44

❀ 45

... and there's more

❁pinterest board // my main

1K notes · View notes

bybobbysbeard · 1 month ago

Note

You choose the ship, just give me #13 :)

Droid, for you. The kiss meme: "Discreetly." Bucktommy, 1000 words, no warnings, mentioned canonical MCD.

Buck thought it would feel weird. Putting his dress blues on again. And it did, a little. The last time he tied this tie he was brittle, sharp and fractured behind a shell of competence. Trying to get his family through one of the worst days of their lives. Now the grief is muted, in the background where it seems to live, a tide that ebbs and flows each day. The feeling hasn’t shrunk, but Buck has grown around it, therapy and love shoring up an eroded breakwater.

It’s been three months since Bobby’s funeral.

He tugs on the hem of his jacket, straightening the lines of buttons. He’s found an out-of-the-way corner of the ceremony hall, trying not to draw attention to himself, but still keeping an eye on the rest of his team. Eddie is leaning against the bar, chatting with Lucy and Lena. He’s smiling, ducking his head and laughing while Lena socks him gently on the shoulder. It’s good to see him in uniform again.

Chim is standing in one of the aisles catching up with a few of the paramedics from B shift. The hollow look in his eyes is finally starting to fade after the lack of sleep and literal running from his feelings made his already lean figure even more trim. But the last month has been better. Like Buck’s grief, Chimney’s guilt hasn’t shrunk, but he has learned to live with it. Maddie, Jee, and little Robbie have helped.

It looks like Ravi’s gotten trapped coming back from the washroom by a few probies that Buck doesn’t recognize. He’s got a slightly panicked look on his face, so Buck should probably rescue him. And he will, soon. Definitely.

Hen is talking with Chief Simpson near the stage, her shiny new captain’s badge sparkling in the overhead lights. Karen is at her side, one hand tucked into the crook of her elbow. Denny and Mara are nearby, looking at something on Denny’s phone and laughing. They look happy, a family unit celebrating a deserved win.

It’s such a relief to see that silver shield pinned to Hen’s chest. After Bobby, everything was unmoored. Weeks of uncertainty, Gerrard’s unwelcome presence, and of course, the Pacific Plate trying to shake them all into the ocean again. Buck knows better than to pin his hopes on something like this, but celebrating Hen’s promotion feels like it might be the first step towards a new normal.

Buck checks his watch. Even though the ceremony is over, the hall is still packed. Considering the year the LAFD has had, it's not a surprise people are taking the excuse to chat. He pulls out his phone, bringing up his text thread with Athena, and sending off a quick message to let her know everyone is still talking, and they’re going to be late for the dinner she’s hosting in Hen’s honour.

Looking down at his phone, he doesn’t notice his visitor until warmth presses up against his arm and a low voice speaks in his ear.

“What’s a handsome guy like you doing over here, all by yourself?”

Buck can’t keep the smile off his face, but he doesn’t look up, sending a thumbs up to Athena’s unimpressed response. “Waiting for my boyfriend, and he knows muay thai, so you had better move along.”

Tommy laughs, a throaty chuckle that makes their shoulders bump together. “Well I don’t see him around anywhere, so I think I’ll take my chances.” A hand slides down to his elbow, slowly spinning Buck away from his view of the room. He pockets his phone and looks up.

Tommy’s head is tilted, scanning over Buck's face, cataloging whatever expression is there. He was pretty good at noticing when Buck was hurting or overwhelmed when they first dated, but the last two months of their second (third? Does the hook-up count?) try have turned him into an expert. He’s been a bulwark, a wall between Buck and the normal world. While Buck focused on keeping the 118 going, trying to be what each member of his team needed at all times, Tommy focused on keeping Buck afloat.

Some days it felt like Tommy’s steady support was the only thing getting Buck out of bed in the morning. And on the nights when neither of them could sleep, they talked. About their histories, and their families. Why it cost Tommy so much to come back; why it hurt Buck so much for him to leave.

Buck’s not sure what his face is doing at the moment, but Tommy straightens up, seemingly satisfied. He looks out over the crowd, tracking Eddie, Chim, Ravi, and Hen. “Do we need to get them moving soon?”

We.

Buck just looks at him. He’s clean shaven, cap tucked under an arm, broad shoulders filling out the seams of his dress uniform so nicely. His hair is carefully styled, curls brushed back into that thick wave Buck loves to mess up. The perfect cupid’s bow of his lips is begging for a kiss. They’re surrounded by their coworkers and hundreds of other LAFD members, but Buck chose this spot well. Tommy’s half in shadow, a wall against his back and a support pillar to his left.

Buck leans in, lightning-quick, pressing a barely-there kiss to the corner of his mouth.

Instinctively, Tommy turns towards him, tightening the grip he has on Buck’s arm. His eyes glitter in the low light. He licks his lips, and hums. “What was that for?”

“I-I’m just happy you’re standing here with me. That’s all.”

Tommy’s hand drops down, tangling their fingers together in the shadows between their bodies. “I’m happy I’m here too, Evan.” He squeezes once before letting go. “Come on, Ravi looks like he’s about to do something desperate. I saw him eyeing the emergency exit a minute ago and I don’t feel like explaining another 118 misdemeanor to Chief Simpson just because I was nearby. I’ve already filled my quota for the year.”

Buck snorts a laugh. “I think it’s officially Hen’s job to explain those now.”

“Thank God for that.”

#ask game #bucktommy #tevan #911 abc #my fic #tommy kinard #evan buckley

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burts-baked-bees · 2 years ago

Text

Okay?

OPLA Sanji x Fem!Reader

{masterlist for OPLA Sanji ongoing story}

Tags: Slight angst to fluff, slight pining, Sanji and reader are close friends and have truama bonded, Sanji has no clue he's in love with reader the poor sap

CW: Launguage, mentions of abuse, slight WCI spoliers, mentions of drinking

“I swear I’m one shift away from throwing myself in the godforsaken ocean.” Sanji huffed angrily as he threw himself down in a nearby booth. The Baratie had cleared out for the night leaving the cooks to clean the line and the waiters to clean the dining room, but halfway through the dreaded cleanup Sanji had both metaphorically and physically thrown in the towel. The dish cloth he had been holding went flying across the room as he put his feet up on the booth he was in and groaned indignantly.

“That old shitbag won’t so much as let me breathe on the line! I’m a cook! Not a fucking waiter!” He yelled, turning his head back towards the kitchen, as if Zeff could hear his complaints.

“You think maybe it has something to do with the fact that you call him an ‘old shitbag’?” A voice came from the other side of his booth. A small smile curled his lips as he sat up some and peeked over the rounded edge of the red leather seat.

“Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt your nap time madame?” Sanji laughed as he took in the sight of Y/n laying on her back with her eyes closed in the opposite booth. “So sorry for the inconvenience, but aren’t you meant to be cleaning tables?” He teased as Y/n cracked an eye open and glared at him.

“Aren’t you?” She asked with a sly grin, earning an eye roll and angry huff from the blonde.

“Seems the only thing I’m meant to do is slowly die from boredom in this trash heap of a restaurant.” Sanji sighed as he fell back into his seat, pulling out his lighter and messing with the lid. Y/n laughed softly before sitting up and resting her arms on the dividing seat. She placed her head atop her arms and looked at him with a mock pout.

“Awww is the best chef in the East Blue all bummed that his dad doesn't like his cooking? Again?”

Sanji snapped his lighter closed and raised a finger at Y/n, pointing aggressively at her with a snarl.

“I am the greatest chef in the East Blue. Even if that geezer can’t see it.” He stated, earning a chuckle from Y/n as she sat up and raised her hands in surrender.

“Easy now, no need to shout at a lady.” She cooed as Sanji chuckled and gave her an angry smile, hanging his head.

“How dare you throw my own principles back in my face.” He chuckled as he began fidgeting with the silver ring on his finger. Y/n sighed and rested her chin on her folded arms again, smiling softly at the mop of blonde hair in front of her. She reached over the divider and brushed some of his hair from his face, earning a soft hum from Sanji as he closed his eyes.

“I think we both know he’s only doing and saying these things because he wants the best for you. Though I’ll be the first to admit, his way of going about it is absolute shit.” She laughed as she watched his lips curl into a smile. He looked up at her, her fingers brushing against his cheek as he moved.

“Yeah, I know…” He sighed as he leaned his head back against the wall. She pulled her hand back and looked at him with sympathetic eyes. “But you're a stowaway as much as me.” Sanji joked, “And yet I’m the one being treated like a sniveling child every fucking time I step foot in that kitchen.” He huffed as he looked over at her through his bangs. She chuckled as she hung her arms over the back of his booth and cocked her head to the side.

“My dumbass thought I could be a pirate and got stuck here paying off a debt cuz’ my ship damaged the hull of this ‘trash heap of a restaurant’.” She fired back, using his own words. He opened his mouth to speak but soon closed it again as he shook his head.

“Yeah that was pretty dumb.” Sanji joked as he pulled his jacket off and tossed it to the seat beside him. Y/n gawked at him before laughing and reaching forward to hit him softly on the shoulder. He leaned away from her and shouted

“Oi! Don’t damage the goods!”

She looked at him with mocking wide eyes and barked a laugh,

“Both Patty and I would have to disagree with you on that one, lover boy.” She snarked as Sanji rolled his eyes. A calm silence filled the space as Y/n sat up on her knees and looked at Sanji. She could see something was going on inside his head, and she knew him well enough to infer that he wasn’t going to say a damn thing. She studied the way his brow furrowed and noted how his eyes seemed more gray then blue in moments like these.

There was a profound sadness in him that she had only caught glimpses of in her three years aboard this ship. A profound sadness that he had more or less shared with her one drunken night in the bar when they should have been sleeping. A profound sadness that she wished every single day she could lift from him. The two sat in silence as the ship rocked softly under them; Y/n felt compelled to speak, to do anything that might help ease his overactive mind.

“Still, knowing what I know, having Zeff treating you like this can’t be good for the ole’ psyche…”

Sanji tensed up slightly at her words and Y/n mentally kicked herself for making that insinuation. She wanted to help him, but after the words left her mouth she felt a heavy guilt fill her bones. She watched as he shut his eyes and took a deep breath before smiling ever so slightly.

“Trust me, love. I may complain like this from time to time-”

“Almost ninety-five percent of the time."

“Ooookay. Almost ninety-five percent of the time, but nothing is worse than… what I came from.” He gave her a somber smile and pulled out his lighter again, flipping the lid open and closed in an almost rhythmic pattern. She returned his sad smile and pushed her baby hairs from her forehead.

“Sorry. I shouldn’t have mentioned that.” She spoke softly as she looked out at the empty dining room; the tables were cast in an eerie candle light and the china adorning the tables glimmered like stars. Sanji looked at her, as her attention was placed elsewhere, and smiled fondly. He felt a warmth rise in his chest as he took in the curve of her profile. The slope of her nose, the length of her eyelashes, the round of her cheeks. The candle light of the empty room cast dancing shadows on her face that made her look otherworldly; he felt his smile, and eyes soften as he looked at her.

“Y/n I wouldn’t have told you about my shitty past if I didn’t trust you to check in on me like this every now and again.” Sanji spoke softly as Y/n turned her gaze back to him. She was almost stunned to see the expression on his face. The look in his eyes was, most of the time, reserved for the elegant ladies that entered the restaurant day in and day out. And yet here he was looking at her like that. She brushed the fond gaze off and swayed her head back and forth while giving him an apologetic look.

“I know, but it’s still not my place to dredge up old memories of abuse when I don’t even know the full story.” She responded, playing with the ends of her uniform shirt.

Sanji smiled at her and leaned forward in his seat, one hand braced himself on the seat top while the other reached forward and pulled her towards him. Y/n closed her eyes as she felt his lips press against her forehead.

“I appreciate you checking on me. It shows that you care.” He said softly, his words muffled seeing that his lips were still connected with her forehead. She smiled softly as he placed a loud exaggerated kiss to the skin there before pulling away and holding her face in his hand. “Okay?” He asked with a huge smile. She laughed at his theatrics and moved to stand up, leaving Sanji sitting alone in his booth as he looked up at her standing form.

“Whatever you say-” She began as she reached out a hand to help him up. He took it with a laugh and allowed Y/n to pull him to his feet. “-My favorite Baratie waiter.” She finished as she dropped his hand and started walking away from him, stifling her laughter. Sanji stood there with his jaw dropped as she walked away from him, his shock soon turning into a smile as he watched her shoulders shake from holding in her laughter. He let a chuckle slip out as he pushed up his sleeves and made a beeline for her.

“How DARE!” He yelled as he grabbed her from behind and lifted her off the ground slightly laughing as she yelped and then dissolved into laughter when she broke free. She began running to a nearby table to put distance between herself and him as she pointed at him,

“Not fair!” She yelled, watching as Sanji pointed back at her.

“Don’t you dare get me started on ‘fair’!” He responded as he laughed.

____

Zeff stood in the doorway to the kitchen watching as Sanji ran around tables with that wannabe pirate waitress. He observed in silence as the pair laughed and threw dish towels at each other instead of cleaning tables.

The small boy he once knew, terrified of making connections with those around him due to some dark past he kept to himself, was smling and laughing as he chased around what could only be discribed as a friend.

A small smile curled his weathered lips as he shook his head and walked away, the sounds of youth fading into nothing.

“Not bad, little eggplant… Not bad…”

#sanji x reader #sanji x you #sanji imagine #black leg sanji #one piece x reader #one piece x you #one piece imagine #live action one piece #taz skylar #opla #no spoliers for the show but slight anime/manga spoliers for new fans

3K notes · View notes

radio-fmm · 7 months ago

Text

Dear Luffy… what?!

Luffy x fem!reader

1.6k words, fluff confession, gendered terms such as ‘woman’

!This is a part 2! Sanji found your love letter to Luffy and now everyone knows you like your Captain

Pt.1 | Masterlist

It had been a week since Sanji had found your letter, and somehow things got worse. Everyone on the ship knew about your crush by now, everyone except from the one that should be more concerned about it. The strawhats lived for gossip

Every glance, smile and compliment you’d share with your Captain as you both usually did, was accompanied with giggles, teases and whispers from your crewmates, making you nervous to even breath near Luffy in fear they’ll say something out of place loud enough for him to notice

Even your time alone was disturbed by them trying to convince you to confess to the clueless strawhat boy

“I’m sure he likes you too!”, “It’s not that big of a deal”, “Just go and tell him already!”

As encouraging they were being, it didn’t simmer your nerves, it made them grow bigger and bigger turning you into an anxious mess

Of course your time with Luffy was cut short thanks to your noisy friends; the fun games, fondness and entertaining conversations you’d used to share with him long gone, replaced with you just sulking around the ship and hiding from everyone

Soon enough they’ll either forget or lose interest in the matter

Right?

At this reate, Franky should install a loud very incorrect buzzer on the ship

All of this horrendous energy was getting to you, not only were you feeling frustrated and hopeless; since no longer getting your daily dose of Luffy, your lack of sunlight had your patience running alarmingly low. Consequently, you were feisty. No one could approach, look, ask, or even talk to you without your reaction being blown so out of proportion that it ended on you screaming at them

Today’s victim? Zoro

“Can you move your weights for a sec? I need to mop”

“Can’t” he answered quickly, grunting as he flexed his arms mid push up

“Just put them aside real quick” you were keeping your calm, already growing annoyed

“Do it yourself woman”

Uh oh

Zoro genuinely didn’t mean to sound so condescending and rude, usually you knew this was just the way he talked to everyone, you just had too much going on. The argument got so heated that it had the whole ship witnessing the whole ordeal around both, like a street fight club. You were red, cheeks puffed and up on your tip toes screaming at the swordsman like he couldn’t just cut you in half any moment now

“Can’t you just be nice for one second?!”- heads immediately turn- “Can you stop being a total jerk?!”- eyes widened- “Grow some brains first and I’ll consider it”- gasps bounce around the deck- “What about growing some balls and confess to Luffy already?”

Silence

Deafening silence doesn’t even begin to describe this silence. It’s a heavy one, laced with panic, regret and fear.

Your heart beats loud and then drops to your stomach, suddenly feeling nauseous as a hand flies to your mouth. Zoro’s eyebrows jump and sweats profusely

He fucked up

All eyes on you then on the Captain, who’s face you can’t even turn to look at right now, only focused on the embarrassment that was choking you. Embarrassing, so fucking embarrassing. The most dreaded emotion, you hated it to the core, you most rather Zoro cut your chest and throw you out into the open ocean of the Grand Line before feeling this

It’s been a while and no one has dared to speak. A giggle then breaks the freezing moment, melting it completely in its warmth as it slowly builds into joyful laughter

“Good one Zoro!” Luffy comments and it somehow feels like a punch to the gut, even if it’s just him being honest

Nami then curses at her Captain, manicured hand pushing him in pure disbelief

“What? It’s not like I didn’t know”

Silence. Everyone is surprised you haven’t fainted by now

Ussop then joins the navigators side “What? You knew this whole time?”

Finally, with all the remaining strength in your body you turn, slowly, eyes meeting as you drown in too many emotions flowing inside of you

“Hehe yeah!” The Captain smiles, ever so sweetly and you actually taste your breakfast in your mouth

You turn to Zoro, helpless

“I’m sorry” he mutters, genuinely ashamed

But you don’t answer, the only sound being heard being your boots stomping on the hard wood of The Sunny as you leave, tears peeking, and then, a door being slammed

It’s been a while since you had sobbed like this. You didn’t even knew why you were even crying anymore, the last week had been hell for you. You felt bad for snapping at Zoro and being a total ass to the whole crew; you felt so stupid for crying at something that could be resolved by talking and you hated yourself for not giving yourself grace

Because it’s ok to feel too much

It was comical how different you were from Luffy in that sense. Yes you were confident, adventurous and a loyal friend, but you were also reserved, shy and very sensitive. Your Captain was actually very emotionally intelligent, he knew exactly how to identify his emotions and navigate them, but you? It felt like being pushed into the sea without a motive or direction

You were too tender for a pirate, but again, there’s no shame in that

After a deserved lengthy crying session, you wiped yours tears and allowed yourself to take a big breath in. Suddenly, it didn’t felt as bad anymore. You opened your bedroom door and decided to go and wash your face to clear up to then apologize for exploding like you did. Again, embarrassment creeped up on you but you shrugged it off

It’s ok to feel. You reminded yourself on the mirror before leaving

The deck of The Sunny was weirdly quiet, no sign of anyone relaxing or in light conversation. Quickly you notice the familiar strawhat of your Captain and can’t help but smile a little, you had missed him this last week

“Hey Luf” you greet sweetly making him turn, a trace of a scowl leaving his features now replaced by worry, his arms shoot up unexpectedly and wrap around you before pushing you into a big hug, he speaks your name in almost relief making your heart skip a beat

“Oh I was so worried about you!, are you still mad?” His worry makes you feel guilty

“I was never mad at you Luf, or actually anyone… I was just really stressed out” you explain as you slowly melt into his embrace, warmness spreading trough your tired limbs as you feel a smile forming on Luffy’s lips

“I scolded them” your eyes wide slightly and your eyebrows jump

“Really?”

“Usopp told me what was going on and it just wasn’t ok” he tenses, as if the memory of it all makes him uncomfortable

A gentle sigh lefts your lips, leaving the tight hug you were enveloped in to face the man before you

“Thank you Luffy, but I also messed up, I shouldn’t have snapped like that” he shakes his head

“It’s understandable, you were under so much stress didn’t you?”. His understanding was something so foreign to you, his emotional maturity showing, butterflies in your belly going wild

He pulls another smile out of you before he pulls you in once again almost crushing you, it almost felt apologetic

But there was still, the elephant in the room

“So… you knew” it’s all you can muster up to say. Luffy then lets you go completely making a slight pout appear on your face at the motion. He looks a little bashful? you can’t really tell because it’s an emotion you had never related to him before

He scratches the back of his neck “Yeah… you always spend time with me and treat me differently than everyone else, and you make my heart beat so fast! It was obvious”

You don’t really know how to feel about his statement, you were obvious yet he just accepted it?. Your face becomes redish by the moment, feeling embarrassed but a different kind of embarrassed, thus one didn’t made you feel terrible

“Why didn’t you say anything?” your hands drop to play with the hem of your shirt as you waited expectantly, repeating his small hint of reciprocity in your head as comfort at the moment

“Because you never acknowledged it and I didn’t wanna push ya’”

Of course

Suddenly you feel a giggle bubble in your stomach and it hits Luffy’s ears, making him smile widely

“You’re such an idiot” your hands cover your face, the warmth of your cheeks engulfing them

“Also thought I’d pass out if I said a thing, you make me nervous” Luffy thought if he kept confessing this kind of stuff, you would keep laughing, and he adores when you do

“What?!”- you are a fit of giggles at this point. “Me? making you? nervous?!”

You both laugh, and it’s just so endearing, the moment so sugary sweet you fear you’ll have a toothache. Suddenly you are being pulled again, this time by your arms making your soft lips land on top of Luffy’s pillowy ones. You yelp in surprise but immediately ease into it, fitting in his frame like you were meant to be after all

Your tooth aches

Your Captain then looks at your puppy eyes and grins “Wanted to do that for a while now”

After a much needed kissing session to soothe you. Luffy made everyone on the ship apologize to you, one by one (except for Chopper, he never dared tease you) before making it known how much he really really loved you

Like it wasn’t obvious enough

tag list: @guinea-pig16 @cosywinterevenings @angieslove06 @rafis03

Ty for the love on the first part 🥹

#one piece #luffy x reader #luffy x you #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy oneshot #luffy op #luffy x y/n #monkey d luffy x y/n #monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy #luffy #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #one piece x reader #x reader #one piece one shot #fanfic

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monstersflashlight · 2 months ago

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Patreon Commission for Alek

Request: Okay what if you did something like reader being lost at sea after her boat got wrecked during a storm or something and a kraken or kraken hybrid finds her with their mate-bond and it gets all spicy?

Sinking ship

Kraken x fem!reader || mates, tentacles, overstimulation, dirty talk (very light) || tw: sinking ship? thalassophobia?

You wake up with what feels like an earthquake. It feels like the world is moving and there’s screaming in the distance, you don’t exactly know where you are but you fall off the bed as the floor tilts to the side. You let out a series of curses, mad at whatever that’s happening and it’s sending you to the floor. You were having such a good dream with lots of tentacles probing your different openings and leaving you craving more… And then you remember you aren’t in a normal place, you are on a ship. A ship that’s tilting, and for the sounds of it, in a fuckton of trouble.

Oh shit.

You ran out of your cabin, stopping somebody that’s running around: “Hey! HEY! What’s happening!?” They don’t answer, just shake your hold off and keep running ahead.

The sounds of metal breaking and the way the boat keeps moving is highly concerning and you are starting to panic a bit.

“A KRAKEN! A kraken is attacking the ship!” Somebody screams over your head. That sounds concerning.

The ship is moving so fast and so rough that you are about to fall at least three times as you try to get to the stairs. There’s more screaming above, and your blood feels icy.

By the time you reach the stairs you are breathless. You run up and up until you are on top of the sinking ship, the ocean around you making you feel all kinds of queasy, but the second a tentacle appears to the side of the boat, something inside of you unlocks.

You don’t know where you are, you don’t know how close the next island is, but you know you have to jump if you don’t want to lose your life in a sinking ship. So you look at the sky asking to whoever is up there to help you…

And you jump. You brace yourself for the impact with the waves, hoping you don’t hit the metal debris in your way down.

But your body never hits the water.

A strong tentacle is curled around your middle and when you look down you can see the silhouette of a giant monster under the surface of water. The world stops spinning, and everything fades to the background when your eyes met.

It blinks slowly, very, very slowly, and you do the same. You don’t scream, you don’t struggle, you let your body go lax as the kraken moves under the waves. Away from the sinking ship, away from the screaming and awful noise… Your body never submerges, more tentacles curl around you until you are cradled against them, your own special cocoon as it swims away.

You float in your warm cocoon for what feels like a couple minutes, but by the redness on your body, it’s probably a couple hours. You don’t think about the people on the ship, you don’t think about the ship at all, the only images that your brain can conjure are memories of your wet dreams. Those dreams that were filled with tentacles and suckers, with slippery blue skin and wide smiles.

As soon as your body touches the sand, he’s transforming in front of you. He’s still big and tentacle-y, but not giant. His skin is the prettiest shade of turquoise and his tentacles are tad darker, giving him the looks of all your dreams combined.

You try to speak, to say something, but he’s approaching you without stopping and your mouth doesn’t move. He wraps his tentacles around your body and buries his face in your hair. “My mate, I finally found you,” his voice is reverent, as if he’s reciting a plea.

You push his chest away, forcing yourself not to caress his soft skin in the process. “What do you mean mate?”

“You are my mate. I’ve been sensing you since you stepped on that ship, sensing you across the oceans and seas, and I’ve swam as fast as I could to get to you. And here you are.” He sounds fascinated by the fact, and you can’t comprehend what he’s saying. Not fully.

And then it clicks. “The dreams…”

“The dream land is a place my kind can control, when we sense our mate we give them all we can, including the most pleasurable dreams until we can find them and make them reality.” You don’t know if that surprises you or not.

You blink at him, very confused about his statement. “Make them reality?”

“Yes, my mate, I can bring you pleasure until you beg me to stop.” You inhale rapidly, your lungs not getting enough oxygen all of sudden. Dang, why does that sound so hot?

“Is that what you want? To pleasure me?” You ask, not totally against that idea. If he’s as good as he was in your dreams… You definitely want to fuck him.

“I want everything with you, my mate.” He whispers, his forehead resting against yours in an intimate fashion.

“Everything?” You ask, a bit confused about what that entails.

He has no qualms about blurting: “Once we mate I’ll bring you to my house and we’ll live together. Forever.”

“I’m not living in a cave, dude!” You exclaim, a bit offended.

He bursts out laughing, so hard that his whole body is moving, the tentacles still wrapped around your middle twitching and tickling you. “Who said anything about a cave? I have a nice beach house in the Mediterranean sea.” You feel stupid.

“Oh. Okay.” Accepting him is as easy as breathing.

“Just like that? My brothers said their mates were a lot harder to convince.” He says with a chuckle, his tentacles tightening around you as if he still can’t believe you are there.

“It’s not like we are going to die or something, the Mediterranean is a very normal place. I can call my family and friends and explain from there.” He’s the one who looks surprised now. “So… we mate?”

“Yes. I fuck your pussy and then I release all my seed inside you,” he says it like it’s nothing, and you swallow your saliva so fast you start coughing. He pats your back with his tentacle as you try to recover your breathing. “You don’t want that?”

“Oh. Yes. Yes I do want that, but dang I wasn’t expecting you to say it like that,” you say with a giggle, still shocked.

“You like my bluntness, mate?” He says with a wriggle of the ridges over his eyes, not eyebrows, but ridges. Maybe that should weird you out, but it only makes him more unique. You nod rapidly. “Good.”

He slowly lays you down, the sand feeling warm against your back as he uncurls his tentacles off your body. You feel the lose instantly, and you make grabby hands to him. He chuckles, but complies. He covers your body with his own, his tentacles touching every inch of your exposed body, tearing and pulling at your clothes until you are naked and your skins are flushed together. He rests his forehead against yours, some of his tentacles caressing your boobs, your hips… But nowhere close to where you need him the most.

“I need you, please…”

The flashes of your dreams come back crushing onto your brain. Eyes open or closed you can see him, you can feel him… Hi tentacles are latched to your nipples, and your pussy is clenching over nothing as he parts your legs. You whine in desperation, and he kisses the corner of your parted lips softly.

His voice is soft when he orders: “Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to fuck me, please. I want to be filled,” you barely recognize your own voice, breathless and needy.

But that’s all it takes for you to feel his tentacles running up your legs, the ones on your boobs sucking harder, making you cry out and arch your back. The first contact of his tentacle against your pussy makes you shiver as you let out a scream. He smiles down at you, predatory.

You are about to beg again when you feel the tip of his tentacle pushing inside of you, slowly, so very slowly. He breaches your welcoming heat with a caress you’ve never felt, and it makes you want to cry a bit. But you don’t have time before other tentacle joins the rubbing of your clit. A sucker latches onto it, and you are completely lost in sensation. Your eyes are rolling to the back of your head, and you are having and out of body experience as the hardest orgasm ever washes over your body. You don’t scream, you don’t moan, you can only open your mouth in a silent scream as pleasure rips through your body.

But he’s not done. When you come down you feel the fullness inside of you, your body pliant under his tentacles as he keeps sucking and exploring every tiny bit of skin. “Do you like that? Tell me how it feels inside of you.” You moan, unable to form words. “That’s all you can do? How bad…” His mock only makes you hotter.

He wriggles his tentacle inside of you again, the sucker latching onto your G-spot and making you scream so loudly you see some birds flying away.

“You need more? Do you want more?” You can’t think, you can’t do anything but to groan and whine, but that seems to be enough. “Okay, my mate… I will give you all the pleasure, but in the future I’m going to take my time and make you tell me every single thing you want to do to you, very, very slowly…” With each word he drags the tentacle in and out, but barely an inch, just enough to rub against your sensitive areas and making your insides melt into burning lava.

And when you think you can’t take it no more, he starts to whisper filthy things against your ear, your hands find his back and you scratch his sides as he pounds your pussy until you think you are going to go crazy.

He lets out a choked breath and murmurs: “Come with me, my mate.”

You scream at the same time his release hits your insides with the force of a hurricane, warming you from the inside out as he comes and comes and comes... His seed is overflowing around the tentacle buried inside of you, and you can’t even blink without feeling pleasure. Your whole body feels electrified as aftershocks make you gush around him.

“Now what?” You ask, your breathing ragged and erratic.

“Now we go home,” he whispers as his tentacles come around your body in a protective embrace and he transforms into his giant form.

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cup1drul3z · 7 days ago

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★ — Salt in her lungs

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1 : ᴅʀᴀɢ ᴍᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱʜᴏʀᴇ

ᴘɪʀᴀᴛᴇ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ᴍᴇʀᴍᴀɪᴅ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | 5.7ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ

TAGS : Age gap, Mermaids, Pirates, Fantasy world, set in 1600s, blood mentioned

A/N : another fic that has been collecting dust in my docs

Summary : A curious mermaid princess saves a drowning pirate, breaking centuries of secrecy between their worlds. Sevika can't forget the girl beneath the waves, haunted by her even in someone else’s arms. Now, both are searching for each other—drawn by a connection neither fully understands.

Long ago, before salt crusted the corners of maps and before ships carved paths across the sea, the oceans were ruled by song.

Mermaids—known to themselves as the Thalassari—were not the glittering fairy tales whispered to human children. They were warriors, mystics, daughters of tide and storm. Born with sharp teeth and sharper tongues, they shaped the ocean’s mood with their voices: lullabies that calmed tempests, laments that mourned lost ships, and siren-songs that could drag a fleet to the bottom of the world. They lived deep in the trenches, in palaces carved from coral and whale bone, protected by magic older than the moon.

But once—centuries ago—humans and merfolk did meet.

The stories say a fisherman’s net tore through the kelp curtain guarding a mermaid nursery. Curious, the humans came closer. They captured one. Dissected her. What they didn’t understand, they feared. What they feared, they destroyed.

A war followed. Not one of armies or flags, but of quiet ruin. Ships lost with no trace. Islands swallowed by sudden tides. Harbors cursed with empty nets and dead water. In retaliation, humans built stories—legends to bury the truth. Mermaids were dismissed as sailor myths, drunken mirages, hallucinations brought on by thirst and madness. A convenient lie. Over time, belief faded like a tide pulling back. Mermaids became fantasy.

Below the surface, the Thalassari wove their own stories. Humans, they said, were extinct—burned out by their own fires, vanished into the sky. “Surface ghosts,” they were called, used to frighten little mermaids into obedience. Don’t swim too close to the shore, or the ghosts will steal your voice.

Generations passed. The sea kept its secrets.

Until now.

Until you.

You, the youngest daughter of the Sea King—mouthy, reckless, and far too curious for your own good. You’ve always wanted to see what was beyond. Not just the reef wall or the border tides, but the world above.

You weren’t supposed to be awake this late.

The reef pulsed with sleepy biolight, soft and dim, like the whole sea was breathing slow around you. Your sisters had long since curled into their shell beds, and even the guards stationed at the edge of the inner currents had grown lazy—hovering with half-lidded eyes, tridents drifting just slightly out of reach.

Perfect.

You moved silently through your chambers, brushing past strands of sea-silk and coral trinkets. Your father had filled the place with gifts. A necklace of blood-pearls. A singing conch from the Mariana Trench. A polished mirror carved from obsidian that always reflected you looking smaller than you felt. They were all meant to distract you. Soften you.

But none of it mattered when your heart was pulling toward something outside.

You ran your fingers through your hair. Tugged on your travel wrap—lightweight kelp-thread woven for speed, not elegance. No crown. No sign of royalty. Just you. Just the water.

You moved to the back wall of your chamber, where a curtain of kelp swayed lazily over the outcrop. It looked like just another patch of rock, but if you pushed it just right—there—the shimmerline faltered.

Just a flicker.

Your heart thudded in your chest, a rhythm too fast for deep sea calm.

One look over your shoulder.

Empty room.

You exhaled.

Then you slipped through the crack in the reef—outside Sanctum for the first time in your life.

And the sea felt different out here.

Colder. Wilder.

Free.

“You call that a tie-down? That knot wouldn’t hold a drunk mermaid’s panties, let alone a cannon!”

The deck of The Harpy’s Grin was chaos—ropes whipping in the wind, gulls screeching overhead, crewmen scrambling like wet rats as the sails snapped angrily above. The storm had passed hours ago, but its temper still echoed in the waves. And Sevika, captain of this barely-floating beast, was not in the mood.

She stalked across the creaking boards with heavy boots, the scent of brine and old smoke clinging to her coat. The sun caught the steel of her mechanical arm as she grabbed a dangling line and yanked it tight with a grunt, shooting a deadly glare at the nearest crewman.

“Reefbreak’s balls, if you lot can’t manage a basic lash, I’ll start tossing you overboard one by one and see who floats best!”

“Cap’n, the wind changed too fast—” one of them started, eyes wide and voice shaking.

“And the wind’ll break your jaw next time you whine instead of workin’.” Her voice was rough as gravel, but cold. Controlled. She didn’t raise her voice unless she meant it.

The man shut up real fast.

Sevika took a slow drag off the half-chewed cigar clenched between her teeth, squinting out at the horizon. The water stretched out, glittering like spilled coin under the sun. Endless. Boring. Predictable.

God, she hated calm days.

“Where’s the chart?” she barked, already heading for the helm.

“Below deck, Cap’n!”

“Well get it! I’m not lettin’ this damn ship drift like a tavern whore waiting for a kiss.”

She took the wheel in one hand, metal fingers tapping restlessly on the polished wood. Her jaw worked against the cigar, tension in her shoulders she couldn’t seem to shake. Not from the storm. Not from the crew.

From the feeling. That gnawing itch behind her ribs like something was coming. Something that didn’t belong on the sea.

She spat overboard.

“Fuckin’ sirens,” she muttered.

Except she didn’t believe in sirens.

Not really.

Sevika barked one last order and turned back toward the wheel, the wind catching her coat as she narrowed her eyes at the far edge of the water. Something shimmered there—a ripple too smooth for open sea, a flicker of color where none should be.

Probably nothing.

But her gut said different.

And Sevika had learned long ago to trust her gut more than gods, ghosts, or gossiping crewmen.

She took another drag from her cigar and growled, “Bring up the scopes. I want eyes on the wreck fields.”

A crewmember scrambled up beside her, already raising the scope to his eye. He adjusted the focus, then stiffened. “There’s... something in the water, Cap’n.”

“‘Something’?” she snapped. “That’s real fuckin’ specific.”

“Not a fish. Too big. Looks like... maybe someone fell overboard?”

Her cigar twitched at the corner of her mouth.

“Lower the rowboat,” she ordered, voice flat. “Two men. Careful hands.”

Oren hesitated. “You think it’s a survivor?”

“I think I didn’t ask for your opinion,” she said, turning on her heel.

But as she walked away, she muttered under her breath, just quiet enough not to be heard:

“Or a goddamn lure.”

You’d gone too far.

You knew it the second the light changed—the way it bled through the water in slanted, unnatural beams, not the warm shimmer of Sanctum’s safe magic but the sharp, raw glare of the surface world. The current had tugged you past familiar coral shelves and singing stones. Now, the water was colder. Still. Heavy with silence.

And wreckage.

You kicked gently through the murk, weaving past twisted metal and splintered wood, ghost-ships swallowed by barnacles and age. Sails shredded like jellyfish skin. Harpoons rusted and bent. A graveyard.

Your brows furrowed as you muttered, “Why would there be so many here...?”

You’d always been told humans were myths—surface ghosts that vanished long ago, burned away by their own greed. Old stories. Scare tactics. Tales told to mares to keep them close to the reef. No one you knew had ever seen one.

But the wreckage told a different story.

You drifted lower, nearly brushing your belly against the ocean floor as you approached a strange shadow ahead—huge, looming, far too intact to be part of the graveyard. Not a reef. Not a creature.

And then you saw it.

Half out of the water above: a massive dark shape, long and wide like a sleeping leviathan. Wooden skin. Metal teeth. Some kind of strange… hump-backed whale?

Right next to it, floating just beside the beast, was a smaller one. Sleek. Smoother. Almost cute, in a crooked kind of way.

You froze, breath catching in your throat.

“...What are those?”

You stayed low, heart thudding as you pressed into the sand, eyes wide and glittering with curiosity. Whatever they were, they hadn’t moved yet. Maybe they were just strange surface creatures. Maybe they were whales. Maybe this was why your father forbade you from leaving.

But gods help you—you had to know.

The rowboat rocked gently beside the ruins of the old wreck, creaking as it drifted in the lazy current. Sevika stood near the bow, one boot up on the edge, arms crossed, cigar tucked behind her ear. She was squinting into the water, watching the way it shimmered around the rotted timbers below.

“See anything yet?” she muttered.

“Hold on,” one of her men called back, leaning farther over the edge. His fingers gripped the railing as he tried to peer past the sun glare. “I thought I saw—wait, yeah—somethin’ shiny. Looked like—”

The glint was gone before he finished the sentence.

A plink broke the stillness.

They all froze.

The man’s hand went to his bare chest like he’d been stabbed. His face twisted. “No—shit! No!”

“What now?” Sevika asked, already annoyed.

“My necklace—!” he barked, voice cracking. “It—it was my late wife’s—shit!”

And then he jumped.

Straight off the side.

“Godsdammit!” Sevika cursed as water splashed over the side.

“Man overboard!” the second crewman yelled, standing and nearly tipping the whole boat in his panic.

Shouts rang out from the main ship—sails snapping above, boots pounding on the upper deck. Sevika didn’t wait. She tore off her coat and dove in.

The water swallowed her whole.

She cut through it like a knife, teeth clenched against the cold. The man was below her, flailing, reaching toward the shimmer of silver glinting just above the ocean floor—lodged between sharp black rocks. Stupid, reckless bastard.

He grabbed it, fingers closing around the chain.

But then he panicked.

His chest heaved. His eyes went wide.

Sevika reached him, shoving him upward with both hands. Her grip was strong, steady. “Go!” she yelled, voice lost in a stream of bubbles. “Get up!”

He kicked off, disappearing toward the surface.

She turned to follow—and pain lanced up her leg.

Her boot had caught.

She yanked, hard. The rocks didn’t budge.

The pressure was already building behind her eyes. Her lungs were screaming.

She kicked again, twisting, trying to slip free—

Still stuck.

Still sinking.

The decision wasn’t a decision at all. It was instinct.

One moment, you were crouched in the sand, hidden beneath a ledge of coral and bone, eyes wide as the strange surface woman thrashed against the rocks. The next—you were moving.

Your tail snapped once, twice, and you shot forward through the murk.

Her foot was caught tight between two slabs of stone. You yanked on them, fingers digging into the crevices, but they wouldn’t budge. Too sharp. Too strong. The woman’s dark eyes locked onto yours—wild with confusion and quickly clouding. Her mouth parted, a stream of bubbles escaping.

And still—she fought.

But something else moved behind you.

A shadow.

The shark.

You felt it before you saw it—the ripple through the current, the low thrum of hunger. It circled from far off, but closing fast, drawn by the shimmer of your scales.

You cursed under your breath.

Too shiny, stupid tail, stupid.

You twisted, diving down just as it cut through the water in a flash of grey muscle and hunger. Sevika flinched as it passed—still trapped. Still vulnerable.

You didn’t hesitate.

Your fingers found the knife strapped to her thigh—slick and cold, the leather sheath wrapped in thick cords. You yanked it free, spun, and darted directly toward the open mouth of the predator.

It came at you fast.

You were faster.

With a sharp flick of your tail, you spun to the side and drove the blade into the beast’s eye with all your strength.

A hiss of blood spiraled through the water. The shark jerked, convulsing, and fled into the gloom.

You turned back, breathing hard. Sevika was struggling against the rock again—and with a final wrench, she broke free. You caught her as she kicked off the bottom, her strength already faltering.

She was slipping.

You could see it in the way her limbs moved—slower, heavier, like her body was made of stone. Her eyes fluttered as she tried to stay conscious.

You grabbed her hand.

Your fingers locked around hers as you pulled, kicking hard toward the surface, dragging her up through the light and salt and silence.

When her head broke the surface, she gasped—choking and sputtering—but you were already gone.

Back beneath the waves.

A shadow disappearing in the blood-tinged blue.

Rough hands pulled her from the sea.

“Got her! Cap’n—breathe! Come on—damn it—”

Water spilled from her mouth as she coughed, hacking and heaving onto the wood of the little rowboat. Her chest burned. Her lungs felt like they were made of rust. Her limbs, heavy and half-numb, barely moved as someone braced her shoulders.

“Is she bit?” someone asked. “Shit, there was blood—a lot of it.”

Sevika blinked, vision blurry with salt and sun. Her throat felt like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper.

“Wasn’t mine,” she rasped, voice like gravel dragged across stone.

The two crewmen looked at each other. “You sure? Looked like a fuckin’ massacre from the top deck.”

Sevika coughed again, this time spitting over the side. She sat up slowly, her shirt soaked and clinging to her, the weight of the sea still wrapped around her shoulders like a ghost.

“I said it wasn’t mine,” she muttered, jaw tight. “Shark came in. Got chased off.”

“Chased off?” one of them echoed, brows lifting. “By what, a fuckin’ miracle?”

She didn’t answer.

Because she didn’t have one.

There’d been something in the water. No—someone. She remembered flashes. A face. A grip on her arm. Eyes wide and unafraid. No legs. Shimmering skin. A tail.

And then—nothing.

The rowboat bumped against the side of The Harpy’s Grin, ropes lowered to haul her up. Voices crowded her ears—more concern, more confusion—but she didn’t register a word.

She stumbled onto the deck with help, boots squelching against the boards. Her mind was still half-drowned.

“You hit your head, Cap’n?” someone asked. “You’re out of it.”

“Fine,” she growled, brushing off a hand from her shoulder. “Fine.”

But she wasn’t.

Because when she looked down, just before the crew peeled her soaked coat away, she saw something wrapped around her wrist—delicate, green, and glinting like sea glass.

A strand of kelp, knotted into a perfect little braid.

And Sevika never tied things pretty.

You didn’t realize it until you were almost back—until the shimmerline came into view, flickering faintly around the outer reef like a curtain of moonlight.

The knife was still in your hand.

Your breath caught. You paused in the current, tail curling beneath you, the knife suddenly heavy in your grip. You turned it over, saltwater glinting along the blade’s edge.

It wasn’t just any weapon.

The handle was worn but beautiful—wrapped in aged leather, darkened by years of salt and heat. Carved into the metal beneath were delicate engravings: waves, stars, a compass rose. On one side, stamped into the base near the hilt, was a name in old surface script:

Sevika Vexley.

You mouthed it soundlessly, letting the letters roll through your mind.

That woman—she wasn’t like the stories. She wasn’t shriveled or monstrous or cursed with fire-skin. She was strong. Broad-shouldered and wild-eyed, all sharp angles and tension, even as she drowned. And... gods. She was attractive. In a terrifying, deeply unfair way.

You shook your head, cheeks heating. This was not the time.

And yet—your fingers didn’t let go.

You could’ve returned the knife. Left it near the surface. Let it sink back into her world. But a part of you didn’t want to. A part of you needed to keep it. Not just as proof that it happened—but because it meant something. She had a name. A face. A voice. A life.

Humans aren’t real, you’d been told. And if they were, they’re long gone. Dangerous. Violent.

But she didn’t feel like a ghost.

She felt realer than anything you’d ever touched.

You sighed, slipping the knife carefully into the folds of your kelpwrap and turning back toward the shimmerline. You passed through the magic, your tail tingling as you crossed the barrier and reentered Sanctum.

Guards drifted lazily nearby, none of them noticing you.

You exhaled in relief. No one saw. No one knew.

And no one would believe you anyway.

Your chamber was dim and still when you slipped back in—just as you left it, though your heart was hammering like you’d been gone for days instead of hours.

You crossed quickly to the corner near your bed, where the coral flooring dipped slightly beneath your vanity shell. With a careful glance over your shoulder, you knelt and pried up a loose tile of polished shellstone. It had cracked months ago, but no one had bothered to fix it. Lucky you.

The knife slid in perfectly.

You let your fingers linger on the handle—just for a second—before pressing the tile back into place and smoothing the sand around it. You exhaled. Safe. Hidden.

But before you could rise—

“Where were you?”

You froze.

His voice filled the room like a wave crashing against the reef—deep, commanding, too calm to be harmless.

Your father hovered just inside the entrance, broad-shouldered and impossibly regal even without his crown. The water shimmered faintly around him, a sign of his rising temper.

“I asked you a question,” he said, slower now. “Where. Were. You.”

You turned, schooling your face into neutrality. “Nowhere.”

His eyes narrowed. “Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying,” you snapped before you could stop yourself. “I just... went for a swim. I stayed within the boundary.”

“Don’t insult me,” he growled, his tone sharp now, dangerous. “Your scent is soaked in brine and blood. You reek of the outer currents.”

You stiffened. “I’m not a child.”

“No, but you are my daughter,” he barked, surging forward. “And I did not build this sanctum just for you to go wandering into cursed waters where things that shouldn’t exist still might.”

Your jaw tightened, hands curling at your sides. “So I’m supposed to spend my whole life locked in a cage of pearl? Singing at court? Smiling for foreign envoys? That’s not living.”

His face twisted. “That is safety.”

You held his gaze, unflinching. “Then maybe I don’t want to be safe.”

The water between you crackled with tension. Silence hung, thick and bitter.

His voice, when it finally came, was low. “One day out there will get you killed.”

You turned your back on him.

“One day here will kill me slower,” you muttered.

You didn’t look as he left. You couldn’t.

Because your hands were still shaking.

The reef was asleep again.

Soft glows pulsed through the coral towers like slow heartbeats, and the palace was quiet save for the faint echo of guards’ tridents tapping stone. You lay still in your bed until their patrol passed your chamber door��then you moved.

You slipped from the silkweed sheets, every motion careful, quiet. The room was still dim, only the bioluminescent drift-lamps casting gentle light across your floor. You knelt by the vanity again, fingers brushing over the loose tile. It popped free with practiced ease.

The knife was still there.

You pulled it out slowly, cradling the handle in your palm. The engravings were cool under your fingers, familiar now. You traced the name again.

Sevika Vexley.

There was no going back. Not really. Not after today. Not after her.

You needed to know more. You needed to see her again. Ask what she was. What the surface was. What the truth was.

You slid the knife into the belt of your kelpwrap, letting the folds hide it from sight. You glanced once more toward your door. Still quiet.

You slipped out.

Through shadowed halls and gently swaying curtains of sea lace, past the silver fountains that never ran dry. Past your sisters’ chambers. Past the court’s main hall. You moved like a shadow, like a whisper. Like you weren’t the king’s youngest daughter.

Like you weren’t royalty at all.

Except—you forgot.

The moment you passed the final shimmerline, leaving Sanctum behind, you felt the cool rush of wild sea against your skin—and a gentle tug at your temples.

Your crown.

You hadn’t even realized you were still wearing it—so familiar, so constant it felt like a part of your body. The delicate chains brushed your cheeks as you swam, gold glinting faintly in the dark, seashells and crystal pieces catching what little light filtered from above.

The teardrop gem gleamed like a beacon.

If someone saw you—

You swallowed hard, but didn’t stop.

The knife was secure at your hip. The water was cold again.

And somewhere out there, above the wrecks and waves, was a woman who should not exist.

And you were going to find her.

The dock buzzed with noise as The Harpy’s Grin pulled into its usual berth, ropes thrown and sails furled with practiced speed. Salt clung to the air, and the wood of the pier creaked beneath hurried boots as the crew began unloading barrels, crates, and whatever scrap was worth selling from the old wrecks.

Sevika stood at the gangplank, arms crossed, eyes narrowed at the chaos below. Her coat was back on, sleeves damp, and the braid of kelp that had been wrapped around her wrist was gone—tucked somewhere deep in her quarters where no one could see it.

She didn’t say a word as her crew barked and grunted, lugging gear onto the docks.

“Hey!”

A familiar voice cut through the noise.

Sevika looked up just in time to see Vi weaving through the crowd, her usual cocky smirk in place and a gleam in her eye. The crowd parted for her. It usually did.

“Finally,” Vi said, coming to stand beside her. “Took your sweet time.”

“Storm slowed us down,” Sevika muttered, voice low. “Got caught in a wreck field.”

Vi looked her over, brow twitching. “You good?”

There was a pause.

Sevika scratched the back of her neck, eyes flicking toward the crates being hauled off her ship. “...Fell overboard.”

Vi blinked.

“You what?”

“I said I fell overboard.”

Vi stared for a beat—then barked out a laugh, loud and obnoxious, smacking Sevika on the shoulder. “You idiot! I told you to stop standing so close to the damn edge when you’re brooding like a cliché.”

“I wasn’t brooding,” Sevika grumbled.

“You were,” Vi grinned. “You always are. Gods, you're lucky you didn’t drown. I’d be stuck drinking alone, and you know no one else can keep up with me.”

Sevika huffed a soft laugh through her nose, shaking her head.

“So?” Vi raised a brow, already turning toward the street. “We doin’ our usual, or what? I got us a table at the tavern.”

Sevika didn’t answer right away.

Her gaze drifted over her shoulder, back to the sea. The waves looked calm now—unbothered. Innocent.

But she could still feel the ghost of fingers wrapped around her wrist, dragging her toward the surface.

Not human. Not a dream.

Her jaw tightened. “...Yeah. Sure.”

She turned and followed Vi into the crowd.

But her mind stayed on the water.

The tavern was warm and loud—clanking mugs, the low thrum of music from the back corner, sailors laughing too hard over nothing. It was the kind of noise that usually helped Sevika drown out her thoughts.

Not tonight.

She sat at the booth, half-drunk cider sweating in front of her, boots kicked out under the table. Vi was mid-story—something about a guy trying to barter with a dead jellyfish and calling it “enchanted”—but Sevika wasn’t really hearing it.

Her eyes had drifted to the far wall, where a faded mural stretched across the plaster. It was chipped in places, water-stained at the corners, but still vivid enough to make her pause.

A mermaid. Painted in swirling blues and silver, hair flowing like seaweed, mouth slightly open in song. A fairytale. A warning. A joke.

Except it didn’t feel like one anymore.

“—and then the guy actually licked it, I swear on my—wait—”

Vi snapped her fingers.

“Hello? Not talkin’ to myself over here.”

Sevika blinked. Her gaze flicked to Vi, then back to the mural, then back again. She shifted in her seat, leaning back with a quiet sigh.

“Sorry.”

Vi raised a brow. “You good? You’ve been weird all night.”

There was a long pause.

Then Sevika just said it.

“Do you believe in mermaids?” she asked, voice low. “Or… sirens?”

Vi snorted a laugh, lifting her drink. “What, like the fish-girls with seashell tits and magic songs? That kind of mermaid?”

But Sevika didn’t smile. She didn’t even blink.

Vi’s smirk faded slowly. She lowered her mug and leaned in a bit, watching her friend’s face.

“…Did you see something?”

Sevika didn’t answer right away.

Vi scooted closer across the bench. “Sev. What happened out there?”

Sevika stared into her drink, fingers drumming once against the side of the mug. Her jaw worked like she was chewing on the words, deciding whether to spit them out or swallow them whole.

“I saw something,” she finally said, voice quiet enough that Vi had to lean in more to catch it.

Vi’s brows knit. “Like… what kind of something?”

Sevika hesitated.

“Something in the water,” she said. “When I was stuck. Thought I was gonna black out. Then she was there.”

Vi blinked. “She?”

“...I don’t know what she was,” Sevika muttered. “Had no legs. Fast as hell. Got me loose. Dragged me up. Then gone.”

Vi sat back slowly, mug forgotten. “You’re serious.”

Sevika nodded once, slow and deliberate. Her eyes flicked to the mural again.

Vi followed her gaze, then let out a low breath. “And you think—what? Mermaid? Siren? Sea spirit?”

“I don’t know,” Sevika repeated. “But she wasn’t a hallucination. She had weight. Heat. A face.”

Vi was quiet for a moment, chewing on her lip. Then she scoffed softly. “Well, damn. I thought I had a good story tonight.”

That finally earned her a ghost of a smile from Sevika.

“You still do,” Sevika said, lifting her drink. “Just not as weird as mine.”

Vi shook her head and grinned, clinking her mug against Sevika’s.

“You’re buying the next round,” she said. “And if this ends with you falling in love with a sea creature, I better be the best man at the wedding.”

The water was darker here. Colder.

You'd been swimming in circles for what felt like hours, trying to retrace the path from earlier. The wrecks weren’t where you remembered. The currents were different, pulling wrong, whispering strange things around your ears.

But you had to find it. Find her.

You darted around a cluster of sunken crates, eyes sharp, heart thudding with a mix of urgency and hope. You couldn’t stop now—not after what you saw. Not after what you felt.

Then the current shifted. Cold. Heavy. Familiar.

Your blood ran colder than the sea around you.

You turned slowly, and there it was. The shark.

The same one from before, its wounded eye now scarred and clouded with rage. It hovered just a few body-lengths away, tail swaying in slow, predatory rhythm. It had followed your trail.

Of course it had.

You backed away, body tense, hand reaching for the knife at your hip—but you knew you couldn’t outswim it in open water. You were fast, but not that fast. Its nostrils flared. It inched closer. Closer.

It opened its jaws.

And then—

“Tch. That’s enough, fish-breath.”

The voice came from behind you. Smooth. Teasing. Dangerous.

The shark froze mid-lunge.

Its entire body trembled before it spun, darting off into the gloom with a ripple of panic you could feel in the water.

You turned.

Floating just a few feet away was a woman.

A mermaid, but not like anyone from Sanctum.

Her hair was long—long—a brilliant, electric blue that shimmered even in the low light, trailing all the way down to where her deep indigo tail began. She was tall, lean, and wore a grin like she knew every secret the sea had ever whispered. Sharp teeth glinted behind her smile.

She cocked her head at you.

“Hey, kid,” she said, voice curling around you like silk. “Wanna turn into a human?”

Your eyes went wide.

The tavern was even louder now.

The music had swelled into a full reel, all frantic strings and stomping boots, and the crowd had doubled since sunset. Lanterns glowed low and golden above the bar, casting warm light over sweat-damp necks and flushed cheeks. The air was thick with the scent of spiced rum, woodsmoke, and something fried and probably burnt.

Sevika was drunk. Very drunk.

She was slouched in a chair near the back, one boot kicked up on a barrel, her coat half-falling off her shoulder. The smoke from her cigar curled lazily above her head, ignored entirely as her attention was focused on the woman seated across from her.

She had a voice like honey, one hand wrapped around a mug, the other idly playing with the end of Sevika’s collar. She laughed too loudly at something Sevika said—and Sevika smirked, leaning in, words low and slurred just enough to soften her usual edge.

From a distance, she looked like any other pirate relaxing after a haul—flushed cheeks, hooded eyes, the swagger of someone used to getting what she wanted.

But if anyone looked close enough, really close, they’d see the difference. The way Sevika’s gaze flicked—not quite focused on the girl in front of her, but through her.

Because the girl wasn’t her.

Not her.

The girl was close, sure—dark hair, delicate mouth, a laugh that danced in the air—but her eyes were too pale, her chin too sharp. Her hands were wrong.

Still, Sevika played the part. She leaned in, voice rough and low. “You always drink like that, or are you tryin’ to impress me?”

The girl grinned, tipping her mug. “Maybe a bit of both.”

Sevika laughed, mouth curling around the cigar, smoke exhaled through her nose as she tilted her head. “Dangerous game.”

“And you’re the warning label?” the girl teased, inching closer, eyes glinting. “Please.”

Sevika took a slow sip of her drink. It sloshed slightly as she set it down, the amber liquid nearly gone. Her elbow hit the table harder than intended. She blinked a little too slow.

“Just sayin’,” she muttered, “You got no idea what I’ve seen. What I’ve touched.”

She didn’t mean to say it like that, but the words slipped out anyway, thick with drink and memory.

The girl’s brows rose, but she was still smiling, amused, leaning in close enough that her perfume—citrus and sweat—brushed Sevika’s senses. “Then maybe you should show me.”

A smirk ghosted across Sevika’s mouth. Her hand drifted forward, fingers brushing against the girl’s wrist. Her touch was practiced, steady, but her eyes…

Her eyes were miles away.

The other woman leaned in like she was expecting a kiss.

But Sevika didn’t move.

Not yet.

Because all she could see, in the flicker of candlelight on this stranger’s face, was another face—wide-eyed, glinting with seawater and moonlight. That tail. That mouth when it opened in shock. The shimmer of scales, the cut of a jaw that didn’t belong to any myth she knew.

Sevika blinked again.

The illusion cracked.

“You alright?” the girl asked softly, drawing back just an inch.

Sevika rolled her jaw, wiped a hand down her face, and laughed—low and hollow.

“Fine,” she muttered, tossing back the last of her drink. “Just thinkin’ about someone who ain’t here.”

The tavern blurred as the night deepened—faces blending into laughter, music thickening into static, the hum of drink and desire drowning out all reason. Sevika didn’t remember leaving exactly. Just the heat of the girl’s mouth on her neck, her fingers tangled in Sevika’s shirt, and the way the air outside felt cold against her flushed skin as they stumbled down the uneven cobbled streets toward her place.

They barely made it inside.

The door slammed shut behind them, the girl giggling as Sevika backed her into the wall, one hand braced beside her head, the other sliding up her thigh. Their mouths met—hot and hungry, the taste of rum and desperation between them.

It didn’t matter that her name was wrong. That her voice was wrong. That the curve of her back didn’t fit Sevika’s palm quite the way she wanted it to.

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t want to.

Didn’t let herself.

The bedroom was dark, lit only by the moonlight bleeding in through the thin curtain. Clothes came off. Hands roamed. The girl made all the right sounds, said all the right things, wrapped herself around Sevika like she meant it.

And Sevika gave in to the rhythm—fast, rough, breathless.

She chased the high, moving harder, deeper, fingers gripping, mouth biting, needing something to burn out the feeling gnawing at her ribs.

But just as she tipped over the edge—

Just as her breath caught, her eyes squeezed shut—

She saw her.

Not the girl beneath her. Not the one gasping and moaning and clawing at her back.

Her.

The girl from the water. From the wreck. From somewhere else entirely.

Except—this wasn’t a memory.

It was an invention. A split-second fantasy.

The mermaid—you—laid out beneath her, body slick and glistening like she’d just surfaced, hair tangled in seawater, eyes wide and dark with pleasure. Your mouth open, lips parted around Sevika’s name—not Captain, not help, but Sevika, like it belonged to her.

Her expression was soft. Overwhelmed. Beautiful.

It wrecked her.

Sevika came hard, breath torn from her chest, muscles tensing as the world went silent except for that imagined sound—the voice of someone she didn’t even know, someone she couldn’t possibly forget.

And when it was over—

When the girl curled up beside her, pressing kisses to her shoulder, sighing into her skin like she meant it—

Sevika just stared at the ceiling.

Eyes open.

Jaw clenched.

Haunted by a fantasy she hadn’t meant to have

comment to be added to the taglist!

#arcane #arcane sevika #sevika #lesbian #sevika x reader #wlw #wuh luh wuh #sissormetimbers

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aurumacadicus · 3 months ago

Text

Omg. A concept:

"I'm glad you all could make it," Tony said solemnly, hands clasped behind his back as he paced in front of the table.

"You literally texted us all that it was dire," Rhodey deadpanned.

"And then you texted me that I should bring donuts," Happy added, unimpressed.

Tony didn't take it personally. They were all there and Happy had actually stopped and picked up donuts.

Pepper looked even less pleased. "Are you dying again? Because if all of this was to tell me you're dying again, I'm going to be pissed."

Carol blinked, mouth already filled with a cake donut with sprinkles. "Huh?!"

"Don't worry about it," Tony told Carol, just as solemnly as he had before. "This meeting is to inform you all that I will be leaving the country imminently. I have already scheduled to have my appendix out and will be living the rest of my life in Antarctica."

"HUH," Carol barked again.

Pepper tapped at her phone and raised an eyebrow, reluctantly impressed. "Wow. You really did schedule a voluntary appendectomy."

Happy sighed and rubbed a hand over his face, then leaned back in his seat tiredly. "Why are you planning to live out your remaining years in Antarctica?"

Tony sighed the sigh of the supremely put upon, turning to look out one of the windows at the view. "I giggled in front of the Avengers."

There was a brief pause. Carol was frantically chewing to bellow another 'huh' at him, but Rhodey reacted first, instead shrugging and reaching out for a bear claw. "Oh, well, rest in peace, pal."

To Carol's relief, both Happy and Pepper screamed 'what' with her in response.

Rhodey blinked at them placidly. "Guys, he literally says 'heeheehee' when he giggles. He hasn't laughed like that in front of other people since college and a group of girls started teasing him about how cute it is."

"I did not get laid until the memory faded from MIT's collective consciousness," Tony added, nodding. "Girls thought I was adorable and guys made fun of me in mean ways. I forgot myself and now must pay the price."

"You're such a fucking drama queen, Tony," Happy sighed. "And what do you expect to do when you're too old to take care of yourself?"

"Walk onto the tundra and peacefully fall asleep, and perhaps they'll ship the ice cube that is my body back for burial," Tony answered promptly.

"I can't tell if this is a joke or not and it's upsetting," Carol snapped, and Pepper just sighed at her, pitying.

"The room went silent, and Natasha just looked at me and said 'oh' and looked like she might cry," Tony continued, ignoring her. "Clint didn't even make fun of me. He just said 'aw.'"

"Steve must have liked it at least, right?" Pepper asked desperately.

"He crumpled to the floor like I'd personally grabbed his guts and twisted," Tony informed her. He turned to look at Carol and Rhodey. "In any case, I called you here to inform you that the team might need your help more now that I am no longer an option. Pepper, Happy, run the company as you see fit."

"Can I get your Def Leppard vinyls?" Rhodey asked over Carol's frustrated howls.

"Stop fucking encouraging him, Jim," Pepper barked, then was distracted by a text from Steve. "Steve texted me."

"I will hear no arguments. I have already made up my mind," Tony informed her imperiously.

Happy read over her shoulder, shameless. "'Tell Tony I survived seventy years in the ocean and I will come and get him from Antarctica.' How'd he italicize part of a text."

"I think he just radiates disapproval at the screen until it cries uncle," Pepper replied.

Tony considered all of this new information, then decided, "Well. I suppose I'll just have to keep moving. JARVIS, the armor, if you please."

"Captain Rogers has already broken into the lab and dismantled several, and has told me he will leap on any suit I manage to get flying toward you," JARVIS answered promptly.

"I see. Then I will just throw myself from the window now," Tony replied, and both Carol and Happy scrambled up to tackle him.

#ideas #team as family #stony #kinda #tony is a drama queen and it's literally one of the best things about him #anyway carol sits on him until steve arrives #happy tickles tony just to see what the giggle sounds like #and both he and pepper reluctantly agree that it is as cute as rhodey made it sound

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p0orbaby · 9 months ago

Text

A Drop in the Ocean

summary: you buy barça for alexia

warnings: none

a/n: requested on the back of a similar one i wrote

word count: 1.5k

You don’t even think about it anymore, the money. The commas and zeros stopped meaning anything the moment they started adding up faster than you could count. You don’t remember exactly when it happened, just that it did. One day you were checking the balances on your brokerage account religiously, watching the stock tickers on your phone at breakfast, and then at some point—probably after that second meeting in Geneva or maybe the fourth trip to Dubai—you stopped caring altogether. The accounts became endless, infinite, numbers that only existed on a screen and held no weight in the real world. You could buy anything, do anything. You do.

You’ve bought Barcelona FC. For Alexia.

It wasn’t a particularly difficult purchase, and that’s what bothers you, how easy it was. You’d made a few calls, orchestrated a few backroom meetings with men in navy-blue suits who wear Patek Philippe watches but don’t know how to spell "integrity," and within weeks, it was done. The club—one of the most storied institutions in world football—was now, for all intents and purposes, yours. They were failing in every department that mattered, so it wasn’t hard to make them see reason. The board was crumbling under its own corruption and incompetence anyway, the men in charge having long ago stopped caring about anything other than their own salaries. They saw the numbers you offered and couldn’t sign the dotted lines fast enough.

You’re sitting in the back of your Bentley Bentayga—the V8 model because the W12 felt too much, like gilding the lily—watching the city of Barcelona pass by in blurred streaks of sunlight and shadows. You don’t drive yourself anymore; it’s not that you’ve forgotten how, but why would you bother when you can pay someone to do it for you? You’re sipping on an iced Americano from a local coffee roaster that isn’t La Colombe but isn’t Starbucks either—because Starbucks is for tourists and people who don’t care what real coffee tastes like—and tapping your thumb against the cool glass, counting down the minutes until you get home. Home isn’t the place you grew up, or even the first penthouse you bought in Barcelona—God, you’ve already sold that one off—but the sprawling villa in the hills that overlooks the city like a predator watching its prey.

You’d bought the house because Alexia liked it. You had taken her to see it on a whim, even though you knew you’d buy it regardless of her opinion. But she’d loved it, her eyes lighting up in that way they do when she’s genuinely moved by something, not when she’s just being polite or trying to please you. It’s rare, that reaction, and you’ve noticed it only happens when she’s either on the pitch or somewhere quiet, somewhere she can breathe. It makes you feel something, a tightness in your chest, almost a panic, like the world’s collapsing in on itself, but in a good way. If there even is a good way for that to happen.

Your phone buzzes, vibrating against the buttery-soft leather of your seat. You glance at it and see it’s a text from her.

Training's over. Home soon?

You smile, the kind of smile that makes the people around you uneasy, because they never know if it’s genuine or not. It is, but it’s small, fleeting, like everything in your life that isn't Alexia.

On my way. You send the reply quickly, almost too quickly, like you’re not supposed to care that much. But you do. You always do.

You met Alexia when you were young—stupid young—back when you still believed that success was something you had to fight for. She was everything you weren’t: grounded, focused, humble. Even now, with all the accolades and the Ballon d'Ors and the fanfare, she still feels *real* in a way you don’t anymore. She still eats cereal for breakfast sometimes, not some overpriced organic granola shipped in from the Swiss Alps. She’ll sit on the sofa in her sweatpants and watch trashy reality TV with you, her feet in your lap, like the world outside doesn’t exist. Like she’s not the face of women’s football, the woman everyone wants to be. You want to be her too, sometimes.

But then you remember: she’s yours. And you’re the one with the power, the one pulling the strings now. You’re the one who’s going to fix everything for her.

You think about the RFEF, the Royal Spanish Football Federation, and how utterly revolting they are, how they’ve mishandled everything about the women’s game. It makes you angry, but not in the way normal people get angry, not in that quick, fleeting way. Your anger is cold, calculated, the kind of anger that doesn’t make itself known until it’s too late. You’d called in favours—favours you didn’t even know you had—and now you’re restructuring the whole thing from the inside out. The old guard, the men who’ve spent years belittling and undermining women’s football, will be gone soon, and they don’t even see it coming. You’ll replace them with people who actually care, people who understand what’s at stake.

Alexia doesn’t know yet. She doesn’t need to. She already carries enough weight on her shoulders; you see it in the way she moves, the subtle slump in her posture after a long day. She’s been fighting this fight for years, but you can take it from here. You’ll make sure she never has to fight again.

When you finally pull up to the villa, the sky is turning that particular shade of burnt orange that only seems to exist in Spain. The driver opens your door, and you step out, the sound of your Louboutins clicking against the cobblestone driveway. You’re wearing something understated but expensive—a cream-coloured silk blouse from The Row, tailored trousers that cost more than most people’s monthly rent, and a watch that could fund a small country’s healthcare system for a year. You’ve always preferred quiet luxury, the kind of wealth that doesn’t scream but whispers, softly, in the background. Alexia likes that about you. At least, you think she does.

You walk through the front door—minimalist, custom-made, imported from Italy—and the scent of jasmine fills your lungs. Alexia’s perfume. She’s here.

You find her in the living room, sprawled out on the sofa, her legs up on the coffee table, still in her training kit. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, strands falling loose around her face. She’s scrolling through her phone, probably reading up on whatever the media is saying about the latest match, and she looks up when you walk in. There’s that smile again, the one that makes everything else disappear for a moment, just a moment, but long enough to matter.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft, like it’s only meant for you.

You cross the room and sit next to her, pulling her legs into your lap, your fingers automatically tracing circles on her shins. You don’t say anything for a while, because neither of you needs to. The silence between you is comfortable, familiar, the kind of silence that only comes when two people have been through everything together and still come out on the other side.

“I bought the club,” you say, casually, like you’re talking about picking up milk from the store.

Alexia looks at you, her eyes widening for a second before she catches herself. She’s good at that, at pretending nothing surprises her, but you know her well enough to see through it.

“You did what?” she asks, her tone somewhere between disbelief and amusement.

“I bought Barcelona,” you repeat, leaning back against the cushions. “They were fucking it all up, especially with the women’s team. I’m fixing it. For you”

She doesn’t respond immediately, and you can see the gears turning in her head, trying to process what you’ve just said. It’s not that she doesn’t believe you; she does. It’s just…a lot.

“You didn’t have to do that,” she says finally, but there’s no conviction in her voice. She knows as well as you do that you don’t *have* to do anything. You want to.

“I did,” you reply, your voice firm. “Because they don’t care about you. Not like I do”

She looks at you for a long moment, and you can see the conflict in her eyes, the push and pull of wanting to argue but knowing there’s no point. You’ve already made up your mind. You always have.

“Thank you,” she says eventually, and the sincerity in her voice catches you off guard. You’re used to people thanking you, sure, but it’s always perfunctory, transactional. This is different. This is real.

You lean in and kiss her, slow and soft, and for a moment, everything is perfect. You don’t think about the money or the power or the corruption you’ve spent years navigating. You don’t think about the board meetings or the backroom deals or the restructuring of the RFEF. You just think about her, and how she’s the only thing that makes any of it worth it.

When you pull back, she’s smiling, and it’s that smile again—the one that makes your chest tighten and your heart race in a way that nothing else does. Not even the money.

“Let’s go fix everything,” you say, and for the first time in a long time, you feel like maybe, just maybe, you already have.

#alexia putellas #alexia putellas x reader #fcb femeni #fcb femeni x reader #espwnt #espwnt x reader #woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso community

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inseobts · 4 months ago

Text

Stolen Sketches

zoro x gn!reader

he's the muse for your drawings and he doesn't know, or at least you think so.

words count: 1k

tags: sfw, romance, soft

masterlist || ko-fi

The ocean breeze brushes against your skin as you sit near the railing, sketchbook resting on your lap. Your charcoal-stained fingers move with ease, tracing out sharp lines and soft shadows. Once again, your subject is Zoro.

You don’t know why you always end up drawing him. Maybe it’s the way he leans against the mast, arms crossed, looking like he owns the whole ship. Or the way he naps in the afternoon sun, his face free of tension, his swords always within reach. There’s something about him—something strong, something steady—that makes him impossible to ignore.

But as always, once you’re done, you hesitate. You stare at the sketch, lips pressed together, and then sigh.

It’s no good.

Before you can overthink it, you rip the page out, crumple it into a ball, and toss it into the trash bin near the stairs.

What you don’t know is that the moment you step away, Zoro moves. He’s been doing this for weeks now—waiting for you to finish, pretending not to care, then silently retrieving the discarded sketches when no one’s looking.

At first, he told himself it was just curiosity. He happened to see the first one in the trash and thought it was too well-drawn to be thrown away. But then he found another. And another.

And before he knew it, he was taking them all.

He doesn’t even know why. He just knows that seeing his own face drawn with such detail—his expressions captured so carefully by your hand—does something weird to his chest.

So, he keeps them.

Tucked away in his locker, folded neatly, hidden from sight.

At least, that’s what he thinks.

Until today.

The scent of grilled fish and warm bread fills the air as the crew gathers in the dining hall. It’s a lively dinner—Luffy is stuffing his face, Usopp is telling some over-exaggerated story, and Nami is already threatening to hit him. You sit across from Zoro, quietly eating, when suddenly—

“Oi, Zoro.”

Sanji’s voice rings out, carrying a sharp edge of amusement.

Zoro doesn’t even look up “What?”

Sanji smirks and holds up something between his fingers. A crumpled piece of paper—unfolded, smoothed out, and very, very familiar.

Your breath catches in your throat.

“Care to explain why you have this?”

Zoro’s entire body goes rigid. His grip tightens around his cup, jaw clenching “Where the hell did you get that?”

Sanji waves the paper tauntingly “Found it while grabbing some spices. Your locker was barely closed, mosshead. You seriously suck at hiding things.”

Luffy, still chewing on a drumstick, tilts his head “Oh! That’s y/n’s drawing!”

Your stomach twists.

Nami leans in to get a better look “Wait… y/n drew this?”

Robin, ever the observer, chuckles softly “Interesting.”

Everyone turns to look at you. Then at Zoro. Then back at you.

You can’t breathe.

Zoro, meanwhile, is glaring daggers at Sanji “Tch. None of your damn business.”

“Oh, but it is our business now,” Usopp grins “Because, uh… why do you have a secret stash of y/n’s sketches, exactly?”

“Secret stash?!” Your voice comes out higher than intended.

Nami raises an eyebrow “So there’s more?”

Zoro exhales sharply through his nose “Damn cook—”

“Oh, don’t blame me for your bad hiding skills” Sanji says, folding his arms “What I wanna know is why you’ve been hoarding drawings of your own damn face.”

Zoro looks like he’s about to either strangle Sanji or jump overboard.

Luffy grins, still clueless “Zoro, do you like y/n?”

Silence.

Your entire body freezes.

Zoro groans, rubbing his temple “Shut up, Luffy.”

Sanji smirks “Not a no.”

Robin rests her chin on her palm, looking amused “Well, Zoro, you might as well explain. Keeping someone’s discarded artwork isn’t exactly normal behavior.”

Your heartbeat is erratic “You… you kept all of them?”

Zoro finally looks at you. His gaze is firm, unreadable, but there’s something there—something tense, something real. He exhales, then grumbles “Yeah.”

Your breath catches.

He shifts uncomfortably, crossing his arms “Didn’t see the point in letting them go to waste.”

Nami squints “That’s it?”

Robin chuckles “I doubt that’s all there is to it.”

Sanji smirks “Come on, mosshead. Just admit it—you like being y/n’s muse.”

Zoro scowls “I don’t even know what the hell that means.”

You finally find your voice “…Why didn’t you tell me?”

His fingers tighten around his cup again “Didn’t think it mattered.”

Your chest feels tight. It mattered to you.

Luffy, ever the instigator, grins again “Zoro, do you like Y/N?”

“Luffy—”

“Do you?”

Zoro groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. Then, after a long pause, he mutters under his breath “…Yeah. So what?”

Your entire brain short-circuits.

The table erupts.

Sanji nearly chokes. Usopp gasps dramatically. Nami blinks, then grins. Luffy laughs like this is the best dinner he’s ever had. Robin just chuckles.

And you? You can’t think. Can’t speak.

Zoro, meanwhile, looks like he wants to die.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. Then, after what feels like forever, you manage “You like me?”

Zoro sighs “You really need me to spell it out?”

Usopp claps a hand over his mouth “Hoooooooly crap.”

Your face is burning “I— I didn’t know.”

Sanji huffs “Probably because he’s about as emotionally expressive as a rock.”

Zoro glares “Shut up.”

Luffy laughs “y/n, do you like Zoro?”

Now everyone is looking at you.

You swallow hard, heart hammering. The answer is obvious—but saying it out loud feels like stepping off a cliff.

You glance at Zoro, who’s still watching you, waiting, tense.

Then, slowly, you smile “…Yeah. I do.”

The table erupts again.

Zoro exhales, shoulders finally relaxing. He looks away, rubbing the back of his neck, and mutters “Tch. ‘Bout time.”

Sanji groans “Ugh, disgusting. I’m gonna be sick.”

Luffy cheers “Yay! Now you guys can kiss!”

Zoro chokes “LUFFY!”

You laugh, heart feeling lighter than it has in weeks.

Maybe you won’t be throwing your sketches away anymore.

And maybe—just maybe—you’ll be drawing a lot more of him.

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glitchgh0sty · 23 days ago

Text

Did somebody say tf pirate ghost Titian?? Did I hear somebody say tf pirate ghost Titian???

Ft: Zephyr and some beans from @innome0 and @fallisl1fe <33 [we all cobbled the big bean together 👏👏]

✨Time for lore <33 [Trumpet noises]✨

[lore- [short story] under cut]

A battle- noise- lights and colors and pain-

She shot through the universe as swift as a comet descending from madness. Crashing in the middle of a desolate sea on a planet unknown. A shutdown was eminent, frame plastered to the ocean floor with the grotesque nature only a bot of this size could maintain. Internals exposed to the wrath of the sea- she could have easily fallen asleep forever, resting in this eternal spot and becoming one with the land. But she was not the land.

And she had someone to get back to-

A lover waits for her across the galaxy- heart vast and arms wide, he needs her help. She could not die here. And she would not die here.

But she could not move- and with energon spilling into lapping waves at a speed only comparable to that of a tragedy set in motion, her eyes drifted closed,, “only for a while” she thought, “wait for me”

A while came- and a while went, and her metal grew rusted and cold,, and as vegetation of the island she formed grew insistent- people began to move in,,

Only a few at first- sea farers and traders looking for rest,, but over time, their numbers grew and grew, -she could feel them building upon her surface,, rickety docks and taverns alike- these people were filled with the joy and life of the ocean.

A joy she could not feel and a life she could not go home to- she looked over her inhabitants with a solemn pride to protect what she could not have,, as her gears rusted and engines decomposed, growing weary to the resilience of the sea it was almost as though her wounds had healed in a way that attached her to the ocean floor- stuck somewhere she could not leave.

That was until a putrid day- when one organic stumbled upon the might her blood held, and with what little she had left- began to mine into it.

Towers loomed and pumps whirred and Energon spilled anew- this might’ve been the end for her-

But she had someone to get back to.

So she bode her time and held her piece till she began to heal around her instruments of agony and orchestrated- a minor destruction, at best,,

The oil rigs lulled and the metal bent and cracked- she could move it still- vents heaved and heat rose as she generated a fog that would scare even the most talented sea fairer into sorrow and she snapped- metal lunged from the Earth as half rusted transformations pierced those who inhabited her— cages swung and people screamed- rocks and boulders manifested in the deep blue at points no one had seen before and ships stopped coming back.

She was haunted.

No longer would those to whom she did not owe anything reap her of her blood- no longer would they take her chance- or life

The life she still had- guarded deep, safe and sound- as she lay

Trapped against the ocean floor.

#transformers #tf Rivia #tf oc #tf GIANT PIRATE TITIAN LADY #Yall- I am so busy- but filled with so much determination-#please- wAit for meee 👏😭<33✨

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haerenven · 3 months ago

Note

Hi!! Can I get a scenario of shanks with reader and him just be a hard flirt and always sweeping her off her feet 🥰 or anything you prefer, thank you!!

✩ ・ ✂️ ◦　 ♩

Pairings. Red haired shanks x fem!reader

Summary. Sweeping off her feet

— (a/n): bro I think my gorgeous girlies are done of reading about shanks and easy-to-flirt reader, Lol

✩ ・ 🍎 ◦　 ♩

The first time you met Shanks, it was a whirlwind.

Literally.

One moment, you were standing on the docks, minding your own business, the scent of salt and sun-warmed wood filling the air. The next, your feet had left the ground, swept up in the impossibly strong arms of a red-haired force of nature who spun you through the air like you weighed nothing at all.

Laughter—deep, rich, and utterly carefree—wrapped around you before the wind even had a chance. The world blurred as you twirled, the ocean, the sky, the ships all blending together in dizzying motion, and at the center of it all was him.

Shanks.

“Careful there, sweetheart,” his voice was smooth as aged rum, laced with amusement as he finally set you back down. The heat of his hands lingered at your waist, steady despite the way he swayed like a man who had spent his life dancing with the sea. His grin, lazy yet roguish, deepened as he winked. “Wouldn’t want you falling for me too hard.”

You barely registered the warmth of the sun against your skin because every bit of your awareness had narrowed down to him—the broadness of his chest beneath your palms, the scent of salt and something undeniably him, the way his presence seemed to command the very air around you.

And that smirk.

Infuriating. Carefree. Knowing.

You scowled, shoving at him—more out of sheer necessity than anything else. If you let yourself linger too long, you weren’t sure your legs would remember how to hold you up. But the bastard barely budged, his body as solid as an anchor, like he belonged to the sea but could never be moved by it.

And then came the worst part. He didn’t look away.

He watched you, eyes burning with amusement, with interest, with something entirely too dangerous wrapped in easy charm. It was as if, in that moment, he had decided something—something reckless, something inevitable.

And from that day on, Shanks made it his personal mission to keep you breathless.

He flirts like it’s his life’s calling.

With Shanks, a simple hello is never enough.

He strides into a room like he owns the air itself, eyes gleaming with mischief, that easy, knowing smirk already in place. And then, without fail—

“There’s my favorite sight in the world.”

It doesn’t matter if you’re drenched from the rain, covered in dirt, or glaring at him over a half-empty drink. He says it like it’s an undeniable truth, as if he’s convinced that nothing else—no treasure, no horizon—could ever compare.

And if that doesn’t get a rise out of you, he only turns up the heat.

“Did it hurt when you fell from the heavens, or were you always this breathtaking?”

A groan. An eye-roll. Maybe even a muttered “You’re impossible.” None of it deters him. If anything, it fuels him. Because Shanks isn’t just a flirt—he’s a relentless one. A man who thrives on the chase, who lives for the way your lips twitch like you’re fighting a smile, for the split second your composure cracks.

And when you meet his gaze, brows raised in exasperation, arms crossed like you won’t be swayed? That’s when he strikes.

“If you keep looking at me like that, sweetheart, I might start thinking you like me.”

The worst part? He says it so damn convincingly. Like it’s not a game. Like he means it. Like he’s perfectly content to wait for the moment you finally stop fighting it and admit what he already knows.

And it doesn’t matter how many times you scoff, shove at his chest, or even threaten to launch a bottle at his head. Shanks only grins, tilts his head, and leans in just close enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

Because to him, every reaction—every single one—is proof that he’s winning.

He’s shameless when it comes to physical affection.

Shanks has no concept of personal space—at least, not when it comes to you.

An arm draped over your shoulder, warm and heavy, like he’s done it a thousand times before and never once considered asking permission. Fingers brushing against your wrist in passing, lingering just long enough to send a spark up your spine. His chin resting atop your head, a casual weight, as if he belongs there, as if you belong there.

It’s effortless. Natural. Like touching you is second nature, like he’s always done it and always will. And the worst part? He never makes a show of it. Never asks, never hesitates. He just does. Because in his mind, there’s no need to question what already feels inevitable.

And when he really wants to fluster you?

He sweeps you off your feet. Literally.

One moment, you’re walking beside him, minding your own business. The next, the ground is gone, replaced by the solid warmth of his arms as he lifts you with ease. Like you weigh nothing. Like you’re his to carry.

“You looked tired,” he says, voice all lazy amusement, as if this is the most logical thing in the world. His grip is steady, secure, the heat of him impossible to ignore. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of walking.”

Your stomach flips. Your heart flips.

“Shanks—put me down—”

“Say please.”

The audacity.

You smack his shoulder, scowling, but it only makes him laugh—that deep, infuriatinglycharming laugh, like you’re the best damn thing that’s ever happened to him. His grip tightens slightly, not out of restraint, but as if he’s daring you to let go. Daring you to trust him, even when he’s reckless. Especially when he’s reckless.

And the truth is, despite your protests, despite your best efforts to fight it…

You do.

His teasing is relentless.

Shanks has a talent for getting under your skin in the most charmingly annoying way possible.

It’s in the way he watches you—always with that lazy grin, that spark of mischief in his eyes like he knows exactly what he’s doing. And worse? He enjoys every second of it.

“Thinking about me?” he teases when he catches you staring, propping his chin in his hand as if settling in for a long-awaited confession.

You scoff, crossing your arms. “I was actually wondering how someone so ridiculous became a Yonko.”

He claps a hand over his heart, staggering back like you’ve dealt him a fatal blow. “Ouch, sweetheart. If you wanted to see me flustered, all you had to do was compliment me.”

You roll your eyes, but it doesn’t matter. Nothing ever deters him. Because Shanks plays the long game—poking, prodding, waiting for the moment you slip.

And when you do manage to fluster him? When your words catch him off guard, when he blinks a little too fast or his smirk falters for just a second—

He recovers far too quickly.

“Ahh, so you do find me handsome!” He gasps, clutching his chest with an expression of sheer delight, as if the weight of your nonexistent confession is simply too much to bear. “My heart can’t take it!”

You turn to leave. He follows.

“You should’ve warned me, sweetheart. If I had known you’d fall for me so hard, I would’ve given you a softer landing.”

And just like that, the game resets.

But when he’s serious, it’s enough to leave you breathless.

For all his playfulness, there are moments when Shanks drops the act—when the laughter fades just enough, when the teasing lingers on his tongue but never quite makes it past his lips.

Moments when he looks at you like you’re the only thing in the world worth watching.

Like now.

The night stretches quiet around you, the ocean lapping gently against the hull of the ship. The air is thick with salt and moonlight, the sky endless above, but none of it matters—not when Shanks is leaning in, close enough that you can feel the warmth of him, close enough that his voice, low and teasing, slides over your skin like a touch.

“You know, for all the running you do, you always end up right back here.” His eyes burn, catching every flicker of hesitation, every unspoken thought. “With me.”

Your breath stutters. Heat rises to your cheeks, but you force a scoff, tilting your chin up just enough to keep your balance. “Maybe I just enjoy annoying you.”

His lips quirk, amusement still lingering, but there’s something else in his gaze now—something deeper, something unreadable. A shift in the tide, a pull in the current.

Then, so softly it steals the air from your lungs—

“Or maybe you just like being caught.”

The space between you vanishes. Whether he moved or you did, you aren’t sure. All you know is the way his words wrap around you, the way his presence feels inevitable, like a tide rising to shore.

And maybe—just maybe—you were never running at all.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #shanks #red haired shanks #red haired pirates #red haired shanks x reader #shanks x reader #one piece shanks #op shanks #red hair shanks #akagami no shanks #akagami no shanks x reader #akagami no shanks x you #akagami no shanks x y/n

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