#tales of oceans and shadows

[divinemare]

Tales Of Oceans and Shadows

(I’ve been dying to post this! It’s been on my drafts for so long, and I missed my babies so much!)

Just some little stories I imagined about Kallistrade and Azriel’s life after the end of Dark Tides.

Oh, Sweet Baby Nyx

summary: little nyx loves his aunt kallistrade, and gets really sad when she has to leave because of her busy pirate life, this time, he will definitely throw a tantrum about it.

Kallistrade wasn’t very good with little kids, she seemed to scare them, even tho she didn’t intended to do so. But when little Nyx arrived to her life, something changed for her.

It had happened the first time she stayed alone with him. Feyre was dead tired after barely any sleep because Nyx had had a rough night. Kallistrade had just arrived of a little trip to Skull Island she had taken of emergency for some issues that needed her urgent attention. She went straight to visit Feyre, and the poor female fell asleep immediately after placing Nyx in Kallistrade’s arms.

She hadn’t known what to do at first, she had even felt scared, not knowing if she was holding the baby right. But she hadn’t wanted to wake Feyre up, so instead went to look for Rhys. Kallistrade found the male sound asleep in his office desk, dead tired too. So she sent a panic alert down the mating bond to Azriel, begging the male showed up quickly.

Nyx had started to babble as if he was seconds away of bursting in tears, and Kallistrade had panicked even more.

“No, no. Don’t you dare, little kraken, don’t. you. dare,” she hadn’t known what she expected to achieve by threatening or pointing him out as if he was one of her crew members, but it had definitely not been that the little baby started smiling at her, and grabbed her finger in his tiny ones to start chewing on it.

She had been at a loss of words, completely shocked by the simplicity yet magnificent moment of the baby smiling up at her.

She immediately felt a protectiveness in her she hadn’t felt before, like that little baby had become something she would cherish and protect against any evil from the darkest and deepest of seas from now on and until the oceans completely dried.

Azriel had arrived just then, and when he had said he could take care of Nyx if she wanted to, Kallistrade immediately rejected his offer and walked away with the baby, telling little Nyx all the things she would show him one day when he grew up, all the seas she would take him to.

They had become inseparable since then. Nyx had fallen completely in love with his aunt, and the only time anyone would catch the mighty and dreaded Captain Devilsbane showing off her sweet bone, was when she was with her nephew.

But that had only made goodbyes even harder. As Kallistrade was regularly traveling all throughout the continent.

“Who would’ve said, that the oh-so-mighty Captain Devilsbane would have such a soft spot for babies,” Azriel laughed, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, and a broad smile while looking at his mate and nephew playing together.

“Don’t say that, he gets jealous, it’s only with this sweet little baby, right, little kraken? Only with you,” she approached the baby with a childlike smile on her face, while lowering her tone of voice ever so slightly.

“Softie,” Azriel mocked, and Kallistrade sent him a dead glare, nothing compared to her previous smile.

“Shut up, I saw you yesterday doing an airplane with a spoon to get him to eat,” the smile in Azriel’s face vanished, and it was Kallistrade’s turn to smiled proudly.

“We’re not talking about this with anyone.”

“Ever,” she laughed, confirming.

They both could have the biggest soft spot for Nyx, but like hell they would willingly admit it to their mocking friends.

It had been their night to take care of Nyx, since Kallistrade was leaving today for a mission in the western part of the Continent, they had offered to babysit so Rhys and Feyre could get a day off.

It was not often that they did babysit all day, since their house turned into a mad house with neither of them knowing what to do in some situations, but Kallistrade always missed her nephew when she was away, so having him a day —even tho it was always a hell of a ride—, didn’t hurt from time to time.

They would not be doing it again tho, in a long, long time. Nyx had recently learn how to walk, and it had progressively gotten worst when he started running. She had never ran so much in circles trying to catch a baby like last night. And Azriel had had to make his shadows envelop Nyx at all times in case he fell or ran into something. Poor shadows had gotten many hits, and they too didn’t want to repeat the occasion again.

“How was it?” When they arrived to the River Estate to drop Nyx off, Rhys had a cheeky smile on his lips when he saw how tired they looked.

“You are a-” Feyre raised an eyebrow to Kallistrade, reminding her of the presence of the little baby. “A son of the holy Cauldron and Mother. A warning that he could run now would’ve been nice!”

Rhysand laughed, taking his son in his arms and looking at him with proudness shining like starts in his night-sky eyes.

“I did not mentioned it?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Ups, my bad.”

“You’re lucky Nyx is present, because I have a ton of colorful words to describe you right now.”

Rhysand laughed again, and left a sonorous kiss on his son’s head, that made the little toddler laugh.

“We’re sorry,” Feyre said with a smile, shining so glowy that Kallistrade couldn’t help but wink at her friend who had most certainly had sex.

“You’re forgiven. Considering I’m leaving now, and I’m gonna miss this little one.”

Nyx immediately stoped smiling at his father and turned his head to his aunt when he heard the word “leaving”.

“Aunt Lis, no!” He cried, and tried to reach out for her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little kraken, I have work to do, and people to scare,” that did not help at all, and Nyx started crying for his aunt, so much so that Rhys had to let him go. “I promise I will be back soon with many many presents, ok?” When Kallistrade took the baby, she rocked him in her arms, trying to calm the salty tears that fell over his chubby cheeks.

And sure as hell she would live up to that promise. As she always did. There wasn’t a single travel, as small as it may be, where Kallistrade did not bring her nephew a ton of presents.

“Come on, now, sweetie, your aunt has to go,” Feyre picked up her son from the pirate’s arms and smiled adoringly as she watched her son shake one his little hands while wiping his tears with the other.

“Bye bye, aunt Lis,” his little sobs made all the three adults’ hearts melt.

Kallistrade lowered her hat in farewell to her nephew and his parents, Rhys and Feyre smiled at her and wished her a safe travel before turning around to go back home. While Azriel kissed his mate one last time before she boarded her ship.

Little Nyx watched with read eyes as his aunts ship sailed away, and he did not stay happy about it.

𓆉｡˚ ✧

“Rhys!” When Rhysand heard his mate scream out for him, he stood up from his desk so fast his chair fell to the floor and stormed out of his office with Azriel and Cassian following right behind him.

The three of them had been sharing a drink when they heard Feyre’s scream, and now stormed to Nyx’s nursery, where the female was.

“Feyre!” When Rhys bursted in, he saw his High Lady looking exasperated everywhere, and his baby was nowhere to be seen. “What happened?”

“He did it!” She said without even looking at the three males that looked confused.

“He did what, darling?” Mor, Elain and Amren had soon arrived, and were looking as worried as the three Illyrians.

“Nyx! He learned how to winnow! And now I can’t find him anywhere.”

Oh, good Mother…

Everyone looked at each other and sighed, they gad been dreading this day for months now.

They all took a different part of the estate to search, and Feyre alerted Nesta via daementi to look out wherever she could as well. Now practically everyone was in desperate search of the little heir.

“He’s not anywhere! I can’t find him!” Feyre desperately said after some time of looking.

“Feyre darling, calm down, we’ll-“

“Blimey, this kid learns fast,” both Feyre and Rhys heard on their heads, and instantly recognized that pirate slang. “Relax, he’s with me, landed right on my freshly washed deck.”

Both parents relaxed significantly, embracing each other with heavy sighs. When they parted, Feyre couldn’t help but to start laughing, and Rhysand followed right away.

“Did you find…? Uhhh, what’s going on?” Cassian entered the room with Azriel, then the others came in too with confused expressions.

“Have they…lost it?” Questioned Mor, and they all looked at each other as if confirming that theory.

“It’s ok, guys, don’t fall into insanity, we’ll find him,” Cassian tried to speak over the laughter of his High Lord and Lady.

“Don’t worry,” Feyre calmed her laughter to speak to the group. “He’s ok.”

“Did you find him?” Azriel asked, looking around for his nephew.

“No, Lis did. Or more like he found her.”

𓆉｡˚ ✧

“I want to see my own reflection in this floors, Gio,” Kallistrade ordered to the male mopping. “For the next you think it’s a good idea to throw up on my deck after too much rum, you think it twice.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” the male grunted, surely with a hangover.

Kallistrade went to check on the weather report with Maddox, when suddenly, a loud cry made everyone on deck turn their attention away.

“Mother’s tits!”

Kallistrade rushed to Gio, founding the great surprise of a little giggling toddler sliding in the wet wood of the deck.

“I’m sorry, Captain, he yest appeared outa nowhere,” the male pointed at the winged toddler, and Kallistrade couldn’t help but burst out into laughter.

She went to pick up the child, whose face went red when his aunt lifted him, giving her a look that said he knew he had done something bad.

“You naughty little sea monster.”

She informed Rhys and Feyre, who surely were losing their minds, that Nyx was with her, and after hey told her Azriel would be there soon to pick him up, she took the little boy to her cabin and sat him at her desk.

Nyx had grabbed her hat and put it on himself, and the sight of it was enough to make Kallistrade’s ruthless heart melt.

“I want to travel the seas with you, aunt Lis!” The child mumbled, and Kallistrade laughed sweetly, while she watched him try to use her telescope.

“On day you will, my little kraken, one day you will.”

[jade-island-lives]

Tales of Merlia: Shadows of the Abyss: 12-11-22

Delilah, not being experienced in diving in any sense of the word, hit the water with her arms spread open. The harsh slap of the cool water sucked whatever breath she had out right out of her. All the same, she allowed herself to sink into the deep.

The first thing she noticed was that the water was warmer than she thought it would be. The sea, inviting as it was, looked quite cold. Cold, dark, and endless.

But the moment she willed herself to open her eyes, surprised to find that the saltwater did not burn her eyes, Delilah saw the open water with crisp clarity that should not have been possible. The surrounding water, swaying and rippling with trails of tiny silver bubbles tracing her movements, was a pale bluish grey with streams of white light from the choppy surface.

Delilah noted she wasn’t sinking. It was as though the surrounding water could not hold her down, and instead flowed through her. As if Delilah were one with the water, or a part of the waves themselves.

Delilah felt weightless, strangely at peace.

But that only lasted a moment. For it did not take long for Delilah to feel a strange sensation, a strange pins and needles feeling racing from her lower spine and up to her neck.

Only then did Delilah realize, to her sheer horror, that she could no longer feel her legs. Her gaze shot down to her legs, and her face drained of whatever color she had left in her cheeks.

Delilah’s legs were gone. And in their place was a long, skinny, fish’s tail.

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[dark-moonlust]

Lust Beneath The Waves PART 1

Pairing: Kraken x f!mermaid reader

Summary: the currents carried you to the lair of the monster. The Kraken claims you as his mate and mother of his spawn.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, monster smut, explicit tentacle smut, dub con, he has two🍆 🍆, triple pen, egg laying. Don’t like, don’t read.

Tales of the Kraken had spread for endless years and whispered among the mermaids and other sea creatures. He was said to be a terrifying monster; he lurked in the dark abyss of the ocean, a massive beast with tentacles and unfathomable magic that no one could fight against. Elder mermaids had always warned you to never approach his lair, for it was said that the Kraken was on the lookout for a mermaid to claim.

For years, you’d heeded those warnings and stayed far away from the forbidden depths of the ocean.

You believed you were safe.

But you were wrong.

One day, absorbed in your search for pretty pearls, you didn’t realize that the currents had carried you dangerously close to the Kraken’s lair.

The Kraken sensed your presence and followed you as you swam.

From the shadows, the creature watched you, his eyes glowing with predatory hunger. The monster’s glowing eyes caressed your body, gazing at your lithe waist, the smooth iridescent skin of and your long hair that danced in the water. You had a long luminous tail, with turquoise scales that caught the light in dazzling hues of blues and greens. Small pert breasts were modestly covered by little seashells, a sight that made his cocks and tendrils thicken.

A sudden shift in the water and a deep vibrating sound made you look around. Eyes wide, you found the Kraken, his massive form hanging over you. He was five times bigger than you, with two glowing eyes, large and luminescent. His skin was black and glistened with an eerie green glow. Massive tentacles shot from his hideous head, long and sinuous, they moved fluidly, each lined with suckers.

Before you could swim away, his tentacles gripped your tail and pulled you to him. You struggled, but his grip was unyielding, the thick tentacles trapping you. Your pretty seashell bra was ripped away, slimy tentacles curving around your breasts, the suckers milking your nipples. You squirmed and cried out, heart palpitating.

“Stop! An—hnn…” you muttered as your poor nippes were tugged and suckled, the monster seemed obsessed with the pink little buds and looked at you almost entranced.

No. That couldn’t be. The Kraken was a merciless monster. He had no heart.

“Why do you fight, little mermaid?” His voice echoed in your mind, deep and captivating. “You belong to me.”

“I don’t. You’re a monster. Stop. Let me go!” You gasped as the suckers at your nipples popped off, leaving your tips sore and red.

“You’re my mate. Can’t you feel it?” The tip of a tentacle caressed your chest, over your beating heart.

Disoriented and intoxicated by his presence, you struggled to ignore the hazy sensations. Your heartbeat was erratic, a strange hunger rising in your belly. And that was when you suddenly realized it; you weren’t that scared of him. Sure, he was huge and intimidating, his tentacles were everywhere, but you wanted him to caress you.

A gentle tentacle petted your face almost tenderly. “See? You feel it, too. You crave me.”

Before you could answer, a long slimy tentacle parted your lips and slipped inside your mouth. A moan was torn from you as it tasted your mouth, the appendage exploring every crevice of your mouth. The monster couldn’t actually kiss you so he feasted on your taste, repeatedly plunging his tentacle down your throat and letting out low vibrating noises which turned you on.

A husky voice filled your mind, again. “You are safe, little mermaid. You’ll be my mate, the mother of my spawn.”

You drew away from him with a groan.

“We can’t. We can’t mate.”

Your eyes lowered to your tail as if that was proof enough. Your breath hitched at the sight of two monstrous tentacled-cocks hidden among the mass of his slimes. His cocks were similar in shape and size, ribbed and textured with veins, the head of each cock was bulbous, with a slight taper that flared out at the tip. The cockheads pulsed and twitched, secreting a warm, slippery fluid that made your belly pool with warmth.

“Is that all that troubles you, precious little one? That you don’t have a pretty pussy and a tight little ass?

You blinked, you face forming a small grimace. He sounded so smug. Then he began to chant in an ancient language and some of his tentacles turned into tendrils of magic, glowing with a soft green light as they wrapped around your tail. You gasped as warm magic coursed through you and painlessly caused your tail to tingle and change shape.

In a heartbeat, your beautiful tail transformed into two smooth, perfect legs. You kicked your feet, awed that he could do such a thing. Normally, you could only shift when setting foot on land, but he’d done it in mere seconds. The Kraken’s tentacles grasped your ankles, spreading your legs wide apart as he lifted your body towards his face. In between your thighs, there was a pretty pink pussy and a pouting little asshole exposed all to him.

The Kraken’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “You are perfect, little mate. Perfect.”

More tentacles came out of his body, in various shapes and lengths. They travelled over your flesh, leaving trails of slickness wherever they touched. Two small tentacles slithered up your inner thighs, one flicking your clit while the other slipped inside your pussy, swirling and wiggling. Shivers of pleasure ran through you, your moans turning into needy whimpers when his slimes circled your breasts, licking around the rosy areolas before devouring your nipples.

Keeping your legs wide open, the Kraken rubbed the head of one of his cocks across your entrance. You stared down, watching as something as big as your forearm rubbed against your tiny cunt. No one had fucked you there. You whimpered, pain and pleasure mixing when he invaded you, slipping inside inch by inch. In one smooth glide, his cock was buried so deep inside you that the Kraken’s heartbeat in your chest.

“A virgin. My precious virgin mate,” he said, a tentacle licking affectionately into your mouth. “See how we fit? Because you were made to be mine. My mate. Are you hurting?”

“No. Need… mmore,” you moaned, fingers closing around slimes securing your wrists.

“I’ll give you everything. All of me.”

And with that he guided another thick tentacle into your mouth. It pulsed its way deep, leaking liquid down your throat, causing you to gag. The taste was sweet and you swallowed, tongue working around the appendage. Moist suckling noises resounded as it fucked your throat, thrusting back and forth.

Gluck… gluck… gluck…You drew frantic breaths and moaned around the tentacle in your mouth while your breasts bounced in synch with each pounding thrust in your pussy.

“What pretty sounds,” you heard him drawl proudly. “My beautiful mate.”

Two more tentacles snaked over the globes of your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to expose the pouting rosebud between. You squirmed and cried out around the tentacles fucking your mouth.

“Nnhhh! Not— hmnn— there—”

He distracted you with caresses over your clit and at the same time, pulsating slimes slipped past the tight entrance of your asshole. They prepared you, you realized with a little fear as they fucked you gently, leaking lubricant into your ass. Soon, you realized why. The second monstrous dick came to rest against your rosebud, the blunt cockhead nudging the puckered hole. It wormed its way inside you, forcing you to accept his girth and part around him. Slowly, oh so slowly, the second cock was lodged up your ass, making you impossibly full. Even your belly had rounded from the invasion of both cocks.

“That's it, little mate. You take me so well,” he whispered. “Look at you, my beautiful mermaid. Her little holes pounded by her mate.”

“Mnn…mnh!" You breathed through your nose, the fullness, the stretch and depth, making you whimper around the tentacles in your mouth.

When the cocks started to fuck you, you saw stars. You felt them move inside you, each ridge pressing against your sensitive spots. The suckers feasted harder on your nipples, latching onto the reddened buds and suckling them loudly. The tip of another tentacle stroked your clit and you came hard, your pussy squirting. The sound of your muffled moans travelled through the ocean, accompanied by the switching sounds of tentacles pounding your body.

The Kraken roared, relentless in his pounding.

Finally, the tentacles fucking your mouth drew back, allowing your cries of pleasure to echo through the water. Then both cocks nudged as deep at they could go. You tensed, feeling the pressure intensify. The huge shafts pulsed, alive with energy and you felt pop after pop flowing inside your holes, followed by the heavy weight of… eggs. One by one, you felt them as they were deposited deep inside your pussy and ass.

“Ugh .. ungh what?" you whimpered and climaxed again, the walls of your cunt and ass contracting.

“A Kraken needs to mate both holes to lay his eggs. That is how we breed,” he explained, a tentacle rubbing your back soothingly. “Easy, precious one.”

It felt like hours later when the cocks exited your body. The intensity didn’t subside though, because your belly was bulged with his eggs. The Kraken’s tentacles cradled you protectively and you rested against him, spent and satisfied, your mind reeling from what had happened. Not only you had mated the Kraken but you were now carrying his eggs.

“You did well, my mate”, he said, a tentacle cupping your belly. “Took ten of my eggs on either hole.”

“I’m huge,” you whispered, “I won’t be able to swim as I used to.”

“You’re beautiful. Carrying our spawn. Rest now, little one. I will take care of you. Trust me.”

And you did, your eyes shutting as you let go in his embrace.

Follow for more delicious monster smut! I hope you enjoyed this!

[novaursa]

The Dragon and The Wolf

- Summary: Rhaenyra sends her daughter instead of her son to fly North. You.

- Paring: velayrion!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is second born child of Rhaenyra, has silver hair and violet eyes and is a dragonrider. For more of my works visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (expect for rating to go higher in the next chapter)

- Word count: 3 681

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @21-princess

- A/N: I had this one stored away, but I've decided to post it on a request. Harwin Strong one is not yet finished, but will be posted in coming days. I'll see how both of these are received before posting more.

The wind whips across the snow-dusted fields, biting and cold, as you soar above on your dragon, Thraxata. The North stretches below like a vast, white ocean, with Winterfell looming ahead in the distance, its grey walls rising like ancient guardians against the winter sky. The sun hangs low on the horizon, casting a pale light that glimmers off the frost-coated land.

Thraxata’s dark scales gleam like polished obsidian, a stark contrast to the endless white beneath. Her massive wings carve through the air with graceful power, the membrane tinted in deep shades of violet and blue, like the twilight sky before night fully descends. She is known as the Midnight Fury in whispers—born of shadow and flame, a terror in the night skies. Her roar splits the silence, echoing across the fields, a sound both commanding and otherworldly.

From your perch on her back, you spot the waiting banners below: the direwolf of Stark, surrounded by lesser sigils of Northern houses. Lord Cregan Stark stands at their forefront, a tall figure clad in thick furs and armor, as still and stern as the land he rules. He expects a prince, no doubt, a son of Rhaenyra, a warrior with fire in his veins. But you are no prince.

You are Y/N Velaryon, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen. Silver-haired like your mother, with eyes the color of amethyst flames, you are the embodiment of old Valyria—a sight that would capture any man’s breath, even in the frozen heart of the North. Unlike your brothers, there is no questioning the blood that runs in your veins. You carry both the fire of your ancestors and the steel of the sea, a daughter of dragon and salt.

Thraxata descends with a mighty sweep of her wings, stirring a storm of snow and ice as her talons dig into the frozen ground. Her head swivels as she growls low, a deep rumble that vibrates through your body, her violet eyes fixed on the assembled Northerners. You dismount with practiced grace, the long cloak of thick fur billowing behind you as your boots crunch into the snow.

The men whisper, their breath misting in the cold air, eyes wide with awe and trepidation. No prince, but something more—something wilder, something that belongs in tales and legends.

Cregan Stark steps forward, his eyes fixed on you. They are grey like the winter itself, hard and sharp, yet there is a glint of something else—curiosity, perhaps, or a flicker of admiration beneath the layers of duty. He dips his head in a respectful nod, though his eyes never leave yours.

"Princess," he greets you, his voice deep and resonant, like a wolf's growl beneath the snow. "Winterfell welcomes you. I had expected a prince, but the Queen has sent a dragon nonetheless."

Your lips curve into a small smile, cold as the winter air. "My brothers may be princes, but it is I who bears the fire and ice that binds our realms, Lord Stark. I trust you will remember the oaths sworn to my mother, and the duty you hold to the true Queen."

His eyes narrow slightly, though there is no hostility, merely calculation. "The North remembers its oaths, Princess. But oaths are easily sworn and easily forgotten when the fires of war draw near. I would hear your words and judge for myself where our loyalties lie."

Thraxata’s tail lashes behind you, sending a spray of snow into the air. You can sense her restlessness, her desire to protect you, to assert her dominance in this land where dragons are more myth than reality. But you place a gloved hand on her scaled flank, a silent command, and she stills, though her eyes remain fixed on Cregan.

"You speak with wisdom, my lord," you reply, your voice firm but laced with the authority of the blood you carry. "But the North has never bent to whispers or empty promises. My mother’s cause is just, her claim undeniable. The realm needs strength, and you know as well as I that only fire can bring the long night to its knees."

There’s a flicker of something—approval, perhaps—in Cregan’s gaze. He steps closer, his boots crunching in the snow, until you are but a breath away. The North has always been a place where respect is earned through strength and resolve, not titles or finery. In that moment, you realize that your mother’s choice was not a mistake; you were sent because here, in this land of cold and iron, you are seen not as a delicate princess, but as something fiercer.

"Then perhaps the Queen chose wisely in sending you," he murmurs, his voice low, for your ears alone. "The North respects strength, and it seems that is something you possess in abundance, Y/N Velaryon."

There is a tension between you, a silent acknowledgment of the game you both play. He is the Wolf of Winterfell, and you are the Dragon sent to bind him to your mother’s cause. But there is something else too—a flicker of intrigue, of something more personal beneath the formalities.

“I shall make my case before the gathered lords,” you say, breaking the charged silence. “And I trust that Winterfell will extend the hospitality due to a dragon and her rider.”

He gives a slight incline of his head, a gesture of respect between equals. “Winterfell is yours, Princess. And I look forward to seeing just how fierce the fire of a dragon truly burns.”

With that, he steps back, signaling to his men. The banners dip in a formal show of respect as you walk forward, the Northern lords parting to make way for you. Thraxata stays behind, watchful, a dark shadow against the snow.

As you enter the gates of Winterfell, you can feel the eyes of Cregan Stark on your back, heavy with unspoken questions, and perhaps—just perhaps—the first stirrings of something that could grow amidst the frost and flame.

The warmth of Winterfell’s great hall is a great contrast to the biting cold outside. The stone walls are thick and ancient, adorned with tapestries depicting wolves in the hunt and battles long past. A roaring fire burns in the hearth, casting flickering shadows that dance across the rough-hewn beams above. The scent of woodsmoke and roasted meat fills the air, mingling with the faint tang of iron and earth, as though even the stone itself remembers the blood spilled within these walls.

You stride forward with measured grace, your fur-lined cloak trailing behind you. Eyes turn your way as you pass, curious glances that are quickly averted once they meet your violet gaze. The courtiers and bannermen of Winterfell are not accustomed to your kind—a dragonrider with Valyrian blood, a figure more suited to the tales of Old Nan than to the cold North. They murmur among themselves, voices hushed but thick with speculation, wondering if you are as fierce as the stories of your mother suggest.

Lord Cregan walks beside you, his stride steady and sure, the embodiment of Northern strength and resolve. He leads you to the head of the hall, where a carved wooden chair sits, draped in furs—a seat of honor, meant for you. As you take your place, his voice rings out, commanding the attention of everyone present.

"The Princess Y/N Velaryon graces us with her presence. Her arrival is most fortunate, for it seems the North’s business does not wait. House Glover has brought a criminal before us—a man accused of grave crimes—and they demand justice. Perhaps," he says, his grey eyes locking onto yours, "it would be fitting for a dragon to pass judgment."

There’s no mistaking the challenge in his words. This is a test, one meant to gauge your strength, your understanding of Northern customs, and how you wield your authority. He watches you closely, waiting for your reaction, as do the assembled lords. You know this moment is pivotal; how you handle this situation will determine whether they see you as just another southern princess, or as something more—someone who can command both fire and frost.

You meet his gaze evenly, a faint smile playing on your lips. "It would be an honor to dispense justice in the North, Lord Stark. Show me this criminal and let us see what manner of man he is."

Cregan gives a slight nod, and with a gesture, the doors at the end of the hall creak open. The sound echoes through the chamber as two men of House Glover drag a prisoner forward, shoving him to his knees before you. He’s a ragged, weathered man with wild eyes and a face marked by scars. His clothes are filthy and torn, his hands bound with rough cord. There’s a stink about him—of sweat, fear, and desperation.

One of the Glovers steps forward, bowing briefly before addressing you and Cregan. "This man, Wyl Gray, is accused of murdering his kin and stealing from their holdings. He fled north to escape our justice, but we tracked him down and brought him here, as is our right."

The hall falls silent, all eyes on you now. The weight of their expectation is palpable. You rise slowly from your seat, descending the steps with a regal grace. Your voice is soft but carries through the room with the authority that only a dragonrider can wield.

"Wyl Gray," you say, your tone cold as the Northern winds, "you stand accused of betraying your own blood and committing theft in the lands sworn to House Glover. What have you to say in your defense?"

The man’s eyes dart around wildly, searching for some hope, some mercy, but finding none. He looks up at you, trembling slightly. "I did what I had to," he snarls, his voice hoarse. "My kin treated me worse than a dog, taking what was mine by right. I took back what they stole from me—nothing more!"

The hall murmurs in response to his words, some in anger, others in grudging acknowledgment. You can see the flickers of approval from a few of the assembled Northerners—they value strength, even when twisted by desperation. But you know better than to be swayed by the claims of a desperate man. His actions speak louder than his words.

You step closer, your gaze piercing. "You claim they took from you, yet you took their lives. Blood demands blood, Wyl Gray. In the North, justice is harsh and swift, but it is also fair. A man who cannot protect what is his without resorting to murder is a man unfit to live among honorable men."

Cregan watches you intently, his expression unreadable, but you can feel the shift in the room. The lords are weighing your words, assessing how well you understand their ways. It’s not enough to be just, you must be decisive—and you must show that you are not ruled by softness.

"You are guilty of murder and theft," you continue, your voice unwavering. "But the North does not deal in mercy for such crimes. You shall face the punishment decreed by the Old Ways. Justice shall be meted out by the one who passes the sentence."

A heavy silence falls over the hall. This is the moment—where the test truly lies. You could ask Cregan to deal with the criminal himself, and none would question it. But you understand what is truly being asked of you. The North respects those who do not flinch from difficult decisions, those who stand by their words with action.

You turn to Cregan. "Bring me the sword," you command.

There’s a ripple of surprise among the lords, but Cregan’s expression shifts, a hint of approval crossing his stern features. He gestures, and a massive sword, long and sharp, is placed into your hands. Its weight is heavy, but you hold it with ease, feeling the cold steel beneath your fingers.

You step before the kneeling man. His eyes widen in terror, realizing that you intend to carry out the sentence yourself. You look down at him, feeling no pity, only the cold resolve needed to see justice done. "In the name of House Glover, for the blood you have spilled and the dishonor you have brought upon yourself, I sentence you to death. May the gods judge your soul as they see fit."

With a swift, clean stroke, you bring the sword down, severing his head from his body. The hall is silent, save for the soft thud of the head hitting the stone floor and the hiss of blood soaking into the rushes.

You let out a breath, handing the sword back to a waiting Stark guard. The lords nod with approval, respect in their eyes. This is not a land for those who shy away from harsh truths or difficult choices. You have shown them that you understand the North’s ways—and that you are as much dragon as you are queen’s daughter.

Cregan steps forward, a slight smile touching his lips. "Well done, Princess. The North remembers strength, and today, you have proven yours."

There’s a weight to his words, a subtle acknowledgment that you’ve passed his test. The respect between you has grown, forged not only by fire and ice, but by a mutual understanding of what it takes to rule.

As the hall begins to stir with renewed conversation, you feel Cregan’s eyes linger on you a moment longer than necessary, something unspoken passing between you. It’s not just respect now—there’s a flicker of something deeper, something that might grow, given time.

But for now, you’ve earned your place among the wolves. And in doing so, you’ve taken the first step toward binding the North to your mother’s cause.

A little more than two weeks have passed since your arrival at Winterfell, and in that time, you have come to understand the North in ways few from the south ever do. The cold no longer bites as fiercely, the rough customs of the Northerners have become familiar, and even the solemn howls of the wolves at night are a comfort rather than a cause for concern. You’ve spent your days among Cregan’s people, riding alongside his bannermen, sitting in council with his advisors, and breaking bread with his warriors in the hall. You’ve proven yourself capable in all the ways that matter to them—skilled with both words and steel, a dragon in human form.

The Northern lords have come to trust you, their respect won by your ability to speak plainly and match them in courage. They see in you a reflection of their own values—honor, strength, and loyalty. Even Thraxata, the Midnight Fury, has found her lair in the craggy wilderness nearby, roosting among the jagged rocks as if she, too, feels at home in this stark and wild land. The villagers whisper tales of the black dragon seen circling the mountains, her shadow long across the snow, a fearsome guardian from the days of old.

Today, you ride out with Lord Cregan and his men on a hunt. The sky is a bleak grey, thick with the promise of snow, and the air carries the scent of pine and earth. The forest is dense, the trees tall and ancient, their branches heavy with frost. It’s a test, of sorts—Cregan’s way of seeing how well you handle yourself in their world, not just as a rider of dragons, but as a hunter and a leader.

You ride astride a hardy Northern stallion, its breath steaming in the cold air, and you match the men stride for stride as they navigate the rough terrain. Cregan rides beside you, his expression more open than it had been when you first met. Over these past weeks, a bond has formed between you—one built on mutual respect and a growing sense of trust. He speaks more freely now, and there’s a warmth in his tone that was absent when you first arrived.

When the hunt begins, you do not hesitate to join the chase. The hounds bay as they track the scent of a massive stag, and you ride hard, your cloak snapping behind you in the wind. You’re no stranger to riding, and you handle your steed with ease, navigating the twisting paths and snow-laden ground. When the time comes to strike, you draw your bow with practiced precision, letting the arrow fly. It finds its mark true, and the stag falls. The men around you roar with approval, slapping their shields and calling your name in praise. They respect a woman who can hunt as well as any man, and here, they see you as one of their own—a warrior, not just a princess.

As the hunt winds down, Cregan approaches you, his face flushed from the cold and the thrill of the chase. "You’ve more than earned your place among us, Y/N," he says, his voice gruff but warm. "Few could keep pace with Northern men in their own forests, let alone best them. I see now why the Queen sent you instead of a prince. You’ve shown strength and wisdom—two things the North values above all else."

You incline your head in acknowledgment. "I’ve come to admire the North and its people. But admiration is not the same as allegiance. I must ask, Lord Stark—will you now stand by my mother and send your armies south to fight in her name?"

Cregan’s expression shifts, a shadow crossing his eyes as he considers your question. He’s silent for a long moment, his gaze turning toward the distant horizon, where the land stretches into a vast, icy wilderness. "The North is not like the South," he says finally, his tone measured. "Our duty is first and foremost to our own. With winter coming, my responsibility is to the Wall and to the people who must survive the cold months ahead. I cannot, in good conscience, march thousands of men south when their families might starve without them."

You frown slightly, frustration creeping in. "So you’ll abandon my mother’s cause? You gave your word, Lord Stark."

Cregan’s eyes meet yours, unwavering. "I do not break my word, Princess. I swore to uphold my oaths, and I will. But sending armies south would be folly with winter approaching. However," he continues, his tone softening as he watches your reaction, "there are those in the North who would fight, even in the harshest winters. The Greybeards—elders, warriors who have lived long and seen much. When winter comes, many of them leave their homes, believing it is better to pass in battle than to linger and be a burden on their kin. They are few in number, but each is worth a dozen younger men in skill and experience. I will send them to your mother, to fight in her name. They may not be an army, but they are a force to be reckoned with."

It’s a compromise, one that you didn’t expect but cannot wholly dismiss. You nod slowly, understanding the practicality behind his words. "Your support, even in this way, will strengthen our position. I thank you for honoring your oath, Lord Stark."

Cregan remains silent for a moment, his expression thoughtful. When he speaks again, his voice is quieter, more personal. "There is another matter I wish to discuss—a way to bind North and South even closer. You’ve proven yourself in the eyes of my people, and I have come to value your counsel and your strength. The North needs a Warden, but it also needs stability and unity. I am in need of a wife, Y/N."

His words catch you off guard. You had expected negotiations over troops and strategies, but not this. You study him closely, searching for any hint of jest, but there is none. His gaze is steady, earnest even, and the weight of his words is not lost on you.

"A marriage alliance," you murmur, more to yourself than to him. It’s a move that makes sense, politically and strategically. Your mother’s cause would be strengthened by such a bond, and Cregan’s position would be solidified, uniting the North under his leadership. But you know it’s more than just politics—there’s something personal in his offer, a recognition of the connection that has grown between you over these weeks.

Cregan inclines his head. "A marriage would do more than just bind our houses. It would be a show of unity between North and South, and it would ensure that whatever may come in this war, our strength remains undivided. You are a woman worthy of the North, and I would be honored to stand beside you as more than just allies."

You consider his words carefully, your mind weighing the implications. There’s a certain inevitability in the offer, a recognition that your paths have been converging since the moment you arrived at Winterfell. You could refuse, insist on keeping your independence, but you know that this is more than just a marriage proposal—it’s a partnership that could shape the course of the war and the future of the realm.

Finally, you meet his gaze, your voice clear and firm. "If this is the path we choose, Lord Stark, know that I will be as fierce in our union as I am in battle. The North will have a wife who is as much dragon as she is Velaryon. But I do not take such matters lightly—if we are to do this, it must be done with respect, trust, and understanding."

Cregan’s smile is genuine, his eyes gleaming with both respect and something warmer. "I would expect nothing less, Y/N. We’ll have much to discuss in the days to come, but I believe this could be the start of something greater than either of us alone."

The weight of his words lingers between you, and as you ride back toward Winterfell together, there’s an unspoken understanding—a shared resolve. You have won the respect of the North, secured their support, and now, perhaps, you are on the verge of something more—an alliance forged not just in duty, but in fire and ice, strength and trust.

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[revasserium]

Hey, can I request zoro x reader (established relationship) where the Strawhats end up going to reader’s home island (unknown to anyone in the group aside from reader), and the reader is super nervous and refuses to leave the boat, so the crew goes out and walk around and they find a missing/wanted poster of the reader and find out she’s a run away princess that needed to be. Later they coke to find out that reader ran away cause her parents and the servants mistreated and was about to marry her off to a violent prince

opla requests are: open

lips on every cross

opla!zoro; 5,989 words; fem!reader, semi-established?? relationship, posessive!zoro, strawhat!reader, no "y/n", reader gets kidnapped, fluff and angst, very brief! mentions of past familial abuse and trauma, nicknames ("Princess"), slow-ish burn???, more plot than not

summary: zoro has never thought himself a holy man. but he'd kiss every cross if it meant finding his way back to you.

a/n: idk why every opla fic i write is like... more plot than i bargained for but here we are. literally, this fic was just supposed to be "zoro calls the reader 'princess'".

01. when love arrives

(“Hey Princess —“)

The nickname starts, as almost all things do on the Going Merry, as a joke. And, as with most jokes made amongst the rag-tag crew, it sticks. He’d said it because he’s sure you’d mentioned your name once or twice already, but he’d been napping or eating and he didn’t feel like looking like an asshole right that moment.

The ribbon in your hair had caught the light in just the right way, pale pink satin — such a strange, soft color amidst the careening, careless ocean, and the word just… slipped.

“Why’dyou call her that?” Luffy asks, lounging back against the main mast as Zoro works through the umpteenth rep of single-armed pushups.

Zoro puffs out a breath and switches arms.

“Dunno. Seemed like it fit.”

Luffy slates you a long glance, blinking owlishly.

“Really? Eh — I guess… well, she is really pretty.”

Zoro only grunts, jumping up and stretching both arms over his head with a long, steady breath. His eyes flicker towards you as well, laughing with Nami on the foredeck, sipping on cocktails, Sanji probably simping somewhere nearby.

He thinks back to where they’d found you, hood pulled low over your eyes, the tell-tale signs of distress carved into every line of your body, from the curve of your spine to the bend of your shoulders.

Luffy hadn’t asked questions, so Zoro hadn’t either.

Curiosity, the fatal flaw that runs so sharp and obvious through the entirety of Luffy’s being, hasn’t always been rewarded well in Zoro’s experience. And he’s learned by now that “truth will out”, or so they say.

(“C’mon, Princess, I thought you said you could drink.”)

Caution, on the other hand, is Zoro’s oldest friend. You are cautious, if nothing else, and the first time he sees you relax in his presence, he wonders to himself if there’s a drug in this world strong enough to induce this feeling.

Later, he would learn that this is simply called falling in love.

He isn’t the only one who notices how you casually dip a silver fork or knife into every single drink before you take a sip, or that sometimes, you blurt out the word “no’ like a promise to yourself, and “sorry” like a plea for help.

And he’s spent long enough being a hunter to know what being hunted looks like. So he doesn’t ask, and you don’t answer, and somehow, you still manage to make yourself a home in the dark caverns of his chest, curling up there till he can’t count his heartbeats without it sounding like the shadow of your name on the midnight wind.

02. a study of light and dark

The drinking game starts off innocently enough (and don’t they always), but it takes half a round for the questions and subsequent answers to devolve into loud laughter and debauchery, delirium and debasement.

“Alright, alright —“ Sanji holds up a hand, tossing back his shot to raucous cheers, “worst thing you’ve done in a closet. Go —“

Zoro rolls his eyes and takes the shot, foregoing his answer. Nami simply grins, catlike, swirling her own drink around her glass.

“In your wildest dreams, cook,” she says before taking her shot as well. Sanji lets out a contemplative whistle, followed by a good-natured wink.

“Define worst, cause… I mean, I’ve puked in like… most of them back in Syrup Village,” Usopp says. Sanji only chuckles, shrugging.

“We’ll take it, we’ll take it.”

Luffy hums, frowning for a second before smacking a fist into his open palm, grinning, “I took a nap!”

Everyone laughs, helpless and buoyed up by the casual effervescence of a night like this — when the moon is dark and the stars are bright and thin wisps of silver clouds mar the sky like tendrils of lost daydreams, caught on the wrong side of sunset.

When the laughter settles down, everyone turns to you.

You purse your lips, feeling the weight of your answer pressing down on the tip of your tongue — I hid. And I waited. And I tried not to listen.

As the silence stretches on, Zoro leans forward and uncrosses his arms, reaching out to nudge a full shot glass towards you.

“Times up, Princess — drink,” and though there’s nothing soft or even forgiving in his voice, but you feel yourself relax as everyone boos and you take your shot.

The heat of Zoro’s gaze only lingers on your skin for a moment longer before he leans back again, that familiar almost-grin tugging lazily at his lips as he turns half-lidded eyes towards the rest of his crew.

(“Talk to me, Princess.”)

When you find him later, fumbling in the dark of the hallway just outside his room, you kiss him without saying “thank you” and he doesn’t question it when, pressed beneath him on the rough linen of his sheets, you ask to keep the lights on.

03. etymology

Princess — it’s a nice word, Zoro muses to himself. The light pop of the ‘p’ rolling into the warm, round ‘r’, thinning out into the sensual layering of the double ‘s’s, till you’re left with nothing but a hiss, a shadow, a memory.

It’s a regal word; a pretty word. Though its origins might be anything but.

From the Latin primus “first” and cept “catcher”, or so Robin had told him over the pages of an ancient book he hadn’t bothered to ask the name of, because Princes and Kings have always obtained their powers through taking, and never asking. Reaping, and never sowing.

Zoro thinks then that this, too, is a form conquest — you over him. The totality of your power stunning to behold, if only because he has to let you take it in the first place. And he does so willingly.

He wonders if you, too, are as multifaceted as his nickname for you — delicacy and desire wrapped around a darker something, lace laid over a knife’s unforgiving edge.

The first time he dares to kiss you, he feels you kissing him back, the sharp canines of your teeth catching on his lower lip, drawing out a soft grunt from him. You’d paused, and then you’d bitten down harder just to hear him gasp into your mouth.

He knew then, without ever having to ask, that you are.

04. tip of the iceberg

It is winter when they arrive — but then again, it is always winter here. Here, the cold runs so deep it drives frost crystals into the marrow of your bones. Here, the wind howls like a wounded animal and the night falls with a savage, carnal vengeance, all black velvet and a blood-tinted moon.

Here, the snow storms turn living, breathing heroes into song lyrics and poetry rhymes.

You inhale a single breath before turning and heading back below deck.

Zoro frowns, and at a single look from Luffy, he follows you beneath, only to find you rummaging around the kitchen, tugging a bottle of moonshine out from under the sink.

“Whoa,” Zoro says, reaching out to stop you from uncorking the bottle, an eyebrow raised. He doesn’t miss the way you shiver, “bit early, isn’t it?”

“Bit rich, coming from you,” you snap, eyes sharp, voice stinging.

Zoro only cocks his other eyebrow in tandem and pulls the bottle from your hands before turning and grabbing two glasses from the cupboard. He takes his time filling them both with ice, and then pouring a finger into each glass.

You don’t meet his eyes as you reach out for your glass, but he catches your wrist.

“A drink for an answer,” he says.

You pause, your lips pressed into a thin, white line. And he knows it’s unfair, to turn this game around on you, because he can tell from the hard set of your shoulders that this is so much more than a drinking game but if this is what it takes to get the truth — then so be it.

“Fine,” you say, glancing away, voice clipped.

You move to take a sip, but Zoro pushes down your hand again.

“No lying.”

You scoff, narrowing your eyes, “Obviously.”

He eases off, picking up his own glass and clinking it against yours before taking a light swig, “You know this place.”

This time, you’re the one who turns around with a cocked brow.

“Got a question in there somewhere?”

Zoro’s lips twitch, “Yes, or no.”

You sigh, tapping a finger against the edge of your cup, “Yes.”

Zoro hums, “Your turn.”

You chew on your lips before taking a sip, “Why do you care so much?”

Zoro ticks his tongue against his teeth, “Stupid question. Next.”

You huff, “That’s not how this game goes.”

Zoro swirls his glass before setting it down on the counter with a loud clack, “Because I care about you.”

You pause with your own drink halfway to your mouth and look up. Zoro doesn’t shy away from meeting your gaze and for a moment, time statics to a halt around you.

Then, Zoro sighs, unclenching his jaw as he attempts a lopsided smile.

“Hey, talk to me,” he reaches out to trail a finger along the high of your cheekbones, up to the shell of your ear.

The ‘please’ hangs silent in the air between you; the ‘Princess’ is implied.

And for the first time, he thinks he sees you flinch. He makes to pull back but you tug his hand forward, pressing your cheek against his palm.

“This island,” you say, finally, the tremor in your voice like a hairline fracture snaking through a porcelain vase, “it’s… well, it used to be… my home.”

05. the secret history

It is the most beautiful place any of them have ever been.

The castle is made entirely of ice, the cold winter sun refracting the light into a million and one unseen colors. Giant ice-carved sculptures dot the crystal-flower gardens, and it takes them all a few minutes to realize that the gorgeous, delicate blooms are made of glass, blown and shaped to mirror real-life snowflakes — each unique, glittering, and eternal.

“Dude… how long do you think all this took to make?” Usopp asks, his head turning as if on a swivel, his jaw hinging off his face in awe.

Robin sighs, “Too long, perhaps.”

Zoro stays quiet, and beside him, so does Nami.

You’d insisted on staying back, to guard the ship, you’d said. But the space you usually fill in the group hangs solid in the air, a gaping hole of lack when there should be none.

Luffy hums and he marches out in front of them, ever the dubious, fearless leader. Though most of the crew has now come to terms with the fact that “courage” and “sheer bull-headedness” are often two sides of the same coin for him.

It’s Sanji who pauses first, causing Chopper to ram into the back of his knees.

“Ouch! What’dyou do that f —”

“Look,” Sanji says, pointing at a poster pasted to the slick outer wall of the castle gates.

And they do, leaning in, crowding too close. Zoro grunts as Chopper jumps and scrambles up his back to peer over his shoulder at the face plastered on the dew-soaked poster, the words LOST PRINCESS: 120,000,000 FOR ANY INFORMATION THAT LEADS TO HER WHEREABOUTS printed in giant, familiar block letters along the bottom.

Beside him, Zoro can feel Nami swallowing. Hard.

“A hundred and twenty million berry…” she murmurs, her breath going shallow as they all stare, dumbfounded at the poster of what is unmistakably you.

You, with your exquisite features schooled into something like solemnity, your usually wind-swept hair twisted up into a tight braid across the crown of your head, a diadem of ice-white silver and light-cut jewels jutting up from your severe updo like so many broken teeth, sharp and unforgiving as stalagmites.

If none of them had known, it’d be impossible to reconcile you with this cold, distant portrait, your eyes rendered lifeless and dull by the depthless black ink.

Luffy, however, only blinks and turns to stare at Zoro.

“Did you know?”

“What?”

Luffy continues to stare, “When I asked why you always call her ‘Princess’.”

Zoro sighs, turning his eyes back to the WANTED poster before shaking his head.

“No. Like I said… I thought it just… fit.”

06. eternal day

Zoro is itching to get back to the ship. There’s a fish-line sliver of worry tugging at the place behind his chest where his heart should be, and he knows implicitly that something is wrong.

“Don’t worry, she can take care of herself!” Luffy says, smiling bright, his confidence unwavering.

“No Luffy, Zoro’s right — someone should be with her. What if —” and here, Nami glances at Zoro before turning her attention back to Luffy, “— she might need the backup,” is what she finally settles with. And to Zoro’s great relief, Luffy agrees.

And then, to everyone’s horror, off in the distance, your voice rises over the wind in a blood-curdling scream.

07. endless night

By the time Zoro makes it back to the ship, you are already gone.

08. torn asunder

Gone, gone, gone. The word echoes like an ill-fated alarm bell, ringing through Zoro’s entire body as he catapults himself through the ship, slamming open every door, checking every nook, corner, and crevice. Signs of a struggle, that much is clear, scuffs on the freshly waxed planks of the aft deck, nail marks along the railings, and —

Zoro’s breath freezes in his chest.

A smear of blood that drips over the side of the ship, trailing down the ladder.

A flash of pale pink catches his eye.

Your satin hair ribbon lies abandoned on the wharfs’ boardwalk, the faintest splatter of red soaking its ends.

He picks it up between gentle fingers and tucks it deep into his pocket.

His vision blurs red as he thinks about the things your captors might’ve done to you before dragging you off. He’s seen you fight and it wouldn’t have been easy to bring you down.

And by the time the rest of the crew reach him, he’s already sprinting back towards the castle, his jaw set, his teeth gritted.

It takes the combined effort of Sanji, Luffy, and Robin to stop him from charging through the castle gates and tearing the whole place down.

“Runnin’ round like a headless chicken’s not gonna do her any good, mate,” Sanji says, a smoke already caught between his teeth. A pre-fight ritual of his.

Zoro jerks his arm out of Sanji’s grasp, stalking down the street with a huff.

Robin strolls after him, somehow keeping pace, looking unhurried as Zoro tamps down the blind urge to slash the entire island in half.

“We’ll find her,” Robin says, her voice level, even as her sharp eyes scan the white-specked horizon, the usually amused half-twist of her lips laid flat by worry, “and she’s stronger than you think.”

At this, Zoro whips around, “I know —” but he bites down the venom threatening to surge up the back of his throat with a sigh. Robin doesn’t flinch, and Zoro attempts a steadying breath before repeating himself in a slightly softer tone, “I know… I’m just…”

Robin nods, and Zoro is thankful that he doesn’t have to finish his sentence.

09. the tower and the throne

The cold greets you like a scorned lover— a spiteful, savage mistress. Tendrils of frost creep along the walls of your old bedroom to caress your cheeks. You shiver and wrap your arms around yourself, sitting on familiar satin sheets.

“Dinner is soon, darling,” your mother’s cool voice calls from outside your bedroom door, “and make yourself presentable — we’ve got guests.”

The sadistic lilt of her voice as she says the word ‘guests’ makes you jerk your head up, staring at the door as if you might be able to bore through the thick wood with nothing but your eyes. And, almost as if she can feel you staring, you hear your mother’s cold, tinkling laughter.

“Hurry now… I had your favorite dress put out for you. It should still fit — and we don’t want to keep them… waiting.”

The slow, sanguine pause before her last word makes you want to rip out your hair and scream into the wind till your voice gives out.

Instead, you push yourself up and reach for the dress laid out at the foot of your bed with shaking fingers.

The dress fits you like a second skin, the delicate lace trim barely sweeping the floor as you adjust the bodice, grimacing at your reflection in the large, floor-length mirror. It is as if the last ten months had never happened, as if you’d never escaped this terrifying hellscape of a winter wonderland. As if you’d simply dreamed every single sun-filled afternoon, every star-strewn night spent laughing and singing amongst your new-found crew.

Here, in the fragile glass reflection, you are once again a girl trapped behind her own ribcage, with a destiny carved into stone and ice, with no hope of summer in sight. You take a long breath and tighten the ribbons of your dress.

You are still and silent as the maid slips in through the door after a single knock and begins to twist up your hair. Tighter and tighter, till it sets your teeth on edge. When she pins the crown in place, it takes everything inside you not to fall apart, to shatter at the weight, the sight of it sitting on your head. You swallow as the maid dips her head and backs out of the room with a murmured dinner is served, Princess.

For the first time, you wince openly at her words.

10. waiting for the rain

The hall is just how you remembered it, huge and cavernous, gaping like the empty maw of some petrified monster, the ceiling hanging with so many cold, sparkling chandeliers, ice-carved statues jutting up from the floors like teeth.

You’re marched in like a show animal, the great marble doors swinging open before you as you step forward and feel your breath freeze in your chest.

There, strung up on a massive statue of some long-forgotten saint, is Zoro, cuts and bruises marring his already scarred and puckered torso. But he smirks as he sees you come in, his eyes bright as he spits a mouthful of blood onto the seemingly endless white floors. Around him, the rest of your crew sits, tied and slumped over in chairs like so many sleeping mannequins.

“Hey there, Princess. Just in time for dinner.”

You nearly wince at the raspiness in his voice, the faint trickle of blood that leaks out the corner of his mouth.

“Silence,” your father’s voice echoes out from the high-backed chair at the head of the ludicrously long table. You don’t have to see to know his face is as smooth as just-applied plaster. But Zoro only has eyes for you — and he continues to talk as if he hadn’t been interrupted.

“If you’d told us we’d be welcomed like this, we might’ve packed differently.”

You bite down on your bottom lip so hard you almost taste the metallic tang of blood.

“Our daughter has always been a skillful liar — though it’s a habit we tried to… rid her of in her youth. The lesson never seemed to have stuck.” Your mother this time. And now, you can see the muscle ticking in Zoro’s jaw as he scoffs.

“Really? And here I always thought she was shit at lying.”

You swallow down a whimper as the maid wordlessly leads you to the far end of the table, where Zoro is still tied. You drop into the seat between a snoring Luffy and an eerily still Nami, and it’s all you can do not to turn around and retch onto the silk embroidered rug.

“Be that as it may…” your mother’s voice drops a few degrees — an admirable feat, as her voice is usually just on the other side of frigid, “it’s bad luck to kill on the eve of a royal wedding.”

At this, Zoro’s head snaps around and you shrink back in your chair, your eyes fixed on your fists, clenched in your lap.

“Mother,” you grind out, finally forcing your head up so as to meet her piercing, blizzard-bright gaze, “I’ve told you, I’ve no intention of getting married. At least not to the mongrel you’ve decided to set me up with.”

You spit out the last sentence, trying to remember all the snark, all the confidence that’d built up inside you over the past weeks and months. Away from this dreaded castle and on the sun-soaked bow of the Going Merry, it was the first time you’d begun to discover who you are — the things you liked, the ways of life that you yearned for.

Your father slams a hand on the table at the same moment that Zoro lets out a bark of laughter.

“Insolence!”

“Damn, Princess — you never told me you could bite.”

And, to your horror and perhaps deep-seated pleasure, a blush works its way into your cheeks at Zoro’s words. Your eyes snap towards him, catching his gaze as he smirks at you. And even though his shirt is slashed, his sword hilts hanging woefully empty at this hip, his hands twisted painfully behind him on the statue, he still manages an easy, condescending air.

You seize at this tiny tendril of normalcy as you force a wane smile.

“I might be persuaded to do more than that… if you ask nicely.”

Zoro’s snicker is drowned out by your mother’s sharp gasp. But you don’t look away, holding Zoro’s gaze for as long as you dare — in it, you find an entire abyss of barely concealed rage (and is that… amusement?), his entire body straining against the shackles that hold him. Then, his eyes slip from you to a point just over your shoulder.

It’s then that you realize: Luffy’s not snoring anymore.

11. to reap and to sow

You’re never quite certain of how the Merry’s crew seems to always just wriggle out of frankly gruesome and untimely deaths, but here you are, racing for the docks like your lives depended on it. Because, well, it kind of does.

“Remind me —” you shout between pants, one hand clutched firmly in Zoro’s, the other doing its best to lift the ridiculous dinner dress they’d put you in — a confection of lace and tulle, the bodice laced with pale pink satin ribbon, “how the hell did you guys manage to trick my parents into thinking you’d eaten the spiked food?”

Sanji flashes you a toothy grin, “Ah love… you know how it is — ask us no questions, and we’ll tell you no lies!”

Luffy, however, whoops as he launches himself from a pair of solid brick buildings, catapulting himself over your sprinting crew.

“We just — pretended to eat! I mean — I did kinda actually eat a bit — but — it wasn’t that bad!”

You resist the urge to pinch your nose bridge at the nonchalance with which Luffy is talking about consuming poisoned food, but you’ve only got two hands and both are equally occupied at the moment. You settle for an exasperated sigh.

“That was — really stupid! — What if — they’d — poisoned the food — with something — other than — sleeping medicine?!” you ask, forcing air into your lungs as finally, you all round the bend onto the bustling pier, the Going Merry’s unmistakable shape silhouetted against the misty horizon.

“We can talk when — we’re all back — on the ship!” Nami calls as she sprints passed you, reaching out a hand for Luffy, who’s elongated arm grabs her and slings her onto the deck of the ship. You barely have a second to breathe before Zoro’s arm loops around your waist and you’re being pulled tight into his side.

His breath is hot against your collarbone as he smirks, “Hold on tight, Princess.”

It’s all you can do to listen as you’re suddenly whipped through the air like a doll on a drunken marionette’s string. A bright peal of Luffy-tinted laughter later, you thud onto the deck of the Going Merry, the breath knocked clean from your lungs as the world spins and spins. You’d expected to hit solid wood, or maybe even the railing or the mast but —

Zoro groans beneath you, and it takes you a long second to realize that he’d cushioned your fall, your bodies pressed chest to chest, hip to hip, your arms still wrapped around his shoulders, his still steady around your waist.

“O-oh! Sorry —” you try to pull away but Zoro’s grip on you only tightens.

You freeze as he blinks up at you, eyes slightly narrowed.

“Crown’s crooked,” Zoro finally says, that tell-tale smirk twisting the edge of his lips as his gaze flickers upwards. Your hand jumps to the crown, somehow still clipped into your now disheveled hair, lopping to one side as the braids start to come loose. You purse your lips.

“I never liked it anyway…” You make to tug it out but Zoro reaches up to right it, though he lets his hand linger as he falls along the side of your face.

“Nah, looks good on you.” His voice is so low, and suddenly, air is such a language that you’re certain you’d forgotten how to speak. Slowly, he pushes up till you’re both sitting, you still pressed against him and him still pressed against you. Distantly, you can hear shouting, Usopp’s voice raised high over the wind as the Merry careens out of port and towards the open sea.

But strangely, no one makes to pull you away from him, or him from you.

“I should’ve told you guys…” you say, eyes casting down as you rest your palms against his chest. Beneath it, you can feel his heart — pounding, pounding, pounding. There’s a light sheen of sweat glimmering on his honeyed skin as you swallow, looking back up even as he chuckles.

“Sure, but we should’ve asked.”

You bite your lips, “I think you did.”

Zoro grins, shrugging as he helps you up, somehow managing to keep his arm slipped around your waist.

“Well. Should’ve asked better, then.”

12. lost stars

It takes you a while to tell them the story — the real story, the whole story. And there’s drinking involved, but it’s mostly just you clutching at your half-filled glass, Zoro’s knee pressed comfortingly against yours, even though his eyes are closed, his head leaned back, his arms crossed loosely over his chest.

You tell them about the dark underbelly of royalty that everyone knows but no one wants to talk about — the blood and teeth beneath the silk and silver. You tell them about being raised a bargaining chip, of being sold and promised like a prized heifer on auction day.

You tell them about the moonless nights when the only thing you had to keep you company was the cold, about the “lessons” your mother would teach you, about how the maids would be instructed to hide the bruises just so, about the Prince who you were set to marry and the rumors that plagued his castle —

“They say that he’d take the prettiest girls from the surrounding town as his maids and that none of them ever walked out of his castle again,” you say. The moonshine burns on its way down your throat as you finish your drink.

Wordlessly, Zoro reaches over to pluck the glass from your hand and set it on the table. It’s only then that you realize your fingers are white and trembling.

“Did he hurt you?”

Zoro’s voice is not loud, but everyone turns to look at him. You shake your head, clasping your hands in your lap.

“No. I only ever… met him once, at a dinner party. It was after that that I… ran away.”

Zoro hums, leaning back again, “Good.”

Across the room, Sanji blows out a series of smoke rings and frowns.

“Were you about to offer to hunt him down?” Robin asks, sounding amused.

Zoro shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered — would’ve just done it.”

“He sounds like the kinda guy we should hunt down anyway, no?” Luffy asks, cocking his head as he looks back at you, “I mean, I’m glad he never hurt you but… he’s still hurting people!”

“Luffy’s got a point,” Sanji says, stubbing out his cigarette.

“For once, I agree with Sanji,” Nami says.

There’s a light squabble during which Sanji makes an aggrieved noise and Nami rolls her eyes, and then everyone is laughing and chatting and more drinks are being poured. Next to you, Zoro reaches out to wrap his arm around your waist again. It’s something he’s been doing more lately, and you can’t honestly say that you mind it much at all.

“We don’t have to,” he says, leaning forward, almost as if to brush his lips by your ear, “if… if you don’t want to.”

You shiver at the base rumble of his voice, at the way his eyes are so warm and full of some uncertain promise.

“No, I… I do want to. It’s just…”

Zoro’s fingers trace small, absent-minded circles into the skin of your waist and you fight down another shiver.

“I don’t plan on letting you get kidnapped again, Princess.”

Your gaze snaps up to meet Zoro’s, and there’s a faint smile kissing the line of his lips. And suddenly, the lightness of his touch doesn’t feel so thoughtless as heat curls out from the place where his palm meets your skin, radiating out till you’re breathless with it.

“Oh?”

“Never liked people trying to take what’s mine.”

And the dark possessiveness with which he says mine leaves little room for interpretation, even as you lick your lips and try to think of something witty to say.

“I don’t remember agreeing to be yours.”

It’s the best you can come up with; Zoro’s only response is a soft, contemplative grunt.

“What’s that saying? ‘Actions speak louder than words’?” he flashes you a satisfied grin as you narrow your eyes at him, swatting at his chest as he laughs.

“I meant it though,” he says, a moment later, as the rest of the crew all chatter around you, “about calling it off if you don’t want to. But…” he reaches up a free hand to tug a strand of your hair free from the ponytail it’s tied up in.

“Figured you might sleep better at night knowing he’s gone.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t been aware you were holding, your whole body softening as you lean into him, pressing your palms to his chest as he looks at you.

“Yeah… I think I might. And… like you said… it’s not like I’m gonna get kidnapped again.”

You smile, letting your eyes flicker down to Zoro’s lips. His smile is pleased and just a little jagged as he tugs you up by the hand and the pair of you slip from the room.

Above deck, the sun is setting, and the warm, slanted light casts the entire ship in a glaze of gold that looks almost gilded. You lean against the railings, closing your eyes and letting the warmth of the sun seep into your skin, chasing away the chill that’d been lingering at your fingertips since you’d all made your spectacular escape from your home island.

You feel rather than hear Zoro join you. You take your time breathing in the salty tang of the humid sea air before opening your eyes and slating him a side-long look.

“Thank you,” you say.

“For what?”

“For coming after me.”

Zoro scoffs, turning away from the roiling waves to lean back against the railings, his head cocked as he looks you over.

“Like I said… I don’t like it when people try to take what’s mine.”

But this time, you laugh, nodding, “So you’ve said. But still… thanks.”

“Hn.”

Zoro closes his eyes, seemingly enjoying the last vestiges of the setting sun as it sinks ever-lower along the horizon. Then, he opens one eye to peer at you.

“Though I’ve been meaning to ask —”

“Hm?”

“What’s this about doing more than biting… if asked about it nicely enough?”

You try to duck your head but Zoro catches your chin in his fingers.

“I — I just… knew it would piss off my mother if she —”

“Mm, sounded like more than that to me.”

Your breath hitches as Zoro’s thumb traces a rough line along your bottom lip.

“How about… I show you?” and the offer is barely out of your mouth before Zoro is kissing you, his mouth seeking out yours with a soft groan that betrays all the lightness in his touch as he trails his free hand down your arm to pull hard at your waist.

And it’s not the first time you’ve kissed. It’s not even the first time a kiss with Zoro has become more than just a kiss, though you’d always been careful before to make sure that he knew (though thinking back, it might’ve just been an ill-fated attempt at lying to yourself) that the pleasure shared between bodies was just that — pleasure and bodies.

But this — this kiss becomes, and becomes.

It becomes breath and heartbeats, pleasure and heat. It becomes truth and promises and the tantalizing taste of fairy-tale endings.

“Z-Zoro…”

“Yes Princess?”

You hiss as his teeth grazes along your pulse point and your fingers fist in his hair.

“Y’know…” your voice comes out as nothing more than a soft pant as Zoro tugs you over to one of the reclining chairs beneath the orange trees and pulls you over his hips, “I’ve never liked being called that but…”

“But?” his thumbs inch beneath the material of your shirt, circling your hipbones as he smirks up at you.

“I don’t mind it when it’s you.”

Zoro’s grin goes wide and wolfish. Above him, the first stars spark into being as the sun finally sinks beyond the far horizon. For a second, his smile softens as he reaches up to toy with the end of the pale pink ribbon in your hair. Then, he gives it a single, solid tug, and your hair falls open around your shoulders, tumbling down in waves.

Zoro leans up to press a light kiss to the blood-stained satin before letting it flutter off in the wind, twisting into the rapidly darkening night.

“Good… cause I ain’t about to let anyone else call you that either.”

[soulofapatrick]

Kiss Me Tired - Percy Jackson x Female Reader

Summary: you can't sleep so go to find your best friend - Percy

Words: 1.9k

warnings: none

Y/N’s POV

I find myself tossing and turning, the sheets tangling around my restless limbs, as elusive sleep evades me once again. The Apollo cabin is quiet, the soft hum of night almost suffocating in its stillness. Moonbeams trickle through the window, casting gentle patterns of the wooden floors. 

Grateful for being on the bottom bunk tonight, I slide from under the covers with practiced ease. The gentle thud as my feet meet the floor barely makes a sound, but each step feels amplified in the silence of the sleeping cabin. Slipping on a pair of shoes without lacing them up, I make my way to the door, my heart pounding louder than the muted thuds of my footsteps. The door creaks slightly as I ease it open, wincing at the noise before exhaling a relieved breath as it swings shut behind me. 

Staying close to the comforting cover of shadows, I weave my way through the lingering clusters of campers, their hushed conversations mixing with the rustling of leaves in the night breeze. The children of Nemesis and Nyx, silhouetted against the faint glow of the campfire, seem engrossed in their own whispered discussions, oblivious to my presence as I navigate the edges of their gathering.

I skirt the edges of the Poseidon Cabin, a refuge I’ve often visited, and slip inside, grateful for the cover of darkness. The familiar scent of saltwater and adventure lingers in the air. The cabin is eerily quiet, echoing with the absence of Percy—the solitary presence that usually defines it. 

My steps echo softly against the wooden floor as I venture further in. The moonlight filters through the windows, causing elongated shadows that dance across the cabin’s interior. Percy’s empty bed confirms his absence, leaving the cabin strangely deserted. 

Curiosity propels me deeper into the cabin, my gaze landing on the backdoor open, leading to the pontoons. The moon’s silvery trail illuminates the pathway to the water’s edge, inviting and ethereal. The realisation settles in—Percy, the sole child of Poseidon, often seeks solace by the lake, where the water sings the tales of his father’s realm. 

The sight before me steal a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding. Percy sits there, silhouetted against the shimmering reflection of the moon on the water, a portrait of quiet strength and contemplation. His unruly hair catches glimmers of moonlight, creating an otherworldly halo around him. 

As I draw nearer, the tranquility that envelopes him seems almost tangible. The lake mirrors the night sky, stars dancing on its surface, and Percy, the living embodiment of that serene beauty, captures my attention entirely. 

He turns at the faint rustle of my approach, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his pretty lips. His sea-green eyes, illuminated by the moon’s gentle glow, hold a depth that echoes the mysteries of the ocean. It’s mesmerising, the way he seems both a part of the night and a beacon within it. 

Percy’s messy black hair catches the moonlight in a way that makes it seem like constellations have woven themselves into the strands, each unruly wave a testament to the untamed spirit he embodies. His lightly tanned skin, kissed by the sun’s rays and caressed by the gentle breeze, holds a warmth that feels inviting even in the cool night air. 

As I settle next to him, a comfortable ease settles between us. Percy shifts slightly, adjusting his position, and I follow suit, instinctively resting my head on his shoulder. It feels oddly natural, as if this silent language of unspoken understanding has been written int he stars all along. The coolness of the night dissipates against the warmth of his presence. His shoulder, solid and reassuring beneath my head, carries the weigh of both the wards burdens and its beauty. 

His sea-green eyes, s deep and enigmatic, gaze out into the horizon, the mysteries of the universe reflecting in their depths. The seven expression on his face speaks volumes, as if he’s a silent guardian, watching over the secrets of the night.  The gentle breeze whispers secrets to the night, and I feels Percy’s arm, strong and comforting, wrap around my waist, pulling me a fraction closer to him. It’s a gesture of silent understanding, an unspoken invitation to share the weight of ur silent night-time musings. 

“Why can’t you sleep, Mouse?” Percy’s voice, soft and inquisitive, breaks the tranquil silence with my stupid nickname he made for me. His concern is palpable, yet I hesitate to divulge the true reason behind my sexlessness, my heart pounding against the confession I’m afraid to voice. 

I shift slightly, trying to evade the truth, the words catching in my throat as I struggle to articulate the turmoil within, “Just… thoughts, I guess. You know how it is.” 

But it’s a hollow response, a mere veil covering the truth that simmers beneath the surface. The mere thought of Percy and Annabeth together as a couple, a union so celebrated and cherished among demigods, twists a knot in my stomach, a painful reminder of my unspoken feelings for him. 

The fear of vulnerability and the ache of unrequited affection hold me captive in a silence that feels suffocating. I can’t bring myself to admit the ache his closeness evokes, the ache that surges every time I see them together, facing the world as a pair that everyone wants to see. The perfect couple. 

A grumble of protest escapes my lips, as I know he sees through my lie as he stays silent, a frustrated sound that I can’t seem to contain. I turn my face, burying it in the comforting crook of his neck, hoping to hide the turmoil that threatens to spill over. His chest rumbles with a soft laughter, a sound that’s both comforting and teasing, pulling me out of my momentary retreat. 

Before I realise it, his finger hooks gently under my chin, lifting my face to meet to gaze. The concern etched into his expression melts away any remaining resistance, coaxing me to open up even as my heart clenches with the vulnerability of it all. 

“Hey,” He murmurs softly, his sea-green eyes searching mine, an unspoken invitation tp share whatever weighs on my mind. 

I swallow hard, the lump in my throat refusing to dissipate. The urge to confess tugs at my heartstrings, a silent plea to unburden the ache that gnaws at me. But the words romain elusive, trapped behind a barrier of fear and insecurity. 

My heart hammers against my chest as his thumb traces a gentle path across my cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that seeps into the cracks of my guarded emotions. I meet his gaze, sea-green eyes holding mine in a silent conversation that speaks volumes. 

I feel myself drawn to him, my eyes inadvertently tracing the curve of his lips. The soft moonlight casts an ethereal glow on his features, highlighting the contours of his face in a way that feels almost surreal. 

As my gaze lingers on his lips, a surge of emotions—longing, fear, and a yearning for something more—swirl within me. Self-control wavers as my heart takes over, propelled by an undeniable urge to bridge the gap between us. 

Without warning, without calculation, I lean forward, closing the space between us. My lips meet his in a moment that feels both suspended in time and yet over too soon. It’s a soft, tentative touch, a leap of faith and vulnerability woven into the tender connection.

 For a heartbeat, the world stills around us, the air crackling with the unspoken truth of our shared emotions. The warmth of his lips against mine like a revelation, a stolen moment that lingers as a testament to the unspoken desires I’ve kept hidden. But, just as quickly as it happens, the weight of the moment hits me, the reality crashing down like a tidal wave. I pull away, breathless and wide-eyed, my heart thundering in my chest, uncertainty clouding my thoughts. 

“Perce… Fuck, I’m sorry, I-“ 

Before I can finish my stammered apology, the words tumbling out in a jumble of regret and confusion, Percy’s gentle touch silences my anxious ramblings. He leans in, cutting off my faltering speech with a soft yet determined press of his lips against mine. It’s a kiss that carries a subtle urgency, a reassurance woven into the tender connection that leaves me breathless and wide-eyed. 

His lips, warm and inviting, mould against mine in a way that feels both familiar and utterly new. There’s a tenderness to his touch, a silent promise of understanding and acceptance that sends a shiver down my spine. His kiss tastes like the promise of untold stories, of shared secrets whispered in the stillness of the night. 

My heart leaps in my chest, responding to his gentle yet confident touch. I reciprocate, tentatively at first, before letting myself be swept away by the overwhelming rush of emotions. My hands, initially hovering uncertainly in the space between us, find their place, one resting against his chest and the other timidly finds its way to his cheek, relishing the warmth and softness of his skin. 

His hands, strong yet tender, find their place at the small of my back, pulling me closer in an embrace that feels both reassuring and exhilarating. The closeness of our bodies, the shared warmth between us, creates a cocoon of intimacy that blurs the boundaries of friendship and something more. 

The moment lingers, suspended in a haze of shared emotions, before Percy breaks the kiss, his breath mingling with mine as he gently pulls me onto his lap. My knees rest on either side of his hips, a sudden rush of adrenaline mingling with the warmth of our closeness. Then, he guides me down, our bodies molding together in a dance of longing and unspoken desires. His hands, firm yet gentle, cup my face, his thumbs brushing against my cheeks as he leans in for another kiss.

This time, there's a hunger in his touch, a raw passion that ignites between us. Our lips meet again in a union fuelled by the unspoken confessions of our hearts. It's a kiss that speaks volumes, a dance of lips and tongues that express the emotions we've kept buried for so long. His fervour is matched by mine as I respond eagerly, the longing I've harboured finally finding an outlet in this shared intimacy. The taste of his kiss is electrifying, a rush of emotions that consumes every inch of my being.

My hands find their place on his shoulders, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, drawing him closer in a silent plea for more. Our bodies meld together, the heat of our closeness building an unspoken intensity that blurs the lines between friendship and an uncharted territory of passion.

In the soft moonlight, our embrace becomes a symphony of desire and longing, each movement a testament to the unspoken connection we've discovered. And as we lose ourselves in this intoxicating moment, the boundaries of what we were and what we might become blur in the heat of our shared passion.

“Come on sweetheart,” Percy finally pulls away, “You can sleep here tonight.” 

Riordanverse Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[utterlyotterlyx]

These Hallowed Halls

Cassian x Fem!Reader

Based on this ask x

Summary - You had begged Cassian not to leave you again, you had begged him to stay, and you had fallen apart when he had left without saying goodbye.

Warnings - swearing, ANGST, depression, weight loss, fluff, Cassian being a raging prick, Azriel being a softie, mentions of blood

The Mother was certainly mocking you.

Rain smacked against the stone balcony beyond the glass doors which were rattling in the wild wind, harmonising with your own sadness as you stood in the centre of your room, finding little to no comfort in front of the fire you were usually curled in front of.

Grey skies loomed overhead. It was rare for such a storm to descend upon Velaris, so rare that most didn't know what to do when it arrived. Most opted to stay in doors and wait it out, wait until starlight flooded the streets in welcome and fae journeyed on in their lives.

Cassian stood before you, dishevelled and tired, deep sunken patches under his one shade darker than usual eyes, his lips curled into a snarl, body lax and weary. The Illyrian ran his hands over his face, grazing his fingertips over his growing beard, and he rolled his shoulders and his wings with them before he looked to you and sighed, "Don't make this harder than it needs to be, Y/N."

You had been joined at the hip, had a relationship that no one could ever understand, not even Rhys or Az could figure it out. Cassian was your lighthouse in an ocean of fog, he had the ability to be your happiness or shatter your soul, and you clung to every piece of affection and attention that he gave to you. When he was gone, you felt as though you were on fire, like every single one of your nerve ends were being cauterised and there was no anaesthesia.

Brown waves fell from his loosely wrapped bun, drifting over his face which was illuminated by that golden glow emitting from the fireplace. Cassian had come to you right after he reported to Rhys like he always did, but instead of hugging you tightly and cracking open a bottle of wine to tell you his next enthralling tale, he stood before you to tell you he was leaving again with a cold and distant accent taking over his entire body.

"But, you've only just gotten back," you told him, fiddling with the cuffs of his jumper that you had stolen, just needing to be surrounded by him for one moment, it drowned your body since Cassian was a large framed male, and you adored his jumpers, they made you feel precious.

"I know that," he bit, his muscles tensing in a different order every few seconds.

He was exhausted, you knew that, it rolled off him in waves, no, tsunamis, and you wanted nothing more than to run your hand through his unbound hair and tell him it was okay. But you had missed him, too much.

The fire crackled at the head of your bedroom, a blanket lay strewn over the arm of the sofa from when you had flung it off of your body the moment his scent filled your lungs from down the hallway.

"Do you have to go? I've missed you Cass, it's been horrible without you," you pleaded, each one of your words made him feel heavy.

Cassian adored you, you were his shadow, clinging to him for comfort, he always found you in his clothes, he always found you waiting for him whenever he returned home to give him what he needed. Whether that be someone to laugh with or someone to hold until he fell asleep.

You were his person. In the most platonic way possible. Cassian couldn't say that about anyone else but you.

"Rhys had ordered it. So yes. I have to go," his words were harsh and laced with venom, a pure annoyance that radiated from him as he rolled his neck, unmoving from his place in front of you.

You were confused, he hadn't even smiled at you when he had entered your room, he hadn't hugged you or asked how you had been, he hadn't offered to tell you a story or let you know what he needed to feel better. The Cassian in front of you wasn't the Cassian you recognised.

It was the first time you felt small in front of him, the first time where his gaze made you cower and feel uneasy, "I can speak to him if you'd like? He might let you have some rest at least-"

"Fuck, Y/N. Will you just stop?!" Cassian shouted at you, the sound of his voice made you flinch backward as he took a step toward you, "I don't need you to do anything for me. I don't need you to stroke my hair or fight my corner, I don't need you to talk to Rhys for me like your words will make any difference in what my High Lord requires me to do. I don't need you suffocating me and wearing my fucking clothes. I don't need you, Y/N."

Water blurred your vision as his words sliced through you, deadly enough to make you feel as though you were dying, "I'm sorry, I was just trying-"

"Stop trying. Just stop. I am the General of the Night Court's armies, it is my duty to go where I am needed and I'm very sorry to say that it's not with you Y/N. Others need me more than you. Stop fucking clinging to me and find something else to obsess over."

Cassian was panting and breathless, fury blazed in his rich hazel orbs and you let out a pained sob, wrapping your arms around yourself and stepping backward again until your legs hit the back of the sofa, you rested your weight against it and let out a shaky breath.

You didn't dare look up when you heard Cassian shuffle, his feet scuffing against the floor breaking the silence that had consumed you. You had expected him to realise what he had said, you had expected him to rush to your side and apologise. But no. Cassian dragged his feet behind him and opened your bedroom door, allowing a gust a cold air to circle the once warm room before slamming it behind him, slamming it so hard that the canvases on your walls rattled at the force.

Sleep that night had not consumed you like it usually did, the ghost of Cassian's touch lingered on your skin and you cried until your throat was raw and head was pounding. You cried until the words he spat at your drowned you into the abyss.

The morning had come around quickly and you had groaned whilst getting out of bed, the little sleep you had gotten clear on your face and body, your tear stained cheeks were puffy and red, and your hair was a mess from your hands clawing through it, begging for some pressure to take your pain away.

You had to find him. You had to see him. You had to say goodbye.

But when you had entered his room without knocking, you gasped, his bed was askew, the scent of him lingered in the air, but he wasn't there. Cassian had left. His bedroom a haphazard sign that he had left in a hurry and as soon as he had woken up.

You hadn't realised that you had fallen to your knees sobbing until cedar and night-kissed mountains flooded you, Az's arms wrapped around you and he held you close, hushing you and whispered to you that everything was going to be fine. Rhys had appeared next, frowning at you with sad eyes before cradling you carefully to his chest, stroking your hair as he carried you back to your room and fitted your sheets over your frame. Rhys continued to hold you until your mind was weak enough to allow him in to put you to sleep.

They had tried everything to coax you out of bed the weeks following Cassian's abrupt exit, Amren had offered to take you to the library countless times, promising to buy you every book that you wanted. Mor had tried to get you to go to Rita's, to drink and dance the pain away. Azriel's shadows peppered kisses over your face and had done their best to curl around the edge of your sheet to pull them down, to which you had whimpered and pulled them back up to your neck. Rhys had even offered to take you dress shopping, he told you that if an expensive garment was going to make you smile then he would spend his entire fortune on it.

Nothing made you want to move.

Your soul felt empty, every fibre of your body felt dead and cold, like the crisp forest in the middle of a harsh winter. Nothing made you want to live your life. Cassian's words to you played over and over in your mind, maybe you were too much, maybe after all your years together in your family had made you too comfortable.

It took everything within you to not ask for one of his jumpers, he had made it clear that he didn't want you to be like that anymore. He didn't want you.

Your body felt heavy, the weight of your despair crushing your limbs into dust. You felt the weight dropping off of you, you felt your stomach cry for nourishment but didn't wish to satisfy it, you didn't want anything, anyone, but him.

"Please get up, Y/N. It's been three weeks, you've hardly eaten. We're worried about you," Azriel had settled into the space behind you and smothered you with his heat, he noticed how cold you were, how tired and lost your eyes were, how you wore an expression of pure heartbreak and loneliness on your beautiful face.

Azriel sighed at your weak grunt, pulling you back into his chest and doing his best to make you feel loved and cherished. He couldn't admit it but he had heard the words Cassian had so carelessly thrown at you that night, and it took everything within him to not burst through your door and pummel his brother into the ground, even his shadows wanted a piece of the General, how dare he say those things to you.

The Shadowsinger couldn't even put into words the relationship between you and Cassian. You had never been lovers, but you had never been just friends. Friends didn't peck each others temples or stroke each others hair. Friends didn't wait up for the other to return home and then scurry into one of their bedrooms to hold one another and talk. Friends didn't act like you and Cassian, two kindred spirits of chemically perfect harmonisation.

Azriel missed your smile, he missed the way that they all lit up when you laughed, or entered the room, or even looked at them. You made life feel lighter, you made life feel balanced. But now, now it felt disjointed, and they all felt it.

When you didn't move, or even tear your gaze away from the world beyond your window, he sighed and left the room with a soft click of the door. Cassian wasn't due to return for another couple of weeks, and Azriel feared so badly that the damage would be too severe for even Cassian to repair.

The days ticked on, days where you didn't eat or bathe, days where you only left your bed to use the bathroom before finding another nightgown to wear, days where your only sustenance were a few almonds and some water. Mor had gasped when she had seen your body through the crack in your door, the grey tinged sickly paled skin, the outline of your ribs, the deep hued sacks under your eyes; it was too much for her to witness, and she had to take herself into her own room and cry for you.

Azriel had knelt in front of you two weeks later, tears in his eyes, and you felt his sadness rippling off of him as his face entered your weak vision, it was the first time you had really looked at any of them since that day. He had taken your limp hand in his own, he had allowed his shadows to slither up your limb and coax you gently into smiling softly at him, "Please get up, Y/N. Please. I'll do anything you want. I can't watch you kill yourself anymore. We love you, we love you so much. Please."

You had squeezed his hand as hard as you could, which to him was nothing, and shifted in your bed, wincing as you pushed your legs over the side of the mattress. Azriel was beside you in a second, crouching in front of you and helping you to your feet, "I want to feel the sun," you voice was hoarse, Azriel was surprised that you still knew how to talk, "Take me to summer."

Cassian had sped home as fast as he could once his job was finished. The feeling of leaving you had broken him more each time he had thought about it, that pained look on your face had haunted his dreams. He never should have said those things to you, he never should have left you, he should have told Rhys to go and fuck himself instead of what he really did.

You had cowered like a wounded animal in front of him whilst every word cut you like a knife, if it were a knife you'd surely be dead.

He had to get back to you.

Cassian had landed on the lawn of the River House and he felt the atmosphere shift, what was once light and warm was now cold and ominous. The house held no joy, your laugh did not stalk the halls, it just felt lonely, abandoned. Just like you.

The door had flown open and Mor had stalked from the hearth, eyes blazing with hatred, pale and tired, and she wasted no time in bounding right up to him and planting her fist right in the centre of his face. Cassian lurched to the side at the impact, cradling his busted nose in his hand, "You prick," she seethed, Amren and Rhys had flown out of the house after her but were to late to stop her from jabbing Cassian right in the nose, "Today was the first time she's even spoke after what you did," her finger was in his face, her eyes were wild and frantic, "How could you do that to her? She's your person, she's your best friend and you did that?"

Rhys grabbed her wrist before she could land another blow, Amren had swooped in and guided Mor back into the house, not before growling at the male in front of her, leaving Cassian and Rhys out on the lawn, the latter of which was glowering at his brother.

"Count yourself lucky that she got to you first," Rhys was dead behind the eyes, Cassian had never seen a void like it, he looked to the house, hoping that the foundations would peel apart so that he could see you, Rhys scoffed, "Azriel has taken her to Summer. She needed the sun, she hasn't been out in it for four weeks."

"Four weeks?" Rhys hummed, his power throbbing around him, "Rhys I fucked up, I need to see her."

"I'm sure you can wait, like she waited for you. I hope you're proud of yourself brother, I really do."

Rhys turned on his heels and disappeared into the depths of the home, leaving Cassian stood in the grass cursing himself for ever taking his anger out on you.

Rhys had called to Azriel, had told him that Cassian was at the River House and that he should take you to the House of Wind instead. Azriel had obliged without question, not wanting to put himself in the situation where he would harm a member of his family.

You had figured it out, the reason why your residence had been moved so abruptly, and it shattered you. Your afternoon in the sun had been lovely, you felt the sun seeping into your pores, you felt the waves kissing your feet, you felt the sand between your toes, and you felt safe pacing beside Azriel who only spoke when you did.

Soon enough, you had found yourself in the deep tub of you House of Wind bedroom, you had always loved the view there, you could see the valley of gold at the foot of the mountains, you could hear the childish laughter drift upward from the streets, and you could see the starlight cascade across the sky.

Oils and warmth washed your grime and paleness away, the heat giving a new lease of life to your skin. You were sure that you still looked awful, that much was obvious from the longing stares your family had bestowed upon you over the past few weeks.

The tub rippled as you stood from it, you dried yourself off and pulled one of Azriel's jumpers over your figure as well as a pair of lax cotton pants that hung from your hips. Azriel had done his best to make your room feel cosy, he lit the fire with his own hands and refused to cower away, he wouldn't cower away from it for you, he had brought you tea and fluffed your pillows, but you still ached, you still yearned for something else.

Loud voices echoed from the hallway, the padding of feet drew closer and you frowned softly at the noises floating to your ears. The door of your bedroom flew open and you found Cassian stood before you, nose smeared with poorly wiped blood, he looked frantic and boiling with worry and fear, and his face contorted when he saw you.

Rhys had entered after him, he had surveyed you carefully, noticing the towel you must have been drying your hair with now a pile of cotton on the floor, "I'm sorry, Y/N. I can make him leave."

It was like your soul was burning with that aching fire, only this time it wasn't painful, your soul was singing a symphony of emotion, "No," you said weakly, your eyes moved to Rhys and you nodded, he told you he was only a shout away if you needed him and then left.

Cassian drank you in, the lifeless eyes and limp hair, the greyish hue to your skin, the dark bags under your eyes, he noted the way the clothes you wore hung from your frame and the way your cheeks sunk into the bone, and he broke, "Y/N, I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry. I never should have said those things to you, I don't know what I was thinking," Tears streamed down his cheeks and it hurt you to see him that way, "You're not clingy or obsessed, I know you were trying to look out for me. You always look out for me."

"I love every single thing about you. I love the way my jumpers drown you and coat you in my scent, I love it when you wait for me to come home, I love the way fire spreads through me whenever you touch me. I love everything that you are. I'm so sorry that I've done this to you. You deserve the world and everything good in it, you deserve so much better than me," his words were floating between broken sobs, he tried to move to you and visibly winced when you took a step back, "You are my everything. You are the one who completes me, you are the one I search for whenever I enter a room, you are the only one who I feel safe with."

"My home is wherever you are, you are my home and I know I've fucked up and I understand if you never want to speak to me again. I just need you to know that I'm sorry. If I have to leave Velaris for you to feel safe then I will, I-"

"Why would you do that?" you voice called to him, you took a single step forward and examined him, he was distraught, "I went to find you that morning, to apologise for being so suffocating," you cringed at the word, at how it had made you feel when he had thrown it at you, "But you were gone."

Cassian took a step closer to you, "I knew what I'd done, I saw what I'd done to you and I couldn't see you look at me like that again. I wanted to protect you from me, I needed to get you away from me."

You wrapped your arms around your frame and found his eyes, his beautiful pools of rippling sadness screaming for you, "I don't need protecting from you, Cass. I just need you," you tucked a strand of your wet hair behind your ear and continued, "I don't know why I cling to you, it hurts to be away from you, I feel like my body is dying when you leave me. It feels like my soul is being ripped from my body and I can't breathe when you're gone. I'm nothing without you. I can't live without you."

Cassian had closed the gap between you, his hands finding a place on your hip and under your chin and he tilted your head upward, his eyes searched your face, delving into the deepest depths of your thrumming soul and his eyes widened, "Y/N," his voice was a whisper, his thumb glided across your cheek and you found yourself leaning into the touch, soaking up the affection like a sponge in the ocean.

Bottom lip wobbling, he took your face in his hands, "I think I know why you've been feeling like that."

Cassian's breath fanned across your face and you inhaled deeply, you felt your soul melting, all of the sadness now a painful memory, you felt hot white starlight and the shifting of those golden threads, webbing your essence together until it jolted into place. The snap. Cassian continued to hold you in his arms and your fingers brushed against his jaw, "We're mates," it was a fact, and he nodded.

"We're mates," a tear slid down his cheek, and you knew he felt all of your pain in that moment, "I promise that I will take care of that heart of gold for the rest of my days. I promise to love you endlessly until you tell me to stop," he rested his forehead against yours, "I knew it was you, I knew it was us."

"Meant to be," Cassian huffed out a gentle sigh and brushed his nose against your own before dipping his lips to meet yours.

It was better than you could have ever imagined, you felt your souls merging together into one, you felt the world grow lighter and your heart grow fuller, you felt your scent combining into something that could drown continents. You felt him.

And as long as you both lived, there would never be a day where either of you felt unloved.

Authors Note

Jeeeeez!

Love these requests, they make me so happy x

@jenniferpendragon @acourtof-wingspan

[girllookingoutwindow]

People comes and goes. Colin eyes are dancing in the room following her. She is too far away. He wanted to reach her, but she's in the center and he's in the corner. This is her night. So he waits, giving her the moment.

His eyes call for her. Their find each other. She looks at him and his body has his own will and gets closer to her. Where he belongs. He can't stop looking to her.

She is so beautiful that he can't believe that she's real. The night feels like a fantasy tale. She's a butterfly, ehereal and dreamy.

They were so many things in his mind. So many things he wants to say. He's so impressed, so proud of her. Of what she'd done. She's free now. He feels free too. Like some heavy weight has left his body.

it's something different on her, a calming force, a strength in her voice. But it's kind of nature. The softness of it all makes him feel soft too.

She speaks and he can't comprehend the words that came from her mouth. He heard them and they feel they come from the depths of the void. From a different world. A different life. A life he couldn't be more afraid. A life without her.

The strings in his heart that connects to hers press him deeply. His breath hurts. It's water in his eyes. Just one tear could fill an ocean.

She's his family. She always was. It's not home without her.

She's letting him go. He recognises the feeling. He tried to do the same for her before. But it felt wrong. It feels so wrong. He can't let go. He doesn't want to let go of the feeling that her presence makes in his soul.

What he would be, more than the shadows of a man?

She talks about forgiveness. He knows he hurt her. He's not proud of it. They hurt each other. More than they thought they were able to do so or even want it. He was so full of resentment and distrust. But he needed to feel it. To embraced completely to let it go.

He missed her. Even when she was in the same room. He wanted to touch her, to kiss her. He was too proud to let her know.

He can't never be able to be far away from her. She needs to know.

A piece of her heart was in her letters. But her mind was all there too. They were full of her kindness and curiosity. They were so cleaver and full of her humor. She was her real self there. He had the privilege of knowing her like nobody else. He loved her all along.

He needed her. The way they made him feel alive and close to home. He was so lost without his letters.

She made him come back. Her voice always calls him like a siren's song.

He loves Pen, but he loved Whistledown without him knowing all along. He loves both of them. It's the woman he chose to marry, who's in front of him. He doesn't imagine not being her. He doesn't want to. She's the most brave woman he knows.

He was so jealous. Jealous of her success. She made her dreams come true before he knew his. He was jealous of her writing and having to share her with it. He felt so little around her.

She could have the entire world if she wanted to. Why she would chose him? Why she would love him? He never could find a reason. He didn't have anything to give. He wanted to be so worthy of her love.

He can't imagine let that warm feeling go.

He didn't have to find one. What reason has to do with love? Maybe he was just the luckiest man int he world. To love such woman and she loving him back. Lucky that the destiny made her know her. To find each other.

He would do of his love his reason. His purpose. Nothing else, nothing more. He doesn't want nothing more.

He wants his wife. He needs to say it to her. Every day. In every moment he can. He missed her so much.

He wants to makes her smile every day. But he want to be there when she cries, and she's angry with him. When they fight for the most silly things. He wants to be there with her. And dance with her, together, the rest of their lives.

[bakvrue]

luminance

genya x reader, 1.4k, genya is taller than you, fluff, fem reader, maybe unsafe swimming practices, divider by saradika

“How did you hear about this again?”

Genya’s hand is in yours as you lead him along a dark path. The trees and bushes towering over you are bathed in nothing but the light of the stars as their leaves dance in the wind.

“The little old ladies in town told me about it. They said that it’s a town tradition to go, so we have to!”

You hold his hand a little tighter, asking him to trust you. 

You’re only here for a small mission but you quickly came to love this small town and all of its people; the grandmas who pile food on your plate, the kids who run up to you to hold your hand, and the streets that make you feel like you're walking home. 

You smile remembering the faces of the women who told you about the town’s unique lore, their whispers and giggles had followed you all week as they watched you and Genya patrol the town together. They saw you hang off his every word, how your heart flutters every time he looks at you for too long, and how his face turns red every time you catch him. 

He looks at you as if you molded the sun in your two hands and you look at him as if he hand-carved every crater on the moon. How could they not notice?

But what you neglect to tell Genya is what the town’s folklore actually says. 

The dirt path slowly gives way to sand as you continue to walk and the stars guide you until you hear the faint sound of waves crashing. 

The path straightens out in front of you and your breath hitches in your throat.

The sea meets the horizon in an explosion of stars, interstellar colors dance across the water that crashes along the rocky beach, and with each break of waves a bright blue sparkle dances along the sand. The blue sparkle glows so brightly, you’ve never seen anything like it.

“Wow,” you sigh with wonder. Your body feels lighter than it has in years, the beauty catches you off guard and you can hardly take your eyes off of the crashing waves.

Genya squeezes your hand tightly and your gaze turns to him. He opens his mouth but he doesn't have the words he wants to say yet. There's a familiar feeling in his chest, like an old memory waking up from a thousand years of slumber.

“Come on, let's get closer!”

You let go of his hand and run towards the beach, your arms held out to your sides like a little kid running toward the ocean for the first time. 

And his memory comes flooding back. 

His mother sits along the banks of the river that runs near his childhood home. The sun casts shadows through leaves onto her hair as she mends the holes in his younger brother's clothing. Most of his siblings are all playing in the shallow water, their giggles and shouts bouncing off of the river's surface, but Koto, his youngest brother, sleeps gently in Genya’s lap.

“Genya,” his mother calls, remembering the sound of her voice for the first time in a long time. He takes a deep breath in and watches you reach the glowing water's edge. “Genya, my wish for you is to find someone who shows you what it’s like to have wonder. You and your brother take care of our family so well, you both grew up so fast. You’ll meet someone—”

The tiny version of himself cuts her off, “Like a wife?” Baby Genya’s eyes pop open, his face growing more and more red, and his mother chuckles to herself 

“Something like that,” she smiles at him and Genya looks down at his sleeping brother in his lap. “I can take Koto,” she motions to him. puts down her sewing as the Shinazugawa sisters come running up, begging to play with him.

“Come on Genya!” “The water is so cold!” “You have to play with us!”

Another nod from his mother and he gives in. Sumi pulls at his hand while Teiko runs ahead of them, her arms spread out to her sides before she jumps in the water.

The sun from that day fades and he sees you smile at him.

You extend a hand to him, inviting him to join you.

He’s heard the tales of this beach, and even the old wives tale the women have probably told you. He takes a deep breath and exhales. 

Wonder, huh?

He kicks off his shoes and gives you a dastardly smile, one that you're soon to regret.

“Genya, what are you—” 

He runs at you, catching you off guard. This mountain of a man gets to you in mere seconds and throws you onto his shoulder. You scream and laugh as he continues running into the water, each glowing step getting slower and slower as the water rises. Every splash he makes in the water glows brighter blue.

“The water’s freezing!” you squeal as the bioluminescent waves splash against your heels.

He takes one final step, “Better hold your breath!” He laughs before dunking you both underwater.

You surface quickly and realize the water is only waist deep, you keep your shoulders under the water. The night air touching your wet clothes is colder than the water now.

Genya surfaces and flips his hair back, the sea sparkle illuminating his face with a beautiful blue glow. He takes your hand in the water and pulls you to him and in turn you wrap your arms around his neck, not letting your nerves have any say in this moment. You’ve never been this bold with each other, hugging quickly or poking at him or sleeping on his shoulder is the closest you've been. But now you're face to face.

You playfully slap at his chest for dunking you, stirring up the water and with it and even more blue blossoms around you. You don't have the heart to chastise him, even as pretend, so you just laugh. And he joins in, his head falling back in true laughter.

Watching him laugh, the way his eyes wrinkle at the corners and how each laugh comes with rippling blue waves… you don't think you've ever felt this happy in your whole life. 

His laughter slows and he sighs your name, bliss leaking out of his every pore. His hand rises out of the water and he cups your neck. 

Any last nerves you had melt away just looking at his face. This is the man that you… You stop yourself. Maybe you shouldn't say it yet, even in your own head. But the man that you like very much, and the two of you are floating in the ocean together, not a care in the world. 

Your breathing starts to match his as the two of you fall into sync. Your eyes map out every feature of his face, committing it to memory as his eyes fall to your lips.

Genya’s face starts turning red, the glowing algae gives him away, but you're sure that it's doing the same for you. Letting him see every imperfection you have, every scar and doubt and negative thing about you. And he's here anyway. His heart is so close to yours that you can practically feel it beating in time with yours.

His lips are soft against yours as you breathe him in. A culmination of everything you've ever felt for him being poured out under this night sky. Your arms tighten around him, holding onto him with everything you have. Your ache to be closer, your desire to have him all to yourself, to give him every piece of yourself and watch him cradle it, and then to do the same for him. He’s desperate to keep you close, arms sliding around your waist and holding you so tightly. 

His lips pull against yours as the waves continue to crash, the illuminated ocean guiding your way back to his lips over and over again, your body finding its new path home. 

Your first kiss with him will always taste like the salt of the sea.

It is said that lovers who bathe in the blue sea sparkle together will have their love story written in the stars, for two lovers who take the plunge together are bound to become soulmates and live out the rest of their days together, in this life and the next.

[thatonepeppi]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧gale dekarios head canons✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊

I CANNOT stop thinking about this man, so I'm going to dump all of my thoughts here, enjoy :)

the format is odd, I have not written in some time, excuse me :3

☾ after the final battle

⋆ after the final battle, the two of you go back to your own room in the Elf Song Tavern, not before a very much needed shower that is. You two care for each other, chatting slowly and longingly at what your next moves are like the two of you have all the time in the world -and now you do.

⋆ Gale tiptoes around the subject of Waterdeep. He longs to be home, he's been picturing you this entire time in his home, doing everything. Making love, cooking for you, having tea in the mornings, how you would look in his bed as the sunlight and the moonlight creep in. Gale wants that life with you desperately, something simple and cozy, and with love in every action.

"Are you still there?" Tav asks, "My hair feels very clean now, especially in that particular spot."

In the midst of his reverie, a subtle "Hmm?" escaped from Gale's lips, abruptly awakened from a trance, "Oh, apologies, Dearest. A lot on my mind -- well I guess not so much anymore," He laughs quietly, rinsing off the bubbles in their hair, fingering through their strands of hair. Wherever Tav was needed, he would be sure to follow, he was certain of it. But still, he was homesick.

Tav frowns, "What's wrong, Love?" They lean into Gale, "You can talk to me, about anything."

Minutes slipped by like grains of sand in an hourglass until Gale finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "Tav," he began, hesitating as if unsure of his own words, "I... I miss home. Waterdeep," He looks away, "Wherever you go, know that I will follow and happily too. Whether it be another adventure, here in Baldur's Gate, your own home. For you, I would sleep on the ground again, as long as your warm presence is there with me," He looks at them, nothing but warmth and sincerity in his words and in his eyes, "I love you, wherever we go, or wherever you are."

Tav's heart ached at the confession, the weight of Gale's homesickness palpable in the steam-filled air. Without hesitation, they reached out, clasping Gale's sun kissed and freckled hands in a gentle reassurance, giving them a gentle kiss.

"I know, my love," Tav murmured, their voice soft as a caress. "We can go home whenever you're ready. I'll be right here, by your side, every step of the way."

In that moment, as Gale's eyes met theirs with a mixture of gratitude and relief, Tav realized that home wasn't just a place—it was the warmth of their shared love, cocooned in the sanctuary of the bath, and where they found solace in each other's embrace. And though Gale longed for the familiar sights and sounds of Waterdeep, Tav knew that their love would be their anchor, no matter where their adventures took them in the realms.

☾ home

⋆ Gale is giddy from the start of the morning hopping off the massive ship the two of you took to get to Waterdeep. He takes your hand in his as he guides you down his city, excitingly pointing out all the areas he promises to take you once the two of you are settled.

⋆ Stepping into Gale's tower, you are immediately embraced by a whimsical antiquity, the cozy allure of a bygone era evident in every corner. Soft candlelight bathes the space, casting dancing shadows that whisper tales of adventure. Books adorn every surface, their well-loved pages holding secrets and enchantments, while antique treasures dot the shelves, each one a nostalgic relic of older times. Through the grand balcony, the endless expanse of the ocean stretches out, its rhythmic waves a soothing melody. Ships setting sail, the grunts of the dockhands as they tie these giant ships to their posts. In this enchanting haven, amidst the warmth of history and the timeless beauty of the sea, you find a sanctuary unlike any other. Home.

⋆ After settling in, you experience a life like no other. Gale is incessant on cooking you breakfast almost every morning. He knows how to prepare your morning coffees and afternoon teas by heart. Mornings are for the two of you to lounge in bed, holding each other, listening to the crashing waves, feeling that cool—salty breeze caress your warm bodies.

⋆ Breakfast is eaten over the occasional game of lance board on the grand mahogany table. The two of you recounting your adventures, encounters and memories. Gentle caresses and soft laughter are a welcome guest at breakfast. Even at the dinner table it seems like the two of you can't keep your hands off of each other.

⋆ Tara finds her way back home not long after. Its the very early morning, and a rare day where Gale is still in bed. You walk over to the tressym pawing at the large window, demanding to be let in. You smile as you let her in, and her furry body hurriedly makes her way inside.

"About time you let me in, I've been howling for hours, Darling, I feel parched!" The winged cat says, "I was not told that the two of you made it back, what a journey. Luckily for you, I am quite the magical tresseym, a simple spell like the one I invented is no match for miles and miles of road and walking," Tara trails off, making herself at home and out of earshot, you can still hear her grumpy rambling however, "Tav Dekarios!" She yells and you hurry over to see her sitting, licking herself next to an elegant white bowl on the floor, "My dish needs water."

You fill her dish with cold water, making sure to also refill her food bowl, you smile at the thought of you taking Gales last name already, hopefully you and Tara can foster a good relationship.

"And where is Mr. Dekarios currently?," Tara says stretching.

"Still in bed, and very warm if you would like to snuggle up to him."

Tara meows excitingly, "Oh, that sounds divine, Dear. Thank you ever so kindly for keeping him warm," She says as you start to get up, "But before you go Ms/Mr/Mx Dekarios, there is something very important that you must learn. Something that will quickly earn your favor with me."

"And what would that be Ms. Tara?" You question, facing down at the tressym, still at ground level with her.

She looks at you with widened pupils, "A good scratch behind this tressyms ears would be delightful, I will show you how but only once! This is known as my 'Due' and it's been made clear to me that you are quite the capable person to be entrusted with such a delicate procedure," Tara leans her head down and closes her little eyes. She rubs her ears with her paws to show you exactly how she wants to be pet, but to you, it looks like she's just cleaning herself, "You see? Like this, Dear, gently but also with some vigor." She looks back at you, "Your turn, but you must remember the technique."

You smile at the tressym, before going to scratch her behind the ears, silently praying that you are doing something right. She purrs and leans into your hand, making a sweet little content face as it looks like she's getting lost in the scratch.

Tara abruptly stops and clears her throat, "That will have to do, thank you," She trails off into you and Gales shared room. You hear a faint, "Mr. Dekarios! I have arrived!" in a little sing-song voice, and then a groan from a very sleepy Gale.

⋆ Some of your items find their way into the house, Gale is sure to make space for you to fit you into his home. Your shirts sometimes get mixed up, "Is this my book or yours?" is a common question.

⋆ He loves seeing your personality fill his house, items depending on your class are scattered around the tower. If you are a druid, house plants are hung from the ceiling, there is a small succulent on Gale's desk (It replaces Mystra's statue.).

⋆ If you are a bard, he loves to hear your music throughout the house. Gale loves to hear your song from the balcony as he's reading. He buys you sheet music, new strings, equipment. He could listen to you for hours, and most days he does.

⋆ Gale is interested in your interests and makes sure to make time for you to listen to you about your favorite topics. Being seen and heard is very important to him.

⋆ Over time, he does lose the earring. He finds one that reminds him of you. A music note, a sword, a small plant stud, or just about anything that he would relate to you.

⋆Gale loves you more than anything and he wants to make that very clear, even if you feel like these small reminders of Mystra don't bother you, he would rather having something that would make him think of you rather than her.

--

Thank you sm for reading, friends!! its been very long since ive written something and this isn't proof read >.< hope it was okay. Love you!!

[chuuyrr]

𝐢. 𝐀 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋, 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐄𝐌𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ‧₊ .ᐟ

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𓂃 ࣪˖ ִ 𓆩 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐈 𝐖𝐎𝐔𝐋𝐃 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐄 ‧₊ 𓆪 fallen angel! dazai osamu , f! angel! reader . . .

𝐍𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐈𝐍𝐆 ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ i can fix him (no really i can)

𝐂𝐖(𝐬) ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ angels! au, religious themes: inspired by éloa (1824), a poem about a f! angel falling for a "stranger", which is also inspired by the hades and persephone myth. submission to @kentopedia's event !

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ sfw. in which he sought to reclaim his lost light, and like a moth to a flame, he found it in you, an angel of light

in the tapestry of stories you've heard high and low, dazai osamu's name profoundly echoed in the heavens, tarnished by fame. you've heard it time and time again, like a broken record from the moment you were given life from the tears of the god above.

he was whispered to be akin to the devil himself, once counted among the highest-ranking angels who succumbed to the depths of disgrace.

so profound was his descent from grace that even the mere mention of his name invoked a shiver of fear. branded as fallen, unworthy, and a symbol of shame, his very existence became a testament to the consequences of betrayal in heaven.

and you were such a curious little creature of the cursed tale, almost like an innocent lamb to a wolf, as they say. however, even as an angel from above, you contemplated the prospect of getting condemned and branded unfit. the so-cursed fallen may have made mistakes, but you still stuck to this very principle.

is not everyone deserving of grace? a second chance at forgiveness? those questions plagued your heart and soul, feeling you with a sense of trepidation that you had struggled to shake, yet you somehow longed for it. how strange.

you delved to question the morality and rationale of it, therefore you were warned not to seek what is unlawful or even question the greatest order among the heavenly creatures you all are, or you would be labeled the same as the devil, dazai osamu, the fallen angel.

not only were you a curious thing, but you were also frequently admonished, such as not flying too low on the ground or you would no longer be able to stay above, but you dismissed it as a stupid scolding.

besides, how could you not? the earth was as lovely as the sky above. every corner was a breath of life, born of a miracle, just like you.

so, you descended from heaven, disregarding the warnings of your fellow angels and higher-ups, and found yourself floating across the line that connects the sky and land, your white feathery wings flapping and gliding along the breeze of the air.

unbeknownst to you, a pair of enigmatic eyes somewhere from the shadows was.. watching you—your every move.

you were like a delicate swan, far from the coast, giving its white wing to the passing waves of the ocean sky.

their gaze was solely affixed on the purity of your smile, the way your [color] eyes shone with light, and the way your danced in the skies with your wings akin to a dove's as if it was your ballroom, and those same eyes easily recognized you as one of the angels from heaven, and you were undoubtedly a pure soul.

and this light you had, your very purity, it was tempting those eyes, like a moth to a flame.

instead of avoiding temptation, he welcomed it with open arms, gazed wistfully at you from a distance. the urge was strong. just seeing you for the first time elicited a wide range of feelings in him. he wants your luminescence.

he wanted you, and he will get what he wants.

he purposely comes into your view, making sure to catch your attention, and it doesn't take long. no one could resist him anyways. not even a pure soul like you, even if you were not one of those mortal women that loves him so much so, they were the reason why they talk in their sleep.

your gaze catches sight of a young man, who is undoubtedly beautiful, and the feel is too celestial to be real. his eyes sparkle almost like dazzling diamonds in the night like stars, and his skin is so beautiful that he could be mistaken for an angel like you.. or perhaps he was?

"my, my," his voice was sweet as honey, and rich and deep as it is he spoke to you with a smile hoping to tug on your heartstrings, "where did you come from, beautiful archangel?"

"you came down from heaven and sent me lightning, but you are so beautiful in my eyes that i don't know why. you, too, have come from above, beautiful angel, to confront me? what an honor," he continues to sweet-talk you while admiring your figure, taking in your delicate features up close, from your eyelids and cheekbones to your torso, which was cradled by a white garment that suited your purity.

the first pale glimmer of twilight bled into the horizon, your wings arching gracefully behind you as the golden light of the setting sun bathed you and the man in a warm glow. the following words he uttered next sent a shiver down your spine as he approaches you closer.

"and who you might be?" you ask softly, a small quiet giggle escaping your lips that makes his smile grow wider as he shakes his head at the sides at your innocent question.

"i am the one we love and don’t know," he says, his voice wrapping around you like a silken thread, his eyes gleaming with a hidden fire, "on man, i have founded my empire of flame, in the desires of the heart, in the dreams of the soul, in the bonds of bodies, mysterious attractions, in the treasures of the blood, in the looks of the eyes."

you feel your wings twitch, your controlled elegance slipping for a minute. you clenched your hands into closed fists, attempting to steady yourself against the draw of his words as he moved closer, and closer, his presence entrancing you.

"i make wives speak in their dreams, learn happy lies. i give them nights which console days.. so you can say, i am the secret king of secret loves, dear angel," his gaze bore into yours, unyielding and magnetic, piercing your very soul as a light blush colored your cheeks, and you lowered your gaze, "i am no man with ill intentions, i am but a comforter.."

"i give to the earth the pleasure of the evenings and the goods of the mystery," his voice softened, almost tender as he saw the expression on your face.

the sun starts to set, and as darkness fell over the soil you walked on, you felt the shadows come alive around you, and when the final rays of sunlight vanished, your surroundings changed.

countless spirits appeared from the growing shadows of the trees. the night seemed to vibrate with an unusual energy, scented dew began to drop on the orange trees, lilac, and thyme, and he held his arms wide to encompass the entire scenery before you.

you stared in a daze as a nightingale rose towards the now-starry sky, its song heralding the young man's beloved hour. every creature and flower appeared to come alive in response to his presence. your breath caught as voices whispered among the trees, their words melting into the night's music, and it filled the air, with trees and bushes adding to the midnight chorus.

you couldn't help but tremble slightly at the change of surroundings, the aura now present in the air in his midst. your wings folding tightly behind your back as you look up at him.

he stepped closer once more over to your frame, his dark enigmatic yet sharp eyes never leaving your face as he speaks in a soothing whisper that caressed your very soul.

"do not fret me. i understand it completely, it is natural to be drawn to the unknown, to the mysteries that lie beyond the daylight's reach. you are not alone in this curiosity. many before you have felt this same pull, this same longing." he coos in a coaxing, gentle tone.

"you've always been a curious little thing, hmm? well, it's the same for me, dear," he chuckles softly, comforting you, as if he knows you, which he does. he is quite familiar with you.

"i, too, am curious. i, too, question what is unlawful or even ponder about the greatest order among the heavenly creatures like you. perhaps that way, we too, share a similar nature in that sense?" he says, causing you to shiver, the warmth and blush on your cheeks deepening as he reaches out to cup your face in his palm.

he leans in closer, his face hovering near yours, not quite touching but close enough for you to feel his warmth, his hot breath, trickling your skin, "angels like you, like us, have always been meant for purity, for light."

"wait, what are you saying?" you sputter out softly in disbelief. his name was oddly similiar, familiar, as he takes his other hand, now fully cupping your face so delicately in his palms, holding you as if he has the world in his own very hands.

"what i'm saying is that even the purest light casts a shadow," he gently squeezes your face, his eyes drawing down to your innocent yet curious, baffled gaze, and plump lips, "it is what the higher angels above us are so afraid of, hence they brand the curious unfit and unworthy of grace. they deny the parts of themselves that are curious, that yearn for something more, but it is not a sin to feel, [name]. in fact, it is what makes existence so beautifully complex."

"and that's why they labeled the fallen angel before as such?" you whisper softly, your gaze faltering.

"you are strong, [name], and oh so loving, i can see it clear as the day," he says softly, his voice like velvet, adding more fire to the flame of your inner conflict, "but even the strongest hearts can be softened. i do not seek to destroy you, or lead you astray, but to show you the beauty that lies in the shadows, the wonders that the night holds, the very same one that you have heard of dared to step upon of."

he presses his forehead against your own before he leans into your ear, whispering like the snake that tempted eve to take the forbidden fruit, "i offer a reprieve, a moment of solace. take my hand, dear, and step into the night and discover its secrets. i know you wish to seek out the same thing that condemned your fellow angel."

with quivering palms, you gently raised your gaze to meet his. your heart pounded in your chest, echoing the internal conflict you were fighting.

his dark eyes were gentle and welcoming, promising understanding and comfort, reminiscent of the fallen angel you've heard of over and over back in heaven.

"how do you know all of this? just, who are you?" you stammer out softly. your resolve was weakeneing, and for a brief moment, you were on the verge of giving in, letting go of your fears and entering the unknown, the same unknown into which the previous fallen angel had descended from grace to.

"i go by many names, but call me shuji.. at least for now," he chuckles, seeing the conflict in your eyes, reminding him of the power of his words, the allure of his presence, and he knew that, eventually, even the strongest of hearts, the purest of pure, could be coaxed into the embrace of the night.

you furrow your brows, and you can't help but feel such tension as your wings twitched. you wanted to resist. this seems all too much, all for someone you just met. it was never too late to draw yourself from the temptation that 'shuji' presents, but he was right. you have always been a curious little thing. you longed to know. you longed the offer.

"i don't know, i don't think.." you say softly, fidgeting your fingers as you look down at your feet. the night air hung heavy with the darkness of the starry sky pressing in with a strange tangible weight.

"aww, it's alright. you don't have to decide anything right now, sweetheart," he murmurs, his tone of voice a soothing balm to your conflicted emotions, "it's natural to feel hesitant to delve deep into the unknown.. i should know."

you look up at him, your eyes meeting his for a brief second before pulling away, the intensity of his gaze too much to take. he reaches a hand, not to touch, but to give, a sign of silent understanding of your turmoil.

"would you like some company instead?" he asks gently, his words wrapping around you like a warm embrace, "you don't have to agree to anything beyond that. how about it?"

such a strange man, but persistent. your fingers halting their anxious dance at the prospect of companionship. however, a part of you remains apprehensive, aware of the perils of his charm and the tempting draw of his words.

seeing your hesitancy, 'shuji' softens his gaze even more, his face one of genuine concern. "it's just for now."

and he promises you with a smile that masks a hidden intention, "no commitments, no decisions. just two souls sharing a moment in the quiet of the night. we can talk, or sit in silence, whatever brings you peace, sweetheart."

a part of you yearns for the peace his presence appears to offer, the comfort of another's company in the middle of your turmoil. you lift your gaze to meet his again, looking for any hint of deception, any trace of the manipulative charm you fear.

but all you see is patience, an invitation without pressure, a promise of understanding with no strings attached. you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of your uncertainty lift just a little.

"okay, but just for a short while.." you say quietly, barely audible.

thus, his smile widens at your acceptance, and for a brief moment, his little facade almost crumbles at the thought of effectively persuading you. just a little more, he thinks to himself. it was only a matter of time before he received what he desired from you.

after all, he was already drawn to you.

he extends his hand to you. you stare at his hand for a moment before placing your hand in his, sensing the warmth of his touch. you stroll in silence, the route lit by the faint glow of starlight and the distant sounds of night birds.

when you follow him, the land surrounding slowly vanishes that hums with a distinct eerie force. he pauses and returns your gaze with a comforting smile, "trust me," he adds quietly, his eyes showing a mix of eagerness and affection.

taking a deep breath, you nod and allow him to lead you, and before you know it, the world swirls around you, but when the swirling light fades, you find yourself standing on the outskirts of a peaceful, terrestrial scene.

the air is crisp and fresh, with a subtle aroma of budding flowers and earthy tones from a neighboring forest. the sky above is a deep, velvety blue, speckled with stars that appear close enough to touch, and a leisurely river flows through the landscape, its surface like a plethora of small diamonds in the moonlight.

he walks you to a grassy knoll that overlooks the river. the ground beneath your feet is soft and welcoming, making it the ideal place to relax and enjoy the scenery.

he sits down and motions for you to join him. as you lower yourself to the ground, a sense of calm comes over you.

"this place," he says, "is a hidden gem on earth. far from the heavens, yet it holds its own kind of magic.”

you gaze around, taking in the soft sway of the trees, the rhythmic murmur of the river, and the peaceful symphony of the night creatures. it's a spot that feels both unspoiled and ageless, a haven where the stresses of the world appear to fade away.

you close your eyes and let the sounds of nature wash over you. the subtle rustle of leaves, the sweet crooning of faraway night birds, and the flow of the river all combine to form a lovely lullaby, and you sense his presence beside you as a steady, comforting anchor.

after a while, you open your eyes to look at him. "this place is beautiful. every bit of this just reminds me of how lovely the earth may be, just as it is above."

he grins at your naive yet honest comments as you continue to speak, "i can't help but wonder, your majesty," you say now, giggling now as you are more relaxed, as you address him as such since he names himself the king of secret loves.

"wonder about what? what's going on inside that pretty little head of yours?" he muses you.

"you seem to know a lot of things. you even know about fallen angels.." you mutter quietly now, recalling his words earlier, his offer to you, "but i suppose it's only natural. you do call yourself a king of secret loves, and a king does know a lot, for a king carries both a crown and a burden after all."

you fiddle with the hem of the white dress hugging your body as you look at him, asking him the very same thing you question in regards to the gods and celestials above, "but do tell me, shuji. is not everyone deserving of grace? a second chance at forgiveness?"

'shuji's' gaze darkens for a brief moment as he contemplates your thoughts. he shifts slightly, turning to face you more directly, his stare incisive but compassionate. he bites his lip for a brief moment before he speaks his truth.

he says slowly, as if weighing his words carefully, "forgiveness, it is a complex thing. it's not just something that can be given or taken; it has to be earned, understood, and sometimes even fought for."

he pauses, gazing up at the starlit, night sky, as if he was looking for answers in the distant lights just like you, "i have seen those who have fallen, who have made mistakes, and who have sought redemption.. so if you ask me, my dear, the path to forgiveness is not always certain."

your eyes widen at his words, every word hitting a deep part of your heart. you lean in closer to him, your interest peaked as you can't help but question him," do you speak from experience? have you ever known someone who has walked that path?"

a shadow covers his face, momentarily yet noticeable. he returns his smile to you, albeit with a trace of melancholy, "hmm, perhaps you can say that? hah, we all have secrets and burdens to bear.."

"one thing is certain though," he says, reaching out to you once more, his fingers brushing against yours, "we are all searching for our own paths to grace. after all, we all long for grace. do we not?"

"that's true," you nod slowly at his words, finding solace in them.

however, his fingers tighten around yours, his voice tinged with longingness, "but sometimes, it is not all we long for. sometimes, we all long for something else.."

your eyes widen once more as you lock eyes with him, seeing an intensity of emotions in them, a depth you've never seen before in those brown eyes of his.

he pulls you closer to him, his touch firm yet gentle as if he was handling such a delicate flower, afraid to let it go or wither away. your body presses against his, and he feels warm.

"stay the night with me, pretty archangel," he whispers to you in such a way that sends a shiver down your spine, "just for tonight."

you feel your heart race, the closeness of his body against yours was making you acutely aware of every sensation. the warmth of his hand and breath mingling with the night air, and the longing in his eyes, a silent plea that tugs something within you.

"but, why?" you ask softly, blinking in confusion.

"because i long for you, dear," there it was again, the seduction in his voice, the honeyed tone he used on you before when he made you an offer, and this time it was filled with naked honesty.

you experience a plethora of emotions within you, including dread, exhilaration, and.. a strange yet evident attraction to him, but you hesitate nonetheless at this second, other offer he asks of you.

he reaches up, gently brushing a strand of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear as he reassures you, luring you in secret, "come on, sweetheart. just for tonight. i won't keep you for too long.."

there was a deep yearning in his eyes that mirrors your own, and this time you were unable to turn away from the temptation this offer unlike earlier. slowly, you nod your head, allowing yourself to lean into the moment, into him.

"okay, just for tonight.." you mutter softly, finally giving in.

he pulls you in closer, almost wrapping his arm over you, almost too possessively, and the next thing you know, he's guiding you somewhere more private, away from the outside world.

he walks you to a much darker, almost secluded path. it was as if the scenery was shifting again into something else again. the stars above appear to dim, their light absorbed by the dense canopy of trees.

the air becomes cooler, and a sense of gloom permeates the night's peacefulness. eventually, you come across a concealed cabin, its shadowy silhouette just apparent in the darkness.

he opens the door for you, his movements deliberate and controlled, and ushers you inside, almost desperately.

the room is dimly illuminated, with the flickering fire creating long, dancing shadows on the walls. he leads you to a massive, imposing bed, with dark sheets and heavy blankets that nearly swallow you whole. you sit down, feeling the smooth, enveloping fabric under you, as 'shuji' stands nearby, his presence looming and intense.

you look around, the shadows appearing to close in around you. there's an inescapable intimacy here, a refuge from the world but also a trap from which there's no way out.

and he looks at you with triumphant eyes, as if he has finally found what he has been looking for.

he reaches out, his grip solid, and grabs your hand in his, "you have no idea just how glad i am to have you here."

his voice was possessive as he looks at you with the same longing from earlier, "having you right where i want you... it's what i long for."

you look at him with a mix of fear and excitement in your eyes. the moment has an electric intensity to it, as if it were a dream on the verge of becoming a nightmare.

the look in his intensifies as he leans into you, his warm breath up against your skin. without warning, he suddenly pulls you down onto the bed with him in one swift moment that you barely had time to react as your wings twitch and flap in surprise behind you.

he grips you tightly with the same possessiveness as you feel his body press against yours, and this time the look in his eyes was almost predatory. he stares down your delicate face, from your [color] eyes to your form, just as he had when he first lay eyes on you, this time relishing the moment even more because he was so close to you.

his fingers trace goosebumps on your arm as the air between you and him now cackles with an unspoken tension, with an unbearable anticipation, especially for him.

and so, with a sudden decisive movement, he tilts your chin up to him and he presses his lips against yours, and it was a fierce and possessive kiss that leaves you breathless, yet breathlessly wanting more.

the outside world fades away as he claims your lips, leaving you with the mere sensation of his lips and body pressing against yours. he tightens his grip around you as you let out a soft whine, but you do not let go or even struggle against him at all.

instead, you find your fingers entangling themselves in his messy locks of brown hair as he kisses you with such need, as if he's imprinting himself on you.

you feel the roughness of his breath and the urgency in his touch as his arms envelop you like promise and a warning, and it was overwhelming your senses.

after a brief moment, he pulls away from your lips, ragged gasps for air escaping his breath, but he doesn't let go. he's never letting you go. his hold on you was firm as ever and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, taking dark pleasure in having you like this, at this very moment, completely and utterly his.

"stay with me, alright? let me have you, sweetheart," he murmurs against your lips.

you slowly nod your head, unable to find your voice as you lose yourself in his intense gaze and the sensation of his kiss, and as he leans in to capture your lips in another kiss, you know that tonight, you're his.

and then, with a dark glint in his eyes, he suddenly says, "call me osamu."

the name sends a shock through you, causing you to pale. osamu. the same name as the fallen angel you had been warned about, dazai osamu. your heart pounds against your chest at the realization, hitting you like a bolt of lightning, and finally, you see it. the flicker in his eyes, behind the tender facade he had been holding.

"osamu?" your voice trembles at the utter of his name.

he smiles a knowing smile towards you, "yes, osamu. call me osamu."

the unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air. the man holding you was no ordinary being. he was no king. he was no mere mortal. this man, he used to be an angel of the highest grade. he's the fallen angel you heard of, the one who had been cast out of heaven, and now he was the one who craves to touch you.

osamu brushes his fingers against your cheek in a gentle touch, "i told you earlier, didn’t i? you shouldn't be afraid. i'm not even here to hurt you at all, my beautiful archangel."

your mind and heart became in conflict with one another, but your body responds to his presence, the same way this fallen angel was drawn to your embrace. and besides, didn’t you think so yourself? everybody is worthy of love and grace. even if it was dazai osamu..

so, this was alright. it should be.

"then, what do you want from me?" you ask softly.

"i just want to be with you." he whispers before kissing you again, and his name echoes in your mind, sweeping you with a dark allure.

"i long for you, [name]."

𝐀.𝐍. ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ it's been a long while since i've written anything, so consider this as my comeback stage after being beaten up by my major, so i'm glad to have finally published the first chapter of my latest series, wahoo <3 <3

𝐏.𝐒. ⊹ �� ₊ osamu disguising himself as shuji was on purpose. it's a reference to the real dazai osamu's name, shuji tsushima. i also took some lines from the inspo/reference of this fic from the poem of eloa, from the second song/stanza. the next part of his chapter is just gonna be some smut, so feel free to skip it. okay? okay !

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒 ⊹ 𓂃 ₊ @little-miss-chaoss @anonymousewrites @chaiifluuf @sosograndii @anqelically @blueberrisdove @cheriiyaya @avocate-assia-dazai @yushiba-tsukyoh @cupidszvlvr @snowsilver2000 @cvidy @dummytwo @kissesmellow21 @angelofdarkness2 @muichirolover23 @milky-aeons @pompompurin1028 @pe4rl-diver @dzaisamou @iloveemiatas @kentopedia @aureatchi @its-vante @haesify @fyorina @atlasnessie

[jade-island-lives]

Tales of Merlia: Shadows of the Abyss: 11-20-22

The beach the two ended up going to be a small one. Delilah rolled down the window and let the waft of warm salty scent soothe her nerves. The gulls in the sky screeched and dove into the gray body of water to catch something to eat.

The sound of the waves crashing upon the shore seemed to drown out any fear, any doubt, at least for the time being. Her worries were being drowned with the tempo of the tide.

Stepping out of the car and onto the cool pavement of the parking lot, Delilah instantly grasped at the soft fabric of Torrent’s sleeve. A soft, slow breeze ruffled Delilah’s braids as they made their way down to the small pier.

It was a long walk, not that Delilah minded it. She trailed along the gray grainy sand, scanning the soft peaks to find shards of sand dollars and dark dried weeds strewn about. Brown stones and tiny scratch like footsteps of birds scavenging around for a stranded crab or whatever was available.

Delilah watched as the sea crashed upon the sand, the waves foaming and leaving white bubbles on the now mud-like sand as they retreated into the sea. Smooth stones the shade of chestnut stuck out against the muddy sand, shiny as they were unearthed by the tide.

It wasn’t Crabshore. But perhaps, this beach was its own form of beauty.

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[dark-moonlust]

Tentacle Trouble PART 1

Pairing: Tentacle monster x human reader

Summary: you decide to explore a cave that is surrounded by stories of a tentacle beast. You find exactly that, get pounded in all holes and bred.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, dub con, dark monster smut, explicit tentacle smut, p in three holes, HEA. Don’t like, don’t read please.

The dimly lit cave echoed with the roar of the ocean.

You ventured deeper, drawn by the stories of the creature that dwelled within its depths.

You were determined to uncover the truth.

You didn’t expect to find a monster. These were baby tales.

But your were wrong. So very wrong.

The presence lurked and watched you and before you could escape, thick, slick tentacles trapped you. Your clothes were ripped and tossed away, slimy tentacles roaming your body, their weight keeping you a captive. You found yourself being lifted, suspended in the air while wriggling appendages wrapped around your wrists and ankles, keeping your limbs wide apart.

The creature emerged from the shadows, its body a huge round mass of tentacles, each one glistening with a strange slickness. A huge head, and at its core were three glowing eyes, deep blue, like the ocean sea. They seemed to reach into your soul.

“Holy shit!” You gasped, unable to believe your eyes. “I’m so fucking dead.”

A husky voice filled your mind, you realized it came from the monster. “No one shall hurt you, little human. You are here now, your life is mine, your little holes are mine,” it drawled. “I will mate and love you endlessly.”

“Fuck you, you perverted—”

“What a filthy mouth.” A sharp slap against your ass made you gasp in surprise. “Quiet, noisy human.”

You shrieked and moaned as he repeatedly slapped your ass, pausing a little to caress your sore bum before delivering more smacks. No matter how much you wiggled and screamed, you couldn’t be set free. The slimes moved on to slap you pussy, finding it delightfully slick and plump.

You thrashed at each blow, the slaps were light but awakened a strange pleasure inside you.

You hated your treacherous body.

The monster didn’t seem pleased with your thrashing so he pushed one thick tentacle into your parted mouth. It plunged down your throat, stretching your lips and causing you to gag. Moist suckling noises resounded as it fucked your throat, thrusting back and forth until you no longer fought the creature back.

Gluck… gluck… gluck… gluck.

The cave echoed with your lewd slurping sounds as you were forced to swallow the sweet nectarine liquid dripping from his tentacle. Each drop aroused you, invading your system and intoxicating it with desire. In seconds, you were soft and pliant, more than eager to let him have his way with you.

“That’s more like it,” you heard his voice in your mind. “Beautiful human. My little mate.”

“What—hmm,” you gulped down more liquid, “is it?”

The monster’s voice rumbled through you. “That, my little one, is my elixir. It shall make you immortal and prepare your body for me. It is an elixir that only I, the master of these depths, can produce.”

You struggled to speak, a shiver running down your spine. Immortal elixir? It terrified and intrigued you. You looked into the creature’s eyes, asking for answers.

“Only my mate is deserving of my elixir. Now hush, do not fear.”

More tentacles came out of his body, of various shapes and lengths. They travelled over your flesh, leaving trails of slickness wherever they touched. It made your shiver. One tentacle slithered up your inner thigh, brushing around your pussy before slipping inside your depths. Shivers of pleasure ran through you as it fucked you while another slithery appendage rubbed your clit round and round.

Two more tentacles snaked over your ass, pulling your cheeks apart to expose your pouting rosebud. You squirmed and cried out around the tentacle fucking your mouth when the pulsating appendages slipped past the tight entrance of your asshole. The fit was tight but the tentacles were incredibly slick. Slowly, oh so slowly, they filled you up, inch by inch, until they were buried deep in your guts.

“Mnn…mnhaa!" You breathed through your nose at the way you felt, all holes filled.

When the tentacles started to thrust, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. The tentacles were all over and yet, you felt no pain, just blinding pleasure. You willingly surrendered to the feral ravishmest. The cave filled with the symphony of your high-pitched cries and the furious plap-plap of tentacles filling your body.

The creature’s rhythm grew faster, the tentacles working in perfect harmony.

By now, you had two tentacles buried in your cunt and three more crawling up your ass. The one fucking your throat hadn’t receded and kept feeding you its delectable elixir.

The insistent fucking brought you to a shattering climax. Your body tensed and you cried out around the thrusting appendage in your lips as waves and waves of pleasure crashed over you.

The creature didn’t stop its pounding.

Your voice continued to echo through the cavern. The slimes in your ass pistoned fast and hard but the ones in your pussy stopped and pressed against the entrance to your womb. You tensed, the pressure causing you to wince. You felt a soft pop, followed by the heavy weight of eggs. One by one you felt them as they were deposited deep inside you.

“Ugh .. ungh—" you whimpered and came hard, the walls of your cunt contracting around the ovipositor. Your whole body spasmed as the creature bred you and made you its mate.

It felt like hours later when the slimes exited your holes. The intensity subsided, but your belly was bulging with his brood. The creature gently lowered you to the ground, its tentacles wrapping protectively around you. You lay there, spent and satisfied, your mind reeling from the unbelievable experience.

The creature’s glowing eyes regarded you with a strange, almost tender curiosity. “You did well, my mate. Took six of my eggs on the first try. I am proud of you. Sleep now, little one. I will take care of you. Forever.”

And you did, your eyes shutting as you let go in his embrace. You had found what you needed, a new world of pleasure and otherworldly love.

[satorulovebot]

CURSED SEAS CHAPTER ONE | the rouge captain.

↳ satoru gojou x reader

genre. heavy angst, pirate au, 18+ 

tags/warnings. alcohol, religious themes, death, themes of depression, and criminal activity, it's a pretty tame chapter tbh.

notes. 6.2k wc. yeah we’re back baby with another series because i can’t sit still. i saw fan art (image 1) and (image 2) of pirate gojo and said yk what i’m gonna do a pirates of the caribbean inspired series. idk enjoy some brain rot. also know just like my introductory paragraphs my first chapters are ass and fast-paced.

next. HELP WANTED!

general masterlist -> series masterlist

Captain Satoru Gojou.

You had heard whispers of the infamous Captain Gojou for years. His name was spoken with fear in every port town along the coast. Some say he is invincible, that his ship, the Infinity, is the fastest to ever sail the seas. Others claimed he was dangerous, ruthless, and cunning—a man who showed no mercy to those he deemed too weak to survive in his world.

A few years back, a body washed up on the shore of Saltstone Port. The man, who was no older than twenty-five, had his eyes gouged out of his skull, and the number six was carved into the pale skin of his back. 

The discovery shocked the quiet little town, but it would not be the last time a mutilated body washed up on the shores of Saltstone Port.

You don’t miss the stagnant air at Saltstone Port. The salty breeze, tinged with the scent of rotting fish and seaweed, clung to everything it touched. It was a place where tales of Captain Gojou’s cruelty were whispered in darkened alleys and over dimly lit tavern tables, the memory of that unfortunate soul with the number six forever haunting the minds of those who dared to speak of it.

As you stood at the edge of the small dock in Elysport, you stared out at the vast ocean. You had always wondered if there was something more beyond the horizon at Saltsone and Elysport. You had only moved to Elysport in the last few years; your father claimed that it was God’s will for you to move after the death of your beloved mother.

You were just ten years old when your mother vanished without a trace, disappearing one night after her shift at the tavern. It was as if the earth had swallowed her whole, leaving no sign of where she had gone or what might have happened. The days that followed were a blur of confusion and fear, the house feeling emptier than ever without her warm presence.

Your father was a broken man during the weeks your mother was missing. Each night, he would fall to his knees, clasping his hands in desperate prayer. His voice, once strong and filled with faith, now trembled as he pleaded with whatever higher power might be listening to bring his beloved wife back to him and his young daughter. He prayed until his voice was hoarse, until tears stained his cheeks until the candles had burned down to their wicks. He sought solace in his faith, but with each passing day, the weight of uncertainty grew heavier, casting a shadow over your home.

He searched tirelessly for answers, combing the streets and questioning anyone who might have seen her. But no matter how hard he looked or how many prayers he whispered, the silence was deafening. Your mother, the heart of your small family, had simply vanished, leaving behind only questions and a growing sense of dread.

Nine agonizing weeks later, your mother’s body was discovered in a small, rotting, long-abandoned boat that had been stranded on the beach for years. You only caught a brief, heart-wrenching glimpse of her before the smallfolk, who had loved her dearly, carried her away. The once beautiful features of her face had decayed beyond recognition, maggots crawling across what little flesh remained.

Your father was utterly broken by the loss. He couldn’t understand why God would allow such cruelty to befall his family. The woman he had vowed to cherish and grow old with was gone, leaving him consumed by grief and bitterness. He became distant, his once-steady faith shaken to its core. He could not understand who would do this to his wife—a kind-hearted tavern worker known for offering a warm meal to anyone in need. The only conclusion that made sense to him was that pirates were to blame. In his mind, they were the only people capable of such barbarism, convinced that only they would commit such a gruesome act against the mother of his child.

Your father has always been a devout Christian. He was a pastor at the local church when you lived in Saltstone Port. His sermons were filled with messages of mercy and compassion. He always insisted that no one was beyond salvation, preaching that even pirates can be redeemed in the eyes of God.

But after your mother’s death, everything changed. His grief and anger warped his perspective, changing his view of life and love. The man who once preached forgiveness now called for the public execution of pirates, believing their crimes deserved the worst punishment hell could offer. An obsession now consumed him—a kind man who once spoke of compassion whose life was forever darkened by the loss of the woman he loved.

You now found yourself in Elysport, a bustling coastal city where the line between law and lawlessness begins to blur. The city's horizon is filled with the estates of wealthy merchants and the Governor’s home, a stark contrast to the docks below. The docks are always crowded, constantly filled with ships from all around the world, their sails billowing in the wind as they unload goods from distant lands. The scent of exotic spices and the sounds of vibrant marketplaces fill the air, mingling with the salty tang of the nearby sea.

In Elysport, you worked as a clerk for a small merchant. Your days were spent tallying registries, managing shipments, and handling mundane trade details. But your nights were different. They were filled with dreams of adventure, of sailing beyond the horizon where the sea meets the sky. Stories of legendary pirates and hidden treasures had always fascinated you, sparking a curiosity you kept hidden behind your daily life. Yet, you never imagined that those stories might come crashing into your own life one day.

One evening, as you were closing up shop, an old man stumbled into the store. His appearance was startling, to say the least—his clothes were tattered, his face weathered, and his hair a tangled mess. 

“Hello? Can I help you?” you called out from behind the counter, your voice slightly muffled by the shelves that obstructed you from view.

The man didn’t answer your question. Instead, his gaze darted around the shop, as if he was searching for anything suspicious that could get him in trouble. 

“You there!” he rasped, his voice rough. “I need a place to hide this.”

Your curiosity piqued at his words, you stepped out from behind the counter and faced the strange man who had entered just before closing. You assumed he was another last-minute customer, probably looking to buy something or bargain for a better price, knowing how tired workers down by the docks could be at this hour. 

You were curious but hesitant as you took the box from him. To your surprise, It was heavy for its size. The surface was adorned with intricate carvings, worn in places over time.

“What is this?” you asked, turning the box over to examine it more closely. The craftsmanship was remarkable, but there was something about it—something almost sinister.

The man watched you closely, his eyes never leaving your face. "It’s a map.” he said, "But not just any map. This map leads to something... powerful. Something that has been lost for centuries, tales of it told through generations of pirates, hidden away from those who would abuse its power."

You looked up at him, eyes wide and filled with curiosity. Why are you giving this to me?" you asked again, your voice trembling.

The man’s expression softened, a look of something almost like pity crossing his face. "Because you’re the one meant to find it," he said simply. "You’re the one who has been chosen."

"Chosen?" you whispered. "Chosen by whom? For what?"

The man smiled faintly, but there was a sadness in his eyes that made you uneasy. "You’ll understand in time," he said. "But know this: you must keep the map safe. Others would do anything to get their hands on it—dangerous people who won’t hesitate to kill for it."

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. You had always dreamed of sailing the seas looking for adeventure, but this... this… this was something else entirely. This was real, and it was dangerous.

You stared at him blankly, your mind racing as you tried to process the words the strange man had been saying. This was no ordinary treasure map. This was something that was hidden away for a reason.

"Why me?" you asked, your voice trembling. "Why would you trust me with something like this?"

The man’s eyes softened again, and he reached out to place a hand on your shoulder. "Because you’re different," he said quietly. "You have a strength in you that others don’t. You have a heart that won’t be easily swayed by greed or power. And most importantly... you have a destiny to fulfill."

His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning that you couldn’t fully grasp. You wanted to ask the strange man more, to demand answers to the questions swirling in your mind, but something in the man’s eyes told you that he had already said all he could.

"Keep the map safe," he repeated, his voice firm. "And trust your instincts."

Before you could say anything else, the man turned and walked out the door, disappearing into the darkness of the night. You stood there for a pregnant moment, the map clutched in your hands, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened.

You looked down at the map again, the tips of your fingers trace the markings, as if trying to unlock the secrets they hold. This was it. This was what you had always dreamed of, but it was also something far more dangerous, something that could get you killed.

You knew you couldn’t do this alone. You needed help, and there was only one place you could think of where you might find it.

The merchant’s ball.

It was an event you had never been invited to before—a grand affair where the city’s most powerful and influential figures gathered. But now, with the map, you knew you had to find a way in. You needed to find someone who could help you decipher it, someone who had the knowledge and connections to help you.

As the night of the ball approached, you found yourself growing more and more restless with each passing day. The very idea of the map’s existence gnawed at the back of your mind, its mysteries out of reach. The old man’s warning lingered in your mind, too—a treasure beyond your wildest dreams, but cursed. It was a puzzle you couldn’t solve on your own, and it only fueled your determination to get an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.

But getting an invitation was easier said than done. The ball was exclusive, and the guest list was closely guarded. You knew you couldn’t simply walk in off the street, no matter how determined you were. You needed connections, and though you had some, they were weak connections at best. Your mind raced as you considered your options, running through the names of merchants and traders you had helped over the years. Some owed you favors, but whether those favors were enough to get you into the ball was another matter entirely.

You decided to start with a merchant you knew well—a grizzly man named Marcus, who had been in Elysport for decades. You had helped him with his inventory more than once, making sure that certain shipments went unnoticed by the authorities, and he had always been grateful for your help. You found him in his usual place, a small tavern near the docks.

“Marcus!” you greeted him with a smile as you approached his table.

He looked up, his weathered face breaking into a grin. “Ah, it’s you. Come to save me from my spending again?”

“Not this time,” you replied, taking a seat across from him. “I need a favor.”

His smile faded slightly, and he set down his flagon of ale. “A favor, eh? What kind of favor?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I need an invitation to the Merchant’s Ball.”

Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyebrows raised. “The ball? That’s a big favor, lass. Those invitations are hard to come by.”

“I know,” you admitted. “But I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.”

He studied you for a moment, his eyes searching your face. “What’s this about? You’re not one for fancy parties.”

You looked around the tavern, ensuring no one was listening, then leaned in closer. “I’ve come across something… valuable. But I need help deciphering it. The ball is my best chance to find someone who can.”

Marcus’s expression turned serious. “Something valuable, you say? What kind of valuable?”

“I can’t say too much,” you said, lowering your voice. “But it’s big, Marcus. If I can figure it out, it could change everything.”

He was silent for a moment, considering your words. Finally, he nodded. “All right. I can get you in. But you’ll owe me for this, understand?”

You nodded, a smile present on your face. “Thank you, Marcus. I won’t forget it.”

True to his word, Marcus got you an invitation, and the day of the ball soon arrived. You spent hours preparing, trying to calm the nervous flutter in your stomach. The dress you chose was simple yet elegant, a deep blue silk that flowed like water as you moved. You had never worn anything so fine before, and as you looked at yourself in the mirror, you barely recognized the woman staring back at you. But tonight wasn’t about appearances—it was about seizing an opportunity, about finding answers to the questions that had been plaguing your mind since that fateful night in the shop.

When the carriage finally arrived to take you to the Governor’s Palace, you felt a mixture of excitement and fear. The city seemed more alive than usual as you made your way through the cobblestone streets, the sounds of laughter and music drifting on the night air. As the palace came into view, its tall columns were bathed in the warm glow of hundreds of lanterns. The grandeur of it all was overwhelming and it was a far cry from the rough and weathered streets of Elysport that you were used to.

You clutched your invitation tight as you approached the entrance, the doorman barely glancing at it before stepping aside to let you pass. The moment you stepped inside, you were encompassed in a world of luxury, unlike anything you had ever seen. The foyer was vast with marble floors gleaming under the light of large crystal chandeliers. Ornate tapestries adorned the walls, depicting scenes of grand battles and lavish feasts. Servants moved about with precision, carrying trays of champagne and delicate hors d'oeuvres, while the guests—dressed in their finest silks and satins—murmuring amongst themselves, their laughter filling the air.

You followed the flow of people into the main ballroom, your heart pounding as you took in the sight before you. The room was massive, with tall, arched windows that offered a view of the moonlit gardens outside. The walls were painted in rich, warm tones, and the floor was a mosaic of polished marble that reflected the golden light of the chandeliers. Musicians played soft melodies in one corner, their music blending in seamlessly with the murmur of conversation.

For a moment, you hesitated, feeling out of place. You had never been in a setting like this, surrounded by wealth and power. But you squared your shoulders, reminding yourself of the reason you were here. You weren’t just a simple clerk from the docks anymore; tonight, you were a woman with a purpose, a secret map, and a mission.

The ballroom was extravagant, to say the least. It made you feel sick that only a select few could enjoy things like this without worrying when their next meal would be or if they would be able to afford basic necessities. But were you any better than these people? After all the only reason you’re here is because you have good connections, just like the people in this room.

As you look to your left, you notice the couples dancing around the floor, their conversations blending in with the soft music. It was all very odd, like a dream you didn't want to wake up from.

“Enjoying the festivities?” A smooth and confident voice interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see a tall figure standing just a few feet away, his face obscured by a mask similar to yours.

You felt a shiver run down your spine, though you couldn’t quite figure out why. There was something about him, something unsettling in the way he carried himself, in the way he seemed to command the space around him. His mask was pale, almost ghostly, with intricate blue patterns that drew your gaze.

“I suppose,” you replied, keeping your voice light, though the unease you felt was seeping into your words. “These sorts of events are always a bit... overwhelming.”

He chuckled softly, the sound rich and smooth, “Yes, they can be,” he agreed, taking a step closer, his eyes—bright and unnervingly blue—locked onto yours through the slits in his mask. “But they can also be... enlightening if you know where to look.”

You felt your heart skip a beat, your mind racing as you tried to understand his words. Was he just making conversation, or was there something more to his statement? You couldn’t tell, and that made you more on edge.

“Is that so?” you asked, forcing a smile as you took another sip of your champagne, trying to calm your nerves.

He nodded, his gaze never wavering. “Indeed. You’d be surprised what you can learn at a gathering like this, especially if you keep your eyes and ears open.”

There was something in the tone of his voice, something that made you think he wasn’t just talking about useless gossip or civil conversation, at something deeper, something more dangerous, and it set you on edge.

The two of you sat in silence for a brief moment.

“Do you come to these kinds of events often?” you asked, trying to change the topic of conversation, though you couldn’t shake the feeling that this man was anything but safe.

“From time to time,” he said with a shrug. “But tonight is special. Tonight, I’m here for something—someone—quite specific.”

Your breath caught in your throat and you felt a chill run down your spine. It was the way he said it, the way his eyes seemed to pierce through you like daggers, it was as if he knew exactly who you were and what you were here for.

But, that was impossible, you thought to yourself. You were just a clerk, a regular person caught up in something far beyond your understanding. There was no way he could know about the map, about the treasure. No one knew. No one except—

“Do I know you?” you asked, the question slipping out of your mouth before you could stop yourself.

His smile widened, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Perhaps,” he said vaguely, his voice a low murmur that sent another shiver down your spine. “Or perhaps you’ll get to know me soon enough.”

Before you could respond, before you could even process his words, the doors to the ballroom burst open with a deafening boom. The music stopped abruptly, the room falling into shocked silence as everyone turned to see what happened.

A group of masked men stormed into the room, their swords drawn as they advanced on the crowd. Panic erupted, the guests screaming and scrambling to get away as the intruders began tearing through the ballroom, overturning tables, smashing glass, and sending the wealthy world of the Elysport elite into chaos.

You barely had time to react before you felt the man’s hand on your arm, pulling you toward the nearest exit. His grip was firm, his expression unreadable beneath the mask as he guided you through the panicked crowd, dodging the chaos that surrounded you.

“Stay close,” he ordered, his voice calm despite the madness. “We’re not done yet.”

And with that, you were swept away into the night, the sound of the destruction behind you fading as the mysterious man led you away from the scene, leaving you to wonder who he really was—and what he wanted with you.

The cool night air hit your face as you were pulled out of the grand ballroom and into the dimly lit streets of Elysport. The contrast between the noise and chaos of the ball and the quiet moonlit streets was jarring. You were still reeling from the events that had unfolded, your heart pounding in your chest, and your mind racing with questions.

The man holding your hand was strong, his grip firm but not painful, leading you through the labyrinth of narrow alleyways that twisted and turned through the dark city like a maze. The commotion of the party faded into the background, replaced by the distant sounds of the sea and the occasional creak of a ship down at the docks. The city was alive with the whispers of its nightlife, but you felt completely alone, alone with this stranger who seemed to know everything about you.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he slowed his pace and came to a stop in a small and secluded courtyard. The stone walls of the surrounding buildings loom above you and the walls cast deep shadows that obscured your surroundings. The man released your hand, leaving you standing in the center of the courtyard.

As you took a moment to catch your breath, thoughts reeled through your mind. Who was this man? What did he want with you? And why had he chosen to rescue you from the ball? You looked around, trying to get a sense of where you were, but the courtyard was unfamiliar, and the darkness made it almost impossible to see anything.

Before you could gather your thoughts, the man stepped forward again, more calculated and more predatory. His movements were fluid as if he were completely at ease in the darkness. He reached up, and with a swift motion, removed the mask that had concealed his face.

You gasped, taking a step back as the light of the moon revealed his features. The man standing before you was impossibly handsome, his striking blue eyes piercing through the shadows with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. His white hair, which had been partially hidden beneath the mask, now fell loosely around his face, giving him an almost ethereal appearance. But it was the look in his eyes that truly unsettled you—as if he could see right through you.

"You're a difficult person to track down," he said, his voice smooth and confident, with a hint of amusement.

You took another step back, your mind racing. "Who are you?" you demanded, trying to keep your voice steady.

He tilted his head slightly, a small, almost playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "Who I am isn't important," he replied his tone light, almost amused. "What matters is what I know."

A chill ran down your spine at his words. You felt like a cornered animal, trapped with no way out. "W-what do you want from me?" you stuttered, trying to keep the fear out of your voice.

His smile widened slightly, but his eyes remained cold and calculating. "You know what I want," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You have something that belongs to me."

Your heart skipped a beat, and your thoughts immediately jumped to the map. How did he know about that? The old man had warned you that it was cursed, that it would bring you nothing but trouble, but you didn't think it would be anything like this.

The man's smile faded, and his expression grew more serious. He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Don't play games with me," he warned, his voice low and dangerous. "I know you have the map. And I know you've been looking into it."

"I don't have it," you insisted. "I got rid of it."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing you. "Is that so?" he took a step forward, "Because from what I've heard, you've been asking around about certain landmarks. Places that just so happen to match the ones on the map."

Your heart sank. He knew too much. There was no point in lying anymore. But you couldn't just hand the map over to him—not without knowing who he was and what he planned to do with it.

"Why do you want it?" you asked, trying to buy yourself some time. "What's so important about this treasure?"

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. "That's none of your concern," he said finally, his tone dismissive. "All you need to know is that it's mine. And I intend to get it back."

"And if I don't give it to you?" you challenged.

He smiled again, but this time there was no warmth in it. "Then I'll take it from you," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

You stared at him, trying to gauge his intentions. There was something about him—something dangerous and unpredictable—that made you believe he wasn't bluffing. But at the same time, you couldn't just give up the map. Not without knowing what it was all about, and what it could lead to.

"I need more time," you said finally, hoping to stall him. "Let me think about it."

The man studied you for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then, to your surprise, he nodded. "Very well," he said. "But don't take too long. I'm not a patient man."

He turned to leave, but then paused mid-way, glancing back at you over his shoulder. "Oh, and one more thing," he added, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Don't try to run. I'll find you. No matter where you go."

With that, he disappeared into the shadows, leaving you alone in the courtyard. You stood there for a moment, your heart pounding in your chest, trying to make sense of what had just happened. Who was this man? How did he know so much about you? And what was he planning to do with the map?

You knew you had to be careful. Whatever this treasure was, it was clearly important enough for someone like him to go to great lengths to get it. But at the same time, you couldn't just hand it over without knowing more. You had to find out what this was about—before it was too late.

You quickly made your way back to your small house, your mind racing with thoughts of what to do next. You weren't going to let anyone intimidate you—not even someone as dangerous as him.

As you reached your door, you paused, glancing around nervously. The man's warning echoed in your mind—he would find you, no matter where you went. But you couldn't let that stop you. You had to find out the truth, no matter the cost.

With a deep breath, you unlocked the door and stepped inside. The map was hidden in a small, secret compartment in the floorboards—a place you thought no one would think to look. You retrieved it, carefully unfolding the worn parchment and studying the markings on it.

You had to figure out what this map was leading to, and why it was so important. As you stared at the map, a new plan began to form in your mind. You would find someone new who could help you decipher it—someone who knew the legends of the sea better than anyone else. And then, you would find the treasure before anyone else could.

But even as you made your plans, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. The man's piercing blue eyes seemed to haunt your every thought, his warning lingering in the back of your mind.

You knew you were playing a dangerous game. But you had no choice.

And so, with the map clutched tightly in your hands, you made your decision. You would find the treasure—no matter what it took.

The city was bustling when you stepped out onto the streets, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the cobblestone road. You knew where you needed to go—there was a tavern on the edge of the city, where sailors and pirates would gather to share stories. It was a risky move, venturing into such a place, but you were running out of options.

As you made your way through the streets, you kept an eye out for any sign of the man from the night before. You couldn’t afford to be caught off guard again.

Finally, you reached the tavern, it was a weathered building with a creaky old sign hanging above the door. The scent of salt and ale greeted you as you stepped inside, the dimly lit interior filled with the low hum of conversation. You spotted a few rough-looking sailors at the bar, their eyes looking toward you with curiosity as you made your way to a secluded corner.

You ordered a drink as you tried to blend in, waiting for the right moment. You needed to be careful about who you approached—trust was a rare occurrence in a place like this.

As the minutes ticked by, you watched the patrons of the tavern by studying their movements and listening to parts of their conversations. You were looking for someone who seemed knowledgeable, someone who might have heard of the map or the treasure it led to.

Finally, your patience was rewarded. An old sailor whose face had been weathered by years at sea, sat down at the table next to yours. He wore a tattered grey coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He seemed like the kind of man who had seen his fair share of the world, the kind of man who might know more than he let on.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, and leaned toward him. "Excuse me," you said quietly, your voice steady. "I was wondering if you might be able to help me with something."

The sailor turned to look at you, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. "Depends on what you’re asking.”

You hesitated for a moment, unsure of how much to reveal to the man before you. But you had to take a chance. "I’m looking for information about a map," choosing your words with care. "A map that leads to a treasure. But I don’t know where to start."

The sailor’s eyes flickered with a hint of interest, a faint smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "A treasure map, you say?" he repeated, leaning back in his chair. "Well, now, that’s a dangerous thing to be looking for, especially in a place like this."

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. "I know it’s risky," you admitted. "But I need to find out what this map leads to. And I was hoping you might know something about it."

The sailor stroked his chin thoughtfully, his eyes never leaving yours. "There’s a lot of talk about treasures and maps in these parts," he said slowly. "Most of it’s just nonsense, stories made up to entertain drunk sailors. But every now and then, you hear about something real—something worth risking your life for."

He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "If you’ve got a map, and it’s real, you’d better be careful who you share it with. There are people out there who would do anything to get their hands on a treasure like that."

You swallowed hard with the weight of his words sinking in. "I understand," you said quietly. "That’s why I’m being careful. But I need to know more about what I’m dealing with."

The sailor nodded slowly, his gaze thoughtful. "Alright," he said finally. "I’ll tell you what I know. But it won’t come cheap."

You reached into your pocket, pulling out a small pouch of coins. It wasn’t much, but it was all you had. "Will this be enough?" you asked, hoping it would suffice.

The sailor took the pouch, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval. "It’ll do," he said, tucking the pouch into his coat. "Now, let me see that map of yours."

You hesitated for a moment before reaching into your bag and pulling out the map. You unfolded it carefully, laying it out on the table between you. The sailor leaned over, his eyes scanning the markings and symbols.

After a few moments, he let out a low whistle. "Well, I’ll be damned," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "This is the real deal."

You leaned forward eagerly, your heart racing. "What does it say?"

The sailor glanced up at you, his expression serious. "This map," he said slowly, "leads to a place that’s been whispered about for generations. A place where a great pirate captain supposedly buried his most valuable treasures. But it’s not just gold and jewels we’re talking about. There are stories of powerful artifacts."

"But it’s not going to be easy," the sailor continued. "The path to that treasure is full of danger. There are traps, curses, and worse things that guard it. And if you’re not careful, you’ll end up just like the others who’ve tried and failed to find it."

You felt a chill run down your spine at his words. "What do you mean, 'the others'?" your voice barely above a whisper.

The sailor’s expression darkened. "There have been others before you," he said quietly. "People who thought they could outsmart the dangers and claim the treasure for themselves. But none of them ever made it back. Their ships were found wrecked, their crews dead or missing. And those who survived were driven mad by what they found."

You swallowed hard, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "So, what do I do?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

The sailor looked at you for a long moment before speaking. "If you’re serious about this, you’ll need to prepare yourself," he said. "Find a crew you can trust, people who know how to handle themselves in a fight. And most importantly, keep that map close. There are others who would kill to get their hands on it."

You nodded, "I’ll do whatever it takes."

The sailor nodded, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lips. "You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that," he said. "Just be careful. This world is full of dangers, and not all of them are as obvious as a pirate’s blade."

With that, he stood up, tipping his hat to you before turning to leave. "Good luck, lass," he said over his shoulder. "You’re going to need it."

You watched him go, your mind racing with everything he had told you. The treasure was real, and it was more dangerous than you could have ever imagined. But you were determined to find it, no matter what it took.

You took the map and carefully folded it and tucked it back into your bag. With a deep breath, you stood up and left the tavern, your heart pounding in your chest. You had a lot of work to do, and there was no time to waste.

As you walked back through the city streets, the weight of the map seemed heavier than ever. You knew you were about to embark on a journey that would change your life forever, one that would test your courage, your resolve, and your very soul.

But despite the fear that lingered in the back of your mind, there was also a sense of excitement—a thrill at the thought of uncovering something that had been hidden away for centuries that not even the best pirates could find.

You had the map and you had the determination, now all you needed was the right people. And once you had that, there would be nothing stopping you from finding the treasure and claiming it for yourself.

The night was still young as you made your way back to your small home. You were ready to face whatever challenges came your way, to risk everything for the chance to uncover the secrets of the map.

And as you reached your door, the words of the mysterious man from the ball echoed in your mind: "I’ll find you, no matter where you go."

You knew he was out there, watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. But you weren’t afraid. You were ready for whatever came next.

series masterlist -> chapter 2

[brittle-doughie]

(Y/N cookie after hearing the tale from peppermint cookie) (in thoughts) If I find her Pearl in house Oyster and return it to her will she return to her normal kind self and bring peace to the sea? I must try if not for the Crème Republic then for the citizens of Tearcrown it pains me to have to hurt Oyster Cookie in any way shape or form like this but..(Shadows form over there eyes) The sins of the family must be paid in full.

Pearly Contemplation

Walking to House Oyster, the heavy weight and anxiety only got worse as you approached to Oyster Cookie’s abode, fiddling with your thumbs as you made your way.

Was this a good idea to do?

Should you just turn back now?

What would Oyster Cookie think of you after all this?

Would she understand? Would she hate you?

You turn your eyes to the sea, hoping to ease your mind.

The many eyes you see in the water staring right back at you did not help with that.

The Mercookies….

Did they…know what you were planning to do here? Eagerly waiting for you to reclaim what was once lost to them?

“And that’s the end of that ancient tale…”

It was..a lot to take in from start to end, but you thanked Peppermint Cookie for recounting it to you. Though, a part of you wonders…where has the pearl gone after all this time?

“Some say that it was lost to the sea…others say that someone else has it now…”

A pearl. In the hands of someone else…

Oyster Cookie….

You sigh and thanked Peppermint again for the story, you needed to head back to clear some things up in your head.

Those things were what made you walk to House Oyster in the first place…

You knew that this was wrong to essentially rob Oyster Cookie of her pearl that’s kept within her house, but..

The pearl has belonged to the mercookies in the first place, you told yourself.

It was only fair if the original owners had gotten their property back, right?

“Greetings, Y/N Cookie. Have you come to see our Matron today? She’s available for an audience right now.”

She was always available when it came to you.

You told the envoy that yes, you would like to see Oyster Cookie right now.

“She will be most pleased that you have come to her this time around. Please, come with me.”

The envoy turned around and headed into the house, just as you were about to follow in after the envoy, you take one last look at the ocean in the distance….

Those same eyes staring right back at you, a lot of them…

They hope you won’t let them down…

They’ve all gathered to see what could be a possible rebirth of their kingdom…

You didn’t want to keep them waiting as you slowly entered into House Oyster….