#is just seaweed pearls

[eyenaku]

I accidentally bought vegetarian caviar hbnnnfnhfhfjfhjf

[paradiseatoll]

Greetings Paradise enjoyers! I finally decided to give in and make a proper introduction to this blog since I’m still fairly new here and I’m open to making new mutuals!

Wondering what canon Cookie Run characters you’ll expect here..? Well here’s the hashtags of the critters themself! Thanks for reading till the end by the way! 🤗

[mephisto-reporting]

Hearbreak Anniversary with Rafayel

Summary: It was your anniversary with Rafayel. One year of togetherness. But what if he does not show up when you expect him to? What if he was spending it with MC? Pairing: Non MC! Reader x Rafayel Note: MC in this fic goes by the name Lina (my name... so if you are angry, you can be angry at me :3). This oneshot was based on this request. I will write this for the other LADS men too. Content Warning: Fear of abandonment, self worth issues, angst, hurt and slight comfort, Rafayel grovelling, Rafayel POV

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version

The soft glow of the sunset filtered through the gauzy curtains of Rafayel’s studio, painting the space in warm hues of gold and orange. The place smelled faintly of him—a mix of turpentine, salt, and the faint trace of his cologne. You had spent hours here today, your hands busy arranging the decorations you’d so carefully prepared for this special occasion. Sea shells, shimmering like iridescent pearls, lined the edges of the room, their opalescent beauty a nod to the ocean he once called home. Candles flickered softly on every surface, their flames dancing to an unseen rhythm. You’d even managed to find strands of silken seaweed and glass ornaments, hoping to evoke the beauty of his heritage, the beauty of him.

Every corner of his art studio had been dusted, tidied, and then transformed with touches of magic, warmth, and care. You even placed the tiny trinkets and mementos you had kept from your shared moments—little souvenirs from your adventures together, knickknacks that held meaning between the two of you. You wanted him to feel at home, to feel the same sense of belonging that you had with him. You even wore your best clothes, the ones he had once complimented.

Today was your first anniversary. The thought alone sent your heart fluttering, and you’d poured all that love into this space, into this moment.

A few months ago he had told you this was just another day for him. A god’s sense of time was different, fleeting, perhaps even insignificant. But to you, it meant everything. It was a celebration of love that had somehow defied the odds—of a mortal heart tangled with one belonging to something far greater. So you ignored the whispering doubts that crept into the back of your mind, choosing instead to focus on trust. Rafayel had chosen you, not her. No matter how many stories tied them together, no matter the whispered inevitability of their connection, he had assured you. It was you he loved now.

But as the hours passed, that fragile trust began to tremble.

You sat in the chair by the window, smoothing down the dress you’d picked especially for today. Time crawled. The soft golden light of day gave way to a dark, yawning sky, and still, Rafayel didn’t come home. The anniversary dinner, meticulously prepared and carefully plated, sat untouched on the table. Each tick of the clock became a cruel reminder of his absence.

Worry gnawed at you. What if something had happened to him? Perhaps the art sale ran late, or he was caught up with his patrons. But he always came back home, right?

Your heart twisted as you reached for your phone, dialing a number you didn’t want to use but needed to.

“Thomas?” you asked hesitantly, your voice trembling.

“Oh, hey,” Rafayel’s manager greeted casually. “Everything okay?”

“Is Rafayel still at the sale?” You tried to keep the panic from seeping into your tone, but the silence on the other end was damning.

“Uh… no, he left hours ago. Said he was going to grab dinner. Lina was with him.”

Your grip tightened on the phone, your knuckles turning white.

Lina.

The name struck like a knife.

“Thanks, Thomas,” you whispered, hanging up before he could ask anything more.

You sat there, staring at the flickering candles, their light casting long shadows across the studio walls. He was with Lina. On your anniversary. You had trusted him, convinced yourself that you were enough despite the insecurities that had clawed at your heart since the day you met him.

But now, they came roaring to life.

You had known, of course, who Lina was. She was the one linked to the sea god, his past, his history—his heart. You tried not to let it affect you, tried to bury the insecurities that rose whenever she came up in conversation. Rafayel always assured you there was nothing between them. But then why was he with her, of all people, on your anniversary?

Tears blurred your vision as your chest tightened painfully. Lina.

She was everything you were not. Strong, beautiful, a part of Rafayel’s past, his first love. How could you compete with that? How could you compete with someone who had shared so much more with him, someone whose bond with him was carved in the very fabric of his existence? She was a part of him, woven into the his story, while you were… just someone who had stumbled into his life, someone insignificant in comparison.

Lina... The woman who was forever tied to his past. The sea god's bride. The one he’d loved for so long, the one who had always been there, time after time. You had told yourself, time and time again, that it was nothing. That Rafayel was different with you. He had assured you that there was nothing between them anymore.

But if it’s nothing, why is he with her now? On our day.

Your fingers trembled as you held the phone to your ear, but you couldn’t even bring yourself to ask any more questions. The answers were irrelevant now. His absence, her presence, they were all you needed to know.

Tears pooled at the edges of your vision before spilling over, streaking your face like tiny rivers tracing paths through dusted cheeks. It wasn’t fair. Nothing felt fair. He had promised you. He had promised. But promises were like ocean tides, weren’t they? Sweeping away whatever they could, leaving only bits of broken shells behind.

Lina was everything you could never be. She was strong, beautiful, powerful—everything that Rafayel deserved. She had the sea god’s heart, had always had it, and here you were, just a fleeting ripple on the surface, barely a mark to him. She was woven into the fabric of his past, his future. What are you to him? What have you ever been?

The memories of your relationship, the quiet moments of closeness, the laughter shared under the soft, flickering light of his candles, all those moments seemed so... fragile now. Fragile and fleeting. You were nobody. Just a distraction, a place holder. Nothing more.

You stood up abruptly, the chair scraping against the floor like the scratch of claws on stone. The studio, his studio, filled with remnants of him, was suffocating. His scent lingered in the air, the faint trace of his cologne mixing with the oils and paints scattered everywhere. His taste still clung to your lips from the last time you’d kissed him, the memories of his touch branded into your skin. It was all too much. Too much. The studio, so full of him, was now a suffocating reminder of what you had lost. You didn’t want to stay. You couldn’t.

You tried to hold the tears back, but it was useless. Every doubt, every fear you’d bottled up over the months came crashing down, drowning you in their suffocating weight.

This wasn’t love. This was a cruel game, one you couldn’t win.

You couldn’t breathe. You had to get out.

Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, carrying you toward the door. The wind hit your face the moment you stepped outside, cool and biting, but it wasn’t enough to quell the storm raging inside you.

You ran.

The streets blurred into one indistinct smear of light and shadow as you ran aimlessly, your feet pounding against the pavement, carrying you farther and farther from that studio. From him.

Eventually, the pavement gave way to sand, and the sharp tang of the ocean filled the air. The moon hung high above, casting a silver glow over the beach. Your chest heaved, your lungs burning as you collapsed onto the sand, letting the waves crash against the shore in a soothing rhythm that mocked your turmoil. You kept running, further and further away from whitesand bay, along the beach.

You stumbled, falling to your knees in the sand, clutching your arms around yourself. Your chest heaved as the tears fell freely, the sound of the ocean mixing with your sobs. Lina. You could picture them together, her hand in his, the same way they had been for so many years before you. The seagulls cried above you, indifferent to your pain. And in that moment, you realized that the world didn’t stop for you. It never had. You stared out at the endless sea, the dark horizon stretching in front of you.

How could I have been so blind?

The waves crashed against the shore, each one louder than the last. You are nothing to him. The thought echoed in your mind over and over, relentless, until you could barely breathe under the weight of it.

And just when you thought the world couldn’t get any colder, the tears started again. They fell freely now, salt mixing with the salt of the sea.

You had wanted to be enough. But maybe that was a joke after all. But even as your body trembled with the weight of the heartbreak, you knew one thing: You could never go back. Not to him, not to that studio, not to any of it. You were just a wave, crashing onto the shore, and he was the sea god.

The night wrapped itself around you like a suffocating blanket. The cold air bit into your skin, but it wasn’t enough to numb the ache clawing at your chest. Each crashing wave seemed to echo the bitter truth you couldn’t escape: you were never going to be enough for him. You curled tighter into yourself, trembling as the tears continued to flow. The sand clung to your dress, to your damp hands, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. The world had narrowed to the storm raging inside you—a tempest of betrayal, doubt, and misery.

The sharp chill of the ocean breeze whipped your hair against your tear-streaked face, but it was nothing compared to the icy grip of despair coiling around your heart. Every promise he’d made, every word of reassurance, felt like shards of glass now, cutting into the fragile hope you’d built. The waves surged closer, the cold spray dotting your skin. Your sobs mixed with the crashing tide, swallowed up by the vast, indifferent sea.

You hugged yourself tightly, your body shaking as the cold seeped deeper into your bones. Yet, you stayed there, rooted to the spot, as if the ocean could somehow wash away the ache inside you. But no wave could reach that far, no tide could touch the place where your heart ached. You wanted to scream, to shout at the world for the injustice of it all, but the air in your lungs wouldn’t let you. You were too small for this world, too insignificant for him. You would never be the sea. You were just a small wave, lost in the expanse of the tide.

Rafayel’s POV

The door to the studio swung open, and Rafayel stepped inside, laughter trailing after him. “You should’ve seen the look on that shopkeeper’s face when I said we’d take both cakes,” he said, his voice warm and light. He turned to Lina, who chuckled softly as she followed him, holding one of the carefully boxed pastries. “He probably thought we were insane.”

Rafayel kicked the door shut behind him, balancing his own box of confections, his grin still in place. “I can’t wait to see my cutie’s face when she tries these. She’s going to love them.”

But the moment his gaze swept across the room, his laughter faltered and then stopped entirely.

The studio was transformed. Soft candlelight flickered, casting golden hues across the walls. Seashells glimmered like scattered pearls, carefully arranged along the edges of the space. Strands of delicate seaweed draped like garlands, their green silkiness catching the light. Trinkets, small but unmistakably meaningful, dotted the surfaces—each one an ode to moments he had shared with you. The table was set with plates of untouched food, lovingly prepared, and the air held a faint, tantalizing aroma that now felt unbearably heavy.

He froze, the pastry box slipping slightly in his grip. His throat tightened as his eyes roved over every detail, taking in the love and care you had poured into the space. The decorations, the mementos, the effort—it was overwhelming.

“Rafayel?” Lina’s voice broke through the silence. She stepped forward, her brows knitting in concern. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” His voice cracked, and he set the box down on the nearest surface with trembling hands. “I fucked up,” he whispered, barely audible. His fingers grazed one of the seashells, its surface smooth and cool. He trailed his hand over a string of seaweed, the soft texture almost mocking him. “I fucked up bad.”

Lina’s concern deepened. “What are you talking about?”

Rafayel turned toward her, his expression stricken. “The anniversary. Our anniversary. It slipped my mind.” His voice was a low, shaky whisper as he glanced back at the table, the untouched plates, the flickering candles. “She did all of this… for me. For us.”

He called out your name, his voice echoing through the space. “Are you here? Cutie?” His steps quickened as he moved through the studio, searching. The bathroom. The bedroom. The small corner where you sometimes curled up to read. “Are you asleep?” he called, though he knew better. Each empty room was another blow to his gut.

Panic clawed at him as he returned to the main room, his gaze darting to the table again, the small trinkets, the soft glow of candles still burning. The room felt haunted, filled with the ghost of your hope and effort.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair, gripping it tightly. He grabbed his phone and immediately dialed Thomas.

“Thomas, did she—did she say anything to you? Did she mention where she might go?” Rafayel’s voice was taut with desperation.

Thomas hesitated. “She called me earlier. She asked if you were still at the sale. That’s all she said.”

The weight of Thomas’s words slammed into Rafayel like a wave. You’d called, searching for him, only to learn the truth he had tried to ignore. It had slipped his mind completely. He didn’t know you were setting all of this up. For him. For the both of you.

“Thanks,” Rafayel muttered, ending the call and immediately dialing your number. He paced the studio, his heart racing as the line rang once… twice… three times—

And then he heard it. The faint buzz of your phone, abandoned on the sofa near the window.

“Shit!” Rafayel cursed, grabbing the device and staring at the darkened screen as if it could offer him answers. “Shit, shit, shit!”

He collapsed onto the chair you had once sat in, his head in his hands. Where were you? His gaze drifted to the table again, the untouched dinner, the carefully arranged decorations.

How could he have been so blind? So careless? You had given him everything, and he… he had been too wrapped up in himself, too foolish to see what truly mattered.

Lina hesitated before taking a few careful steps toward Rafayel, watching his every move with growing concern. She’d never seen him like this before. His usual confident, almost cocky demeanor had vanished, leaving only raw distress in its place. He sat slumped in the chair, his phone clutched tightly in his hands, his chest rising and falling with each shaky breath.

"Rafayel..." she began softly, her voice gentle but concerned. "What’s going on? What happened?"

Her hand brushed against his shoulder in an attempt to comfort him, but the instant her fingers made contact with his skin, he flinched as though struck. His body jerked back, his eyes flashing with something wild—something dangerous.  His eyes, usually a mischievous swirl of pink and blue, flared into a startling, unearthly bright blue before he clenched them shut, his jaw tightening.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, his voice hoarse as he pulled away, his fists curling. “Lina, I—sorry. I didn’t mean to—” He forced himself to inhale deeply, reigning in his emotions as the scales receded and his eyes returned to their usual hue. “I’m fine,” he lied, though the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. “I just... I need to find her.”

Lina’s hand hovered uncertainly before falling back to her side. “Rafayel,” she began gently, “her phone’s here. Her purse. Even her car keys. Where could she have gone?”

“I don’t know,” he snapped, the sharpness in his voice born of self-directed frustration. “And that’s what’s driving me insane.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the roots as if the pain could ground him. “She’s out there somewhere, without her coat, without her phone... and it’s freezing tonight.”

Lina straightened, crossing her arms. “Then let me help—”

“No.” His interruption was immediate, his tone brooking no argument. He turned to her, his expression pained but resolute. “This is my fault. I need to fix this myself.”

“But—”

“Please, Lina,” he cut in, softer this time. “If she’s out there, you’ll hear from me. Just… if you see her, let me know. But I have to do this alone.”

After a long, hesitant pause, Lina relented, her lips pressing into a thin line. “Fine. But don’t do anything reckless. I’ll keep my eyes open and let you know if I find anything.”

Rafayel nodded, murmuring his thanks before grabbing his coat and storming out into the night.

The cold air bit at his face as he ran through the streets, his breath forming short puffs in the frigid night. He clutched his phone tightly, the screen glowing as he swiped to a recent photo of you, showing it to every passerby he stopped.

“Have you seen her?” he asked a bewildered man on the corner. “This woman? Please—it’s urgent.”

The man shook his head, muttering an apology before hurrying off. Rafayel grit his teeth, suppressing the wave of panic threatening to consume him. Where are you?

The thought repeated like a drumbeat as he made his way to the beach. The icy wind off the water made him shiver, but he pressed forward, searching desperately. He called your neighbor, pacing along the shoreline as he waited for an answer.

The voice on the other end was soft, a little worried. “No... the lights are off. The door’s locked. I haven’t seen her since this afternoon.”

His heart skipped a beat, the silence that followed pressing like a weight on his chest. Where were you? Where could you have gone? You were working so hard fore him, for the both of you since the afternoon and he wasn’t even there to experience it with you together. He could imagine it, the smile on your face as you placed those shells, the excitement in your movements as you cooked his favorite food. His eyes darted to the horizon, a dark line of water stretching out before him, and his legs moved faster, pushing him toward the shore, toward the place where you sometimes went to escape.

The beach was empty when he arrived, the wind biting at his skin, the waves crashing softly against the sand. He scanned the shoreline, dread filling him as he searched. There was no sign of you, but his heart refused to let go of the hope that you might be here.

He walked for what felt like hours, the weight of the cold creeping into his bones as the night deepened. The autumn air turned chillier, the first hints of winter brushing against his skin. You hadn’t taken your coat. You hadn’t taken anything. What was he thinking? You’d never leave without saying something. So why was he—

His breath hitched as his gaze landed on something ahead. A small lump on the sand.

His heart stopped, the world narrowing down to that single, fragile form crumpled against the cold ground.

“No!” he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. He ran towards you, his legs moving faster than they ever had before, fear propelling him forward. His feet barely touching the ground as he pushed forward, his every step frantic. He reached you within seconds, his pulse hammering in his ears. He knelt beside you, his hands trembling as he gently touched your shoulder.

“Cutie?” he called, his voice cracking. His knees hit the sand as he reached you, and his heart twisted painfully at the sight. You were curled in on yourself, your arms hugging your knees, your face hidden. Tear tracks glistened on your cheeks, even in the dim moonlight, and your body trembled from the cold.

“Shit,” Rafayel hissed, his voice barely a whisper as panic surged again. You were cold, so cold. Damp from the wet sand, your skin pale as if the very life had been drained from you. He pulled off his jacket, draping it around you as gently as he could, his hands still shaking.

Why didn’t I see it? Why didn’t I see how badly she needed me?

He slid his arms around you, his heart aching as he pulled you into his lap, cradling you as though you might break into a thousand pieces. He brushed the strands of hair from your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek as he whispered your name over and over, praying that you would wake up. That you would hear him. “Fuck,” he breathed, feeling a wave of guilt crash over him. “What did I do? What the hell did I do…”

But he couldn’t. Not now. Now, all he could do was hold you, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he rocked gently, trying to warm you, trying to make everything okay.

“I’m here, okay? I’m here. I’m so sorry, cutie.” he whispered, his voice breaking. His mind raced, but nothing could erase the hollow ache in his chest. The thought of losing you, of failing you—he couldn’t bear it. He wouldn’t. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, the words tumbling from him like a confession he had never intended to make. “I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I messed this up, I—I’m here now.”

He clutched you tighter, trembling with the weight of his regret. The wind cut through the beach, but he barely noticed, too consumed by the sight of you—so still, so fragile, in his arms. His mind raced, scrambling for something, anything, to fix this

Your eyes fluttered open weakly, barely meeting his. You were too exhausted to respond, your body utterly spent.

“Hey,” he whispered, his voice unsteady as he gently tucked his coat tighter around you. “I’ve got you. I’m so sorry.” His thumb brushed the tear-streaked curve of your cheek, his chest aching at the evidence of your heartbreak. “You shouldn’t be out here. It’s too cold...not like this. Not alone,” Rafayel murmured, his voice thick with emotion. His hands trembled as he tried to warm you, his arms sheltering you from the relentless chill of the wind. “I should’ve been there. I should’ve—” He broke off, his throat tightening painfully. Words felt so useless now, but he couldn’t stop them. He needed you to know. “I’m the biggest idiot in the world. I forgot something so important, something that should’ve been at the center of my mind.” His arms slipped beneath you, lifting you effortlessly despite your protests—if there were any.

Your lips moved faintly, but the sound was lost in the cold wind. He leaned closer, his ear near your mouth. “What is it? I’m here. Please... say something.”

“I thought... maybe you'd care,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. The words struck him harder than any physical blow ever could. He felt the sting in his chest, his breath hitching as guilt twisted the knife deeper.

“I do care!” he exclaimed, his voice desperate. “More than anything. I was just... I was so caught up in everything else, and I—I didn’t realize how much you needed me. How much you’ve always been there for me. I messed up, cutie. I know I did.”

You shivered against him, and he shifted to shield you better from the biting wind. “Let me take you home,” he pleaded, his voice softer now. “We’ll fix this. I’ll fix this. I’ll make it right, I swear.”

For a long moment, you didn’t respond, and his heart hammered in his chest. Finally, you gave the faintest of nods, your head resting against his chest. You shivered in his arms, your eyes fluttering shut again, too drained to muster a response. Panic surged in Rafayel as he felt how cold your skin was against his. He shifted, standing with you carefully cradled in his arms, his coat wrapped tightly around you.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” he pleaded, his voice urgent but soft. “I need you to hold on, okay? Just a little longer. Let’s get you somewhere warm.” He pressed his cheek to your temple for a moment, as though the simple touch might reassure you—and himself—that you were still here with him.

Rafayel didn’t waste a second. He scooped you up gently, careful not to jostle you. The warmth of his jacket wrapped around your frame and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat seemed to soothe some of the tension in your body. He murmured quiet reassurances as he carried you, his voice a constant presence in the cold, empty night. His normally cocky demeanor had shattered into shards of raw vulnerability, replaced by a frantic urgency to get you home—his home. Your breathing was shallow, your limbs slack in his hold, and every uneven step he took felt like walking a tightrope with everything he valued most precariously balanced in his grasp. He adjusted his hold, cradling you tighter against his chest. “Look, I know I’m an idiot sometimes. Fine, most of the time,” he admitted, his words a jumble of nervous energy and shaky humor. “But this isn’t the time to prove me wrong, alright? Just hang on a little longer. I’m taking you home.”

By the time you reached the studio, the candlelight had dimmed, but the room still held the warmth of the love you had poured into it. Rafayel carried you inside. By the time he reached the threshold of his room, his shirt clung to him, drenched from sweat and your tears. He nudged the door open with his shoulder, careful not to jostle you, and hurried inside.

The room was cold and dimly lit, the heater long dormant. He set you down on the bed, fumbling with the blankets to cocoon you in their warmth. Your body trembled, and his chest constricted as he watched you stir faintly before slipping deeper into unconsciousness.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, barely audible at first, as if the walls themselves might condemn him. Then louder, more desperate, his voice cracking. “I’m so damn sorry. I was stupid—so, so stupid. I should’ve seen this coming. Should’ve kept you safe. Should’ve—” He stopped himself, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle the sob building in his throat. His eyes flickered between his usual hues and that unearthly blue every now and then.

His hands hovered over your face, fingers trembling as he brushed damp strands of hair from your skin. “You’re too good for me, you know that? Too good for someone who screws up as much as I do. But I promise—” His voice broke, the words spilling out in a frenzied rush. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. Il love you, cutie. I love you so much.” And then, because even in his rawest moments he couldn’t help himself, he added with a weak, self-deprecating chuckle, “I am lucky I’m this charming, or I don’t think you’d ever put up with me.”

He turned on the heater, pacing back and forth as he muttered under his breath, berating himself in every way he could think of, his brattiness peeking through as he cursed the broken world that had led to this moment. He glanced at you repeatedly, as if reassuring himself you hadn’t vanished, that you hadn’t slipped through his fingers.

When you stirred, your eyelids fluttering open, he froze mid-step. His usual confident smirk was gone, replaced by wide, guilt-stricken eyes. “You’re awake,” he blurted, his voice filled with relief but tinged with apprehension. “I know I screwed up,” he admitted quietly, his lips brushing against your temple. “But—seriously, who let you do this to yourself, huh? Oh wait, that’s me. Fantastic job, Rafayel. Bravo.” He huffed out a shaky laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, sitting at your bedside. The words spilled out before he could stop them, over and over again. “I’m so, so sorry. This—this isn’t how it was supposed to go. You’re supposed to be mad at me, not like this. Not…” His voice cracked, and he scrubbed a hand down his face, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

Then, almost instinctively, the mask of bravado slipped back into place. “But, hey, look at you, stealing my bed like it’s your right. I mean, sure, I offered, but still.” His smirk faltered, his voice softening. “You better not make a habit of this, you know? Making me worry this much.”

You shifted, your eyelids fluttering completely open, and the sight of your weary gaze meeting his nearly unraveled him.

“Raf?” Your voice was weak, barely audible, but it was enough to snap him upright.

“Hey, you’re awake!” He forced a grin, though it couldn’t hide the guilt pooling in his eyes. “Good, because I was just about to start serenading you with an apology song. Don’t ask for a refund… the lyrics are terrible.”

You tried to sit up, but he was on you in an instant, gently pressing you back down. “Whoa, whoa, no sudden moves, alright? Just... stay put for once. Let me handle it for a change.”

"Handle what?" you asked, your voice edged with exhaustion and confusion.

His grin wavered, giving way to something more honest, more afraid. “Everything. All of it. I... I screwed up, okay? I’m the idiot who let you get like this, who didn’t see—who didn’t stop—” His words tangled, and he exhaled sharply. “I’m sorry. I’m so damn sorry, and I’ll keep saying it until you believe me. Or, you know, until you tell me to shut up. Whichever comes first.”

Your lashes fluttered weakly again, and a barely audible sound escaped your lips. “...Rafayel...?”

His heart soared and broke all at once at the sound of your voice. “I’m here,” he said quickly, leaning closer so you could hear him clearly. “I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Tears welled in his eyes as you looked up at him, your gaze heavy with exhaustion and something he couldn’t quite name—hurt, maybe, or disappointment. It cut him deeper than any blade ever could.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice a choked whisper. “I know that doesn’t fix this, but I swear, I’ll spend every moment making it up to you if you let me.”

For a moment, silence hung between you, broken only by the hum of the heater and the soft whistle of the wind outside. Finally, you whispered, your voice trembling, “I waited...”

“I know,” he whispered, his tears falling freely now. “You shouldn’t have had to. You deserve better than that, better than me—but I’m begging you, please give me another chance. Don’t give up on me yet.”

Finally, your voice, though weak, broke the quiet. “You forgot... something that meant so much to me.”

Rafayel’s throat tightened, but he nodded, accepting your words. “I know. And I’ll spend as long as it takes to make it up to you. I’ll show you how much you mean to me. I love you,” he whispered against your skin, the words soft but raw with sincerity. “More than anything. More than I can even say. I don’t deserve you, but… please, let me try. Let me make it up to you.”

“Don’t leave me,” he repeated, his voice a breathless whisper, “Not like this.” His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, you could see the mask slip—just for a second. Rafayel was scared. Scared of losing you. Scared of failing you. It was the one thing he had never let you see, the one thing he kept locked away in the deep recesses of his heart, but now, it was clear as day.

As you looked at him, something shifted between the two of you—an understanding, perhaps. You could see his desperation, the way he clung to the edges of his composure, trying to hide the vulnerability he never allowed anyone to witness.

I thought... I thought this was everything I could give. Everything I could be..." your own voice cracking.

He shook his head again, his grip never loosening. “You’re so much more than all of this. I’ve been blind, cutie. And now I can see it—see you.” He gently cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks as if to erase every doubt that had taken root there. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for making you feel invisible.”

You closed your eyes for a moment, the tears still staining your face, but the weight of his words was a strange kind of relief. He was here. He saw you now. The storm of emotions inside you hadn’t dissipated, but his presence, the raw sincerity in his voice, made you feel something close to safety.

Rafayel kissed your forehead softly, the gentle pressure of his lips a tender promise. “I’m here, cutie. And I’ll do everything I can to make this right. You won’t feel invisible again.”

You nodded slowly, the tears still flowing, but there was a flicker of hope, however faint. "Just... don't forget again," you whispered.

“I won’t,” he promised, his voice firm, but his eyes were full of vulnerability. "I won’t. Never again."

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes closing as if you were too weary to respond. But when Rafayel reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours, a faint squeeze answered him. It wasn’t forgiveness, not yet, but it was enough—a thread of hope that he clung to with everything he had. For now, you didn’t pull away, and that was a start.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Rafayel version | Zayne version | Sylus version

[b1asho]

PUT SOME CLOTHES ON

I was going to do the one big image I had of the, but it was blurry so here’s a bunch of smaller ones

Here’s the big one btw and a typed-out version of my handwriting :

Going top down from seawings to nightwings:

From top left in seawing drawing to the right is 'full coverage in wet robes (especially gills), 'sun visor' 'slits for wings' 'shoes for delicate feet' underlined is 'sea commoner' 'to reduce swimming drag, most wear only a few bags and tools' next underlined is 'sea nobility ' 'lots of flowy expensive fabrics (instead of woven seaweed) + other expensive stuff like pearls'

Underlined is 'sky soldier' to the right is 'light leather and mail' below to the left is 'net and stab from above' then by the foot is 'main weapons are talons and sword'. To the upper right underlined is 'sky civilian' ->'wing "shoe " stays on during flight ' below that is 'bone jewelry and stone colors' below that is 'rarely touch ground for long+actual shoes are unnecessary weight, so they just wear "socks" '

Underlined in the upper left is 'sled merchant ' below that is pointing to the 'wings steer' to the far right is 'cloak can be pulled up or down for wings' back to the lower left near the front feet it's ' studs on shoes to replace claws for grip' pointing to the 'ground soldier (which is underlined to the right) it says 'goggles for snow glare' below that is 'stronger wing arms used to strike' near the bottom it says 'pick and grappling hook' and then in far bottom right it says 'air troops have less clothing and operate via fast, powerful dive strikes'

From top left it's ' imported jewlery' right above the underlined 'spear fisher' below that is 'hunting is done using stealthy bursts' going to the right of that us the underlined 'saltwater marsh dweller' and up pointing at the green striped clothing is 'colors help deter flies' to the right of that is the 'throw helper'

'Cowl carving of the three moons' by the head of the pink one, 'constantly changing' by their wing. To the right is the underlined 'dancer' bottom right is the underlined 'forager' underneath says 'usually only wear gathering basket for max camo'

Starting at the head of the upper sandwing says 'mask for sand' below that is 'carrying most belongings' by rhe feet is the underlined 'nomad' and to the right by their leg covering is 'meant to blend in' while the worss by the tail say 'tail and front claws exposed for climbing and hunting' going back to the left under the underlined nomad says 'some cities require citizens to bundle their tail upon entry' and directly to the right is 'nomads are more likely to use weapons to preserve their sting' the underlined bit directly to the right says 'oasis settler' under that it says 'shoes b/ of paved streets' near the wings it says 'wings only exposed for heat dispersion, relatively less used'

Upper left is 'goggles and mask because of smoke/ash' below that is underlined 'worker'. Words pointing to the white robed one's head say 'goes outside less,more jewlery/gadgets because of status' next to that is 'glasses to male up for farsightedness' upper underlined word is 'scholar', to the right is 'covered wings as a symbol of importance (they get taken places rather than flying themselves)'

[corrine-dartagnan]

name a more annoying animal sidekick, I’ll wait

[seven-gill]

Listener drawing is coming. Little delayed because I had accidentally deleted my original progress, and I was also struggling to get an expression I liked. Here’s a little sneak peek, alongside one of the versions I considered moving forward with. Was gonna be Listener after being upstaged by Whiteout but it wasn’t really working for me.

I also kept getting distracted cause I wanted to sketch other characters lol. Here’s some of those said sketches.

1. Coral and Anemone. I dressed Coral in a lot of…coral jewelry…alongside pearls, various sea critters, and golden strands of seaweed. Maybe she also has some coral colored markings because I like giving the tribes traits and colors outside the canon. Are they natural, or did she dye herself? Dunno. She’s almost identical to Tsunami, although she’s larger and has a longer, slender snout, and her colors are just slightly off. Different markings, too. I really liked Anemone’s colors here. Very pastel and pearlescent. I’ve given her curling horns and stripes that resemble anemone tentacles.

2. Gill, before his time in the arena. I like giving SeaWings facial hair made of fins and webbing and whatever else. He and Tsunami have the same facial structure, and Auklet has his colors.

3. Tsunami…again! This was to visualize her outside of my cover redraw. I gave her a different fin style and decided to push the wave motif. She’s got her father’s square chin/jaw, and his big round nose- a trait I gave to Turtle as well. She also has a stylish scar over her brow that she received from Gill in the arena. Her and Coral have similar patterns, but Tsunami lacks the extra coloration on her jaw (something I’ve also decided to cut from the cover redraw).

4. Blaze. I’ve drawn her before on my DA account, but I decided to make some changes. She’s got a color scheme closer to the graphic novel (mainly in the horns). I also wanted to give her pure black eyes this time around (I headcanon that SandWings find super dark eyes attractive) and a hint of pink in her scales. I think it’d be funny if Burn and Blaze looked similar. Similar in that they both have pinkish scales, blonde sails, reddish horns, and pure black eyes. Otherwise they’re completely different.

5. Burn. Disregard the anatomy pleeaaaase, I was not focusing on that when I sketched this out. Anyways, yeah. Burn is huge and absolutely SHREDDED. She wears scars like jewelry and her teeth are orange from how bloodstained they are. Her colors and facial markings are inspired by lions. I also added a bit of pink in her scales, too.

[humaling]

Between Your Hands and the World.

pairings: jealous!finnick odair x reader

summary: finnick isn't particularly fond of the gift you received from one of your sponsors.

warnings: allusion to finnick's prostitution, the usual hunger games

word count: 5.2k

Breathe in. Breathe out.

You repeat that mantra in your head, over and over again, as you stare at yourself in the mirror. Your reflection feels foreign, almost unrecognizable beneath the layers of Capitol perfection. The gown you’re wearing is nothing like the ones you wore before the Games; it’s heavier, louder, a statement crafted to draw eyes and hold them captive. Iridescent silk clings to your figure, shifting between shades of deep teal and midnight blue as the light catches it. The fabric cascades into a flowing train of sheer organza, cut to resemble twisting fins and seaweed, edged with tiny crystals that glint like salt spray. The bodice, sculpted from mother-of-pearl and opalescent glass, curves tightly around your torso. Silver thread traces delicate patterns across the surface, mirroring the movement of ocean currents, with scattered pearls embedded so precisely they almost seem to pulse with life.

Atop your head sits a crown of twisted silver and coral-shaped branches, thin chains of pearls and crystals dangling from its frame to brush against your cheeks. The weight of it is surprising, a quiet reminder of how much the Capitol loves to dress up its victors like dolls. Your makeup is haunting; smoky shades of deep blue and emerald sweep across your eyelids, blended so flawlessly they resemble the depths of the sea. Tiny pearls are glued to the corners of your eyes, and your lashes are tipped with iridescent beads that catch the light each time you blink. Your lips, painted in a bruised plum gloss, gleam with a wet sheen that makes them look just kissed—or just dangerous. Small pearls and crystals trace along your temples and collarbones, giving the eerie impression of salt and seawater drying against your skin.

Silver armlets twist around your biceps like seaweed caught on driftwood, the metal cool against your skin. Long, dangling earrings shimmer like jellyfish tendrils as they sway with each breath you take. Even your hands are decorated—rings with pearls and shells wrapped around your fingers like delicate sea creatures. You look less like a victor and more like a siren—designed to lure, to captivate, to destroy. And the Capitol expects you to play the part perfectly.

You don’t recognize yourself in the mirror. All you see is someone else. Someone who had to throw their morals and dignity out the window to survive the Games. Someone who tainted their hands with crimson liquid for the sake of survival. Someone who glorified the inhuman acts committed inside the arena because that’s what the Capitol demanded—a show, a spectacle. And you gave it to them.

It makes you shudder, knowing that someone is still you. A part of you. No matter how much you want to tear it away, to separate yourself from the choices you made, it clings to you like the salt in the air back home. It disgusts you to no end, makes your skin crawl beneath the delicate silk of the gown they dressed you in. How could you go from being a sweet, bubbly girl from District 4—someone who would sit on the docks weaving seashell bracelets with your younger siblings—to a cold-blooded murderer who learned how to kill before learning how to live?

The Capitol dressed you up to cover the damage. They wrapped you in pearls and mother-of-pearl, in iridescent fabric that glitters beneath the harsh lights, but no amount of beauty can hide the blood beneath your nails. You see it in your own eyes—the hollow sharpness that wasn't there before the arena. You might look like a siren now, but the Capitol knows the truth. They turned you into one.

“You look like you’ll puke any moment.”

Your head jerks to the side, snapping you out of your thoughts when the deep voice cuts through the thick silence. Your eyes go wide, your hand darting toward the nearest object—a silver hair comb—to use as a weapon. But when you see the familiar bronzed hair paired with sea-green eyes, you let out a breath, the tension seeping from your muscles as the comb slips from your hand and clatters against the marble floor. The sound echoes off the walls, sharp and jarring, but you barely hear it over the pounding in your chest.

Finnick watches you carefully, his gaze steady and unreadable as you stare back at him with a mix of relief and shame. You don’t know how to feel—relieved that he’s here, that he always seems to show up when you’re unraveling—or sick with despair, knowing that Finnick knows. He knows what you did to survive. He knows the blood on your hands, the weight you now carry. And yet, he stands there, calm and still, like he’s waiting for you to fall apart.

His eyes sweep over you, not with judgment but with quiet understanding. He sees it—the storm brewing beneath your surface, the haunted vacancy in your gaze that wasn’t there before the Games. Finnick knows this feeling better than anyone. He saw it in his own reflection after he got out of the arena, after his first night pleasing a Capitol client during his victory tour. He knows the weight of survival and how it corrodes you from the inside out. And he knows you weren’t built for this. You’re strong, but not for this kind of cruelty. He knew that from the moment your name was called out during the reaping.

Finnick blames himself. He swore he’d protect you, swore he’d keep you safe from this twisted life. But the odds are never in his favor. Snow’s grip is too tight, his reach too deep. And Finnick knows—sooner or later—Snow will push you too far, and you’ll break. He just hopes that when that day comes, there’ll still be enough of you left for him to save. Until then, all he can do is try to make this twisted version of victory a little less unbearable. And hope that his sweet girl—the one who used to make seashell bracelets by the shore—can hold on long enough to survive it.

“You snort, eyes flicking toward him. “What a keen observation you have, Sherlock.”

Finnick’s lips curl into a lazy smile. “Well, you’re not exactly subtle. You keep staring at yourself like it’s going to move and swallow you whole.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” you mutter, arms crossing over your chest.

Finnick’s gaze darkens, the teasing edge softening just a little. “I suppose it’s better than going back out there.”

You force a smile onto your lips, but it fails miserably. It fades almost immediately when you decide to meet Finnick’s eyes. His expression is unreadable—steady—but his eyes are soft, tracing over your face like he’s searching for something you don’t know how to give him.

“You know, if you’re trying to play hard to get, it’s not working,” he says, lips twitching into a smirk. “People will only want you more.”

You scoff. “Am I that transparent? I want you. I need you. Oh baby, oh baby,” you tease, voice dripping with sarcasm as you step toward him. Your gaze drops to his outfit, and damn—you’d be lying if you said he didn’t look good.

The Capitol dressed him like bait. His outfit mirrors yours in theme but with an edge designed to exploit him rather than elevate him. A shimmering, open-front jacket made of seafoam-green silk hangs loosely off his broad shoulders, the sleeves lined with silver embroidery resembling ocean waves. But it does nothing to conceal him—his chest is bare beneath it, smooth skin catching the light as if he’s been dipped in seawater. A thin chain of pearls drapes across his collarbone, leading down to his abdomen, where it disappears beneath the waistband of his low-slung pants—tight, dark blue, and threaded with silver in swirling patterns that mimic the pull of the tide. The Capitol didn’t dress him to look powerful—they dressed him to be devoured. He’s a prize on display, a body meant to be admired and claimed. And yet, even standing there with every inch of his beauty exposed to the world, the most dangerous thing about him is still his eyes—the quiet strength in them, the way they soften when they land on you.

Finnick smirks when he notices you staring. “See something you like?”

You roll your eyes and step past him, walking toward the black box placed on the table behind him. It’s wrapped in a silky pink bow, a small envelope resting neatly beside it. The Capitol’s idea of subtlety.

Finnick moves behind you, his front pressing lightly against your back, and you freeze. His breath fans over the nape of your neck, warm and steady, and it makes you shiver. He’s so close you can feel the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. The heat of his skin bleeds through the thin fabric of your gown, and your fingers tighten around the edge of the box.

“Who’s it from?” he murmurs, his voice low and rough in your ear. His lips brush dangerously close to your pulse point, and you swallow hard, trying to mask the way your heart hammers beneath your ribs.

You shrug, your hand reaching up to tug the ribbon loose. “No clue. One of the Avoxes handed it earlier when I was getting ready.”

The bow falls away, and you lift the lid. Inside, resting on a black cushion, is a delicate seashell-designed hair clip. The silver metal catches the light, glinting with an otherworldly shimmer. The center is studded with pearls—different sizes, some round and smooth, others irregularly shaped like drops of frozen seafoam. When your fingers graze over it, you realize with a start that the pearls are real. Heavy. Perfect.

“Wow…” you breathe out, awestruck.

“Wow,” Finnick echoes, but his voice is cold. Flat.

You’re too preoccupied with the gift to notice how tense he’s gone behind you. His jaw ticks, his smile gone, sea-green eyes darkening as they narrow on the clip in your hands. Who would give you something so personal—something tied so closely to District 4? And how would they even know to get you this? His hands curl into fists at his sides. Someone gave you this. Someone thought they had the right. Who?

“Isn’t it so pretty?” you chirp, holding the hair clip delicately in your hand as you turn toward him.

You don’t notice how close you’ve gotten—how his face is just inches from yours. You don’t care. Too absorbed by the pretty thing in your hand, you beam up at him, bright and careless. Finnick’s expression remains carefully neutral, but his eyes burn beneath it. Years of experience and training keep his smile intact, even as his body hums with jealousy.

“Not as pretty as you are,” he says smoothly, reaching out to take the clip from your hand. His fingers graze yours, but before he can place it back in the box, you stop him.

“Can you put it on me?” Your voice is soft, hesitant. Sweet. Like you’re almost too shy to make the request—but you know exactly what you’re doing.

Finnick’s lips part slightly. He wants to say no. There’s no way in hell he’s letting you wear something from a stranger—something that wasn’t from him. But then you flash that sweet smile of yours, your lashes fluttering just so, and he’s done for. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Sure,” he says, his voice strained.

Your eyes light up, and your smile widens. You tilt your head to the side, offering him the perfect spot. Finnick’s large hands lift to your hair, taking off the crown and smoothing out a few curls as he tries to figure out where to place the clip. His touch is gentle, reverent, his fingers threading through your hair with a tenderness that makes your chest ache.

And you—you're too busy watching him to notice much else. From this close, you can see everything. The Capitol dressed him like a creature pulled from the sea—a weapon disguised as a gift. His skin gleams under the lights, faint mermaid-scale patterns dusting his neck and jawline, shimmering every time he shifts. His freckles—sun-kissed and soft—spread across his nose and cheeks, barely visible beneath the faint blush that tints the apples of his cheeks. His lips look fuller, glossed with something subtle that catches the light, making them look distractingly soft. His blonde lashes curl upward, framing those impossibly green eyes of his—the color of the ocean after a storm. Blue eyeshadow dusts his eyelids, dark at the edges and lighter toward the center, resembling the shifting hues of deep water. Small pearls are glued to the corners of his eyes, catching the light with every blink, like drops of seawater frozen in place.

You wonder if Finnick knows how beautiful he looks—how haunting he is. If he does, he doesn’t comment. His brows furrow slightly as he focuses on securing the clip into your hair, his fingers brushing over your ear as he adjusts it.

“There,” he murmurs, stepping back to admire his work. His eyes linger on you longer than necessary. His lips twitch into a half-smile. “Perfect.”

But his gaze flicks down to the clip again, and the tension in his jaw returns.

The Capitol spares no expense when it comes to a victory party. The grand hall is suffocating in excess—gleaming marble floors, ceilings strung with crystalline lights that mimic a starry night sky. Towering floral arrangements line the walls, spilling over with exotic flowers dyed in unnatural shades of violet and emerald green. Gold-accented columns frame the room, their surfaces etched with intricate patterns of sea creatures—tributes to your District. The theme is so on the nose it almost makes you laugh. They’ve turned your trauma into decor.

The people are worse. Capitol elites float through the space like they own it, draped in fabrics so heavy and layered that they might collapse under the weight if not for their sheer arrogance. Their faces are painted in unnatural hues—bright blues, shimmering golds, and jeweled embellishments—and their bodies are adorned with pearls and netted silk, a cheap imitation of the oceanic beauty they try to claim as their own. They laugh too loudly, clutching glasses of champagne and exotic cocktails with long, jeweled fingers. Every smile is too sharp. Every touch lingers too long.

You stand stiffly at the edge of the room, the satin of your gown cool against your skin. Your head is starting to buzz when your escort suddenly appears at your side, their hand pressing lightly against your arm.

“Come,” they say brightly, the falseness of their smile barely concealed beneath the layers of powder on their face. “There are some very important people who’d like to meet you.”

You’re pulled away before you can protest, guided through the throng of bodies until you’re standing before a group of Gamemakers. Their robes shimmer under the low light, gold and crimson and deep navy, each one embroidered with symbols of their status. They greet you with indulgent smiles, their eyes sharp despite the pleasant expressions they wear.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” one of them says, grasping your hand briefly. “We’ve been watching you closely. You showed such… promise.”

You smile stiffly, thanking them, while trying not to recoil from their touch. After a few more minutes of stilted conversation, your escort discreetly tugs at your elbow and whispers, “Why don’t you go enjoy yourself now?”

You don’t hesitate. You cut through the crowd toward the dessert table, drawn in by the delicate towers of candy and pastries shaped like coral and seashells. You pick up a pastel-colored macaron, bringing it to your mouth. One bite in, and your face immediately scrunches in disgust—it tastes like perfume. You swallow it down with effort, already regretting it, when you sense someone approaching from the side.

“Careful,” a voice says lightly. “The Capitol likes to make things look better than they taste.”

You turn, still chewing, and your eyes land on a tall figure with sleek dark hair and sharp, fox-like features. He smiles at you, eyes glittering beneath the glow of the lights. It takes you a second to place them—he was with the Gamemakers earlier.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced,” he says smoothly, extending a hand. “I’m Lysander.”

You take it hesitantly. “I’m—”

“Oh, I know exactly who you are,” Lysander interrupts with a charming smile. His eyes drop to the hair clip nestled in your curls. “Ah, it looks even better than I imagined. I knew it would suit you perfectly.”

You blink. “You gave this to me?”

“I did.” His smile widens. “It reminded me of you. Strong, elegant… dangerous.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the compliment, a soft flush creeping up your neck. Maybe—despite everything—you were still you, even if a Capitol man was the one making you feel this way.

“Thank you,” you breathe out, your hand drifting up to your hair. Your fingers graze the cool metal of the clip, tracing the curve of the delicate shells. “I really liked it.”

Lysander’s smile widens, his eyes gleaming with quiet satisfaction. He tilts his head slightly, a smug glint sharpening the edges of his expression—like he knew you would like it.

“I’m glad you did.”

Finnick’s eyes narrow as he watches you laugh at whatever the hell this Lysander is saying to you. His jaw clenches so tightly he swears he feels his teeth grinding. Across the table, one of the Careers—Gloss—follows his line of sight and smirks.

“Careful, Odair,” Gloss drawls, swirling the deep red wine in his glass. “You might break that pretty smile of yours.”

“I’m fine,” Finnick mutters, eyes still glued to you. Lysander’s hand drifts just a little too close to your arm, and Finnick’s grip on his glass tightens.

“Oh, you’re not fine,” Gloss chuckles, leaning back lazily. “I’ve seen you pissed before. This is worse.”

Cashmere leans in, chin propped on her hand. “I don’t know,” she says, amused. “I think it’s cute. Finnick’s jealous.”

Finnick shoots her a glare. “I’m not jealous.”

“You’re practically vibrating,” Gloss snickers. He leans in close, his breath brushing Finnick’s ear. “Y’know, if you don’t make a move right now, he might steal her away from you.”

That’s it.

Finnick shoves his wine glass into Gloss’s chest without a word and strides toward you, cutting through the crowd with dangerous precision.

You’re laughing at something Lysander says when an arm slides smoothly around your waist. Warm fingers press lightly against your side, and the scent of salt and citrus washes over you a second before Finnick’s voice hums beside your ear.

“Well, isn’t she a beaut?” he says smoothly, his smile bright and dangerous. “I’m the one who chose the outfit.”

You freeze, eyes widening as Finnick’s hand slides up to graze the shell of your ear, his thumb brushing over the edge of the hair clip. Lysander’s expression shifts, polite but guarded, as Finnick’s gaze flickers toward him.

“But,” Finnick murmurs, his voice dropping into a low, intimate register that coils through the air like smoke, “you’re more breathtaking without it.”

The glint in his sea-green eyes is sharp, predatory as he tilts his head toward Lysander. He winks—slow, deliberate—and the effect is immediate. Lysander’s smile falters at the edges, thinning like a blade. An awkward chuckle slips from his lips, but the gleam in his eyes remains calculating as he shifts effortlessly back into the conversation.

“You see, Finnick also has quite a few admirers,” Lysander says, swirling the golden liquid in his glass with lazy precision. The amber reflects the glow of the chandeliers above, casting rippling patterns on his hand. “They’re very… passionate. You might find yourself with a few of your own soon.”

A crease threatens to form between your brows as your lips pull downward. What did he mean by that? You glance toward Finnick, searching his face for answers. His smile remains fixed, charming as ever—but the tick in his jaw betrays him. The muscle flexes, tension carving sharp lines into his perfect features.

Lysander’s gaze flicks toward Finnick, his smirk sharpening. He lifts his glass in a lazy toast—toward Finnick first, then toward you—his brow quirking upward in a silent challenge.

“Careful, Finnick,” Lysander drawls, voice silk-smooth but laced with poison. “You know how possessive the Capitol can be.”

Finnick lets out a low, hearty chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest as his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you flush against his side. His fingers splay across your hip possessively, as if to remind both you and Lysander exactly where you belong.

“I’m sure we can handle ourselves just fine,” Finnick says smoothly, though his smile hardens at the edges. His knuckles turn white where they grip your waist, and his eyes glint dangerously beneath the flicker of candlelight.

Lysander’s smile widens. He sets his glass down on a passing tray and steps toward you, invading the space Finnick has carefully claimed. Finnick’s grip tightens, but Lysander only smiles. His hand finds yours, his touch light but deliberate as he lifts it toward his lips.

His eyes never leave yours as he presses a soft kiss to your knuckles, lingering just long enough to make Finnick’s hand twitch at your waist.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).”

Lysander’s eyes flick toward Finnick—just a flash of triumph beneath his lashes—before he slips effortlessly into the crowd, swallowed by the sea of Capitol excess.

Finnick’s arm remains locked around you, his hand still pressed against your hip. His smile doesn’t return. His eyes remain dark, fixed on the spot where Lysander disappeared.

“What?” he says at your questioning look, his voice low and edged with something sharp. “Couldn’t let him have you all to himself.”

The music swells, a slow, haunting melody carried by the soft hum of strings and the delicate trill of a harp. Golden light from the chandeliers above reflects off the marble floors, casting flickering shadows across the velvet-draped walls. The Capitol’s elite swirl around you in a blur of silk and sequins, their laughter mixing with the music like a distorted symphony.

Finnick’s hand slides down to yours. His touch is steady, warm, grounding—but there’s an edge to it. His thumb brushes across the back of your hand as he steps toward you, his sea-green eyes dark under the soft glow of the lights. He doesn’t speak. He just waits.

You hesitate. Your pulse thrums beneath your skin, too loud, too fast. Lysander’s words echo in your head like a ghostly whisper:

"You might find yourself with a few of your own soon."

What did he mean by that? You’ve had admirers before, of course—you’re a victor now, and victors are Capitol property whether they like it or not—but Lysander’s tone was different. Knowing. Almost… possessive. Like he knew something you didn’t.

Or maybe he just wanted you to feel that way.

A sharp tug brings you back to the present. Finnick’s eyes search yours, his brow pulling into a subtle crease. His hand is still waiting, open, patient—but there’s something tight around the corners of his mouth, like he’s not sure you’ll take it.

You slip your hand into his. His fingers curl around yours instantly, and without a word, he leads you toward the dance floor.

The crowd parts around you as Finnick turns, his other hand sliding to your waist with practiced ease. His palm presses into the small of your back, pulling you closer. Your breath catches as his chest brushes against yours, and the warmth of his skin seeps through the thin silk of your gown.

Finnick’s eyes flick to your mouth before meeting your gaze. “Relax,” he murmurs, his voice low enough that only you can hear. “I don’t bite.”

You let out a shaky breath as he guides you into the first step. His movements are fluid, effortless, like he’s done this a thousand times before—which, of course, he has. Finnick Odair, the Capitol’s golden boy. The heartthrob of Panem. The victor who could seduce a room with nothing more than a glance.

But right now, the sharpness in his gaze isn’t meant for the crowd—it’s meant for you.

Your hands settle on his shoulders as he steers you through the room. You can feel the strength beneath his skin, the tension humming through his muscles. Finnick’s jaw tightens every time another pair of eyes lands on you—hungry, possessive eyes. The Capitol’s gaze feels like a thousand knives pressing into your back.

And yet, Finnick keeps you steady. His hand on your waist, his thumb tracing slow circles through the silk of your gown. His lips hover dangerously close to your ear as he leans in.

“You’re thinking too hard,” he whispers, his breath ghosting against the shell of your ear. “Whatever Lysander said—don’t let it get to you.”

Your hands tighten on his shoulders. “How do you know that?”

Finnick’s mouth curves into a small, knowing smile. His hand slides further around your waist, drawing you so close that the thin barrier of your clothing feels nonexistent. His voice drops, low and rough:

“Because I know you.”

Your chest tightens painfully. You want to believe that—that Finnick knows you, that someone understands you—but Lysander’s words are still coiled in the back of your mind like thorns. What if Lysander was right? What if you were already losing yourself to the Capitol?

Finnick’s hand at your back presses more firmly. His green eyes glint under the light as he tilts his head toward you. “What else did he say to you?”

You hesitate. You think about how Lysander also mentioned how the Capitol likes to show off sometimes. You didn’t think of it at all at first but when he started referencing how the victors of the hunger games are some sort of objects, to be praised, and show off as trophies; it had you navigating the conversation to another topic. Too scared to dwell on a sensitive topic like that. Not wanting to know what’s lying ahead for you in the future.

The music shifts to something softer, the strings slowing into a lilting cadence that urges you closer.

“He said… How he would like to show me off like they do to others.”

Finnick’s grip on you tightens almost imperceptibly. His mouth flattens into a thin line.

“Of course they do,” he says, his voice losing some of its softness. “You’re beautiful. That’s the whole point.”

Your heart twists painfully. The whole point. To be admired, desired, paraded like a doll in silk and pearls. That’s what the Capitol does to victors—it makes them beautiful so it can break them more easily.

“Finnick,” you whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of music. “What if that’s all they ever see?”

His eyes flash. His hand at your waist tightens, dragging you flush against him. Your breath stutters as his mouth lowers to your ear, his voice hard and sharp and dangerous.

“Then they don’t deserve to look at you.”

Your breath hitches. For a moment, the world blurs—just you and Finnick and the heat of his body pressed against yours. But then, movement from the edge of the room catches your eye. Lysander, standing at the edge of the dance floor with a fresh drink in hand, his eyes gleaming beneath the crystal light. His gaze locks with yours—and he smiles.

Finnick notices it too. His hand slides from your waist to the curve of your hip, his palm pressing possessively against your side. You feel his breath stutter as his mouth ghosts against your ear.

“You want to know why Lysander gave you that clip?” Finnick’s voice darkens, his eyes fixed on Lysander’s smirking figure. “It’s not because you’re beautiful. It’s because he thinks he can own you.”

Your heart hammers painfully in your chest.

Finnick’s hand finds your chin, gently tilting your face toward his. His green eyes burn through you, fierce and protective and something deeper, something raw beneath the surface.

“But he’s wrong,” Finnick murmurs, his mouth a breath away from yours. “Because you only belong to yourself.”

The music swells. You don’t know if it’s the heat of the room or the weight of Finnick’s gaze, but suddenly it’s hard to breathe.

Finnick’s lips curve into a slow, dangerous smile. “Shall we give them something to talk about?”

Before you can answer, Finnick spins you effortlessly beneath his arm, his hand catching yours just as the music shifts into a faster rhythm. His laugh—a low, rumbling sound—brushes against your skin as he pulls you close once again.

From the corner of his eyez he sees Lysander’s smile fades at the edges.

Finnick’s smile widens, slow and knowing, before his gaze flickers back to you. His hand rises to your hair, fingers brushing delicately against the strands as he works at the clip. His touch is so gentle, so precise, that it sends a shiver racing down your spine. Despite the distraction, neither of you miss a beat—your steps remain perfectly in sync with the lilting rhythm of the music.

You lead him across the floor, your hands resting against his shoulders as he follows your movements effortlessly. Finnick’s other hand lingers in your hair, carefully undoing the clasp. His knuckles graze the nape of your neck as the clip loosens, making your breath hitch.

When the cool weight of the clip leaves your hair, Finnick’s arm shifts. He twirls you beneath his raised hand, the silk of your gown swirling around your legs as you spin in the center of the dance floor. Your laugh bubbles out unbidden, mixing with the soft strains of the strings.

As he pulls you back toward him, his eyes glint mischievously. An avox passes by, head lowered as they weave through the dancers. Finnick’s hand moves so smoothly you almost miss it—a single swift motion as he slips the hair clip into the avox’s pocket without breaking stride. His arm snakes back around your waist, his hand splaying wide across the small of your back as he draws you flush against him once more.

“There,” Finnick murmurs, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Much better.”

Your hair, now loose and tousled from his handiwork, spills over your shoulders in soft waves. Finnick’s eyes flick over you, satisfaction curling at the edges of his mouth. His hand shifts, his thumb skimming the bare skin of your back where your gown dips dangerously low.

You raise a brow at him. “Did you just—”

“Return it to its rightful place?” Finnick interrupts smoothly, his smile turning dangerous. “Let’s just say Lysander might have a hard time finding it again.”

Your chest tightens as Finnick’s hand presses more firmly against your back, leading you deeper into the dance. His eyes darken as they flick toward the edge of the room—where Lysander stands, his smile thin and cold as he watches you both. Finnick’s mouth curves into a knowing smirk.

“Now,” Finnick purrs, his hand gliding from your waist to the small of your back, his gaze sharp and unwavering.

“Would you like to see the garden?

[merakiui]

winter woes.

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, breeding, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, implied stalking, obsession note - strangely, jade is thrown into his mating season in the middle of winter.

Jade thought it wasn’t so bad when he woke up in a feverish fog. He assumed it would dissipate once he got to moving, but it only seemed to worsen as the day wore on. He trudged through his classes with dimming focus, reasoning that if he wasn’t about to keel over and die he could survive a few hours of lecture.

It was fine. Nothing he couldn’t handle. He’s Jade Leech, Octavinelle’s talented Vice Housewarden! A masterful actor capable of brilliant efficiency, even when he’s at his lowest.

And yet he’s never experienced a day as detrimental as this one. He’s endured his fair share of sleepless nights, stagnant days, and monthly burnout. On some level, Jade suspected it was coming when the frost began to encroach on withered plants and leafless trees. He always finds himself bogged down with an annual case of winter woes. 

This pattern of behavior isn’t any different.

Except it is. Very different, actually. Unlike his previous blues, this one is markedly unique. He’s never been this delirious before, so much so that he staggers about like he’s learning to walk all over again. Winter blankets the world in white, condemning Jade to what he believes is Mother Nature’s padded cell.

Without enough stimulation or spontaneity, how can he possibly function?

Normally, he’d take to trekking in the mountains to clear his head. The biting cold is familiar, a reminder of the comforts of home, but it doesn’t soothe him like it should. He’s restless and itchy, perpetually hot all over. His clothes aren’t helping either, clinging like seaweed. He wants to shred them to pieces and dive into the sea. Or hike in the mountains. Definitely one of those. 

Alas, even if he wanted to scale a mountain, he couldn’t. Not when they’ve called for the possibility of an avalanche.

He is, unfortunately, stuck in the dreaded rubber room with his school uniform for a straitjacket. Only the room itself is made of ice, and it’s unpleasant and isolated. He’s left alone with his thoughts and they’re swirling around his skull in a flurry of snowflakes.

Clothes are truly unbearable… How can land-dwellers possibly endure such constrictive material?

Perhaps he underestimated his own mental fortitude. It’s bad. Very bad. So bad that he’s just as startled as you are when he crosses paths with you in the hall, catches the scent of your shampoo, and sprouts fins. 

“Oh, Jade, your ears!” You’re gesturing at his face with worried urgency. He follows your line of sight and reaches to brush his fingers along the pointed webbing jutting out from the area where his ears ought to be. You take a step towards him and Jade, rather foolishly, takes one back. You blink at him, bewildered. “Is…everything okay? You seem under the weather. Want me to walk you to the infirmary? I’m going that way right now, actually.”

Jade wets his lips and swallows thickly. Did you always smell this nice? No… No, he has to focus! Right. Focus on the issue at hand. His transformation potion must be wearing off. Surely that explains the sudden surprise of… Your hips—were they always shaped so nicely, or is it just an illusion from your uniform slacks?

No, he’s sure of it. Something’s different about you. His nose wrinkles.

Sweeter. That’s it.

You smell sweet like a flower or candy. And your eyes are brighter in this light as they look up at him, glittering like pearls in the deep. You’re wearing the same uniform, but you’ve never looked more appealing. And your hips—

Jade curbs that thought before it can deteriorate his sensibility far past his control. What was the topic of conversation? It’s his turn to respond, isn’t it?

“I’m quite all right. Thank you for your concern. This is merely an error on my part. I’ve neglected the time.”

“Really?” You say it like you don’t believe him. Jade forces a smile, gluing his gaze to your face to avoid looking anywhere else. “It’s not like you to be so forgetful. Geez. Is Azul giving you a break over there?”

He chuckles. “I assure you all is well in my world.”

As it happens, his world is currently tilting and spinning and blurring, messy like a shaken terrarium. Jade’s attempt to excuse himself is made in vain, for he strides past you and immediately stumbles. You hurry to steady him, your fingers wrapped tight around his arm. Your touch sends an unusual electricity bolting up his spine, and suddenly he’s overcome with a wild urge. He wants to push you against the wall, slot his knee between your legs, and bite your lips bloody.

He could do it. He knows your preferences. He knows you like he knows his hand. Intimately acquainted, even if you’re not aware of your second shadow. 

Jade yanks himself free as if the contact is scalding. His heart skips in his chest, frenzied in a way it’s never been before.

He’s had plenty of scandalous fantasies in passing, and he was content to leave them as such. But now…

Sweat beads at his brow and rolls down his back between his shoulders. He needs to shed these layers. A wildfire rages beneath his skin. It’s the middle of winter. Why is he so hot? Surely there’s a logical explanation for…you. Looking at him. You’re looking at him.

Oh, you’re so pretty.

“Jade?” You move in again, lifting your hand to his forehead. This time, before he can jerk backwards, you pull away. “You’re burning up!”

“Is that so? I must not have noticed…”

He has a quick-witted retort to tack onto that sentence, but it’s scrambled on his tongue.

“If I may, (Name), have you always looked so…”

He pauses, tasting the adjective in his mouth. He was certain humans didn’t have the same sort of broadcasters merfolk do—the shifts in behavior that allow for successful mating. Colors and sounds, a duet of language. Special scents and other bodily cues to convey secret messages. A mutual understanding between two. The need to fulfill a biological imperative beneath the sea.

Is that what this is about? He was certain his transformation snuffed that part of his biology. He’s not a mer right now. He’s human. So then why is he feeling so…not human?

Ready is the word he thinks he’s searching for, but he’s starving and so it comes out wrong. 

“Ripe. Like fruit.”

“Uh… No?” You cough out an awkward laugh. If Jade could feel shame, it would be raking its nails across his back. “Are you sure you’re okay? You know what—don’t answer that. Let’s just get you to Professor Crewel. He’ll know what to do.”

Jade spies his reflection in a nearby window. The markings under his eyes are showing through pale skin. There are flecks of scales gathered on his forehead. Mindlessly, he reaches to touch them.

You turn to look at him, and he can parse the shift in your attitude like it’s blood in the water—deliciously potent. He wants to dig his claws into you and never let go. He wants to love you until the very feeling is muddled and you’ve lost sense of what’s healthy and sane. If only you could understand, peer through his eyes for the day, and navigate the labyrinth that is his heart.

“Jade? You coming?”

He already knows what’s happening. He doesn’t need the diagnosis from Professor Crewel. He just needs you.

Before you can continue onwards in your beeline to Professor Crewel’s office, Jade seizes your hand. You don’t flinch, but you do struggle to put your confusion into words. The feeling is almost palpable, clear on your countenance like a cloudless sky. He watches you, trailing his eyes over your face and finding new things to appreciate. If he allows delusion to grip him by the throat, he can pretend the makeup is all for him—a discreet, enticing signal.

He reads it. He listens. He knows, even if it’s the furthest from what he believes it to be.

Jade clasps his hands around yours.

“Um… Okay then.” Your shoulders shudder with laughter. “Is this really you, Jade? This isn’t Floyd putting on an act again, is it?”

He shakes his head, suddenly disgruntled. Why would it be Floyd? Do you want it to be Floyd? His grip on you tightens to a possessive degree. He steps closer, not yet pressing himself against you but edging dangerously close. He doesn’t speak a word when he opens his mouth at you, revealing pearly points set in razored rows. You don’t seem to grasp the meaning behind his gaping maw, and it’s somewhat disheartening.

Logically, he’s aware of your very human ideals—ideals that fail to encapsulate the intricacies of moray courtship. Still, he hopes the sentiment comes through.

“Something wrong with your teeth?” You tilt your head and squint up at him. “They look fine to me.”

Jade shuts his mouth, considering his options. It would be much easier if this was the sea. Then he could present you with hypnotic bioluminescence, drape a chain of sea flowers around your neck, and offer you an entire month’s worth of fish. None of that is very viable on land. At the very least, he could replicate it—take you in a dark room and hope the shine in his eyes is bright enough to entice you, conjure flowers with magic, and scour the Mostro Lounge’s storage for enough food to last you through the season.

Surely the desire I feel for you transcends the great depths of the sea. He breathes out a sad sigh. I want to make you mine. I want you to look at me in the same way I look at you. Won’t you do that for me? Please…

As far as he’s aware, humans follow their own palaver when it comes to romance and attraction. What he’s learned from his time on land is that human courtship is, by his comprehension, excessively complicated. While moray courtship has clear, defined goals, each one outlined in the body language of both parties, humans baffle with the time it takes to secure a mate. Jade watches students get together and fall apart within the span of weeks. It’s fascinating. Dating is almost like a trial run—like testing a new ingredient in a recipe to see if it sweetens or sours the overall dish.

He could have gone that route; he was fully prepared to, but the human and mer sides of his brain are leaving him in a daze. It’s impossible to think like a human when his mer instincts are vibrating so intensely beneath his skin, every part of his deep-sea biology saying he ought to do it the mer way.

So he opens his mouth again.

He’s cheating when he nods at you. Somehow you work out half of his intention.

“My mouth? What about it?” It hits you then, and your eyes widen into the shape of a full moon. “Oh! You want to compare teeth size, is that it?”

Not exactly what he was aiming for, but it has you reciprocating anyway. You open your mouth to show off your teeth, and if Jade was of a more stable mindset perhaps he would have been content to simply observe. He doesn’t expect land-dwellers to know anything more than what’s taught in class.

“What do you think? Mine aren’t as cool as yours,” you say after a moment.

“I think…” He hesitates. The words are jumbled, and he almost says it in mermish. But it’s difficult to produce the syllables with his limited nasal capabilities in this form. A smile curves his lips up, and it’s so similar to Floyd’s dopey grin that it leaves you slack-jawed. “Pretty,” he says with a happy hum. “Very pretty.”

Before you can respond, his hands slide away from yours to secure tightly around your wrists. And then he’s pulling you in the opposite direction, through the main building’s many halls, until he finally arrives at his destination.

You’re tugged into the Hall of Mirrors next. Jade seems to be losing his usual gentlemanly flair, for he issues you an apologetic chuckle as an afterthought. His mer features look more defined now—even his skin tone is darkening to suit the color palette of his mer form. You weren’t in objection before, but now that you find yourself being pulled through the mirror and trapped in the bubble transport with Jade you begin to worry.

“Hey, hold on a minute! Shouldn’t we find Professor Crewel? Your transformation potion—”

The sound of shredded leather disturbs the air. Jade lifts his gloved hands for both of you to survey. His claws have ripped through the material, and he’s grown webbing beneath the tattered remains of his gloves. When he reaches for you, you flinch away.

An uncomfortable quiet falls over the bubble, only bursting once you’re inside Octavinelle Dorm.

Jade’s heart aches when he spies the unease scrawled on your face. Don’t look at me like that. Please, my pearl, don’t fear me. I would never hurt you.

Is it so wrong to want to smother you in an abundance of love? If this kind of love is forbidden on the surface, how is he meant to exist in the same world as you? It was possible for the mermaid princess and her lover. Is this not the same? It’s just love. There’s nothing wrong with that.

Right?

He curls his hands into fists and hopes the stabbing pain of his claws piercing his palms is enough to quell the urge to hold you.

“J-Jade…” Your voice is meek, a mere wobble. “Are you okay?”

He blinks, suddenly aware that blood is oozing from open wounds. “Ah… Forgive me… I’ve shown you such an ugly side.”

“No, I’m sorry! It startled me, that’s all.” You attempt a brave, albeit flat, smile. “I’m not scared. Just…surprised. Is this how all merfolk get when they’re sick?”

Jade wants to understand, but he has never known dread like that before. He’s a predator. He doesn’t need to feel fear when he instills it in others.

Still, it bothers him more than he thought it would. If you fear him… If you can’t present him with a real smile…

Is there even a point if he’s not the reason for your happiness? What is he if not the blight that destroys your flowering radiance?

Without fail, like a cruel cycle destined to burden him, the winter weather evokes morbid gloom. It darkens his consciousness like a shroud over a corpse or a cover on a mirror.

If you’re not scared, why are you keeping your distance? Am I truly so monstrous that you feel the need to cower? My love is sincere. I promise I would never hurt you.

But he would, if given the opportunity. And that’s precisely what he plans to do now.

So it catches him off guard when you surge forward to lace your hands with his. Carmine drips from his claws, pattering the floor in tiny drops. He stares at you with pupils blown wide.

“You’re my friend. Why would I find this side of you ugly? Just because you’re not at your best doesn’t mean it’s weird or bad.”

And isn’t that the worst? 

Jade’s lungs constrict when he kisses you. You try to jerk away, but he holds firm. Your lips part only briefly, and you manage a squeak of protest before he reclaims the space with ravenous intent. Your whines are swallowed whole as he all but devours your mouth like a famished animal. Sharp teeth click against your blunt ones. Jade laps at the back of your throat, savoring every gasp. You press against his chest in a weak struggle.

“S-Sto—wait. Jade—”

But even those words become appetizers for the feast that’s soon to follow.

It’s because I’m your friend that you place your trust in me. Thus, it will hurt all the more when I take that trust and crush it beneath my heel.

He’s never felt more alive, his body buzzing with exhilaration. When he pulls back, breathless and panting, you’re still reeling. He doesn’t give you any time to recuperate, for he tugs you along down the shadowed halls of Octavinelle.

You dig your heels against the tile. “Please wait! I don’t understand. What are you—”

You’re yanked forward again, and the rest of that sentence trickles into reserved silence. You hurry to keep pace with Jade as he drags you towards a door. A large indoor pool, dimly lit by the lights above, greets the both of you once it’s opened.

With furrowed brows, you glance at Jade. He’s looking right back, but it’s a strange gaze. He’s ready to pounce, just barely holding on to nonexistent restraint, every muscle riddled with tension.

“Sometimes we’re permitted to use this area for personal reasons,” Jade explains, shutting and locking the door with magic.

“Personal reasons… Like what?”

He smiles, watching the shiver roll though you. “Nothing against the rules, I assure you.”

“Right… Look, Jade, at the very least…” You wring your hands. “Um… Could you at least get in the water? I’m worried your potion’ll wear off any second now, and there’s no way I can lift you myself.”

“Your concern is much appreciated.”

He places one webbed hand on your shoulder, the other situated at your lower back. In one fluid swoop, he gathers you in his arms. You don’t have time to yell at him to put you down because he’s already striding over to the poolside.

“I do hope you’ll forgive my temperament. I confess I’m a touch impatient.” A lopsided smile strains on his flushed face. 

“Jade, don’t you dare—”

Your scream cuts through the air, echoing off the walls. He tosses you into the water without decorum. Jade sheds what’s left of his already tattered uniform and dives in just as the rest of his mer features overtake his human shell. Salt sprays around you in a resounding splash when you, coughing and spluttering, break the surface.

Jade watches your feet kick back and forth as you paddle towards the edge. The motions are hypnotic. What pretty, fragile limbs…

Gliding through the water with minimal effort, he circles you like a moon hopelessly devoted to remaining within your orbit. His hand wraps around your ankle, and he pulls you beneath the water to meet him. You struggle in his grasp, kicking and thrashing, but he doesn’t let that deter him.

Jade cradles your face in his hands. “So pretty… Like a pearl,” he clicks, his words musical and foreign to your human ears. “My treasure.”

He captures your lips in a mystifying kiss. Clumsily, his deft fingers work to peel your clothes from your person. You push back just as your bra is unclasped, gasping for air, and he allows you to surface after nearly a minute. He comes up with you, drunk off the taste of you. The world could be ending just beyond the confines of this pool and it wouldn’t even matter to him. Not right now, at least. Not when he’s at the verge of vehemence. So close. He’s so close.

“W-What’s up with you?” You cling to the pool wall, chest heaving. He follows your hand as it moves to cover your mouth. “You’re not usually like this.”

“Does it bother you?” He swims closer, effectively pinning you to the wall. He presses his nose to the dip between shoulder and neck and hums. With a boyish giggle, he smiles again. “You smell so pretty…”

“Jade…” You pat his head. “Jade.”

“Hm?”

“I… I’m flattered. Really, I am. But we can’t do this.”

He detaches himself to look at you. “We can’t?”

This time, unlike in the past, he isn’t playing dumb for the fun of it.

“I’m sorry, Jade. I think you’re a great friend, but that’s it. I tried to tell you earlier, but you wouldn’t let me.”

So that’s how you feel.

He’s cold-blooded by nature, but somehow this confession chills him more than the Northern waters ever could.

Just a friend.

“Ah. Is that so? My apologies for overstepping a boundary.”

You turn towards the wall to hide your exposed chest. “I-It’s fine…”

He admires the water droplets cascading down the slope of your shoulders. Winter woes and mating season make for a devastating combination, and Jade is the tsunami who will tear through you with reckless, remorseless abandon.

A clawed finger taps at your cheek. Defiant, you keep your gaze pinned ahead. “Are you, by chance, embarrassed?”

“O-Of course I am! Please close your eyes and don’t peek until I’m out of the pool.” With one arm held over your chest, you fish through the water in search of your waterlogged clothes.

Jade takes hold of your empty hand, marveling at how small yours is compared to his. So precious. I could hold this hand forever…

“There’s no need to be shy. Nudity is commonplace where I’m from.”

“Well, it’s not like that up here. Not always, at least.” You swallow thickly. “Please don’t look…”

“That’s tantamount to asking someone not to admire artwork in a museum.” Gently, he coaxes you away from the wall and into his chest. “You deserve to be cherished in full. Is that not why land-dwellers sculpt the human body?”

“That’s different!”

“How so?”

Please, (Name), you’re driving me wild. Please just let me love you. Please. It’s all I want.

“Most of them are representations of deities and other important symbols.”

“In that case, I am but your humble devotee.”

You roll your eyes. “Flattery doesn’t work on me.”

“No? Then how about this instead?”

Jade turns over on his back in the pool. You’re tugged along for the ride, settled on his chest like a turtle resting on driftwood. His arms wrap around you. Stubborn—an adjective known to describe Jade on occasion.

“Now I won’t see a thing.”

His smile is too cheeky for your liking, but that’s the last thing you’re thinking of. His hands creep down the expanse of your back. You yelp when he squeezes your asscheek. 

“H-Hey! Watch where you’re touching!” Your expression is meant to be threatening, but all it does is earn you a gentle laugh.

“Forgive me. My hand slipped.”

“Yeah, right. You’re not slick.”

He doesn’t dignify that with a retort. Instead, he floats aimlessly on his back. You press yourself to his toned body and silently hope he can’t feel your hardened nipples.

“Can you bring me back to the edge?”

“I can.”

Just not the edge you’re thinking of.

“Will you?”

“Eventually.”

It’s spoken like a promise, a sweet sigh. You don’t believe him for a second.

Once more, his hand dips lower than it should to rub against your bare pussy. You flinch out of your skin, sucking in a deep breath. His whimsical laughter is more grating than nails on a blackboard.

“Oops.”

You want to throw yourself into the water, but that would risk giving him an unintentional show and that’s the last thing you want. So you squeeze your eyes shut and, body taut, lie still. 

“Can you—will you tell me what’s going on?”

“I will.”

You wait for him to continue, but he chooses to bask in the silence instead. If you weren’t trapped in his embrace, you’d throttle him. Or try to, at least. He’s all muscle in this form, and it would be so easy for him to subdue you if he felt so inclined. The result of a wrestling match with a moray isn’t exactly in your favor.

Groaning in defeat, you play right into his game: “Can you tell me?”

“Allow me to show you.”

He propels himself backwards, his tail fin cutting smoothly through the water. You’re taken from the shallows to the deepest end of the pool. His hands find your waist and, with startling ease, he helps you up so that you’re sat just above his slit. It brushes against your pussy every time you shift. Minding his claws, he digs his fingers into your thighs to keep you still. You hurry to cover yourself with your arms, hoping to preserve what’s left of your decency.

“Many mers prefer spring and summer climates.”

“Because the water’s warmer?”

“That’s part of it.” His hands crawl up your waist to close around your arms. Gently, he pulls them away from your chest. His eyes stick to your breasts, but you can’t muster the courage to fight him. “The water is warm and food is plentiful. The perfect time to find a willing mate.”

“So this is—you’re in…heat, basically?”

“It’s rather unbearable if left untreated.”

“You say that like it’s an illness…” Shaking your head, you sigh and offer a sympathetic grimace. “I’m really sorry, but I don’t think I can help. I don’t know the first thing about moray mating!”

“I wouldn’t say that. You possess all the proper equipment. It’s merely a matter of body language, really. Think of it like dancing,” he assures, petting your inner thigh. You watch his fingers inch closer and closer to your pussy, and with an embarrassed gasp you place your hand over it. “Won’t you be a dear friend and help a poor moray in need? I would be very grateful to have your assistance. In fact, I would be in your debt. Isn’t that most advantageous?”

“No way! Ask someone else.”

“I would if I could, but this isn’t the type of issue one can treat so carelessly. Selecting a mate is of great importance in the sea.”

“So go to the sea and do it.”

“We’re already there.” He chuckles at the dubious glower you give him. “As it happens, Octavinelle’s surrounding territory is entirely oceanic. How fortunate for us.”

“Why does it have to be me?”

My dear pearl, I treasure you something fierce, but you’re wearing my patience painfully thin.

“Why not?”

“Didn’t you just say picking a mate is super special?”

He hums, wondering if you’re feigning ignorance for the sake of the situation or if you’re genuinely this lost. It’s likely the latter. After all, you accepted his invitation to mate without even knowing it.

“It’s a special occasion, yes. Many mers have new partners every summer. Sometimes they remain and other times the tide carries them along, bringing in new opportunities with every changing season.”

“And finding the one who sticks is the goal?”

“For some of us.”

“So what about you?” You narrow your eyes at him, suspicious. “You’re speaking for everyone but yourself, Jade.”

Jade flushes. Your perceptive words are pointed, stabbing through thick skin to reach his heart. It isn’t often someone parts all of his curtains to peer at the truth.

“I would like that,” he admits, soft and sweet, almost demure. “Someone who sticks, as you’ve put it.”

You watch his face carefully, but there’s no lie to find. With his pinched brow and shimmering coloration, so much so it’s as if he’s been set aflame, you steel your nerves. He brightens the dark pool with his light, a beacon on still waters. Jade looks right back. The eye contact is heady—more hypnotic than a swaying pendulum. He waits for you to make the first move, as is customary in his courtship, but when you don’t react he begins to suspect it’s the opposite for yours.

But then you find your voice. So words are valued in human courtship. I see…

“If I help with this… W-What exactly happens? What does it mean?”

Jade knows his pearl isn’t stupid, but sometimes he really has to wonder.

“It means—” he takes the hand that had been previously protecting your nudity and pulls it away, fingers intertwining— “we would copulate like every animal does.”

“I… I’m not sure.”

“I’ll be very gentle.”

“Still…”

“You have my word.”

“I know. I understand. But—”

“It’s my first time as well.”

You stare at him, astounded by the revelation. “Really?”

“Indeed. So I ask that you forgive my boorish insistence. I’m usually very prepared for my season, so it’s a shock it’s come so early.”

“Yeah, that’s weird. I wonder if it’s because you’re a human. Maybe something with your transformation?” Your breath catches in your throat when he presses two slender fingers against your clit. “H-Hold on… If you touch there—”

Jade’s mismatched eyes sparkle when he looks at you, wet with tears. “Please,” he murmurs, resting his head back against the water. “Please, (Name)…”

You’ve never known Jade to cry or beg outright, let alone utter that single word in such a submissive tone. He’s so vulnerable, an image curated for this very occasion. Not that this is imperative information you absolutely must know.

With slumped shoulders, you glance elsewhere. “I’m not so sure…”

Jade considers himself fortunate to have his wits about him, otherwise he would have already had you plastered to the pool tiles, his cock thrust up in your tight pussy.

“I understand my size in this form may seem rather intimidating, but I’m still myself.”

“I know. But…”

“You can lead. I’ll follow. Almost like a dance.” Taking hold of your hips, he rocks you back and forth as if you’re a doll. Your cunt brushes against his slit and, though it isn’t nearly as euphoric as the actual ordeal, it still sends a wave of carnal relief washing over him. He hums pleasantly, gills fluttering. “Mhm… Like so. It’s simple, isn’t it? Nothing to fear.”

You place your palms against his chest to brace yourself. A reedy breath shakes through you. Jade can see the gears turning. And—oh—how he wishes to be able to poke around your head to understand what it is you’re working through. He’s certain he’d be walking on air if he could hear your innermost monologues: To love or not to love Jade Leech… Or, at present, this would be a better and very humorous phrasing of your secret dialogue: To fuck or not to fuck Jade Leech… 

Even if you don’t love him now, you will later. Just as all life in his terrariums inevitably blooms, so, too, will your affection for him. Patient and persistent care will get him far. He’s sure of that.

You shiver above him, face scrunched and bottom lip bitten to muffle your musical moans. He doesn’t bother hiding his very obvious enjoyment as he guides you along until, eventually, your hips move on their own accord. You grind down against his slit, panting wetly, and he watches your lashes flutter, beautiful like butterfly wings. He admires the divine softness of your nudity, picturesque like that of the Renaissance.

No matter how delicious you are on the eyes, how electrifying it is to have your body pressed to his, it’s still not enough. Jade has half a mind not to buck up to meet your dripping pussy halfway, even if his every sense is telling him he should. Too much force and he’d throw you off into the pool; there’s no telling what he’d do if you were in the water, fully at his mercy. So he allows you to have your fun, deems it polite that you find your end first before he follows. He has to remind himself that you’re not a mer and, thus, you won’t find it very appealing if he succumbs to animalistic urges.

Humans like gentle creatures. Jade is not a gentle creature by nature, but he enjoys masquerading as one.

If it were up to Jade, he would have just taken you for himself ages ago. The minute you looked him in the eyes, he would have grabbed your face in both hands and yanked you up to smash his mouth to yours. And then you’d know there’s more beyond that curtain of placidity.

But that’s not the approach he wants to take.

What he really wants, right now and in this moment, more than anything, is to be inside you, pump you so full of himself that you’ll feel bloated like a whale carcass. Sink his teeth in your throat and taste the blood puddling beneath. Chew you out like you’re nothing more than a squeak toy and he’s your wildly disobedient dog. Dig his claws into your thighs until red ribbons slide down broken skin and cloud the water.

Your yelp brings him back to the present. For a strained second, he thinks he’s hurt you—gone too far and chased you away before the game could even begin. But the source of your startled reaction is easy to pinpoint, for it’s currently prodding at your folds.

“W-What’s that?” you ask around another gasp.

More of Jade’s prehensile cock wriggles free from the safety of his slit. He squeezes his eyes shut to collect himself, hissing through his teeth.

“Most mers are equipped with—mmh—with both sets of…anatomy…” His mind is whirling. He can’t finish that thought. Does it even matter? You’ll understand without the explanation. “It won’t hurt… You can touch it.”

You shake your head and—sevens, you’re lucky he loves you so much or else he wouldn’t have the foresight to be mindful of your inability to breathe underwater. What he’d give to take you below the surface and ignore the world passing above—to spend what little eternity he has rutting into you, tails twining, mouths meeting…

“I shouldn’t… T-That’s your…thing.”

He wasn’t sure you could get cuter, but you do. Surprises are endless with you. He could never tire of this.

“Of course it is. How else am I to copulate without it?” he replies smartly. “It’s called breeding season for a reason, my dear.”

You lift your hips slightly to avoid the tip searching for a home within your gummy depths. Panic paints itself on your face. “W-Wait! You can’t—”

“You seemed to be enjoying yourself moments ago. I promise you this will feel even better once it’s inside.”

“That was before I—b-before you…” You swallow thickly, stumbling over your tongue. “There’s no way I can—it looks…too big.”

“Any size is going to seem so if you’ve never taken it before.”

Jade presses two fingers inside your pussy and spreads it. Slick strings from the opening, coating his digits in your arousal. You stiffen and hide behind your hands.

Aah, if only I could devour you right here and now… You’re just too adorable. Are you doing this on purpose?

“You needn’t fret. If my fingers slide in like so, then I’m certain it will be the same for my—”

“I don’t know how mers do it, but if it’s anything like humans…” You shake your head again, adamant. “I don’t wanna get pregnant.”

That’s unavoidable, he wants to say, but that would serve to scare you away.

“We’re incompatible.” Even I’m not certain of that, but it must be false if the mermaid princess could start a family with her human. “Therefore, the risk is nonexistent.”

“Are you sure?”

Not in the slightest.

“Quite.”

Apprehensive, you still refuse to lower yourself onto him. He’s aching, desperate and near-deranged from waiting, and if he were still in his human form he’d be sweating out of his skin. Jade grabs your hips again and, somewhat forcefully, brings you down to meet his tip.

“Please,” he stresses, putting on his best, most convincing pout. “Please, (Name), won’t you help me? I fear I can’t endure any more of this torture.”

You open your mouth, but a trembling breath slips out in place of a protest. Jade’s cock presses against your pussy, gradually delving inside. You almost flop on top of him, the air knocked out of your lungs as he spears you open. Jade grits his teeth. His claws rake across your sides. He has to remain calm, but how can he do that when he’s finally inside you after months of fantasizing? He knows now that his hand could never act as a substitute for the real thing.

To think he was missing something as grand as this all along! No amount of warmth could ever compare to you. You’re an angel who’s just taken him to Heaven.

You gasp again when he slams you down without warning. “Ooh…”

He heaves a shaky, satisfied sigh. Tears dot his lash line. He’s never known relief so strong. It wraps tightly around his cock, squeezing like a vise. If not your mind, your body definitely agrees to this connection. You’ve taken him so well. Surely you wanted this all along. It was just convoluted courtship, a messy tangle of misunderstanding. You want him to knock you up—to stuff you over and over until you can’t fit anything else.

Oh, if only he had eggs. If only he could give you a clutch.

Next time, he thinks, and he means it.

“See?” he says, finding his voice. It comes out breathless, like he’s just been squeezed dry. Not yet. Soon, though. He’s sensitive, and it betrays whatever image he hoped to curate by seeming unbothered. You’re supposed to fall apart first, yet here he is on the verge of coming undone. “You’ve fit every inch. I surmise you could fit even more.”

“I don’t want to!” You lift your body, but it’s a silly endeavor. His cock twitches and curves up against your walls. You and Jade groan in unison, your eyes squeezed shut. “We should’ve just gone to—haa—Professor Crewel and let him handle this…”

“Magical intervention would only pause the inevitable. These cycles are easier to manage as they happen. And this—” he helps you grind down against him, to which you do with startling obedience (but then perhaps he’s just strong enough to manhandle and pretend it’s compliance)— “is the best medicine.”

His webbed hand closes around one of your breasts. It’s soft and springy in his grasp. He pinches your nipple experimentally, and you clench around him.

“Ah, do you like being touched here?”

“Mmh—no… Not there. Don’t—ooh!”

“Or perhaps here?” he asks, circling your clit.

“Stop—you can’t…”

“But I already am.”

You muster the energy to glare halfheartedly, but it soon unravels when he drags you up and down once more. The sound of skin on skin fills the room, every lewd, wet slap an addition to your cries. Jade wonders if this is what true inner peace is, for he’s never been more elated. So utterly, indescribably relieved.

You’re just what he needs to weather this cruel winter.

Jade’s mind, once so organized, is a chaotic scramble. You’ve always occupied a majority of his thoughts, but now you’re made front and center. Everything revolves around you at this moment. He even tries to sync his breathing with yours, if only to feel closer to you. As if this bodily connection isn’t already close enough.

You happen to glance at him then. There’s a glaze to your gaze that wasn’t there before. He admires the way it makes you look—the softness in your eyes and the subtle part of your lips. You appear so blissful while you rock yourself on his cock, dragging your hips in jerky motions. He doesn’t think twice about the sloppy nature of your union, for he moves with a singular goal in mind.

He reaches without meaning to, searching for your heartbeat so that it can align with his, and you squeak in surprise when you’re pulled against his chest. Jade’s reminded you’re not a mer when he tries to wrap his tail around your nonexistent one, feeling legs kick out instead. Just like that, ripples run across tranquil waters as you’re flipped over.

Ah. I was too hasty.

You break the surface, coughing and spluttering. He mourns the disconnect immediately, yearning for your warmth again. When he comes up to join you, he’s met with a splash.

“A-At least warn me before you do that!” You mumble the rest of your disappointment, but Jade’s keen ears pick it up anyway. “I didn’t even get to finish…”

Jade chuckles and wipes water from his eyes. His face is bright, burning with joy. “My apologies. I may have gotten carried away.”

“Obviously.” You huff. “Now can you bring me to the edge?”

He winds around you. “It would be my pleasure.”

You’re pressed against the pool wall, legs spread and wrapped around his waist. He braces himself on either side of you, his fingers curling around the ledge. With how strong his grip is, it’s a shock the tiles haven’t cracked under the pressure. You avoid his stare while he pushes in. He listens to your breath stutter, and that’s all it takes to shatter his self-control. He draws away, savors the confusion polluting the air, and then snaps his hips forward to fill you with every inch of his strange, inhuman cock. A strangled moan rips from your throat and you throw your head back, deflating flatly against the floor.

Jade’s brows knit together. He bows his head, gasping into your neck. His teeth are centimeters from unmarked flesh. He wants to bite you, but the sensation of your velvety walls wrapped around his cock is so distracting. He thinks he might faint. It feels too good. So warm. So wet. So tight. Is this really what humans feel like on the inside? Are they always so soft? He feels boneless as he rolls his hips, numb and dumb, mindless like an animal.

That’s really all he’s ever been: an animal enthralled, his sights forever locked on you. He’d do anything to get you to look at him.

Your arms snake around him, and you cling so sweetly, your nails scraping at his back, that he almost cums right then. Your voice is in his ears, wanton and whispery.

“J-Jade… Aah, Jade…” You hold firmly, unyielding, and chant his name like it’s something holy. “Oh, please, Jade!”

You were so averse before. Now look at you. You’re so cute. The cutest, in fact. I want to make you mine and lock you away forever. Your voice, your body, your smile, your everything… It would be mine to admire. A fascination reserved specially for me.

“It doesn’t hurt, does it?” he asks, tracing your cheek with a claw.

A fond smile graces his face. You blink up at him. Tears track down your cheeks, but he knows they aren’t woeful. You’re enjoying this just as much as he is. You want him. You like him. You have no choice.

“Feels full…”

“Does it?”

“Mhm.”

That angelic smile fades into something wicked and proud. Full. You’re full. Full of him and, very soon, full of as many loads as he cares to give.

His hand dips between your bodies to nudge at your clit. You choke around a bawdy moan. If he fools himself, he imagines your parted lips are mirroring the same invitation he voiced to you earlier. Maybe it really is. Maybe you’ve finally understood this facet of his language. 

Hypnotized, Jade watches your lips. He doesn’t even register he’s leaning in. You struggle somewhat, but he just kisses you harshly. His tongue slithers past your lips to explore the insides of your mouth, prodding at the back of your throat until you’re digging your nails into his shoulders.

I love you. I love you. I love you and need you and want you. You’re all mine. Finally mine.

Saliva dribbles from your lips when he pulls back. His eyes are blown wide.

All mine.

When he leans in for another kiss, this one more dizzying than the last, he presses his hips to yours, aiming to get as close to your womb as possible. He needs to. Needs to be deeply acquainted with your insides. Needs to flood your empty womb with enough cum to guarantee pregnancy. Needs to knock you up and watch you swell with his child so that you’ll be even softer than you are now. Oh, the beauty of it all is too tantalizing! You’d look so cute, maternity wear stretched taut around your gravid belly. And your tits would grow fat and heavy with milk. He can already picture it: You’d fluster when you leak through your shirt, even more so when he takes your teat in his mouth and drinks his fill. He wonders if you’d call him gross, a pervert, a freak… Would you do so if he asked?

Would you hate him if you knew all of the depraved fantasies that flit around in his head?

Maybe. The lack of linear clarity excites him. Endless possibilities. He wants to know all of them.

He wants to—

With a wheeze, he cums quick and hard, lashes fluttering and vision whiting out. Your body flinches beneath him, caught in the throes of pleasure as you, too, ride out an orgasmic wave.

He comes to moments later, his heart racing, and rests his forehead against yours.

“That’s…it, right?” you mumble, running your fingers through matted hair. “It’s over, isn’t it?”

Jade tries a shy smile. “On the contrary, we’re only just beginning. A mer’s season isn’t over until they’ve emptied everything, heart and soul, into their mate.”

Can he really call his dick his heart and soul? Maybe. It sickens him with a wild delight.

No matter how many rounds, he’s going to love you until you’re thoroughly worn out.

You don’t have a choice.

But then you already love him, don’t you?

You will by the end of this.

And suddenly he doesn’t feel so bad anymore. Suddenly, he’s no longer embroiled in the sticky shackles of winter woes.

[storiesoflilies]

a touch of salt, a taste of flesh

synopsis: in which toji cannot decide whether or not he wants to eat or love the pretty little human he saved from drowning. w.c: 2k.

pairing: merman!toji fushiguro x f!reader.

warnings: mature themes! mentions of gore and blood, mentions of drowning, open ending. sfw but MDNI!

a/n: if you saw me post this yesterday no you didn’t. please don’t let the fic flop this time lol. heavily inspired by this delicious art!

divider / ao3

the ocean loved to keep her secrets.

she coveted every single one of them, for each was a precious pearl of knowledge about her soul. to know even a single one was to be doomed to a life of fear, to be at the mercy of her passing whims, because you could never tell when she would decide to punish you for it and bash you into pieces.

she didn’t think she knew anything at all about the ocean.

but here she was, coughing up salty secrets trapped deep within her lungs.

again.

while a pair of green eyes watched her.

they were always watching her.

“why do you continue to tempt the sea?” he purred, a slight smirk touching his lips. “little human”

little human.

because that is what she was, and what he most certainly wasn't.

it was in the way he smiled at her – cold and dark and cruel as the smothering sea that had tried snuff her out, curling around her throat like tendrils of seaweed.

a dark, shark-like tail rose from the sea as the creature tilted his head, wet strands of his black hair dripping to the side. he winced every time she coughed some more, as if it were far too loud for his liking, and looked down at her like she was a grain of sand stuck between his scales.

she probably was nothing.

especially not to something like him.

“do you really need to know what it’s like when death creeps up on you?” he continued, dismissively waving a clawed, scaly hand at her. “i could always just tell you how it feels.”

she sucked in a shaky, pathetic heaving breath of sea air into her chest, still gasping and sputtering onto the white-washed sand. the coarse grains scratched her palms painfully, and she tried to calm herself, breathing in and out with the rise and fall of the tide.

his eyes narrowed playfully, thin slits of green in the night. “there, there. you’ll be just fine.”

she didn’t feel like she would be.

there was nothing comforting about him at all.

he was a predator.

his teeth were just that little bit longer than they should be – sharper, pearlescent, and flashing dangerously in the silver moonlight. even though this was the third time he has saved her from succumbing to the depths of the sea, she still didn’t know why he had saved her, or why he still continued to.

but it had to be for something.

or else, he wouldn’t have saved her the first time. he would have let her fingers disappear beneath the waves forever, let her sink to the bottom of the darkest ocean. he wouldn’t keep on watching her from the shoreline, circling round and round the island like a shark drawing ever closer to its prey.

waiting to strike, ready to bite.

“why?” was all she could muster in a hoarse voice, sand tickling her throat.

“why?” he repeated, that saccharine smirk playing on his lips again. “why what, little human?”

“why do you keep on singing?”

the green slits widened a fraction, and he started to laugh. her heart hammered against her chest, and she was afraid she might have said the wrong thing.

“is that what you would call it?” he asked incredulously, a sprinkle of offense creeping into his voice. “singing?”

she gulped.

what else would she call it?

that was what it sounded like to her. she would sit beneath a gnarled tree at the cliffs’ edge, where the earth dipped sharply towards the sea, its rocky face curled over the sea like an old man’s wrinkly hand. there, she would listen, trying to make sense of the strange words wafting from his tongue in the salty breeze.

she would’ve started a war for him.

would have shoved her arms into the bodies of the bent and broken, rummage through all their bones to offer him their still-warm, unbeating hearts.

but there was something in his haunting baritone that made her want to cry, to surrender to the sea, naively believing she could somehow help save him from his own restlessness. to block out the echoing memories that, in that moment, were blurred together and she wasn’t sure if they belonged to him or her.

there had to be some kind of magic involved.

because tonight was the third time she had heard his haunting song.

and the third time she had mindlessly wandered into the arms of the ocean and her false welcome, full of promises she had no intention of keeping.

despite knowing full well that she couldn’t even swim.

his laughter died with the wind, a low, lilting hum lingering at the edge of his words. “maybe you shouldn’t be listening so closely,” he murmured, his eyes heavy with something that looked like hunger. “the sea doesn’t sing for humans.”

he drifted a touch closer to where she was lying, slicing through the shallow water like a blade. she sat up straight, digging her heels into the sand to scramble away from him.

“and yet, here you are,” he said, amusement curling his lips. “again.”

she licked the salt from the cracks in her lips, stuttering, “i-i don’t k-know why.”

maybe it was her obvious helplessness, or perhaps he could smell her hopeless desperation like rotting flesh, but his eyes softened.

“it’s the call for my…” he trailed off, smacking his lips as he searched for the word. “heart.”

he said the it disdainfully, like he didn’t really want to believe he had a heart at all. she couldn’t imagine that he had one either, or that it wanted for anything beyond his most base desires.

flesh and blood.

“your heart?” she repeated in disbelief.

he glowered at her, his tail flicking through the water in annoyance. “yes,” he said, adding much more quietly. “and it seems i’ve found it.”

run away, now.

“w-what?” she sputtered, salt-coated sand flying to the back of her throat.

the creature grinned widely, mischievous fangs glinting, “oh, you know, little human.”

she did know; she just didn’t want to admit it.

“i-i never– i don’t understand.”

“no? then why do you keep trying to swim to me?”

she didn’t know what to say to that.

it was silent for a long time, the sweeping sea moving backwards and forwards like the ebb of time between them. she could see more of him too, even though she knew better than to look.

and he was beautiful.

his tail was longer than she thought, silky smooth and gray like a shark’s was, marred with pink scars and rakes as deep and painful as the ocean. it curled high above his head as he lay belly down in the sand.

oh, but his eyes.

they were a chest of shimmering emeralds, locked onto her every minuscule movement. but his pupils were infinite, a black hole of mysteries and knowledge of ancients city that had come and gone, of seas of blood and red misery.

yet, he was here, on this unremarkable beach at the edge of the world, calling for his heart – for her.

and she’d somehow answered.

“what’s your name?” she blurted out.

there was a strange rumble in his chest before he replied with, “toji.”

toji.

it reminded her of the cold kiss of winter, the inevitable conquest of snow over the trees and blooms, covering everything in its white death. he belonged to the ice-covered seas of the north and south, definitely not from places where the sun and joy pierced through the waves.

there was no doubt that toji was king of those icy seas, reigning supreme over the darkness found within the kelp forests of the deep trenches.

“how old are you?”

toji tilted his head curiously, completely silent as he pondered and searched for an answer.

“how long have humans sailed the seas?”

how very lonely.

she knew she shouldn’t feel anything for toji, least of all feel sorry for him. but here she was, itching for him to take her hand and drag her into the depths he called home. maybe that was what his song meant; perhaps all he wanted was someone to share in ruling over the ice and sea.

how ironic that she couldn’t even swim.

he drummed his sharp fingers against a closed fist, slow and irritatingly suspenseful. “you’re bleeding, you know?”

she frowned and looked down at both sides of her palms, between her pruned fingers, and then further down.

oh.

there was a small stream of blood beneath her left foot, trailing toward the sea before being swept away with the tide.

straight towards toji.

that was when she saw the dangerous twitch dancing on his scarred lip, and she realized just how long he had been holding back for.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered breathlessly, and she truly meant it.

toji’s eyes narrowed again, but there was a spark of anger in them this time. “don’t apologize,” he hissed. “never– not for that.”

for that, for bleeding.

would a shark thank her for covering up a wound?

she didn’t think so.

toji asked for her name, and she offered it freely, willingly. he repeated it loudly, the deep baritone of his voice starting to sing her name in an increasingly agitated-sounding tone.

mine, mine, mine.

her name wasn’t her own anymore.

he was looking at her now, like he wanted to slice open her chest, pull out her heart, and play with the strings that made it beat. to shove his fingers into her aorta to say that he had been really inside her – his – heart.

mine, mine, mine.

and then, his cold hand was gripping her ankle, claws lightly digging into her skin.

she let out a yelp as toji dragged her toward him, the sea rushing over her cheeks and into her ears. he was on top of her, the wetness of the sea bleeding into her, his weight heavy and suffocating, pushing every bit of air out of her fragile lungs. his fingers dug deep into her thighs, just about to pierce through the plush skin.

she beat against the hardness of his chest, “t- cough! toji, please, stop.”

but he wasn’t really there, caught somewhere between the whispering blood ocean and the misty memories haunting his soul.

a pearly tear slipped down his cheek.

“i ca-ah! can’t breath.”

the same deep sound rumbled from his chest, and toji lifted himself up from her ever so slightly. she sucked in great gasping breaths, her eyes teary and blurry as she looked at him through lashes laden with salt.

another milky tear fell from his left eye and dripped down onto the curve of her cheek.

“would you slip away?” toji whispered, his voice rolling over her like the tide, but he sounded far, far away. “into the sea, for me.”

she didn’t want to.

but then he started to hum low and sweet, his wet lips pressed to her neck, and she was ready to.

she could see through the mist and blood now, far above the clouds and the sky and the sun breaking through the horizon. her heart was burning with salt and secrets – secrets she didn’t know she possessed.

until now.

that she was one with the sea, and maybe always had been. so, she didn’t mind all that toji was slowly pulling her towards the depths instead of away from them.

a flash of brilliant green lit up the sky.

was it toji’s eyes or a farewell from the sorrowful sun?

she didn’t know; she didn’t care anymore.

she was his to keep now.

ི♡࿐

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[nicecrumbart]

Finally started settling on my Limited life! Scott design... I'd don't wanna talk about how many variations I've tried 🧍‍♂️

extra notes/details under the cut!

The design is based off scotts red skin specifically, one bc its his last stage in ‘transforming’ ..and i just think it looks better lmao

everytime i do a life series design i always try to make their outfits a little less modern and more like.. fantasy? or medieval idk. and this time it was loosley inspired by mermaids!

i kind of had an image of a creature washed out onto the shore so i made him a lot less… neat? more haphazardly put together unlike how i normally do for his designs which was fun! I’m imagining his hair is constantly soggen and possibly more reminiscent of seaweed (not fully decided on that) because of this.

To add to the theming I used fishing ropes for a belt and necklaces ties - and i whilst i always try to keep star theming with all his designs i was struggling with until i remembered star fish exist!! winning

i also made his little coral wreath kind of reminiscent of antlers as a little easter egg to esmp 1 - from which i also took a tiny bit of inspiration from my esmp lizzie and jimmy designs too (pearls and netting mostly)

sorry for the ramble! i love character designing sm

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

MERMAID- P.B PARKER

pairing: pirate! peter x mermaid! innocent!fem! reader

word count: 2.8k

summary: you and peter had fallen for eachother throughout his time on the open water- though the two of you couldnt properly communicate. however, one day, fate leads him right to you, as you were washed up onto shore with human legs. what will life be like now that he can finally have you aboard his fathers ship?

warnings: fingering, heavy praise kink, pet names, innocence/ corruption kink, squirting, swearing, mentions of booze, implications and advances, teasing etc

"beauty in the water, angel on the beach/ ocean's daughter, i thought love was out of reach. 'til i got her, had i known it could come true/ i would have wished in '92, for a mermaid just like you"- mermaid, train

Peter couldn't swim.

He couldn't swim- and yet he was here, upon floating wooden planks, and gallons of brandy.

It was long, and hard work on his fathers ship. Between monitoring the waters for any sign of life, and attempting to try and keep some of the lower men in order- he constantly grew tired.

And yet, when nightfall fell,and the other shipmates headed down for a pint and a smoke before going to their quarters- Peter was on the deck.

Wind ruffled his billowing shirt, tangling his hair as he would peer out the pale moonlight reflecting on the rippling waves. When nights were calm like this, he would look for you.

No one else knew why he was constantly surveying the empty waters, especially late at night- but they didn't ask. They knew not to.

At first, he thought he was seeing things.

The days were long, after all- and smokes could only keep him afloat for so long. But then it happened again. He’d catch a flicker of a tail between the waves, or the sunlight or starlight could illuminate your shimmering hair.

It was like gunpowder from a canon had hit him straight in the chest when you dared to inch closer to the ship, so he could see your eyes peeking out at him from above the waters.

You were beautiful. A siren, luring him to death.

He had never been so drawn to anything more in his life, not gold- not silver.

You were taunting him, each night you’d circle the ship as everyone was away, giving him a flirty little wave. He had no idea how he would get to you- but he needed to.

If that meant diving in the water just to flail- so be it, if it meant being closer to you.

He took a long drag of his smoke, letting it slither in the cool night breeze, the wind flapping the fabric of the sails loudly. Unbeknownst to him, you had slipped from your hiding spot, swimming under the hull of his ship before sneaking around with a gentle splash!.

He had tried talking to you- but it was no use.

You couldn’t respond, you were too far to hear- and for all he knew, you couldn't understand him. Yet he still tried.

You startled him, making him grasp his chest and chuckle to himself from surprise. “Good Lord, my little pearl you scared me!” he exclaimed from the ship, making you giggle.

The wind carried over the soft sound, reminding him of gentle wind chimes.

He smiled softly, admiring you with puppy dog eyes. They twinkled in the moonlight, looking like the stars above him. “I was worried you wouldnt come tonight. I thought you had swam away- away from me.”

You cocked your head staring up at him with a hint of confusion etched on your features.

I’d never swim from you. You wanted to call out, but the words caught in your throat like seaweed was tugging on your vocal cords.

“It’s probably not safe near humans, ya know. You’re a brave one, I’ll give ya that.”

But you’re different. You’re not like the rest.

“I suppose I’m the expectation, pearl. You know I’d never hurt you, right?”

You nodded and he smiled again, looking off to the horizon. A loud clang came from below deck, the sounds of broken glass and drunken laughs underneath.

You zoned in on the noise, observing him as he whipped around to make sure no one else had joined him. Once the coast was clear, he found your gaze again, watching as you dared to swim just a little bit closer.

The water was calm tonight, calm enough you caused little ripples in the water as you neared. You were so graceful, so elegant and beautiful- he couldn't help but stare at you. He never wanted to take his eyes off of you.

“Soon I’ll be back home, on land. I wish you could come with me, my love. I really do.”

Suddenly, as if Possiden himself had cast it, a towering wave rocked through the water,causing the ship to whip violently, rocking and teerting as it bobbed. The salt water covered his eyes, blinding him.

When the wave had finally passed- you were gone without a trace.

As if you had cast it, and had been swept right away with it.

-------------------------------------------------

The sky was dark gray, and that made him anxious.

The clouds looked threatened, crying tears of rain that coated the entire ocean in a murky haze. The wind was wild, howling so loud it was deafening.

His senses were blurred. His voice was stolen as he tried to signal to the crew to a patch of land he had found in the nearby distance- and from his frantic waving hands and constant look back- they got the idea.

It was rocky, the waves churning his own waves of nausea he tried to ride out.

Fingers digging into the splintered wood, he closed his eyes and prayed to every higher power out there that you were safe. That you were down below, hidden from the wrath the sky Gods had erupted on him.

It had taken time- had felt like years had passed, but the ship had made its way over to the mass of land that lay stranded. Ropes had been tied around any tree they could find that looked stable, the anchor placed down in the sand as the wooden bottom brushed the land.

Peter wasn’t worried about finding a place to sleep- the ship would be fine in the storm- it was the water below he worried about. For now, he and his crew were safe, they could warm up below deck and call it quits early.

But despite this, something felt off.

He couldn't help but jump down, off deck to the churned earth below. He was soaked to the bone, the only thing keeping him somewhat protected was the jacket that surrounded his broad shoulders.

Peter needed to explore. There was something calling his name, pulling him in, to the shores out of sight. He trudged on, before he was anchored to the spot.

There you lay, frail and small compared to the looming rocks around you, nothing but a thin dress of seaweed coating your torso. Shells were scattered in your hair and- legs.

Long, gorgeous legs lay out in the sand, bare feet covered in grains of sand.

He called, sprinting towards you against the wind to where you lay. You whipped your head towards him- towards that oh so familiar sound, and felt a sense of relief wash over you.

You were spit out upon shore- but to Peter you looked like a pearl that had emerged from an oyster.

You were ethereal. And you were here, on land- with him.

“My love? What- what happened? Are you okay?” he frantically scrambled over to you as you tried to stand, legs wobbly making you tumble down into his arms.

“I got legs. For you.” you whispered, looking up with a blissed out gaze, shivering in the cold as the wind blew through again. His eyes widened in shock, and his hand slipped up to cup your cheek, thumb rubbing small circles against your skin.

“For me? But how’d you know I’d be here? My love, my love that was so, so risky.” he softly scolded you, stripping himself from his jacket to wrap it around your body- engulfing you.

You couldn't help but stare at his defined biceps that were now fully in view, his white shirt soaked through and clung to him like a second skin. He was so handsome it made you dizzy.

You wobbled again, and he picked you up with ease, cradling you into his chest as he started to walk back to the safe haven of the ship.

“I figured you’d be here. And, I just let the waves carry me. I begged them to take me to you. I guess they listened.” you smiled softly, despite your teeth chattering, fingers curling into his shirt. His skin felt warm, even in the storm.

“I wish I had known your name to call to the gods for you to come to me, my sweet pearl.”

“Y/N.”

He looked down at you, eyes glowing with warmth and admiration at the sound, trying the syllables out on his tongue- the taste so sweet he felt giddy. “That's a beautiful name.”

“Thank you. I’m sorry I couldn't tell you before. It just… it was feasible.”

He nodded in understanding, watching as the glow of the lanterns grew nearer.

“I understand, my love. But now, it’s feasible. And it's in my best interest to get you warm and fed, and protected. You're mine now, Y/N.”

You planted a soft kiss on his neck, his breath hitching at the sensation. Your lips were as soft as cushions, sending shivers down his spine in pulses of pleasure.

He felt ashamed of all the things he wanted to do to you- the things he had thought about for so long when the sun went down and he was alone with his cock in hand.

But now that you were here- that you were here with him? He almost couldn't believe it was real.

But as the freezing cold rain that pelted down his back reminded him- he was very much in reality. 

------------------------------------------------------ Peter still wasn't used to seeing you in his bed.

It had been weeks since you had found him, and yet every time he saw you- you took his breath away, as if you were a goddess who had come down from heaven to save him from his misery.

The first time you had been in his bed, he had an audience. Everyone had wondered who and what you were- how it was even possible a girl was alive in this part of the ocean.

He had shooed them away like bugs- promising to tell them in the morning- knowing damn well he wouldn't.

You were his secret to keep, and to hold. They may know you with legs, but he knew you long before.

You were shivering- cold and tired as he placed you in a warm bath, helping you wash up before getting you some hot food, watching as you gobbled it up like a woman starved.

You had then passed out on his bed above the sheets, too tired to even try to wiggle under them. He had then realized that you had probably never slept in a human bed before, chuckling to himself as he tucked you in without you even stirring from sleep.

Now, his bed was your favourite place.

You savoured these private, quiet moments with him, loving nothing more than when he wrapped his arms around you, listening to his breath as you dozed off in his embrace.

Most days, you barely had time to see him- as his father had put both of you to work. Though his father took pity for you, thankfully-and left the grueling chores for the rest of the men. Not that Peter would let you really lift a finger, anyways.

He always snuck glances at you whenever he could on the deck, watching you as you’d look out on the horizon from a new perspective- breathing in the salty air as the seagals cawed above, the sun shining brightly. There hadn't been any storms since you had come on board. Metaphorically, and physically.

There had been no arguments, no brawls since you were found- and Peter almost hated it- because he knew the men only weren’t because they were trying to make a good impression on you. He saw their stares, even when you didn't- and couldn't help but snarl like some possessive dog with its bone when anyone got too close.

They were all envious, of course.

You were so charming, so sweet and naive- borderline clueless to their advances. They knew not to get too close- of they knew what was good for them- but he couldn't punish them for staring, afterall.

Well maybe he could… 

“That tickles!” you giggled, the sweet sound breaking him from his trance. You wrapped in his arms, all ready for bed in your adorable sexy little white nightgown that drove him crazy- as his fingers traced little lines on your skin. Connecting all your little freckles, getting delight as you shivered from his touch, clenching your thighs together.

“Can’t help it. Your skin is just so pretty n soft, you smell so good my little seashell. You have little treasure maps all over you.”

You peered up at him, draping your leg across his thigh with a smile. You were obvious to the effect you were having on him, actions completely innocent when his thoughts were anything but.

The two of you hadn't done anything more than some kisses and passionate, teasing touches- as Peter didn't want to pressure or rush you into anything. You had just gotten legs- after all, and you were just so innocent.

But the way you looked up at him with those doe eyes… he still couldn't believe you were real. That you were here, and you were his- in his arms, in his bed.

“What treasure is it?” you asked, fingers wrapping around one of his, turning him on more than he thought was even possible.

Fuck he felt like a hormonal teenager again.

“You of course. You’re worth more than all the gold and gems in the world, ya know that pearl? My sweet girl.”

You giggled at his words, heat burning your cheeks. You were squeamish, your skin buzzing with warmth at his touch. You had so many questions about this feeling- was this how humans felt all the time?

All warm and fuzzy like- melting at the simple brush of a finger down your arms, down to your thighs?

“Peter?”

“Mmm?”

“I’m having funny feelings.” you confessed, and his face distorted with confusion.

“What do you mean my love? Where? Can you show me?”

“I’m just all tingly n warm. Your touch makes me feel funny-” you guided his hand to your inner thighs. “-right here.”

You looked up at him innocently, and he almost came right then and there. You were confused- confused with the concept, though slightly familiar because another mermaid had told you about the one time she spied on a couple in their bedroom, from below deck.

The things she described, you wanted Peter to do to you. You trusted him to do those things.

You nodded at his questioning gaze- as if to say are you sure?

You wanted this to be with Peter.

His gaze softened as you guided his fingers down to your damped panties, nuzzling up so you were pushed back against his chest as he spread your legs between his- caging you in.

“That'ssss it, show me where it aches baby.” he mumbled, kissing your head, smiling against you as he heard you gasp as his fingers dipped between your folds.

Jesus you were soaked. “Right there? Is that where it tingles?” he asked as you nodded, mumbling some incoherent praise as you bucked your hips and squirmed at the circling of your clit with the pad of his thumb.

“Don’t run from this honey. I know, I know it feels all funny but I promise it’ll feel so good.”

He kissed your head again, reassuring you as his finger taunted your entrance before curling into you- making you moan. ‘F-fuck-” you whined, making him chuckle.

“Now where did you learn that word from my love?”

“O-one of the guys on deck.” You moaned as his finger pumped in and out, clenching around him tightly. He tskked. “Well that's a bad word baby. We don't say that- okay?”

“O-okay…” you whined, clinging onto his arm as he continued to please you, your puppy dog eyes making him smirk.

He wondered how this felt for you. Were you extra sensitive because of the changes? He couldn't help but feel more turned on that you could come apart like this at the touch of his finger.

“I know baby, you’re doing so good. So, so good for me- so sweet n pretty like this, yea?” he cooed as you grinded up into his palm, whining, nails digging enough to leave crescent moons.

“Peter I can’t-”

“Yes you can baby. Just give in, doin ' so good.” he interrupted gruffly, planting kisses and praises to your head as you came, riding you through your orgasm.

“Good girl. You did so good for me, didn't you my love?” You nodded, watching as he removed his soaked fingers, looking down at the wet splatters on the sheets and on your thighs.

“Is that normal?” you asked hesitantly, and he smiled. “Yes baby, I promise. You did so good.” he assured, lips captring yours as you clung to him, legs shaking slightly.

“Soon, maybe you can take my cock.” he smirked, a glint in his eye before leaning down to kiss you again.

[jayhyunglover]

I trusted you and you doomed us all , just for her.

Inspired by Rafayel's lore.

SeaGod Rafayel! × Non mc Reader!

Not proofread . I just wanted to get it out of my chest before it's too late.

Warnings: angst angst angst

It's been 800 years already,  yet I still remember everything clearly like it was yesterday. His endless teasing , his contagious laugh , those amethyst eyes , those purples locks.

I remember everything so clearly,  the pain , the cries, the heartbreak,  the love.

"Slow down you dumb fish" I exclaimed, struggling to keep up with his pace while he swam effortlessly in the deep water.

"Hey it's not my fault if you're slower than a sea cucum- Ouch! What was that for" he masaged his forehead where a wave of water splashed his face.

"You know that's no way to treat your God" he shook his head before crossing his arms over his chest, amethyst eyes filled with mock offense

"I'll start treating you like a God when you start to behave like one" I retorted swimming past him to observe the ruin of the human ship he wanted to show me.

"So bossy Seaweed head" he teased earning a glare from me

"Why did you even take me here for ? Dont you have to get ready for your upcoming ceremony?" I asked with an exasperated sigh running my hand against the hard planes of the ship.

"Oh you know I like to spend time with my favorite follower" he teased, following behind me making my heart beat faster.

He's just toying with your sanity.

"So what is that?" I asked knocking on the wood

"Its a ship" he replied

"An human's invention" I looked at him unimpressed.

Rafayel had a weird fascination with everything related to the surface and those weird creatures called humans.

"You really need to stop frowning all the time you're gonna looks like Gran Galea" he pinched my cheeks making me swat his hands away

"And you need to stop being so interested to the surface." I retorted trying my best to sound stern to someone who's supposed to be the God I worship .

"Let's get going before Galea starts cussing out the Corails because of our late arrival" I said  before starting swimming back to the palace excepting him to follow me but he stayed there gazing up at the water with a longing look ok his face

"Rafayel ?" I called out for him making his pink-blues eyes snap back at me.

"Go ahead I'll join you later" he offered me a small smile but I knew that look, he was planning something .

Not wanting to be even more late than I was already I just shrugged and left

Rafayel could get away with being late but not me unfortunately.

"Y/n finally I've been searching for you everywhere" Gran Galea exclaimed already dragging me in the midst of preparations.

...*...*...*...*...*...*...

It was the event of the century,  one that plagued every Lemurian's mind. The ceremony where Rafayel will officially become a SeaGod

Yes this same Rafayel who annoyed the pearls out of me , this same  Rafayel I threatened to castrate multiple time , this  same Rafayel I fought countless time over the last piece of Lobster . This same Rafayel who teased me endlessly because I couldn't cry Pearls until I cried Rivers of them.

It was hard for me to wrap my head around the fact this purple haired individual was supposed to be our leader.

This same leader I literally threatened to not go to the surface alone because I knew how stubborn he could be.

"Promise me"

"But-" I shot him a dirty  look that made him reliatate "Ok fine" he huffed crossing his arms over his chest "you know you're such a bossy sea cucum-"

"Call me that again and I'll rip your scales off  in your sleep" I threatened making him chuckle and pat my hair affectionately

"Stop" I groaned swatting his hands away

"And a feisty one too" he teased pinching my cheeks making me grumble

All of those were distant , beautiful memories.  Because me and Rafayel never went to the surface together. The ceremony never went to term and he never became officially a SeaGod.

All because of her , This sacrifice.

Why ? I always wondered.  Why did he threw anything away for her? Why did abandoned us , me , our homeland? Leaving behind an ocean of heartache and sorrow

It's been 800 years now . I should have forgotten about it. The pain , the cries, the heartbreak. But it stayed with me. Engrained in my brain , haunting my days and nights.

I lost my people, my homeland,  watched my own blood getting slaughtered and mistreated by those humans , the same kind that fascinated him , the same kind as her . The one he sacrificed everything for.

"Why?" I asked tears streaming down my face that turned into clear, untainted pearls, blade pressed against the pale skin of his neck.

I was met with a deadly silence,  he was not angry or sad just resigned . As if he knew he messed up. He knew the reason of the downfall of Lemuria and I did too . Deep down I knew.

His hand came up to brush a pearl off my cheeks.

"You're still such a crybaby, seaweed head" he murmured, his voice so uncharestically soft, the sound making my heart constrict.

"Tell me" I pressed the blade harder against his skin voice bordering on desperate "why did you abandon us?"

No answer again because he knew I knew why he did this . Because I felt it too.

Love .

Such a dangerous thing for a Lemurian. Something that can make you go unimaginable length. Such as sacrificing an entire Empire and drive a civilization to his downfall.

"Love" I laughed bitterly "I trusted you and you doomed us all, just for her, just for love " my vision was now foggy ,my heart twisting in pain.

Love, such a dangerous thing , even worse when it's not reciprocated,  even worse when the person you loved was ready to sacrifice everything for another,  another that wasnt you , that will never be you because after all he's a God and you are just his follower.

@jinwoosbabyboo @poisonf0rest @yourlocalcatscammer

[floatyflowers]

Dark Husbands! Vampire, Merman, and Faerie x Human! Reader

Merman

Azure is very protective of you, his human wife, you, and he doesn't like it when other humans or merfolk try to get close. 

He will wrap his tail around you, glare at the intruders, and growl softly to warn them off. 

Also marks you with his scent and bites, to show that you belong to him.

The merman is fascinated by your culture and customs, and he wants to learn everything about them. 

He asks you many questions, listen to your stories, and try to imitate your actions actions.

 He will also collect various human objects that he finds in the sea, and give them to you as gifts. 

Makes you drink a potion every week so you can breathe underwater.

He will be very proud and happy when you praise him for his efforts.

Azure is very affectionate and attentive, and he loves to pamper you.

By bringing you fresh fish, seaweed, and pearls, and make you a cozy nest in his underwater cave.

The merman prince massages you with his hands and tail, sing to you with his beautiful voice, and cuddle with you for hours. 

Will tell you how much he loves you, and how lucky he is to have you

The merman is very curious and adventurous, and he likes to explore the ocean with you.

 He will show you the wonders of the sea, such as coral reefs, sunken ships, and exotic creatures. 

Azure teaches you how to swim, breathe underwater, and communicate with marine animals.

Very protective of you during your journeys, and will  make sure that you are safe and comfortable.

He will be very upset if you ever him alone, or decide to go back to the surface world. 

In the end, he convinces you that the ocean is better than the land, and that he is the only one who can make you happy.

"I want you to carry my eggs"

Vampire

Dracula is very cruel and sadistic, and he enjoys torturing you.

He will bite and scratch you with his sharp nails while being intamate with you.

The king of vampires will also force you to drink his blood, which will make you sick for days.

Might mock and humiliate you, just to try and break your spirit.

Your vampire husband is very arrogant and selfish, but he cares about your financial needs.

 Never ignores you nor neglect you, because you are always on his mind.

Will lock you up in his mansion, isolate you from the outside world, and monitor your every move. 

Using his powers to, he compels you with his mind, erase your memories, and manipulate your emotions. 

He will make you dependent on him and loyal to him.

Dracula is very dangerous and unpredictable, and he likes to play games with you. 

By challenging, testing and tricking you, He will never let you know what he is thinking or feeling, or what he is going to do next. 

He makes sure you fear him and crave him.

"I might turn you, very soon, my dear"

Faerie

Your husband, Zephyr, tricked you into marrying him, how? You may ask.

He simply told you his real name.

You see, the only ones who know Faeries's real names are their parents.

So, when a Faerie tells a human their name, it is like marriage in their world.

Yeah, that's how you ended up marrying your Faerie husband.

Zephyr kidnapped took you back with him to his realm to live in his home, which is now yours.

He is very romantic and loves to surprise you with little gifts and tokens of his affection. Zephyr often brings you flowers or other small trinkets that he has found on his travels.

However, he turns nasty when he is jealous, after all, faerie creatures are naturally born evil and deceiving.

So, when he sees some faeries bullying you for your appearance.

He murders them in the most vicious way right in front of your eyes.

Something which traumatized you.

The fact that he didn't get punished is because simply he is the Faerie's king nephew.

"Don't worry, my love, no one is going to ever make fun of your appearance again"

[sturnslutz]

the beginning

first actual intro fic of this au/series ts??? a/n at the end of this

the second you rolled down the window, that salty cape cod air hit you straight in the face. it smelled like sunscreen, seaweed, and nostalgia—if nostalgia had a scent—and it made your chest tighten in that weird way. not bad, just… like something was about to happen.

“i swear to fucking god,” solina said from the backseat, practically crawling over your shoulder, “if matt got taller again, i’m throwing hands.”

you snorted, flicking her forehead. “you say that every summer, lina.”

“and i mean it every time, pearl.” she shot back, grinning like a maniac.

your mom gave you a look in the rearview. “can we please not start the violence before we get there? at least wait until we’ve said hello.”

“no promises.” solina muttered.

the car crunched to a stop on the familiar gravel driveway, and just like that, you were back. the sturniolo house looked exactly the same. white paint that needed a touch up, blue shutters that chris claimed gave it “character” and the porch swing that was one gust of wind away from falling off.

on the porch stood marylou and jimmy, smiling like you’d never been gone. and leaning against the railing, and arguing about god knows what, were the triplets.

matt was right there. hair longer than last summer, sun catching on the tips. he had that lazy smirk on his face like he knew exactly what he was doing, and when his eyes caught yours, something in your stomach flipped so violently you thought you might actually die.

“YO!” chris yelled, hopping over the railing because of course he did. “pearl’s finally here. we were about to eat the cake without you.”

you grinned, stepping out of the car. “you would, asshole.” “damn right,” he said, pulling you into a hug that nearly knocked you over. “you look different. like, in a hot way. don’t make it weird.”

“it’s already weird,” you said, shoving him, but you were laughing. nick was next, hugging you tight and whispering, “bitch. bitch. you look insane. matt’s gonna pass the fuck out.”

“nick, shut the fuck up,” you hissed, cheeks burning. he just winked and skipped off to help solina with bags, leaving you to deal with marylou, who immediately smothered you like the queen she was.

“happy belated birthday, sweetheart! we’ve got cake, we’ve got dinner, and nobody’s allowed to make plans tonight. it’s your night, okay? i’ve been waiting for this all week.”

you hugged her tight, smiling into her shoulder. “missed you guys.”

“missed you too, honey,” she said, patting your back. “and wait ‘til you see the cake. pink frosting, just how you like it.”

your mom came around the car, arms full of bags. “marylou, you didn’t have to go all out again. she’s already spoiled enough.”

marylou waved her off. “oh, hush. she only turns eighteen once.” “and we are celebrating all weekend.” your mom said, nudging you. “i brought basically all of her swimsuits, just in case anyone forgets she’s now someone i have to worry about.”

“mom.” you groaned.

“what? i’m just saying. you look great, hon.”

matt hadn’t said anything yet, just watched you with that unreadable expression. you walked up to him, tilting your head.

“hey.”

his smile widened. “hey, birthday girl.” he pulled you into a hug, one hand resting lightly on your waist, and yeah… maybe he had gotten taller. “missed you.”

you couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. “missed you too.”

solina cleared her throat dramatically behind you. “so, are we going to stand here all day or what?”

jimmy laughed. “let’s get your stuff inside. and nobody’s touching that cake until after dinner, capisce?”

“we’ll see about that.” chris said as he hopped through the house, making his way to the kitchen.

“yeah, we know fatass. see he’s already running to the kitchen, even though he was just there. 10 minutes ago.” he yelled out before talking to you, solina and matt.

lina laughed. “is nate coming over today?” she asks as she holds the door open for the rest of you. matt gave you a weird look before looking back at her. “yeah, probably after dinner. kid only wants the cake.”

after some time getting unpacked and eating dinner, (not without the unmistakable tension between you and the boys,) it’s time for cake. nate shows up record time after chris texted him that they’re done with dinner, a knock erupting loudly against the front door. “open up!”

solina’s face lit up and looked at you and you smiled. “go say hi,” you mouthed and she shook her head. “i can’t.” she mouthed back and you rolled your eyes.

nathan came running in, probably a bit drunk, and wrapped his arms around you from around the chair, smothering your hair in kisses. “pearl! so good to fuckin’ see you, kid.” nate’s boston accent was very obvious , even though he literally lived in cape cod.

you smiled as you patted his arms. “hey nate.” you looked up at solina, and she didn’t have the best expression. you never really see this face from her, but when she noticed you looking at her, she gave a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

the cake finally came out, and it looked like something out of a bakery window. pink frosting piled high, way too many sprinkles, and your name written in big, loopy letters. marylou really did go all out, and it was so obnoxiously perfect that you almost wanted to cry.

“okay,” nate said, leaning over your shoulder, “if you don’t eat that corner piece, i will.”

“try me.” you shot back, smacking his hand to which he gasped at, exaggerating.

“friends, friends,” chris said, sliding up next to you and tossing an arm over your shoulders, “no need to fight. i’m happy to feed pearl. with my own hands, if necessary.”

you blinked. “what the hell.” nick laughed so hard he nearly choked on frosting. “you’re disgusting.”

“what?” chris grinned, leaning into you a little. “just being a gentleman.”

you elbowed him, but he didn’t move. “you’re definitely something.” he winked. “you’re welcome.”

matt watched the exchange from across the table, spoon in his mouth, eyes narrowed just slightly. you caught it, the flicker of something, and he quickly looked away, back to his cake like it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

your stomach twisted.

you weren’t sure if it was from the sugar or the way matt kept not looking at you.

later, when the kitchen was a wreck of empty plates and a table full of crumbs and pieces of cake, everyone migrated to the back porch, sprawled out under the string lights. the air was cooler now, but still humid.

nick pulled out his phone, camera already rolling. “alright, truth or dare, bitches. no backing out.”

“absolutely not,” your mom called from inside. “you guys can not break anything this year.” marylou followed it up with, “and no skinny dipping! please. last year was enough.”

solina snorted. “that wasn’t even us.”

“it was chris.” your mom corrected.

“guilty.” chris grinned, not even pretending to be sorry.

nick flopped onto the porch steps, eyes on you. “pearl, truth or dare.” you groaned. “you’re really coming for me first?”

“obviously.”

you glanced at solina, who gave you a do it look. matt was sitting nearby, stretching out his legs, eyes flicking to you over the rim of his soda. chris was eyeing you while he moved from his seat with nate, next to you.

“fine. truth.”

nick smirked like he’d been waiting for this. “who do you think is the hottest triplet?”

immediate chaos. chris gasped dramatically, matt nearly spit out his drink, and even jimmy, from inside, yelled, “i don’t wanna know!”

you laughed so hard you nearly doubled over. “nick, you bitch.”

“answer the question, pearl.” solina said, eyes wide, eating this up.

you looked at all three of them. chris, grinning like an idiot, leaning in like he already knew what you’d say, matt, quiet, watching you, waiting.

“okay,” you said slowly, dragging it out, “it’s definitely not nick.”

“rude!” nick clutched his chest like you stabbed him.

you pretended to think, tapping your chin. “hmm. it’s a tie.” chris raised a brow. “between?”

“chris and matt.” you said, shrugging like it meant nothing, but your pulse was fucking insane.

nate and nick were already dying laughing. “oh my god, this is better than i thought.”

matt just looked at you, something in his eyes you couldn’t quite name.

chris bumped your leg with his. “so what you’re saying is, i’ve got a chance.”

you leaned in, close enough that he froze. “not a big one.”

his jaw dropped. “damn.”

“harsh,” solina cackled. “but fair.”

you met matt’s eyes again, and this time, he didn’t look away.

you couldn’t either.

a/n : ok how do we feel… what team are u on? do we like solina? nate? what’s ur thoughts? SPILLLLL

divider creds: @strangergraphics

@muwapsturniolo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @m4ttg1rl @lypsiiii @tyummyz @sturniqlo @emely9274 @shadowthesim @mattsobvimyfav @sturnl0ve @wastelandzella @fallininlust @chrisslut04 @sophand4n4 @vainilladollie @slutforchrissturniolo2 @ncm9696 @snoopychris @ilovedanielcaesar @sofieeeeex @chr0mehrts @cockettechris @iloveduckssm @stvrnioloslvt @sturn777 @priscillaog @allylovescody @sturniolo101 @mattssslutbby @mattybsgroupie @mattysketchup @m11rx @slut4brunettes @trevorsgodmother @chrislova @slut4christopherr @sturns-mermaid @oopsiedaisydeer @conspiracy-ash @p1mpactivities @sweeetbabysblog @brooklyncameron @chrisgetsmewetter @h3arts4harry @jetaimevous @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @raesturns @sturnsrecord @matteatmeout @luvvs4chriss

[thebunnednun]

Salt Water

A request from the lovely @1chaerry (I love you too my pearl, MWAH!)

Non specific! Zoro x Fem! Siren! Insecure! Reader

WC: 3.2K, Warnings: Reader is sad but comforted. Body image issues, thinking you aren't enough. Extreme fluff, soft/flirty Zoro, angst and Comfort. falling asleep together. Slight predeitor and prey if you squint. Tons of flirting, slight spice,

You bite his tiddie.

1chaerry asked:

hii Angie!! how are you??

(In the fucking trenches with a broken plastic spoon and some prayers, yourself? :3)

this is literally my first time writing in someone's requests so I'mma bit hesitant, but hear me out—

(You had me at the first part. Baby you are so safe here a nuke could hit and you'd think it was a loud car outside just passing by. I'm always so happy to fill a request, ask away!)

Zoro with a reader who is someone who never had male/female romantic attention of any sort growing up and thinks that no one could really like them because of how they look, but boom! here comes this man who literally loves her like it's breathing and is flabbergasted as to why she constantly thinks he's joking around.

I would love to hear your thoughts on this trope!!! Love ya, mwah!

You ask, you shall receive!

The air smelled like salt and seaweed, the brine clinging to your skin like a second layer. 

Stretched out beneath you, the rocky shoreline, jagged and uneven, with shallow pools reflecting the sky in fractured silver patches. The tide whispered at your back, foam curling over stones before retreating, over and over—a steady rhythm that usually brought you comfort. 

Tonight, it only seemed to gnaw at the quiet ache in your chest.

You sat with your knees pulled to your chest, arms curled around them tightly. The rough texture of the stone dug into your rear, but you didn’t care. Scales shimmered faintly along your shoulders and ankles—iridescent blues and pinks muted by the moonlight. Damp strands of your hair clung to your face and neck, the salt making it heavy and coarse. Your loose tunic, faded from too many days in the sun, stuck stubbornly to your skin.

“Oi.”

You stiffened at the voice. Zoro’s voice.

He stood at the edge of the rocks, one hand resting lazily on the hilt of a sword. His kimono—dark green with gold-trimmed edges—hung loose around his shoulders, swaying slightly in the breeze. His shirt clung to him too, thin and damp from the humidity, and his hair was mossier than usual, like he’d only just woken up. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his skin—either from training or trekking out here. Maybe both.

“You’re sulking again,” he said, stepping closer. His boots crunched against the gravel, like he couldn’t be bothered to walk quietly.

“I’m not sulking,” you muttered, curling your fingers tighter around your legs. 

“I’m just... thinking.”

Zoro snorted like the very idea of you brooding made no sense. He dropped beside you, his sword hilts clinking softly as he sat. For a while, he said nothing — just let the waves and distant cries of seabirds fill the silence.

“You know,” he started, voice low, “You always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Act like no one could possibly like you.”

Your throat tightened. You forced a dry laugh. Zoro shifted, and his arm brushed against yours — solid, warm. His presence felt too real, too steady.

“Because no one would,” you said quietly. “Not really.”

“That’s stupid,” he said flatly.

You let out a short, bitter breath. “Yeah? Says you.”

“I’m serious.” His tone sharpened, like a blade unsheathing. “You think I’m wasting my time sitting out here? I could be training, or sleeping. Hell, I could be drinking.”

“I never asked you to come,” you shot back, voice cracking.

“You didn’t have to.”

His hand found yours—warm, calloused, steady. The roughness of his palm grounded you, kept you from slipping too far into your own head.

“I came because I wanted to,” he muttered.

You stared at his fingers curled around yours, half-expecting him to pull away — like this was some kind of mistake. But his grip stayed firm, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in slow, steady strokes.

“You’re aggrivating,” you whispered.

Zoro gave a low chuckle. “Yeah, well... so are you.”

The warmth of him, the quiet weight of his arm against yours, it settled something inside you. Like the tide retreating just enough to let you breathe.

“I don’t know why you can’t see it,” Zoro added.

 “But I do. And I’m not going anywhere.”

The waves whisper against the rocks, an endless, restless sound. You stared out at the water, dark and endless, and felt the ache in your chest tighten.

“You know why no one could like me?” you said quietly. “Because I didn't belong.”

Zoro didn’t say anything, but you felt him shift beside you, like he knew better than to interrupt.

“My human family didn’t know what to do with me,” you went on, words spilling out like water over a dam. 

“They weren’t cruel... not really. But they were afraid of me. Every time my voice wavered wrong, every time I sang without meaning to—they’d flinch.” You swallowed hard, the memory still sharp. 

“Even when I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone... I was still too much.”

Your gaze dropped to your scales—those shimmering, shifting patches along your legs that no one else in your family had. Those colors were your burden. Your reminder that you didn’t belong.

“And the sirens?” 

Your voice twisted with a bitter laugh. “They were... nicer, I guess. At least they weren’t scared of me. But I didn’t grow up with them. I was just some half-blood kid who didn’t quite fit in.” You shrugged, feeling the familiar sting of it all. 

“I didn’t belong with them either.”

The words hang in the air, hollow and ugly. You aren’t sure why you were telling Zoro any of this—it wasn’t like he’d care.

“I didn’t fit anywhere,” you say softly. “I was always... just sort of there. Easier to ignore. Easier to forget. I never had friends.”

A gust of wind whips past, carrying the sharp scent of salt. The memories cling tighter than the damp air—being the kid who played alone on the shore, the one whose laughter made others uneasy, the one who was always just a little too strange.

“And then I found you guys,” you murmur. “You... Luffy... everyone.” You gave a shaky breath. “It’s the closest I’ve ever had to feeling like I belonged anywhere. But still...”

You shook your head, pulling your arms tighter around yourself. 

“I don’t know why you’re here, Zoro,” you whisper. 

“I don’t know why you’re wasting your time.”

Silence stretched between you. For a moment, all you heard was the tide pulling at the rocks.

Then Zoro’s voice cut through, low and steady.

“Because I care about you.”

You let out a sharp breath—something between a laugh and a sob.

“You keep saying that like it’s supposed to mean something.”

“It does,” Zoro said firmly. His hand squeezed yours, fingers strong and certain. “You’re acting like you’re still that kid who didn’t fit anywhere. But you’re not.” You stared down at your hands, his rough, scarred fingers tangled with yours, soft and shiny. 

“Look, I don’t care what your family thought,” Zoro went on. “And I don’t care what some random fish think, either. You’re one of us now.” His voice softened, but his grip stayed strong. “You’re part of our crew. 

“You’re part of... my life.”

You blinked hard against the burn in your eyes. 

“I just... I don’t get it,” you muttered. “Why would you want me around?”

“You’re impossible,” Zoro grumbled, like you were being deliberately difficult. “Because you’re you. Because you’re strong, and you’re stubborn, and you drive me crazy sometimes, but...”

His fingers tightened. “’m not going anywhere.”

The air felt thicker now, like you were breathing through salt and smoke. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “You always act like I’m gonna wake up one day and change my mind,” Zoro says, his voice quieter now. 

“But I won’t.”

You don’t realize you were leaning into him until your shoulder pressed against his. His warmth feels soli, steady, and somehow more real than the ache that had followed you for so long.

“I’m still scared,” you whispered. “I know,” Zoro says. 

“I’m still here.”

He stands, offering you his hand and you take it, letting him pull you up so easily. The walk back down the mountain felt easier with Zoro beside you. The path was uneven, winding through patches of wild grass and loose stones, but he kept pace with you easily, his footsteps slow and steady. The air was cooler now, the night breeze threading through the trees and brushing against your damp skin.

“You’re quiet,” Zoro muttered.

“I’m thinking.”

“Again?” He huffed like you’d just said you were about to swim across the Grand Line. “Didn’t you get enough of that back there?” You elbowed him lightly in the side. “Not everyone naps their problems away like you.”

“Tch. You’re just jealous.”

“Of what? Your terrible sleep schedule?”

Zoro stretched his arms behind his head, letting out a long, lazy breath. “Speaking of... I’m getting tired.”

“You’re always tired,” you shot back. “That’s not news.”

“I mean it,” Zoro grunted. “I feel it... here.” He tapped his ribs, half-heartedly.

“Oh, that’s just your liver begging for mercy.”

Zoro’s head whips toward you, eyebrows raised. “What?”

You grin. “Your liver. It’s like, ‘Please, Zoro, put down the booze! I’m doing my best here!’”

“Shut up.”

The words were gruff, but his voice had softened at the edges. You let out a dramatic gasp, hand flying to your chest. “Wow! Rude, I’m telling Sanji!”

“Oh yeah?” Zoro snorted. “Go ahead. I’m not afraid of busboys.”

“Waiter,” you corrected with mock seriousness.

That earned you a rare grin—small but unmistakable—one corner of his mouth quirking upward.

“See?” Zoro said, still smiling. “This is why you’re my favorite.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, unexpected and almost embarrassing. You ducked your head, pretending to focus on the narrow path beneath your feet. By the time you reached camp, the fire had burned low — a dim orange glow flickering beneath the embers. Everyone was fast asleep, curled beneath blankets and jackets. The quiet felt fragile, like one wrong step might shatter it.

Zoro stopped near his bedroll and reached into his pack, pulling out something small — something that glinted faintly in the firelight. He didn’t say a word, just shot you a look and jerked his head toward the trees.

Curious, you followed.

The two of you walked in silence, weaving through the shadows. The air smelled like damp leaves and earth, but as you reached the edge of the trees, the scent of salt returned, stronger now, sharp and clean.

The beach stretched out before you, bathed in silver light. The waves barely whispered as they kissed the shore, gentle and calm. The sand looked soft, dappled with smooth stones and scattered shells that glistened faintly in the dark. A few lantern bugs blinked lazily in the air, their tiny sparks flickering like dying stars.

Zoro stopped a few steps ahead, turning back to face you. The moonlight caught his face, highlighting the faint scar over his eye and the sharp angle of his jaw. For a second, he just stood there, quiet and sure, like he belonged in a place like this, where the world felt still and steady.

The quiet pull of the tide fills the air, steady and soft. The sand feels cool beneath your feet, grains slipping between your toes as you stand by the water’s edge. Zoro’s still watching the horizon, his gaze distant, hands stuffed in his pockets like he’s waiting for the world to settle.

“C’mere,” he mutters.

Zoro shifts, pulling his hand free to rummage through his pack. He hesitates for a second, then pulls out something dark—fabric, neatly folded. When he holds it out, you see it better, deep, rich in color, with strong stitching along the seams. The material’s thick, sturdy, the kind you remember from your home island, woven to endure salt air and sharp winds.

You gasp, stepping closer to run your fingers over it. The fabric is smooth beneath your touch, cool and familiar.

“Where did you get this?” Your voice is breathless, awe threading through your words. “Why? How?”

“It’s just clothes,” Zoro mutters, looking away like that’ll stop you from seeing the way his ears are starting to turn red. “I just thought... you’d like it better than that ratty old tunic you keep wearing.”

Your chest swells, and before you can stop yourself, you’re launching at him.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

You hit him harder than you mean to—not that it matters. He’s solid as ever, but his arms instinctively catch you as you crash into him, cheek pressing against his chest. His scent—steel, salt, and something warm and unmistakably him—fills your senses. You cling tighter, practically burrowing into him.

Zoro grumbles, a low string of curses spilling from his mouth, but his hands stay put—one firm on your back, the other loosely circling your waist. His chest rises and falls beneath you, steady and sure. And then, to your surprise, he lets himself fall back—his back hitting the sand with a soft thud, you still sprawled over him.

You’re giggling now, face pressed to his collarbone. “You’re the best,” you mumble into his skin.

“Yeah, yeah,” Zoro mutters. His voice is rough, but there’s no bite to it. “Don’t make a big deal out of it.” He pulls back just enough to flick you square on the forehead, sharp and precise.

“Ow!” You sit up, rubbing the spot. Without thinking, you flick him right back.

Zoro snorts. 

“You wanna start something?”

Before you can answer, his hand comes down—a light, playful slap against your backside that makes you yelp and scramble upright.

“Zoro!”

“Go put it on,” he grunts, stretching an arm behind his head like he’s getting comfortable right there in the sand. “Before I change my mind.”

He doesn’t look at you when he says it — just stares up at the sky, eyes half-lidded, like he’s content to stay there all night. But there’s a faint curve to his mouth, something soft and smug.

And somehow, that makes your heart feel just a little fuller.

The morning sun creeps over the horizon, soft and golden. Warmth bleeds through your eyelids, coaxing you from sleep. The first thing you notice is the steady rise and fall beneath your cheek—Zoro’s chest, solid and warm. His arm is still slung loosely around your waist, his hand resting just above your hip. His breath brushes against your hair, slow and even.

For a moment, you just lie there, wrapped in his warmth, half-convinced the world outside doesn’t exist.

“Look who’s finally awake!”

Sanji’s voice cuts through the peace like a knife.

Your eyes snap open just in time to see him grinning down at you, arms crossed, looking far too smug.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account wweet cherry, please,” Sanji croons, eyes flicking pointedly to where Zoro’s arm is still draped around you. “I’d hate to interrupt something romantic!~”

“Yeah!” Usopp’s voice chimes in from somewhere behind him. “Didn’t know Zoro had a favorite pillow!”

You twist your head just enough to see Chopper nearby, whispering excitedly to Luffy, who’s already grinning like this is the best thing he’s seen all week. Nami’s smirking too, her face half-hidden behind her map.

“I’m so glad you didn’t drown,” Robin adds with a soft chuckle. Heat floods your face, and you instinctively move to sit up— 

But Zoro’s arm tightens just enough to keep you still.

“Don’t,” he mutters, eyes still closed. 

“Too early.”

You barely have time to process that before Zoro suddenly sits up—quick and sharp—and the group scatters like startled seagulls. Sanji curses and leaps back, Usopp practically trips over his own feet, and Luffy just laughs as if the whole thing was part of his plan.

You’re still blinking in surprise when Zoro lets out a low grunt. 

“Idiots.”

A laugh bubbles out of you, light and breathless. 

“I think you scared them.”

“Good.”

You reach for his sleeve and start brushing sand from his arm. He watches for a second, then grabs your wrist and does the same for you, a little rougher, but still careful.

“You look nice,” he mutters under his breath, like he's hoping you won’t actually hear it. “Better than that damn tunic.”

You blink up at him. “Zoro…”

“Start believing in yourself,” he says firmly, like he’s scolding you for something. “Or I’ll tell Luffy you’re worried you’re not good enough.” 

Your mouth opens, but before you can argue, Zoro’s already turning away, stretching like he didn’t just drop something heavy on your heart.

Then, just as you think the moment’s over, he peeks at you with one eye, voice quieter than before.

“I love you,” he says simply. “Now stop worrying.”

And just like that, he’s on his back, closing his eyes like nothing happened—leaving you warm, breathless, and wondering how someone so blunt can make your heart feel so full. The warmth of his words still lingers, buzzing in your chest like a flickering flame. 

It's too much—too soft, too sweet—and you don’t know what to do with it.

So you bite him.

Not hard enough to bruise, but enough to make your point—your teeth sinking into his chest just below his collarbone. His skin is warm against your lips, firm and solid like everything else about him.

“SHit!”

Zoro jolts up, hand clamping over the spot like you actually stabbed him.

“That’s for being an idiot,” you say sweetly, flashing your most innocent smile. For a second, he just stares at you, like he’s still trying to process what just happened. 

Then, slow as a cat cornering a mouse, his mouth curls into a dangerous smirk.

It’s not the lack of words that make your stomach flip — it’s how calm he looks. No barking threat, no grumbled curse. Just him sitting up with unsettling ease, rolling his shoulders like he's preparing for battle.

“Zoro…” you warn, crawling back, shifting your weight to your heels.

He stands up.

“Wait—Zoro, hang on—!”

You whirl around and bolt, sand kicking up behind you as you sprint down the beach.

“You better run!” His voice rumbles behind you, full of twisted amusement.

“I’m sorry!” you laugh breathlessly, dodging past a piece of driftwood.

“You’re not sorry yet!”

You risk a glance back—bad idea. Zoro’s already closing in, steps fast and deliberate. He’s not even running full speed yet, just pacing himself like he knows he’s going to catch you.

“Zoro, please!” You’re laughing too hard to keep up your pace, breath hitching as you stumble over your own feet. “I didn’t mean it!”

“Yeah?” He’s barely winded. “Should’ve thought about that before you bit me, dumbass.”

Farther up the beach, Brook sits comfortably in his folding chair, a delicate teacup poised between his fingers. Beside him, Franky’s stretched out on the sand, arms behind his head, half-dozing in the sun.

Brook takes a dainty sip of his tea, letting out a content sigh as you shriek in the distance.

“Ah,” he murmurs, smiling wistfully. 

“Young love...”

Franky cracks an eye open, watches Zoro chase you like a man possessed, then snorts. 

“Can’t argue with that.”

Your breath is still uneven, your chest rising and falling beneath Zoro's weight. His warmth sinks into your skin, grounding you even as your thoughts start to spiral.

“You know…” Your voice wavers, but you push through. “You’re the first person who’s ever... found me attractive.”

His brow furrows like you’ve just said something ridiculous. “Those people were blind.” He taps the side of his face. “And I’ve only got one eye now — what’s that say about them?”

You snort, but it’s short-lived. “Have you even looked at me?”

“’m lookin’ now,” he grumbles.

“No, I mean really looked.” You shift beneath him, awkward and uneasy, like you’re about to list off all your flaws. “The scales, the wild hair, the sharp teeth…” Your hand twitches in his grip as you motion toward your face. “Vertical pupils, gills, pointed ears…”

Your voice falters, but you keep going, your eyes flicking down toward your arms and legs. “The scales, the claws, the fins…”

His gaze follows your words, taking in every detail—the shimmer of your scales under the sunlight, the pointy tips of your nails, the delicate fins tracing your elbows, ankles, and waist. His eyes don’t narrow in disgust or widen in shock. He just... looks. Calm and steady.

“You’re the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen,” he says, so casually it leaves you speechless.

“You—” You blink hard, trying to find your voice. “You’re insane.”

“I hope to get more acquainted with you, too,” he says, half-smirking now.

“Real up close and personal.”

That’s enough to snap you out of it. “Sanji!” you yell, voice carrying across the beach. “Help!”

The big tiddied one eyed bastard bites you in retaliation.

If you enjoyed this make sure you leave a like, comment, and reblog!

My thoughts on this troupe: It's not enough to tell someone you love them. You gotta show them. Even if it means biting their tiddy.

If you don't know me, you might know me from those nameless Luffy and Sanji x reader blurps.

ANGIES OP MASTERLIST

Taglist: I forgot my OP taglist, so if you see this and you wanna be added, please remind me. I at least remember my dear: @valscodblog,

I also have a ko-fi if you'd like to support me. :3 Not mandatory but always appreciated.

(I also take commissions!! Anything and everything helps rn.)

Pssst, my ao3 is alive and open for all readers.

See you soon!

-Angie (✿^‿^)

[anundyingfidelity]

THE MERMAID AND THE COOK — Sanji x mermaid reader

Summary: once the Straw Hats begin their journey, Sanji notices a figure floating in the waves of the ocean after a storm. Nothing will be the same for him.

Pairing: Sanji x female reader, who is also a mermaid.

Word count: 2.03k.

Warnings: reader mermaid suffered, some angst and fluff, language, nudity, suggestive stuff. Written in third person, female pronouns. No use of Y/n this time. As all my works, no skin color, hair color, or any kind of specific physicial description is mentioned.

Notes: This is situated after the first season. I just saw the netflix live action and barely starting watching the anime, so I am sorry for any discrepancies with the One Piece universe. And forgive my English. Thanks lol.

I had to write something for Sanji. This man is consuming me. Thanks to this show because I am on a writers block and it was a miracle I finished this. ;-;

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

The morning was sunny, the sky looked clear, and the crew barely finished washing and cleaning the deck. Thanks to the storm last night, they woke up to a whole mess of fishes, wood, seaweed and a lot of shit Sanji didn't want to remember by now.

Finally, the deck of the Going Merry was how it was supposed to be. The last storm they encountered was so strong that the blonde man thought they would not make it this time. But they survived a lot of shit now, didn't they.

Once Luffy and Usopp set everything, they ordered the crew to come to the kitchen and have a proper breakfast after all the hard work, even if it was noon already. Sanji followed last, tired and all sweaty because of the sunlight. However, something caught up his attention as he walked near the rail before he could get inside. A wood plank floating in the ocean, and on top of it a figure lying face down. He couldn't see clearly, but he was sure it was a woman.

Nami stopped his steps once he did not follow. "Are you not coming?"

Her voice disappeared in the air as Sanji got closer to the rail to observe the woman floating in the middle of the ocean. The waves were still a little big even after hours passed since the storm completely stopped, and they guided the plank with the figure closer to the ship. He knew he had to do something.

"Oi! There's someone in the ocean!"

Nami quickly came by his side to see what he was seeing and left, calling the crew to help. Sanji took some ropes, Usopp appeared to assist with them. Nami arrived with Zoro and Luffy, and they helped the guys to bring the plank to the ship. Once the plank was up, they settled it on the deck carefully. Everyone looked in awe at what they caught.

"It's a mermaid," Nami whispered.

The crew went silent.

The brilliant tail gave it all away. Sanji was the first to get closer, kneeling by her side, making sure she was still breathing. The long hair and the soft scales adorning her body enamoured his blue eyes in seconds. He still had yet to see her face, but he felt attracted to the mermaid after seconds of saving her from a fatal fate.

Softly he pulled some locks of wet hair, with some seaweed tangled in them, to look at her face. Or at least try to.

"Is she okay?" Luffy sounded worried. "We have to help her."

"She is wounded," Usopp said, pointing at a tiny trail of blood coming from her tail.

"Let's take her to my room," Nami said.

Sanji nodded, calling Zoro for help. Both of them took the plank with the mermaid, still in deep sleep, to Nami's quaters. There, Sanji used some of Zeff's old teachings to treat wounds with bandages and fish skin. Nami assisted in turning the mermaid around and cleaning her skin and hair. The rest of the crew silently watched them assisting the mermaid.

Finally they were able to see her face. Sanji thought she was as beautiful as the sunrise. Two shells covered her breasts, which Nami made sure to fix along with the pearl necklace hanging on her neck. It was precious. Everything about her was to the cook's eyes.

Suddenly her tail sparkled softly and two legs started to form little by little, the human skin making its appearance starting from her feet.

"You guys have to leave," Nami announced, turning to Luffy, Usopp and Zoro.

"Why only us?" Usopp questioned. "Why doesn't he leaves too?"

"Sanji's knowledge is essencial right now," Nami explained. "And we don't want her flustered with all these eyes."

Zoro sighed, forcing the so called captains out of the room between protests. "She's right, let's go."

Nami murmured a silent 'thank you'.

"If you need anything I'll be outside," that was the last thing Zoro said before closing the door.

Sanji started to remove quickly a small bandage around her waist, which was still covered with her tail, however, it converted in skin before he could finish. So now here she was, with to legs and half naked before the eyes of two pirates.

The mermaid let out a breath and her eyes opened wide, encountering herself on a ship. A new ship.

"Is okay, you're safe," Nami whispered in a motherly way. "We just want to help you."

The mermaid was visibly scared. She looked first at the woman with the orange hair before taking a sight of the blonde man. His hands were still in the bandage around her waist. Sanji could swear she gasped once they looked directly into each others eyes. Yes, she was absolutely stunning.

She smiled softly.

"I'm not with them anymore..."

Nami and Sanji finished treating her wounds and cleaning her skin as much as they could. Nami gave her some clothes and they let her rest and sleep before asking more about what she went through.

During the next few hours, Sanji couldn't stop thinking about the mermaid. On the way her eyes were shining and the delicacy of the scales on her skin and tail. Even with legs she was beautiful. And the picture of the bare woman waking up will not be forgotten in a long time. Once he heard her name when Nami asked, Sanji knew he will keep it in his mind forever.

The crew reunited for dinner that night and Sanji made sure to have a plate for the mermaid. While his mates played some card games, after making a lot of questions about the mermaid, he walked to the room Nami was sharing with her. Hopefuly she would like to eat something by now, he thought. Sanji knocked twice before entering and found the mermaid sitting on the bed with a book.

"I believe you'd like to have something to eat," Sanji smiled and made his way to her.

"This is so nice from you, thank you," she said, placing the book aside and taking in the plate in her soft hands.

Sanji served a cup of water on the little wood nightstand for her and he took a seat on a wood bench near the bed, watching her eat the meal he prepared for the crew with joy.

"It's delicious," she beamed. "I don't recall having something like this in a long time."

"I feel pleased knowing you like it."

They embarked in a kind conversation soon after and it felt like they knew each other for years. Sanji was his normal flirty self again, speaking about the Straw Hats and his life as a chef, and now, as a pirate, to seek the All Blue. He soon found out he loved hearing her talk about the sea and everything she encountered on her numerous journeys with mystical creatures and cities built deep in the ocean.

Sadly, her last adventure was not a happy one. She had been kidnaped by some pirates who looked for fantastic and rare creatures, mermaids being one of them. They wanted to trade her for gold and berries, but then the storm came and destroyed the ship, drowning the pirates with the savage ocean waves.

"Thankfuly I am here now," she finished her story.

"I am so glad I saw you," Sanji whispered. With a lot of care, his fingers caressed a lock of hair, placing it behind her ear. They were so close that the blonde man could hear her heart beating on her chest.

He observed her eyes and lips, the pretty features of her face and he wanted nothing more but to finally kiss her.

Sanji slowly leaned, feeling like a spell was casted on him to absolutely fall head over heels for her, yearning to have a taste of her lips–

"Can we go outside?" she mumbled before their lips could touch. "I would like to have some air."

Sanji's eyes traveled between her eyes and her biting her lower lip.

"Of course, my lady. Anything you want."

So he took her to the deck, giving her his coat before they went out. And this repeated for days. The strolls on the deck became her favorite thing as time passed.

The mermaid was welcome by the crew as she healed little by little. The Straw Hats eventually knew what happened to her, mostly from Sanji's words, and they treated her like one of them already. And though nothing was really clarified, Luffy and Usopp made her laugh through the day, Nami slowly became a good friend, Zoro was a cold but interesting guy and Sanji made her feel at home.

She would spend most of her time with him on the kitchen and helping the blonde man around the ship to pass the time and most important, to say thanks to all of them.

On the seventh night after her arrival, Sanji took her to the deck after dinner. He gave her his coat, as usual, just in case it was too cold for her. But in reality, he loved her essence on his clothes.

They walked to the rail and she wrapped her arms around his right one, feeling the air of the night as the Going Merry sailed to their next adventure. It was good that the weather was a lot better and the waves seemed quieter than before.

In silence, Sanji felt the warmth of the mermaid, wrapped around his coat and wearing one of Nami's dresses. And still, with that few fabric over her figure, Sanji thought she looked like a princess. They stayed like that for a long time. No words were needed as they enjoyed the cold air of the ocean and the sight of the clear sky above them.

"I would love to see the All Blue," she said after a while, leaning more on him.

His lips curved in a smile. "Why don't you come with us?"

A soft chuckle left her lips.

"Don't you need to ask your captain?"

"I have the feeling we can have some help from a mermaid," Sanji said. "Luffy will say yes with no hesitation."

"Well, I have some abilities that might be useful," she left his arm and turned until she was face to face with the cook. She studied his features. As much as she was trying hard not to admit it, he was handsome and kind. A gentleman. The exact definition of a gentleman. After all she went through it was such heaven to have him. "Do you flirt with every mermaid you encounter?" she asked in a playful way.

It was Sanji's turn to laugh softly.

"Only the ones that like my food."

"I like you," she smiled. "As much as I liked your food."

Sanji came closer to her, trapping her body softly between his own and the rail on her back.

"Please tell me I can kiss you now," he whispered against her lips. "I've been holding all these time..."

She nodded. "You may kiss me now."

No further words were needed as his lips finally got a taste from her. His hands grabbed her sides in a delicate manner and her arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. Her lips were soft, as much as he imagined they would be.

Sanji loved the heat of her body against his, how she played with his hair and the way her fingers tangled with his blonde locks as they pressed their chests together, not wanting to let go forever. The kiss soon grew heated and a soft moan left her lips. A moan he swallowed through the kiss, and he wished it would never end. He knew it would not be the last kiss they share, though.

Once they fell out of breath, they pulled away slowly ans Sanji rested his forehead against hers.

"Stay," he said.

"You know I will," she smiled. Sanji pecked her lips until an annoying voice was heard.

"Finally the lovebirds!" Luffy shouted some meters away from both of them, announcing the crew that the mermaid and the cook were together.