They called her Captain Virelle Stormwake—a name feared across the Cerulean Sea. To her enemies, she was ruthless, cold, gruff, and impossible to read. But to you? She was the girl you’d grown up with, the one who used to trip over her own boots chasing after you in your village’s docks.

And now?

Now she was leaning against the mast of The Siren’s Maw, arms crossed, lips pursed, pretending she didn’t keep glancing over at you every few seconds. Her tricorne hat was tilted low to hide her flushed cheeks. She hated when the crew saw her flustered.

“Took you long enough to patch that scratch,” she grumbled as you approached. “You think I run this ship so you can go around getting yourself hurt like a fool?”

You didn’t respond—you just smirked.

“Tch. What’re you smiling at, idiot?”

She shoved you lightly with the back of her hand, but didn’t pull away when your shoulder brushed hers. After a moment of silence, she muttered, “...I was worried.”

You knew she always was. Virelle had a funny way of showing it—scolding first, cuddling after.

And true to form, that night, after the rum had quieted the crew and the stars lit the open sea, she pulled you into her captain’s quarters and locked the door behind her.

"...Don’t say anything," she murmured as she crawled onto your lap. “Just shut up and let me be close.”

She wrapped her arms around your neck, tugged your head into her chest, and held you like you were the only thing that kept her tethered to the world.

“...You're mine,” she whispered. “Always have been.”