#Encircling Sea

[misswynters]

Ambessa/Sevika ignoring you in public, affectionate in private

warnings. suggestive, ambessa lowkey crushing you on the bed but who cares,

requested by @schlagglovr (everyone thank them <3)

ambessa medarda

Murmurs and laughter spread across the grand. A sea of sharp-dressed politicians and councilors, their voices filling the room. Ambessa Medarda was in her element, towering over most of the crowd. With her presence commanding attention without even trying. You, on the other hand, were left to hover at her side, your hand occasionally brushing against hers. So desperate for a small chance of acknowledgment. But as always, Ambessa's focus was razor-sharp. Her words spilling out in calculated precision as she discussed trade routes and alliances. It was as if you weren't even there. Like a ghost.

She didn't glance at you, not even once. It caused a sting in your heart as her disregard grew sharper with every passing second. You swallowed your frustration, telling yourself it wasn't personal. That you knew her well enough to understand this was her battlefield, her war to win, and her affection couldn't bleed through here. Still, it didn't stop the ache in your chest as her laughter rang out. It was so warm and inviting but it was directed at someone who wasn't you.

Countless hours passed by and by the time the last diplomat was shown out, your patience was wearing thin. You slipped into your shared quarters ahead of her, fuming silently. But when the door finally creaked open, there she was. Discarding her armor as her gaze locked on you like you were the only thing that mattered in the world. "Come here," she rumbled, her voice softer now, devoid of its earlier sharp edges.

You didn't hesitate, the fight draining out of you the moment her arms encircled your waist. Pulling you flush against her. "You ignored me all night," you muttered, your voice muffled against her chest.

"I know," she admitted, her lips brushing against your temple as she guided you to the bed. "I hate that I have to. However out there, I'm a general. Here.." Her hands tilted your chin up, her golden eyes meeting yours with a smoldering desire. "Here, I'm just yours."

She kissed you slowly with passion, her lips lingering as if to make up for every second of neglect. How much you missed her lips on yours.

Ambessa’s lips crushed against yours with an intensity that stole your breath, her hands large and possessive as they gripped your hips. The need between you was palpable, her every touch sparking something wild in you. With a low growl, she hoisted you effortlessly, your thighs wrapping tightly around her waist. The cold press of her armor against your skin was a stark contrast to the searing warmth of her body, and it only made you want her more.

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?” she rasped against your lips, her voice rough and dripping with hunger. Her teeth grazed your lower lip before she claimed your mouth again, deepening the kiss. She carried you toward the bed as if you weighed nothing, her presence utterly dominating.

“You’re the one doing this, Ambessa,” you breathed against her, your fingers tangling in her short hair, tugging hard enough to draw a soft groan from her. “I can feel how much you want me, right now.”

Her smirk was wicked, her lips finding the sensitive curve of your neck as her teeth scraped along your skin. “Oh, I don’t just want you,” she murmured, her voice low and teasing. “I’m going to have you, all of you.”

Your back hit the mattress, and Ambessa didn’t hesitate to press you down, her powerful body pinning you beneath her. The weight of her, the sheer strength in the way she handled you, made your pulse race. She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as her voice dropped to a sinful whisper. “Tell me, do you enjoy driving me to madness? Watching me lose control over you like this?”

“You’re the one who’s in control,” you replied, your voice trembling as her hands roamed your thighs, her thumbs digging into your skin to pull you closer. “You always are. Isn’t that how you like it?”

Her chuckle was dark and full of promise as her lips moved to your collarbone, her teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there. “Careful now,” she said, her voice dripping with suggestion. “Keep talking like that, and I might not stop at just kissing you.”

“Who says I want you to stop?” you countered boldly, your hands sliding over her broad shoulders, pulling her closer. The challenge in your voice made her pause, her dark eyes locking onto yours with a heat that stole your breath.

“Bold little one,” she said, her tone edged with a mix of warning warning and desire. Her hand slid up your thigh, gripping it firmly as she pinned you even tighter against the bed. "You're making it very hard for me to stay patient."

"Please don't," you whispered, your lips brushing against hers in a teasing kiss.

Ambessa growled, before claiming your mouth again with a ferocity that made your head spin. As her hands roamed your body and her weight pressed you deeper into the mattress, the world outside her chambers melted away. Here, underneath her, you were hers. There was no place you'd rather be.

Her hands roamed your chest, strong and steady. When you tried to pull away to tease her again, she caught your lower lip between her teeth, stopping you in your tracks. "Stop with the teasing, darling," she murmured, her voice low. "Just let me show you how much little patience i have."

sevika

Smoky haze filled The Last Drop. It was as suffocating as it was intensifying, the crowd's cheers echoed through the bar as Sevika sat at her usual corner table. Her sharp eyes scanning the room. She was stoic as always, her posture a mix of casual confidence and barely restrained menace. You sat at her side, nursing your drink in silence. Silently hoping for even the smallest flicker of recognition from her. But she didn't look your way. Not once.

Instead, Sevika was all business. Barking orders to her lackeys and exchanging brief words with Silco's former enforcers. The air around her was heavy and her mechanical arm was gleaming under the dim light as she tapped her cigarette against the ashtray. It was like you didn't exist at all. While you knew this was her world and her job, it didn't make it hurt any less. You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, trying not to let the frustration show on your face. Unfortunately you hid it horribly. Much to your distaste.

When the meeting finally ended, Sevika stood and stretched, her gaze finally landing on you. "Come on," she said gruffly, motioning for you to follow. You bit back the urge to snap at her, deciding instead to trail behind her as she led you through the winding corridors to her private quarters.

The second the door shut behind you, the shift in her demeanor was quick. "Alright," she said, her voice softer now, her lips quirking up into a half-smile. "Let me have it."

"Let you have it?" you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest. "You ignored me all night, Sev. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was?"

She stepped closer, her warm hand curling around your wrist as she tugged you toward her. "Embarrassing, huh?" Her tone was teasing, but there was a glimmer of something genuine in her eyes as she leaned in towards you. Her breath warm against your cheek. "Didn't seem to bother you when you were sitting all pretty beside me."

"Don't start," you snapped, but your voice wavered as she closed the remaining distance between you. Her metal hand rising to trail a cold line down your arm. Her touch sent a shiver racing down your spine, and she knew it.

"You're cute when you're mad," she murmured, her voice dropping lower as her lips brushed the shell of your ear. "But I think you're forgetting something."

"And what's that?" you shot back, even as your breath hitched when her warm hand slid to your waist, pulling you against her.

"That you're mine," she growled, her lips crashing against yours before you could respond. The kiss was searing, her teeth grazing your bottom lip as her hands roamed your body. Her touch overwhelming as she backed you up against the wall. "I don't ignore you because I want to," she rasped, her lips trailing hot kisses along your jawline. "I ignored you because if I didn't, l'd drag you into my lap in front of everyone and let them know exactly who you belong to."

Your breath caught as her words sank in, her hands gripping your thighs to hoist you up against the wall. Instinctively you wrapped your legs around her waist, locking them together. "Sevika..." you whispered, your voice trembling as her mouth moved to your neck. Her teeth scraping against the sensitive skin below your jaw. “You're such a-"

"Say it," she demanded, her lips curving into a smirk against your skin. "Go on. Tell me how much you hate me right now."

You groaned, threading your fingers through her hair and tugging hard, earning a low growl from her. "I hate how good you are at this," you admitted, your words barely more than a breath as she bit down lightly, soothing the mark with her tongue.

Her laugh was low and dark, her breath fanning over your collarbone as she pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. "You love how good I am at this," she corrected, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

You rolled your eyes, but the small smile tugging at your lips betrayed you.

"Maybe," you conceded, your voice softening as she set you down gently, her hands lingering on your hips.

"Definitely," she teased, brushing her lips against yours one more time before pulling away slightly, her forehead resting against yours. "Now, let me make up for tonight in a more proper manner."

taglist. @blckbny @ch-bl0gsss @b-lossm @fortluocha @ekkosh @limereance @wolfessa @themostlesbianever @simonapietra @1-800-fantasy @saikikittykusuo @sevikaishot @sugarplumz100 @chaostudi @wxwrites @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @robzo4 @puppyphia @xreadersarchive @boom58 @d3adbrainer @kylorey25 @slutmeoutfortoge @yaeil @sapphicarribean @randomperson291 @mvistl @hellokittyfeenie @literallyimthenerdemoji @nikaachuuuu @prettysupplicant @iamaboringrattat

[entitled-fangirl]

A perfect match indeed.

Cregan Stark x Targaryen!reader

Summary: the reader is forced alongside her father for a hunt, pestered by him to consider accepting a betrothal offer.

Masterlist

...........................................

"Lord Tyland," Y/n mused as she looked to the Lord.

Tyland turned and smiled warmly to the girl, "Princess, I did not expect your presence at a hunt."

"Well, I'm a woman of surprises."

"That you are." He looked around at the various tents and the men that walked around the camp. The princess was one of the few women there. "Do you hunt, your grace?"

"Hmm? Oh." She picked at her fingers, a nervous habit she had no doubt picked up from her mother. "I have before but… father has dragged me alongside him this time, I'm afraid."

"Unwillingly?"

She hummed. "In the name of 'betrothal opportunities'."

His face flushed, "My." He cleared his throat in an uncomfortable manner. "Any… any men catch the eye of our princess then?"

She shook her head as her eyes scanned the crowds. She sighed. "None at all. I'm afraid I'm not interested in such affairs." She looked back up to Tyland. "Father tried this with my elder sister years ago, didn't he?"

Tyland stuttered over his words, "I… I… Yes, Princess… yes, he did."

She huffed, "Perhaps he'll always be cursed to have strong Targaryen women encircling him at all times, for I will not be doing his bidding."

"I see it more of an opportunity to choose for yourself. He's giving you this as a freedom."

"Some freedom," she mocked.

"Careful, your grace. He is merciful for this." He sighed. "Not many fathers give their daughters such a chance. Just consider it."

"Fine. But… I will not actively search it out."

"And that's enough."

…

"No!" She yelled as she stood in the middle of the tent in front of her father, King Viserys.

"My daughter," he commanded softly. "Do not yell at your king."

"Father, I wish for the freedom to live as I see fit," she tried to reason.

"Well, that is not your right. Your right is to serve the crown, and you have yet to do so."

"I may only serve you by bearing the children of a random lord?" She scoffed.

"I am not going to send you to war in armor that would hang from your frame," he scoffed back, his tone becoming annoyed and biting. 

At this point, various people in the tent began to stare.

"Oh, you'd rather have me close my eyes and merely point to a lord and fuck him?"

Viserys tilted his head challengingly, "Exactly."

She let out a mocking laugh in shock. "Fine," she snorts. "I will do so."

She marches from the tent, confident that her father would follow her. 

She looked out over the sea of men around the tents. "I will do it."

Viserys' challenging look grew, "Very well."

"I…" She faltered a moment, expecting him to give in. When he didn't, she huffed and covered her eyes with one hand. "Then… then I will."

Her arm rose up, her index finger pointing.

"Him."

A hum came from Viserys. 

"Alright."

She pulled her hand from her face and dropped her arm.

She spun around to speak to her father, but he was gone and a voice boomed from inside the tent.

"My daughter has accepted a betrothal to Lord Cregan Stark!"

Y/n's eyes widened incredulously. Her head snapped over to the direction she had been previously pointing in. 

She was met with equally wide dark eyes. 

Cregan Stark stood stiffly outside of his house tent, his sword almost dropping from his hand. 

The two barely heard the cheers from inside the tent as they just stared at one another. 

Finally, she broke the contact, turning and moving into the tent. 

She dodge and swerved around the various people that tried to stop her to give their congratulations. 

She caught up to her father, whisper-shouting, "What are you doing?"

Viserys turned, "You stated your intentions, and so have I. Stark is a wonderful match. I could not have made a better one myself."

Otto Hightower stepped in, "Your grace, it is a perfect match indeed."

"I thought we were jesting with one another. I do not want to marry him."

"It is too late for that," Viserys mused. "You're now betrothed to the Warden of the North."

She remembers him in small details from the Stark family visits to King's Landing. But they were just children then.

Since then, she had heard rumors of the man. Brutal. Harsh. A formidable enemy as cold as the Wall. Rumor has it, he could hack a head clean off with a single swing of his sword.

What a betrothal indeed. 

…

She had avoided Stark the entire day, not missing the way his eyes would follow her any time she stepped outside of the tent. 

Mortified from her actions, she gained little sleep that night. 

…

The day of the hunt, Y/n was on edge. With little sleep and a horrid feeling in her gut at her father's insistence of the betrothal, she clicked at her horse, sending it into a light trot and moving past some of the other riders. 

She recognized the Stark hair, pulled up in a messy updo and she rode passed him with no motion of resistance. 

She could feel his eyes on her. 

And when one of the men remarked something quietly about the fair-haired Targaryen princess, she heard the rustling of Cregan punching the man in the arm harshly. 

"I do not understand the true action of a hunt like this," she said when she rode up next to her father. 

"It is about adrenaline! Men live for the chase!" Viserys exclaimed excitedly from his horse. 

"But it is an entire band of men against one animal. How does that bring about adrenaline, Father?"

Otto quipped beside them from his horse, "It brings fellow huntsmen together. 'Tis better than gossiping in the tents with the women. Gossip does nothing to bring food to the table."

"If you truly do not believe women to appreciate this, then why was I forced to ride alongside?"

Viserys grinned, "You're to speak to your betrothed."

She let out a low chuckle and looked up at the clouds, "You are… truly to be the death of me, Father."

"Give the boy a chance."

"He's not a boy anymore."

"Even more reason to try."

She sighed and looked over her shoulder to see him, noticing his eyes were already on her.

"Get to know him just a little. For my sake," the king finally reasoned. 

"Fine."

She pulled the reigns, steering her horse from the group. She rode back down the band until Cregan moved to pass, and she quickly righted her horse next to him. 

He was a bit thrown off from her actions but made no move to show it. "Princess," his deep voice acknowledged.

"Lord Stark."

The corners of his lips quirked up, "Have I done something, your grace?"

"Hmm?"

"Have I done something?" He repeated. "You've made no motion to speak to me until now. I hope I have not offended you in some manner."

Of course he was a fucking gentleman. 

She shook her head. "I… I just thought that perhaps I'd give you a chance."

His head tilted, "A chance, Princess?" 

She bit her lip in thought. "I wish to know you better. That is all."

"Ah." 

The two rode in silence for a moment, unsure of what to say to one another.

Finally, Cregan broke it. "What do you wish to know then, Princess?"

"Tell me of Winterfell."

He leans back in his saddle with a smile at the mention of his home. "Where to begin? Perhaps it will not be as interesting to you as you live in the Keep, but…" He tilted his head back and forth, "It's warm. Quite warm, despite the biting cold that lives outside its doors." His smile grew as he looked at her, "And I shall keep it warm enough for the Dragon blood that will be within its walls, I promise."

She chuckled lightly at that. "I shall depend on your word then, I suppose."

"If I may," he questioned. "Why did you accept my proposal?"

"If I am being entirely honest to you, Lord Stark, I did not know that you had made one until we were already betrothed."

He hummed, taking in her words. He looked back to the path. "That is perhaps a blessing and a curse."

"How so?"

"I did not expect a Targaryen Princess to accept a Stark betrothal and therefore I… I did not try very earnestly."

Her brows furrowed, "How is that a blessing?"

He smirked as he looked at her, "Cause it wasn't memorable enough for you to recall in this moment. I have not embarrassed myself completely."

She nodded along with his words before a thought came to her. "Do you not wish to marry me, then?"

"I never stated that." He was quick to defend.

"But you-"

"-I am honored that I am yours, Princess. Do not think differently."

She felt like she could get lost in the dark eyes of the Stark of the North.

.....................................

A/n: There will def be a part 2

Taglist: @misswynters, @cosmosnkaz, @sithapprentice, @kaniromi, @lovemesomevesey, @its-jackie-bb, @8812-342, @thorins-queen-of-erebor, @kingdomzeldaquest @nyxbranwenn, @callsignwidow, @a1lexh-blog, @alyssa-dayne

[comatosebunny09]

hair down | sylus

warnings: female anatomy described, bodily fluids, p-in-v, rough sex, mirror things, praise, explicit language, dirty talk, mentions of alcohol now playing: hair down [ ft. kendrick lamar ] - sir notes: there is no excuse for this. thank you for reading anyway, lovely.

You had asked for it hard on a whim.

Hot, furtive, and rough—his forte.

Maybe the sea breeze and the margaritas were getting to your head.

His lips curving into sin, he set down his book and peeled off his glasses. Fixed you with a simmering gaze before prowling towards you like something beastly, backing you deeper into your bungalow.

Who was he to deny his precious little love?

Besides, he likes you this way—leaking, pliant, obedient. With soft whimpers kissing the sea-salted air as he drills into the swollen heat of your pussy from behind.

You’re so pretty. So, so cute and so good for him. You deserve everything. He’ll reward you handsomely—give you a nice bath with those bath bombs you like, rose petals, and scented candles. All the works for his pretty baby after he’s done painting your insides milky white.

His grip borders bruising. Fingers dig pretty grooves into the meat of your hips. He catches sight of your reflection beneath curtained lashes and water-slicked hair. Can’t help how his stomach coils at the sight, his lips parting with wet panting.

You look so cute like this, your hand braced against the full-length mirror mounted on the wall. The other struggles to keep you upright over the dresser—it’s so wobbly.

You’re on your tippy toes, fighting to take him. And take him you do, like a good little princess. Doing that sad puppy face with your lip tucked between your teeth and your brows drawn together in the inner corners.

Fucking hell.

Your gazes interlock for the briefest of seconds, and you need not utter a single word when you reach back to encircle his wrist.

He takes the initiative to fuck into you harder. And his hips snap so sharply, the clopping of skin intermingles with the symphony of ocean waves and seagulls playing outside your bungalow.

“Oh fu-oh fuck!”

You don’t curse often, but he decides he quite likes the sound of it. Enjoys the way your voice alternates between muted squeaks and sticky pants of his name. And your pussy makes the lewdest sounds while he fucks you.

He smirks at your intertwined reflections. Huffs a sound whilst shoving two slender fingers into your mouth, and your tongue instinctively seeks the taste of them. He tugs the inside of your cheek to the side, not once sacrificing his pace. And you look even prettier this way.

The sight of you drooling and crossing your eyes makes his dick twitch inside you. He batters against your cervix, and your legs shake, struggling to keep you afloat.

“Nasty. Naughty. Filthy,” Sylus huffs between each pump, making your pussy quake around him.

He knows what his voice does to you. How the tenor of it makes you weak-kneed and brainless. How his praise makes you feral. He lathers it on thick, much like the viscous ring of cream you’ve adorned his cock with.

“Can’t even speak, can you? Too busy taking me. So good. So deep.”

Your eyes roll back in bliss, and your mouth curves into an enraptured smile around his fingers. You attempt to speak, but your words come out all garbled and wet. Wet like your pussy, sucking him in so eagerly.

He makes a note to whisk you away to remote parts of the world more often, if only to feel you pulsing around him like this again.

cater 2 u | masterlist | international

[hellsgate-roadhouse]

Gunkanjima Island - Nagasaki, Japan .

Once the most densely populated place in the world, this island is now a ghost town.

FEW PLACES IN THE WORLD have a history as odd, or as poignant as Gunkanjima’s.

The tiny, fortress-like island lies just off the coast of Nagasaki. The island is ringed by a seawall, covered in tightly packed buildings, and entirely abandoned - a ghost town that has been completely uninhabited for more than forty years. In the early 1900s, Gunkanjima was developed by the Mitsubishi Corporation, which believed - correctly - that the island was sitting on a rich submarine coal deposit.

For almost the next hundred years, the mine grew deeper and longer, stretching out under the seabed to harvest the coal that was powering Japan’s industrial expansion.

By 1941, the island, less than one square kilometer in area, was producing 400,000 tonnes of coal per year.

And many of those working slavishly in the undersea mine were forced laborers from Korea.

Even more remarkable than the mine was the city that had grown up around it.

To accommodate the miners, ten-story apartment complexes were built up on the tiny rock - a high-rise maze linked together by courtyards, corridors, and stairs. There were schools, restaurants, and gaming houses, all encircled by the protective seawall.

The island became known as “Midori nashi Shima,” the island without green.

Amazingly, by the mid-1950s, it housed almost six thousand people, giving it the highest population density the world has ever known. And then the coal ran out.

Mitsubishi closed the mine, everyone left, and this island city was abandoned, left to revert back to nature.

The apartments began to crumble, and for the first time, in the barren courtyards, green things started to grow. Broken glass and old newspapers blew over the streets. The sea-breeze whistled through the windows.

Now, fifty years later, the island is exactly as it was just after Mitsubishi left. A ghost town in the middle of the sea.

[angelickisscs]

all he could ever want ~ blurb ‧₊˚

‧₊˚ ୨ ୧ ˚₊ pairing ~ jude bellingham x reader

summary: a usual night with you and your boyfriend

NO SOUNDS CHALLENGED that of the TV show Jude had opted for. Somehow, you managed to keep your focus on the page in front of you, your eyes slowly moving from side to side.

A comfortable silence washed itself upon your living room, just like that of a calm sea. Neither of you felt the need to say something to one another, all your talking having happened all throughout your day.

Warmth emitted from the missing sun, it still leaving its mark no matter what. It wasn’t humid however, the heat being the kind that didn’t make you sticky but rather just hung in the air, showing its presence with no consequence to those around.

You had your legs perched upon his lap, his hand mindlessly creeping under the pyjama bottoms, that you had stolen from him, so he was able to run it across your leg.

This had become your nightly routine ever since moving in with each other. How it came about? You wouldn’t know. It had just come about one day and ever since, the both of you had unconsciously followed it.

It was coming up on 10pm when Jude had turned off the television show, his head falling backwards to rest against the sofa as his eyes stared lovingly down at you.

The strong aroma of flowers clung to your nose, the fresh bunch that he had brought for you only that morning being placed on the table in front of you. They were beautiful, some of the best he had ever brought you. Though you could not name the particular types they were, their colours were majestic and that was enough for you.

“What are you reading?” He questioned softly, not daring to break the peace that encircled you.

You looked up from your book, the word that you had just read quickly leaving your mind. “Just some random romance book I found at the library.”

Turning it around, you let your eyes quickly scan the blurb, reading aloud the parts that described the book the best.

He chuckled at that, the vibrations bouncing throughout your calf muscles. You couldn’t do anything but turn your head to the side, your mind coming up blank as to what he could be laughing at.

Jude seemed to swiftly catch onto your confusion, a smile settling onto his face.

“Read it to me?”

His voice was small, almost nervous as you could hardly make out his loving eyes through the darkness. The singular light that pressured into making the whole room bright enough seemed to have given up, its golden hue hardly making it past the corner that it sat in.

You nodded, opening your arms so he could make himself comfortable. And he did just that, his head finding solace in your neck as his hands wrapped around your waist, their stroking motion restarting but this time on your back.

Flipping to the first page, you began. His breath was warm against your skin, it’s evenness a calming noise. One of your hands held the book whilst the other was in Jude’s hair, the paring of your movements and voice meaning that he fell asleep quicker than he would have liked too.

He could have listened to your voice all day and night, opting for that over anything that the TV could provide for him. It was gentle, perfectly becoming his favourite kind of hug on a chilly day.

It was all he could ever want, and he could not be happier that he had gotten it.

[jezebelblues]

𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃 | 𝐇.𝐒 ݁ᛪ༙ ꫂ ၴႅၴ ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

ᝰ.ᐟ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭.

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐧—𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐲.

pt. i, pt. ii

𝐂𝐖: fem!reader, blood+blood drinking (bro is literally a vampire there's going to be blood) 1700s!harry, mentions of death

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: approx 7.3k

❏ yall this excruciatingly long so i just figured it was better to split this into four parts. it starts off kinda slow i knowwww but i feel like it fits his character. anyway I hope u will like. mwah :* also YES his heart beats idk i took creative liberty in assuming the blood he drinks would give him some sort of circulation and YES i drew inspo from tvd i like their vamp lore the most ok bye

Fourth of November, 1701

The English flag thrashed wildly in the biting wind, its edges snapping above the clank of chains and the groan of wood as boats were fastened to the harbor. Hooves clattered against the cobblestone, mingling with the grumble of cart wheels as townsfolk hurried homeward, eager to escape the deepening chill of evening.

Winter crept in with an ill-fated air, a shadow over the town. The fishermen’s hauls dwindled to nearly nothing, their nets coming up bare. Squash and pumpkins, once abundant, softened and rotted on their vines before they could be harvested. Livestock, struck by a strange sickness, perished too soon, their spoiled meat no longer fit to eat. Lately the townsfolk scraped by on what little they could hunt—rabbits, mostly—a meager fare that barely stretched to sustain a family for more than a few days.

YN stood at the end of the dock, the sea’s bitter wind pulling at her hair. A basket woven by her mother dangled from her arm, half-covered by a cloth beneath which a few herbs and stunted vegetables peeked through. She waited for Niall, a fisherman she’d known since childhood, to come ashore. His face was grim, his knuckles pale as he secured his boat. “Any luck?” She asked over the wind, though she already knew the answer.

His mouth twisted into a scowl as he wiped his hands on his trousers and approached her. “Lucks got nothin’ to do with it. s’the new king, swear it. God turned his back on us ‘cause of him.”

She winced and swatted his arm lightly as they started toward the stone walls encircling the town. “Don’t say such things, not out loud.” She kept her voice low, though she too had her doubts about the new ruler. “Best not to tempt fate with those words.”

He rolled his eyes and took the basket from her arm, letting it hang from his own so she could tuck her hands into her sleeves. “You agree with such things. S’pose God does as well from the lack of bloody fish.”

They passed under the worn stone archway marking the entrance to town, their footsteps echoing against the ancient stones. Dover was nestled between the English Channel and rolling green hills, hemmed in by rocky shores and the stark rise of the cliffs, standing watch like grim sentinels over the troubled little town.

As YN and Niall made their way up the winding path from the square, the quiet crept in around them, settling like a thin mist. The evening was thick and gray, heavy clouds stretching over Dover and flattening the light into a cool, uneasy dusk.

Each face they passed, they recognized. it was impossible not to, in a town so small. There was old mrs. Harris, hunched beneath a weathered shawl, who gave them a knowing nod as they went by, as if she alone were privy to the day’s secrets. And mr. James, pulling his cart toward home, who offered a quick tip of his hat, but avoided meeting their eyes too long, as if a weight hung over all of them that no one cared to mention.

Niall, walking beside her, held his silence longer than usual, and there was a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes when he finally turned her way. “You’re still makin’ that stew, yeah?” He hummed, nodding toward the basket swinging lightly in his hand. His tone was casual, almost lazy, yet she sensed something else beneath it, like he was testing the waters of a conversation he couldn’t quite bring himself to start.

“Mum has already started it,” YN replied, keeping her voice as light as his. “Cabbage, onion, bit of thyme. barely a stew, more a broth.” She cast a sideways glance his way, catching the faintest hint of a smile pulling at his mouth.

“No doubt you’ll have your sister servin’ it, then?” He asked, as though it were an afterthought. “I hear she has a way of makin’ anything taste finer.”

YN’s lips twitched, a hint of humor flickering in her eyes. She knew well enough where this was going, but she didn’t indulge him outright. “Oh, she has her charms, but she’s picky ‘bout who gets to see ‘em.”

He laughed quietly, a low sound that seemed to carry on the breeze, soft and uncertain. “She's got the whole town near dreamin’ of her, from what I hear. never seen her eye stray toward anyone, though.”

YN glanced away, her gaze drifting over the clustered rooftops, the narrow chimneys stretching into the dimming sky like spindly fingers. “You’d need more than a bowl of stew to catch her fancy, Niall. You’d best hope for a rich merchant or a duke comin’ ashore.”

His chuckle died off, and for a few quiet moments, they simply walked, the soft scuff of their shoes blending with the distant murmur of the sea. Yet something hung between them, unspoken, like the faintest shadow shifting at the edges of their conversation.

It was Niall who broke the silence, his voice lower this time, his words careful. “Have you heard the talk? About the old watchtower?”

YN’s gaze drifted to the far side of town, where the dense stretch of forest gave way to a steep rise, the silhouette of the abandoned tower just barely visible through the trees. “Folk say all sorts of things,” She muttered, almost to herself. “Been empty as long as I can remember.”

Niall’s eyes narrowed as he looked out toward the darkening line of trees, his jaw set. “Empty, maybe, but someone’s taken to hauntin’ it now. The lads swear they’ve seen a figure up there at night, just a shadow movin’ about, like he’s watchin’ the town from that high window.”

She felt a faint chill that wasn’t from the cold, and she pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders. “They say a lot of things,” she repeated, her tone steady but soft. “Could be nothin’ but the wind playin’ with shadows.”

He tilted his head, the edge of a smirk softening his face. “Aye, that’s what I'd think, too. But seems each person’s got a different tale to tell. Some say he’s a protector, sent to keep us safe.” He shrugged, his gaze still fixed on the distant woods. “Others say it’s somethin’ darker—maybe one of the king’s men, sent to spy on anyone who dares breathe a word against him.”

YN’s lips parted, but she hesitated, the words hanging unspoken as her gaze lingered on the watchtower. Her grandmother had told her stories of that tower once, years ago, when she was still young enough to believe in the old tales without question. But she’d since brushed them off as the ramblings of an old woman long passed. Now, though, the stories flickered back to her, sharp and vivid as they’d once been.

“I heard some folk say it’s not a man at all,” She murmured, so quietly that her voice nearly vanished into the chill air. “Gran said it’s a spirit—a demon.” she let out a breathy laugh, sending a glance his way. “You believe my ol’gran true?”

Niall made a sound, halfway between a scoff and a chuckle, though he didn’t argue with her. “You don’t seem the sort to believe in demons,YN.”

She didn’t answer him, and for a moment, they stood in the gathering dusk, looking out toward the distant, looming shape of the tower, as if something there had caught them both in its thrall. A strange, unsettling weight hung in the air, pressing down around them, and neither seemed willing to break it.

The faint toll of the chapel bell echoed across the town, marking the evening hour. The sound seemed hollow, almost mournful, as it resonated through the narrow streets, slipping into every crack and crevice, lingering like a warning in the growing dark.

The path wound through the clustered homes of their town, each one narrow and stacked close beside the other, the rooftops tilting like old friends leaning together to brace against the coming winter. Flickers of candlelight peeked through small, thick-paned windows, casting brief glows over doorsteps worn smooth by years of footsteps. Voices drifted out faintly as neighbors settled in for the night, the low buzz of comfort after a long day’s labor.

As they neared her door, YN glanced sideways at Niall, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “Well, no use lettin’ the stew go to waste with just me. You might as well come in and help make somethin’ decent out of it. And,” she added, with a playful glint, “my sister will be there, too. Might be the only chance you get to impress her.”

Niall feigned indifference, though she caught the hint of a flush in his cheeks beneath the dimming light. “Well, if it’s to spare you from that sorry excuse of a stew, I s’pose I could lend a hand,” he said with mock reluctance, yet his steps quickened as they approached the small wooden door.

Inside, the house was simple and small, with a low ceiling that sloped slightly, forcing even YN to duck beneath the beams as she led him in. A narrow hearth crackled with a weak but steady fire, casting warm shadows across the modest room, which served as both kitchen and living space. The scent of herbs, drying in bunches along the walls, mingled with the faint tang of smoke from the hearth. A single table stood in the center, its edges worn smooth, surrounded by a handful of mismatched stools and chairs, each one slightly wobbly but bearing the marks of care and countless meals.

“Is that you, YN?” Her mother’s voice came from the corner, where she was bent over a pot, stirring with steady, practiced hands. She looked up with a gentle smile, her face flushed from the warmth of the fire. “And Niall too! Just in time. I was about to send Arthur to fetch you, but he’s off fiddlin’ with somethin’ in the corner.”

Ten-year-old Arthur looked up at the mention of his name, a wide grin splitting his face when he spotted the blonde. “Niall!” He called, scrambling to his feet and darting over, a wooden sword in hand. “You’ll stay for supper, won’t you?”

He placed the basket next to the older woman before he tousled the boy’s hair, giving a wink to YN. “That depends—will your sister cook, or will your ma have mercy on me?”

YN rolled her eyes as her mother chuckled, stirring the stew with a knowing look. “I'll make sure to keep it fit for eatin’. Now, why don’t you both make yourselves useful and set the table?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Niall replied with a quick bow, flashing his best charming smile, though his eyes lingered on the slender figure by the fire.

YN’s older sister, Ella, sat with her needlework in hand, her fingers nimble as she embroidered a delicate pattern into the edge of a linen cloth. She looked up as Niall approached, offering him a nod and a faint, polite smile, though a flicker of amusement danced in her eyes.

“Ella,” Niall greeted, taking the opportunity to lean a bit too casually against the edge of the table. “Now there’s a sight finer than any supper, if I may say.”

“Oh, you may say.” Ella sighed, her tone as mild as her smile. “But sayin’ doesn’t make it so, does it?” Her eyes sparkled with a touch of mischief, and she kept her gaze on her stitching as if he hadn’t said a word.

YN snorted, reaching past Niall to set the bowls on the table. “She’ll need more than empty flattery to be wooed, Niall. You’ll be talkin’ all night before she so much as bats an eye.”

“Empty flattery?” he echoed, feigning shock as he helped with the cups, placing them with exaggerated care. “This is pure honesty, YN. Your sister’s a vision, though I'm not sure she sees it herself.”

Ella finally looked up, one eyebrow arched. “Perhaps that’s ‘cause it’s hard to see with all the bluster in here. Is it flattery or just another of your tales, Ni?”

Arthur laughed as he climbed onto his chair, his wooden sword clattering to the floor. “Tell a tale, Niall!” He urged, his eyes bright.

He obliged with a grand sweep of his arm. “Ah, tales are easy to tell when the company’s fine.” His gaze drifted meaningfully to Ella, who only smirked, clearly unbothered.

“Enough of your foolishness, Horan.” YN’s mother cut in, though her tone was warm as she dished the stew into the bowls. “There'll be time for tales when your stomach’s full. Now, all of you—sit, before this stew turns cold.”

They settled around the table, the simple meal set before them steaming in the flickering firelight. YN ladled out servings, keeping her own expression solemn as she dished out the rather grayish stew. Niall took a tentative sip, raising his brows in mock surprise.

“Well, I'll be,” he declared, setting his bowl down as if astonished. “Tastes just like stew!”

YN kicked him under the table, rolling her eyes. “Don’t sound so shocked, else we’ll make you eat the scraps.”

Ella, watching them from across the table, hid a smile behind her hand. “It's better than you deserve,” she teased, offering Niall a faintly teasing look that sent Arthur into a fit of giggles.

As they settled into their meal, the conversation turned to the familiar rhythms of the day—the fish hauls, the scarcities at the market, the latest mischief Arthur had managed, and the townsfolk they’d seen along the way. Laughter bubbled up around the table, filling the small room with warmth as the stew slowly disappeared, their bowls clinking softly with each spoonful.

It wasn't until they’d nearly finished eating that YN’s mother’s voice turned low, a faint shadow crossing her face as she glanced at arthur. “Arthur,” she said gently, “I don't want to hear any more of you playin’ outside the town walls.”

The boy frowned, his spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “But ma, I’m careful,” he protested, glancing between her and YN as if hoping for support.

“She's right,” Ella added, her voice calm but firm. “The woods aren’t safe, especially with winter comin’ on.”

He looked to Niall, his face a mask of confusion and a bit of defiance. “Niall plays near the woods, don’t you?”

He shifted in his seat, his smile fading just slightly as he glanced at YN. “Aye, lad, but it’s different. I'm older, and I keep my wits about me. Besides,” he added lightly, though his voice held a trace of something darker, “there’s been talk of someone wanderin’ near the old watchtower.”

YN’s mother sighed, folding her hands on the table. “Too much talk.” She said quietly, her gaze drifting toward the narrow window. “I don’t care if s’only lore, you’ll be safe rather than sorry.”

A hush fell over the table, and Arthur's wide eyes darted from face to face. “Who is it, then?” He whispered, his voice trembling slightly. “A man?”

Ella reached over to ruffle his hair, her voice soft. “No one knows. could be a man, could be no more than shadows. But some say it’s best not to linger too close to it, just in case.”

Niall, watching Arthur's reaction, leaned in with a grin. “There now, it’s probably nothin’ more than a lonely ol’ fox. But best stick close to home, eh? Can’t have you disappearin’ on us.”

YN tried to keep her voice light as she chimed in, though she felt the faintest prickling unease beneath the laughter. “You heard him, Arthur. best keep to the town, else you might end up a story yourself.”

The boy’s eyes grew even wider, and he gulped, glancing nervously toward the window as if expecting to see the mysterious figure standing just beyond. He fidgeted, his hand reaching instinctively for his wooden sword on the floor beside him.

With a faint, tired sigh, YN’s mother rose and began clearing the table, signaling the end of the meal. The warm glow of the evening seemed to have dimmed, and even Niall’s usual cheer was muted as he helped gather the bowls, his gaze drifting back to the light flickering along the walls.

Outside, the wind picked up, brushing against the windows and rattling the latch ever so slightly, a whisper against the warmth of the firelight. The small house was silent for a long moment, each of them lost in thought, each glancing occasionally toward the dark window where the night gathered, close and watchful.

Morning seeped slowly into Dover, pale and cool, bringing with it the damp scent of the sea and the faint call of gulls overhead. YN was awake early, as was her habit, slipping quietly out of bed while the house still lingered in the soft dimness of dawn. The fire in the hearth had died to embers, and a chill clung to the air, but she moved quickly, tucking a shawl around her shoulders as she crossed the small room.

Arthur, already up and dressed, was tugging at the latch on the back door, eager to start his morning chores. He looked back when he heard her steps, his face lighting up with a grin. “Thought you’d sleep through it, lazybones.” He teased, though his eyes sparkled with mischief.

She snorted softly, pinching his cheek as she passed him. “Cheeky lad,” she muttered. “Come on, then. Let's get to it.”

They stepped out into the brisk morning, their breath puffing in the cold, and began making their way down the narrow stone path that wound through the small patch of yard behind their home. Frost clung to the grass, glinting in the pale light, and the chickens shuffled restlessly in their pen as Arthur went to check on them.

“Careful now.” 

He bent down next to them to scatter their feed. The hens fluffed their feathers, clucking contentedly as they pecked at the ground, and Arthur kept one eye on the rooster, who strutted about with his chest puffed, keeping watch over his domain.

“Look at him,” he whispered, stifling a laugh as he threw a handful of seed. “Thinks he’s king of all creation, that one.”

She grinned, crouching beside him. “Well, he’s a rooster. not much else to do but look important, is there?”

The boy giggled, tossing a bit of feed toward the rooster, who eyed him warily before puffing up even further. YN kept watch as he finished the feeding, carefully securing the pen’s latch when he was done.

They moved on to check the small patch of herbs and vegetables that clung to life in the early cold, though the frost had already done its damage. The leaves hung limp and dark, and YN  frowned, brushing a thin layer of frost from a withered cabbage leaf.

“S’not lookin’ good, is it?” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a murmur as he followed her gaze.

“No,” she replied softly, her fingers brushing over the leaves. “But we’ll manage. Always do.”

He gave her a solemn nod, but she could see the worry in his eyes, the way he seemed to glance toward the woods, as if he might glimpse the shadowed figure their mother had warned him about the night before. She reached over and squeezed his shoulder, offering a smile.

“No need for lookin’ so glum, Arthur,” she said, keeping her tone light. “We've plenty to keep us busy, and I'll wager you’ll see that rooster crowned king before anything happens to us.”

He managed a faint smile, his spirits lifting just enough to reassure her. They finished up quickly, making their way back inside, where the warmth of the house greeted them. YN set about preparing a quick meal for Arthur and her mother, who was just beginning to stir, her tired eyes softening at the sight of her children.

Once breakfast was sorted, YN returned to her small room to ready herself for the day. She tugged off her worn nightdress, slipping into the fresh linen undergarments she’d set aside, and carefully pulled on a plain woolen dress that hung neatly from a peg beside her bed. It was a simple dress, but a neat one, its modest collar and long sleeves making it suitable for the chilly weather. she straightened the fabric, adjusting the waist so that it lay just right, and wrapped her shawl back over her shoulders, pinning it at the front with an old, weathered brooch that had once belonged to her grandmother.

She caught her reflection in the small, scratched mirror by the window—a young woman with steady eyes and a hint of determination in her gaze, her hair braided behind her, a few strands slipping free to frame her face. After a moment, she tucked a few stray wisps behind her ear and gave herself a brisk nod, turning to head out.

The streets were beginning to stir as she made her way down to the docks, the early morning light casting a soft, muted glow over the cobblestone. A few shopkeepers were already sweeping their doorsteps, preparing for the day’s trade, and a handful of townsfolk passed by, nodding their greetings as she walked.

When she reached the docks, she found Niall already there, standing by his boat, his hands working quickly to secure the ropes. His coat hung loose over his shoulders, and his hair was tousled from the morning breeze, but there was a contented look in his eyes as he glanced up and saw her approach.

“Well, if it isn’t the queen of the cabbage patch,” he greeted her, a grin breaking across his face. “Come to see if I've hauled in a king’s feast for ye?”

YN rolled her eyes, crossing her arms as she stopped a few feet away from him. “I wouldn't go that far. but I'll settle for a decent fish, if you’ve managed one.”

He laughed, giving the rope a final tug before stepping back, wiping his hands on his trousers. “Oh, a decent fish, she says. Well, lucky for you, I've got just that.” He reached into a small wooden crate and held up a plump haddock, its scales glinting in the early light. “Not a king’s ransom, but it’ll do for stew, won’t it?”

She eyed the fish, unable to suppress a smile. “Aye, it’ll do. Might even save us from havin’ to wrangle another cabbage.”

Niall chuckled, tucking the fish back into the crate. “Couldn’t have that, now, could we? I’m doin’ my part to keep your cookin’ passable.”

“Passable?” She laughed, nudging him lightly as she stepped up beside him to peer into the crate. “You’re just glad to have an excuse to come round, steal our bread, and charm my sister.”

He gave her a mock-offended look, though his eyes glinted with humor. “Now, that’s hurtful, YN. I'm here for the food and the fine company, naturally. If your sister happens to be nearby, well, that’s not my fault, is it?”

She rolled her eyes, unable to help the small laugh that escaped. “Poor Ella’ll need more than a fish to be impressed. Best not get your hopes up too high.”

“Aye, she’s a hard one to please,” he admitted, a faint, wistful smile crossing his face. “But I'll manage somehow. or at least, I'll keep tryin’.”

They both fell silent, their gazes drifting out over the water, where a thin mist clung to the surface, casting an eerie calm over the harbor. The other boats rocked gently in the quiet, and the gulls called out above them, their cries echoing faintly across the empty stretch of sea. Together they turned back toward the town, the mist curling softly around them as they walked, side by side, in the quiet of the morning.

The midday lull brought a hush over the town, as folk took their brief respite between the day’s labors. The soft light of afternoon slipped over the rooftops, and YN found herself winding her way down one of the quieter streets toward Maura’s, a modest little cottage that doubled as the gathering place for the women in town. Here, around a crowded table of mismatched cups and chipped saucers, town gossip simmered as steadily as the tea.

Maura's door was open, the sound of voices spilling out into the cobbled lane, and YN slipped in quietly, greeting the women with a polite nod before finding a seat near the end of the table. The familiar faces of neighbors turned to greet her—Maura herself, with her cheeks flushed from the warmth of the kitchen, mrs. Harris with her ever-watchful eyes, and a handful of others who paused only long enough to give YN a quick nod before returning to the subject that had clearly held their interest long before she arrived.

“I'm tellin’ you,” mrs. Harris was saying, her voice low and edged with certainty. “There's somethin’ in that tower. maybe it’s a spy, maybe it’s worse.”

Maura scoffed, shaking her head. “If it were a spy, we’d know by now, wouldn’t we? why bother lurkin’ about if there’s nothin’ worth seein’ here?”

“There’s plenty to see, Maura,” the older woman sighed, leaning forward, her teacup nearly sloshing over the rim as she gestured toward the window. “Who’s to say he hasn’t been watchin’ us all along, takin’ note of who’s loyal to the new king and who’s not?”

Maura snorted, but one of the other women, Anna, leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. “or worse—what if it’s no man at all?” Her gaze darted to the others, her eyes wide with a kind of fearful excitement. “There are tales, you know. Of things that wander the woods. Spirits that linger in dark places, things that only come out when the days grow short.”

Mrs. Harris crossed herself, nodding solemnly. “Aye. folk say it’s a night creature—a demon, even.“

YN listened quietly, her fingers tracing the rim of her teacup, but she held back a smile. as the women exchanged anxious looks, she leaned back, sipping her tea, the warmth of it calming her nerves. To her, the stories felt like little more than old wives’ tales—a way for folk to pass the time when the days grew cold and bleak. A lonely man, perhaps, who’d taken to the tower for solitude, a soul with nowhere else to go. Nothing so sinister as the women here believed.

“You've a skeptical look about you, dear” Maura said, catching her eye with a wry smile. “Don’t tell me you’d walk up to that tower yourself, would you?”

She met her gaze calmly, setting her cup down. “I'd sooner believe it’s a wanderer, Maura. Maybe one who wants peace more than anything else. Don’t see why we should fear him.”

“Peace, or no peace, he’s still up there, watchin’ us all.”

YN didn’t reply, only nodded politely as the conversation swirled on, the voices around her swelling in speculation and rumor. After a while, she quietly rose, setting her cup aside and offering Maura a grateful nod before slipping out the door and into the fresh air.

The chatter of the women faded behind her, and she took a deep breath, the cool air filling her lungs and clearing her thoughts. She knew she was unlikely to shake their unease or convince them of her view, but as she thought of the lonely figure up in the tower, something tugged at her—a kind of curiosity that gnawed gently at the back of her mind.

Without a second thought, she made her way home, moving quickly and quietly, her mind already set. She slipped through the door, pausing only to grab her small woven basket from its hook. Her mother glanced up, but YN offered her a calm smile, murmuring something vague about a quick errand before supper.

IN the small corner of their kitchen where they kept their stores, she selected a handful of berries from the last of their foraging, a few slightly bruised carrots, and a small bunch of herbs tied with a thin scrap of cloth. Modest offerings, but enough, she hoped, to serve as a token of peace, a sign that she meant no harm.

She took a deep breath and headed toward the edge of town, her footsteps light as she made her way past the familiar lanes and toward the narrow path that led up to the old watchtower.

The path leading to the watchtower was narrow, winding its way up the hillside in gentle, uneven curves. YN had walked these woods many times before, though never with the purpose she had now. Above her, the sky was beginning to darken, clouds gathering in ominous clumps, casting long shadows across the land as the sun slipped lower.

Her heart thudded in her chest, not from fear, but from a strange mixture of curiosity and anticipation. The stories she’d heard that morning lingered in her mind like faint echoes, each warning a small reminder of the mystery ahead. But she felt something else too—a quiet resolve, an odd certainty that she had to see this figure, whoever he might be, with her own eyes.

The watchtower loomed before her, its crumbling stone walls climbing into the sky, weather-worn and scarred by time. She could see now why the townsfolk feared it; it looked like a relic from another era, half-hidden by the dense growth of ivy and the creeping fog that clung to the base of its walls. It was silent here, too silent, as if even the birds dared not sing in the shadow of the old tower.

Steeling herself, she moved forward, her footsteps muffled by the damp earth. The closer she got, the more the watchtower’s age showed itself in cracked stones and vines, a darkness that seemed to pool between the stones, deepening the gray of the twilight. At the base of the tower, a narrow door sat slightly ajar, barely wide enough for her to slip through. She paused there, glancing up, feeling an odd twinge of nervousness as her gaze drifted to the upper windows, dark and empty.

Drawing a deep breath, she pushed the door open, stepping into the dim interior.

The inside of the tower was colder, the air thick and still. Faint light seeped through cracks in the walls, just enough to reveal the sparse furnishings—a wooden table, books, a chair beside the hearth, long since gone cold. Dust motes hung in the air, catching the dim light like fragments of stars, and a faint, earthy smell lingered in the space, as though the room hadn’t seen another soul in years.

Yet something else lingered too, something that made the hair on the back of her neck prickle—a sense that she wasn’t alone.

A figure stepped forward from behind a wall, emerging so quietly she almost missed it. He was tall, with dark curls that tumbled around his face, shadows clinging to his features as though he belonged to the darkness itself. His eyes met hers, a piercing green that seemed to hold an entire century’s worth of secrets, and for a brief, unsettling moment, she felt as though he could see straight through her.

“What brings you here?” His voice was low, quiet, each word clipped and precise, yet holding a softness that surprised her.

YN swallowed, her hand instinctively tightening around the basket she held. “I–I thought you might be hungry,” she stammered, offering the basket forward with a hesitant smile. “Folk talk of you up here, you know. Thought it might be nice to see if you wanted some company.”

He raised a brow, a faint trace of amusement softening his gaze. He didn’t reach for the basket, but instead continued to watch her, as though trying to make sense of why she would come here, alone, to his solitary refuge.

Didn’t seem exactly the safest thing.

“People rarely visit me,” he said finally, his voice barely more than a murmur, as though he were speaking more to himself than to her. “Especially not with offerings.”

“Well, it’s no great feast,” she laughed breathily—nervous, setting the basket down on the table. “But it’s enough for a quiet meal.”

He looked down at the basket, his expression unreadable. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, and for a brief moment, she wondered if he would turn her away. But then his gaze shifted back to her, gentle, as though something in her gesture had reached him in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

“I don’t need much,” he breathed, finally stepping closer, his movements careful, almost tentative. “But thank you.”

The silence stretched between them as Harry’s eyes lingered on her, his regard tracing every movement of her face, the subtle rise and fall of her shoulders, the way her lips pressed together as if searching for words. He could feel it—her pulse thrumming in her neck, the warmth radiating from her skin, the soft, steady rhythm of blood rushing through her veins. It was maddening. The sound alone clawed at the quiet corners of his mind, stirring that old, cursed hunger he’d worked so hard to bury.

But he couldn’t let her see that. Couldn’t let even a flicker of it touch his face.

With a composed nod, he turned his attention to the basket, using the small action to steady himself, to pull his focus away from her and fix it on the modest offering she’d brought. Herbs and roots, earthy and clean, none of it touched by blood. He forced his breath to steady, aware of her watchful eyes on him as he sorted through the items, careful to keep his hands stable.

“Are you here… often?” She asked softly, breaking the silence in a voice that felt almost hesitant, as though unsure whether it was allowed. Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the sparse surroundings, the thick shadows that crept into every corner.

Harry let his fingers linger on a sprig of thyme, keeping his voice level as he answered. “Yes,” he confided simply, his tone giving nothing away. “I find it… peaceful.”

“Peaceful,” she echoed, a faint smile touching her lips as she looked back at him. “It doesn’t frighten you, being all alone up here?”

He allowed himself the smallest of smiles—him—frightened? How sweetly ironic. “Sometimes solitude is easier than the alternative.”

She studied him, and he could feel the weight of her eyes, searching for something beneath his answer. Her heartbeat quickened just a bit, a small, steady thump that seemed to reach straight through him, its warmth coiling like a spark inside his chest. He could almost taste it—the sweet, heady pull of her pulse.

But he forced the thought down, burying it beneath years of restraint. Instead, he tilted his head slightly, redirecting the focus onto her. “And what about you?” he asked, his tone soft but steady. “Doesn’t it frighten you to come all this way, alone?”

She gave a small laugh, shrugging one shoulder. “Maybe it should. But I suppose I don’t scare easily.” She paused, her gaze slipping to the narrow window where the trees outside swayed gently in the wind. “It’s quiet here, almost like a different world. Sometimes it feels like our town is shrinking, like it’s closing in. Out here, it’s–it’s freer.”

Harry’s gaze softened, though he said nothing. There was something in her words he understood, something that echoed faintly in his own memories of why he’d chosen this place—this forgotten, lonely tower—to escape. A life he could no longer live, a curse he couldn’t risk unleashing.

She looked back at him, curiosity bright in her eyes. “People say you’ve been here a long time—I mean, they say the tower’s been abandoned forever. But you don’t seem…” She trailed off, biting her lip as though she didn’t quite know how to finish.

“Don’t seem what?” he asked, his voice low, inviting her to continue.

She waited, and he watched her carotid flicker in her throat as she searched for her words. “You don’t seem like someone who belongs in a place like this,” she murmured. “Like you’ve got more in you than—than just seclusion.”

He felt a tug deep in his chest at her words, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time—a faint longing, a half-forgotten ache for a life he’d once dreamed of. But that life was gone. He’d buried it the night he’d been turned, when the world as he knew it had collapsed into a semblance of hell.

“It’s strange,” he replied carefully, his eyes drifting toward the flickering shadows on the wall. The hunger gnawed at him, unrelenting, every second reminding him of how close he was to her. She was standing barely a foot away, her warmth filling the small space, her heartbeat a steady, maddening drumbeat that drew him closer, closer…

He straightened slightly, pulling himself back. “Solitude,” he said quietly, almost as if reminding himself, “sometimes feels simpler.”

She nodded slowly, but her eyes stayed on him, and he could see the spark of curiosity still there, unquenched. She was brave, this girl. Far braver than most. And something about that bravery—the quiet way she stood her ground in the face of shadows and rumors, in the presence of a stranger—intrigued him. She wasn’t running away. And a part of him, despite everything, wanted her to stay.

“Thank you,” he mumbled—almost a dismissal, gesturing to the basket, his voice softened with a touch of genuine gratitude. “Not many would bring gifts to a stranger. Especially not one so isolated.”

She smiled, her cheeks flushing faintly in the dim light. “Well, maybe I’ll bring something better next time,” she replied with a small laugh. “If you’d want that.”

He paused, her words lingering in the air between them. Next time. It felt dangerous, allowing the thought of it, letting her return. But as she looked at him, her smile warm and unguarded, he found himself nodding almost without thinking.

“Yes,” he murmured. “I’d like that.”

But even as he spoke, he felt the old thirst stir beneath his words, a dark reminder that she was flesh and blood, and he was anything but.

Harry watched her retreating figure until the last of her shadow disappeared down the winding path. The silence settled thick around him once more, yet it felt different now, charged with the lingering warmth of her presence. The faint echo of her heartbeat still pulsed in his mind, like a phantom drum that refused to fade. He drew in a slow, deliberate breath, pushing down the hunger that had clawed so violently to the surface, fighting a void that had nearly overpowered him the entire time she’d stood there.

He had always been a weak man for the living.

Turning back into the tower, he closed the door and leaned against it, his hand flexing as he grappled with that old, familiar agony, the ache that thrummed through his veins whenever he was near a human. After all these years, after countless nights spent mastering his restraint, he still struggled. The curse was unrelenting—an obstinate thirst that he could never truly silence, only suppress.

Memories rose in him unbidden, dark and sharp, clawing their way out of the places he kept them buried. He could still recall the crisp air of that autumn night in 1601, back when he was alive, when he’d believed his life was bound for something beautiful. He’d been a poet then, a young man enamored with language, eager to make something of himself. He’d had dreams of attending university, of pursuing a life dedicated to literature and ideas, a life where he could spend his days wrapped in thought and art.

But all of that had been shattered in a single night. He had been walking back from a small tavern in London, tipsy and laughing, still reciting lines of poetry in his head, the night air filling him with a light, exhilarating hope. He remembered it so clearly—the dimly lit street, the damp chill creeping into his coat, the rough hand that had seized him by the throat and dragged him into an alley. He’d thought it was a robber at first, maybe a cutthroat from the docks looking for a quick coin.

But then he’d seen his attacker’s face.

The man’s eyes were inhuman, glinting with a feral hunger, and his skin was pale, almost translucent in the moonlight. Harry had fought, struggling against the impossible strength of those arms, but it had been useless. The man had pinned him down with a brutal ease, baring his teeth—a flash of something razor-sharp, malevolent—before sinking them deep into Harry’s throat. The pain had been excruciating, and then everything had gone dark, his life draining away into a cold, endless void.

He hadn’t known what had happened to him for days afterward. He’d awoken alone, hidden in the dark recesses of a forgotten basement, his body shuddering with an unholy thirst that tore through him like wildfire. The transformation had left him a half-mad, hollow shell, consumed by an insatiable need he didn’t understand. He’d stumbled through the streets, eyes wild, hunting without even knowing what he was hunting for. And when he’d finally cornered a man in the dead of night, tearing into his throat with a frenzy he could barely comprehend, he’d learned what he had become.

The first months were a blur of blood and horror, a nightmare he hadn’t known how to escape. He had been controlled by an ache, a greed—enslaved by it, a wretched creature lost to bloodlust. He’d fought it as best he could, but each time he tried to resist, the thirst only grew stronger, until he was reduced to a brutal, savage need that erased everything else.

It had been a year later, in 1602, when he encountered another vampire. His name was Thomas, a wily, unrepentant creature who fed freely and without remorse. Thomas had found Harry alone and ravenous, nearly mad from weeks of starvation in an attempt to restrain himself. He’d taken Harry under his wing, teaching him how to survive in this new, cursed life, how to hunt, how to kill cleanly. But while Harry had been grateful for the guidance, he quickly saw that Thomas reveled in the whispers of the devil, that he viewed humanity as little more than prey. He was malignant. 

His own heart was too soft for such cruelty. He’d hated the feel of human flesh beneath his hands, the way his victims’ eyes widened in terror as he held them down, the way their life drained away in his grasp. He hadn’t wanted this life. But the need was too powerful, too all-consuming, and he had been too weak to fight it.

And then, in 1643, came the night that shattered him completely.

Her name had been Beatrice—a young woman from Manchester, one of the few souls who’d looked past his oddity, his quiet reserve, and seen something in him worth knowing. She’d been kind, curious, always showing up at his door with a warm smile, her laughter lighting up his otherwise bleak existence. For months, she’d been a balm to him, her presence a brief reprieve from the loneliness that gnawed at him. He’d been so careful around her, so painfully restrained, never allowing himself to get too close. But one night, after days of starvation, he had faltered. She’d come to visit him, concern etched on her face, her hand reaching out to touch his cheek.

And in that moment, he’d lost himself.

The memory of that night was burned into him like a scar, the scent of her blood, the warmth of it cascading from his lips and developing him whole— the sound of her heart slowing as he drank from her—all of it haunted him, even now, decades later. He had tried to pull away, tried to stop himself, but the hunger had overpowered him, consuming her life, taking everything she had. When he finally came to his senses, she lay cold and pale in his arms, her eyes staring up at him, empty and accusing.

After that, he’d fled, haunted by the horror of what he’d done, determined never to let it happen again. He’d hidden himself away in this tower, learning to feed from the animals that roamed the forest, forcing himself to endure the hunger rather than inflict his curse on another innocent soul. He would never again allow himself to feel that agony, that terrible loss.

And yet tonight, with her presence in his small, empty world, something had stirred in him, a strange, aching reminder of what it meant to be human, to crave connection, companionship. It was dangerous, foolish to even entertain such thoughts, yet he couldn’t deny the faint spark she had left behind.

He closed his eyes, forcing himself to breathe slowly, steadying the wild, restless energy that surged in him. She couldn’t come back. He couldn’t risk it. He would have to find a way to make her think the tower was haunted, or evil—something to scare her off for good. Because he knew himself, knew that he was a creature of hunger, bound to a curse he couldn’t escape.

And if she returned—he wasn’t sure how long he could resist.

[castiwls]

winner - a.d

Paring; art x coach!reader

Requested; no

Synopsis; art finally won and you both couldn't be happier

Warnings; mentions of cheating (reader and art mentioned to be having an emotional affair)

Notes; i saw challengers today and oh my god I am obsessed!!! i immediately had brain rot and had to write something so here's this! (p.s the reader is like a co-coach idk tbh but she works with him :) )

reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist

The feel of your nails biting into your palm seemed muted as your eyes stayed locked on the small green ball. The world seemed to slow as you watched it soar through the air back and forth. Back and forth.

Your breath seemed to stick in your throat every time the ball soared over the court and back towards Art. You held your breath waiting for the moment he’d miss yet it never came. It was almost like watching a machine, every hit was perfect.

This seemed to go on for a lifetime. The world faded away until suddenly the crowd erupted into a sea of cheers. The sound of Tashi yelling pulled you back to reality and you shot up from your chair on autopilot. Unsure if you should cheer or begin damage control you looked down to the scoreboard, a small gasp leaving your lips.

He’d done it. He’d really won.

A laugh escaped your lips as you felt a rush of relief and excitement rush through you. Art’s eyes found yours from his spot on the court and he grinned up at you. The relief on his face was obvious as he stood taking in the sight before him. It had been so long since he’d walked away from a match feeling this good that he’d forgotten how it felt to win.

How it felt to know that no matter what Tashi scolded him for it wouldn’t take away the fact that he’d won. 

“Art!” Your voice called out from behind him, your joy seeping into your tone. His smile only seemed to widen as he turned to see you walking towards him. Your body screamed at you to move faster, but you forced that need down. As you neared closer he quickly moved to meet you halfway, his arms engulfing you as the cheers continued.

The feeling of his arms squeezing around your waist left butterflies forming in your stomach. His body shook slightly as he pressed his face into your hair. “You won.” Smiling you pulled back slightly, his arms still encircling your waist.

“I won.” He repeated grinning down at you. You nodded another laugh of joy escaping you as he pulled you back in again, his head resting in the crook of your neck.

The feeling of holding you left him even more giddy than the relief of finally winning. His wife seemed like a distant thought as you stood there, both basking in the glory of his win.

You’d always been the one who kept him going. You’d always believed that he could come back from his slump, and you were right. 

Art pulled back briefly looking over to the stands. Tashi had disappeared and he frowned slightly. “Hey.” You touched a hand to his cheek drawing his attention back to you. “She went to go deal with the winnings. She’ll be back.” You assured him.

Art nodded before another grin broke out on his face. “I really did it.” He could hardly believe it himself. Part of him had believed that maybe he’d overstayed his welcome and that he was simply no longer good enough at the thing he’d dedicated his life to.

“I told you!” You laughed moving your hand from his cheek to his shoulder. “And I’m so proud.”

He felt his cheeks heat at the praise as he tipped his chin down. “You don’t have to-”

“I mean it, Art. You deserve this.” 

He looked back up to you after a moment, his eyes locking on yours. He felt himself get lost in your eyes for a moment and he raised a hand to your cheek. You subconsciously leaned into the touch your eyes fluttering closed for a moment.

He knew it was wrong. He was married, yet when he looked at you he felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time. With Tashi the only thing keeping them together was tennis, but you were different.

You didn’t care about how well he played. You only cared about him and it felt so good to finally have someone who didn’t just see him as an extension of themselves and their stolen dreams.

Art had been in love with you for years and standing here now he felt it more then ever.

His thumb brushed against your lip for a moment before he took a deep breath. Drawing you into another hug he enjoyed the feeling of holding you yet again.

“Thank you.” He murmured, his lips brushing your ear causing a shiver to run through you. A slight blush grew on your cheeks at the closeness before you cleared your throat. Shaking your head you looked up at him. “You don’t have to thank me. You did this.”

He shook his head. “No. You never gave up on me. Even when she almost did.” Art dropped his voice leaning down slightly. His eyes darted down to your lips and you felt your breath catch in your throat again.

You knew it was wrong. Having a crush on a married man was bad enough but you knew your relationship with the man had passed the platonic marker months ago. Tashi was well aware of her husband's fondness for you, yet she’d never cared.

She’d openly admitted to you soon after you’d started working with them both that she couldn’t be the person to coddle him when things went wrong. And that was where you came in. 

Starting an emotional affair with the man you were meant to be training was an awful idea. But it felt so right. Art needed someone to fall back on when things went wrong, someone who would hold him and tell him it would be okay.

You’d fallen into the routine with him so effortlessly that it felt natural.

Before you could warn him of the people around you, you felt his lips press against yours. A small noise escaped your lips as one of your hands cupped the back of his head. 

One of his hands drew you closer by the waist while his other cupped your cheek. 

You both knew this was bad. Someone was bound to notice but you couldn’t find it in you to care.

All that mattered was that he’d won.  

[luneariaa]

ᯓ★٠ ࣪⭑ PIECE OF ART. ✧ KENJI S.

✰ — you and kenji being at the museum for plot reasons, kenji being sweet, pure fluff, might be ooc kenji, not much proof-read.

tagging : @xxladyballadxx @jinwoosungs @madeimoisellesoleil 💕

— ✩ m. list.

. dividers by @/strangergraphics 📜 !!

A LIGHT grin is present upon your features, further observing the scattered paper arts close by— passing it in an unhurried pace. Dressed ever so casually, to say the least, yet perfectly fitting to the current location you were in. A sight to behold that still manages to go unnoticed within the sea of people.

It is just the beginning of the eventide, and the museum still continues to open and welcome new visitors as always. Your sole figure remains there, blending in with the several other people with dexterity.

The romantic time of the day, some may say. The mere location itself has given it away fully.

Due to the amount of passing minutes that you've been inside, you started to feel quite chilly all over— causing yourself to mentally curse for not bringing a coat along with you, blaming yourself for your small mistake.

It doesn't take long for you to endure with a slight shiver, when a certain someone suddenly covers your form up with a rather sizeable coat; warming you up almost instantly without fail.

Admittedly, you got startled from the gesture and the sudden appearance, before deciding to turn around to face the said person.

And of course, it didn't take long for you to be able to fully register upon the familiar sight altogether— eyes instantly widening with a beaming smile.

"Ken, you actually came!" Without wasting any second of hesitation, you pulled him into an embrace— burying your face onto his chest with pure joy.

"Mmhm," Kenji hums, adding more to his words further with an equally happy expression, along with a mellow tone. "Of course I do."

He gradually encircles his arms around you, returning the embrace with equal fervor. Lowering his head ever so slightly, he silently allows you to burrow your face further against his chest for the time being— relishing within one another's mere presence.

Everything about him screams security, allowing yourself to drown into him without any worries; starting to feel more addicted as if he's some sort of a drug that made you hold onto life itself.

He's a famous person that is loved by many, and you're almost.. Nothing, like him. It's what keeps you questioning sometimes, and the way you're able to establish a rather special connection with him.

The difference between you two is like day and night itself; one that is vast and perceptible. Yet if only you knew— that Kenji never once is bothered by any of those existing statuses, not even the slightest. He appreciates you for being who you truly are.

"I figured that you'd be quite busy. I mean, I understand if you're unable to stop by earlier, y'know."

"Hey, don't worry about it." Just like that— he's able to dispel the existing anxiousness within you effortlessly so, still keeping his hold around you with just the right amount of force; not too assertive, and it just felt right.

"I'll always make time for you, my love."

His simple response made you beam in delight; noting the truth of his words alone.

No one is around the area that you both are in, does it-? It's as if nothing much mattered at this present moment, shielding yourselves with the makeshift reality that you both have unconsciously created— lost within your own little world without a care.

The stillness around the both of you, except for the occasional breathing sounds, makes the moment special somehow. You could clearly feel the heat radiating off from him and his coat alone; his warm breath brushes past your ear.

"Feeling any better now?"

"Yeah," you nodded with a grateful smile of your own. "Thank you, Ken."

Has he ever told you on how much he loves it whenever you call him Ken? It just hits different whenever you call him like that. He would lose his damn mind if he wants to.

"I appreciate you a whole lot," you added. "You don't usually go to places like this, that is."

"I just can't help myself but to come and see you.." A velvety chuckle slips past through his lips— planting a small kiss upon your forehead before gently pushing you away for a bit, just so that he could gaze at you.

"Honestly, I just— yeah, I missed you, a lot. I know I've been busy lately, but still.."

Kenji is speaking nothing short of pure honesty lacing his words. He misses the feeling of your frame against his own; letting his thumb tracing the contours of your face with such delicacy— every detail of your features none left untouched.

"What if I told you that I feel the same way too?" A cliche answer, but it works every single time.

Your gaze now darted towards the large painting ahead, which ostensively have shown a pair of lovers— holding onto one another as the life of the other gradually withers away.

He simply chuckled over your statement, immediately taking notice of the shift of your gaze; following your line of sight after.

"The painting looks a bit depressing, to say the least," he remarks, paying close attention about what the artist is trying to convey through the art.

"Yeah." You approached closer to the aforementioned painting, and the coat— his coat, still settled snuggly around your figure, trying your best to discern the details as well.

"I wonder what goes through the artists' mind while making this."

Kenji now stood beside you; the height difference very much noticeable. His eyes seemed to be observing it in every angle possible as well, placing his chin atop of your head from behind— no longer standing beside you.

"I'm curious about it too."

"Maybe it was meant to portray, you know— some tragedy?"

"Well, that definitely worked." He agreed along with your words, accompanied with a quick nod.

When he's sure that you're not looking at anywhere else but the painting alone, Kenji took the opportunity to glance down at you, secretly— or not-so-secretly, admiring the way his coat hangs around you almost loosely; yet fittingly so. You looked so beautiful to him like this, and he didn't dare to let his mind wander too far.

At this point, you didn't have to bring him along to the museum to see the arts, when you are the whole art itself.

A precious piece of art that he would love to keep with him for as long as he's breathing— if you would let him.

Every single part of you screams divine perfection to him. The way your eyes would light up whenever you see anything that interests you, or the way you would bite your lip in pure concentration unknowingly.

The way you speak, and the way you walk— God, don't get him started on the way he would always, successfully so, getting any sort of reaction out of you. The list is endless, and it felt like a personal reward, one that he's not-so-willingly share with anyone else.

No one can truly blame him for doing so, honestly. Kenji couldn't help it— he cherishes you so much that it almost hurts so good. Not out of obsession, but damn, that man loves you a little too much.

Nevertheless, nothing is truly too much for him to love you just the way you are.

Yet rightfully so, you never minded even the slightest. Kenji could never get enough of you; his love for you is always, and somehow, endless.

You smiled lovingly underneath his soft gaze, rubbing his own arm that's currently encircling around you so tenderly. You know that stare, but you just didn't want to point it out and simply wanted to relish within that feeling.

The people might see him as the arrogant, boastful person in the public eye— a mere facade that he puts up every so often when it deems necessary. But he acts so differently whenever he's around you, daring himself to let his walls down and be completely vulnerable with you.

With you, he has nothing to hide, shamelessly showing and proving his devotion to you alone; showing you a side that only you get the privilege of seeing it.

Kenji Sato will never cease to treasure you.

@luneariaa. do not repost; reblogs are welcomed. all rights reserved.

[misswynters]

A Stark’s Fury

Cregan Stark x targ!wife! reader

[warning: blood, you getting cut in the arm

[synopsis: You are the wife of Cregan and younger sister of rhaenyra. You get cut in the arm and your son, Eddard, also gets hurt. Which makes cregan furious.

[note | here’s a lil something while i write the final chapter for winters embrace, just a short drabble :) also instead of rhae getting cut it’s you.

[requested: by anon

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting an amber glow across Driftmark. Laena Velaryon’s funeral was a somber affair, filled with the mournful silence of the assembled nobles and the soft lapping of waves against the shore. Among the gathered were you, the younger sister of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen, your husband Cregan Stark, and your son Eddard, who clung to your skirts, his wide eyes taking in the solemnity of the occasion.

Your silver hair flowed down your back, and your violet eyes glistened with unshed tears as you stood beside Cregan. His strong arm encircled your waist, offering silent support. Despite the warmth of the setting sun, a chill hung in the air, a reflection of the grief that weighed heavily on your hearts.

As the ceremony proceeded, you noticed the tension simmering among the children. Your son, Eddard, stood with Jace, Luke, Baela, and Rhaena, trying to comfort them in their shared sorrow. Your heart ached for them, especially for Rhaena, who had just lost her mother.

When the time came for the family to pay their final respects, you and Cregan approached the bier. You whispered a prayer for Laena’s soul, your voice barely audible over the sound of the crashing waves. Cregan squeezed your hand gently, his presence a solid rock amidst the turbulent sea of emotions.

After the funeral, you found yourself in the grand hall, where the tension between the Blacks and the Greens was palpable. You kept a watchful eye on Eddard, who was playing with the other children. However, the peace was shattered when a scuffle broke out between Aemond and Jace. The sight of Aemond taunting Jace, and the resulting fight, sent a shockwave through the hall.

Eddard tried to intervene, but in the chaos, he was struck and fell to the ground, crying out in pain. You rushed to his side, your heart pounding with fear and anger. Cregan was by your side in an instant, his protective instincts flaring as he assessed the situation.

“What happened?” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

“Aemond taunted Jace, and then the fight started,” you explained, your voice trembling with emotion as you cradled Eddard.

Cregan’s eyes darkened with anger. “This has gone too far.”

The confrontation escalated when Alicent Hightower, her face twisted with rage, advanced on Rhaenyra, who was defending her sons. You stepped between them, trying to defuse the situation, but Alicent’s fury was uncontrollable. She drew a knife, lunging at Rhaenyra, but you intercepted the blow.

The blade sliced across your arm, and you cried out in pain, clutching the wound. Cregan’s roar of fury echoed through the hall as he moved to shield you. He grabbed the knife from Alicent’s hand, his face a mask of rage.

“Enough!” he bellowed. “This madness ends now!”

King Viserys, looking frail and distressed, tried to intervene. “Peace! There must be peace!”

Cregan turned on the king, his eyes blazing. “Peace? Look at what your family has done! My wife is injured, my son is hurt, and for what? Petty squabbles and insults?”

Rhaenyra, tears streaming down her face, reached for you. “Sister, I’m so sorry.”

You managed a weak smile, despite the pain. “It’s not your fault, Rhaenyra. But something must change.”

As the maesters attended to your wound, Cregan kept a protective arm around you. He glared at the Greens, making it clear that any further aggression would not be tolerated. The hall was filled with a tense silence, the air thick with unspoken threats and unresolved grievances.

In the aftermath, Cregan insisted on returning to Winterfell with you and Eddard. “We’ll be safer there,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “I won’t risk your lives any longer.”

You nodded, grateful for his unwavering support. “Thank you, Cregan.”

He kissed your forehead, his lips warm against your cool skin. “I love you. I will always protect you.”

As you prepared to leave Driftmark, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of sadness for the family you were leaving behind. You took a moment to say your farewells to Rhaenyra and her children.

“Please, take care of yourselves,” you whispered to Rhaenyra, holding her hands tightly. “We’ll be in touch, I promise.”

Rhaenyra nodded, her eyes filled with worry. “Be safe, sister.”

With a final embrace, you and Cregan gathered Eddard and boarded your ship, setting sail for Winterfell. The journey was long, but Cregan’s presence and Eddard’s innocent chatter kept your spirits high.

Winterfell welcomed you with open arms. The cold, crisp air and the familiar sights brought a sense of comfort. As you settled back into your home, the events at Driftmark seemed like a distant nightmare.

Cregan, ever the doting husband, ensured you had everything you needed to recover from your injury. He personally oversaw the maesters’ treatments, and his protective nature brought you solace.

A few hours later, as you sat by the fire, Cregan wrapped a warm blanket around your shoulders and handed you a cup of hot tea. “How are you feeling?” he asked, concern etched on his face.

“Better,” you replied, taking a sip. “Thanks to you.”

He smiled, sitting beside you. “I’ll always be here for you. No matter what.”

You leaned against him, finding comfort in his strength. “I know. And I’m grateful.”

Life in Winterfell slowly returned to normal. Eddard resumed his lessons and playtime with the other children, while you and Cregan focused on the responsibilities of ruling the North. Despite the distance from Driftmark, the shadow of that day lingered.

Later that night, as you lay in bed, you turned to Cregan. “Do you think things will ever be right again between the Blacks and the Greens?”

Cregan sighed, his brow furrowing in thought. “It’s hard to say. The wounds run deep. But we must try, for the sake of our family.”

You nodded, understanding the gravity of his words. “I want Eddard to grow up in a world where he doesn’t have to choose sides.”

Cregan’s grip on your hand tightened. “We’ll do everything in our power to make that happen.”

Many moons have passed, and your wound healed, leaving only a faint scar as a reminder of the confrontation. The bond between you and Cregan grew stronger, forged in the fires of adversity. Winterfell thrived under your joint leadership, a beacon of stability and strength. In the morning, as the first snow of the season blanketed the ground, you stood on the battlements with Cregan, watching Eddard play with the other children.

“He’s so happy here,” you remarked, smiling at the sight of your son’s laughter.

Cregan wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Of course he is, this is our home. He’s meant to be here.”

You nodded silently, feeling a deep sense of peace. Your eyes went to the scar on your arm, being reminded of what happened. You looked at your husband, with sadness in your eyes.

“I hope my family will stop this infighting, i wish for all of this today end” Your thoughts began to wonder of all the possible outcomes this conflict can end with. This could very well mean that death will linger in your family. Something no one will ever be prepared for, war costs everything.

The quietness of Winterfell enveloped you as you drifted into a fitful sleep beside Cregan. The room was cold, and the memory of the somber events—the funeral of Lady Laena Velaryon, the sharp sting of your wound—still weighed heavily on you.

In your dream, the landscape was bleak and foreboding. A storm raged over a desolate battlefield, its fury tearing at the very fabric of the sky. You wandered through the chaos, a spectral figure in the storm’s heart. Amidst the destruction, you saw a vision of a great dragon, its scales a dim and faded silver, bound by chains of ice that slowly constricted around its body. The dragon’s eyes were filled with a profound sorrow, as if it sensed the end drawing near.

A shadowy figure emerged from the storm—a man cloaked in shadows, his face obscured but his presence undeniably menacing. His voice cut through the tempest, speaking directly to your mind, “The chains of fate are not easily broken. A great loss is coming to your house.”

As you reached out to free the dragon, a dark prophecy formed in your mind, clear as day. “Cregan will face a treacherous choice,” you heard yourself say in the dream. “A betrayal will come from within. Death will follow.”

You awoke with a start, the remnants of the dream lingering like a cold shiver down your spine. Your breathing was rapid and uneven, and a profound fear gripped you. You turned to Cregan, who was lying beside you, his face furrowed in concern.

The sudden movement and your distressed state had startled him. “What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice rough with sleep as he reached out to steady you. His hand found yours, his grip warm and reassuring against your icy fingers.

“My dream,” you managed to stammer, your voice trembling. “I saw... I saw something terrible. A dragon in chains, and a warning about you—”

Cregan’s eyes narrowed with concern, but he quickly sat up, his arm wrapping protectively around you. “What did you see? Tell me everything,” he urged, his voice steady despite the worry etched on his face.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. “I don’t know all the details, but it felt so real. I fear that something dark is coming, and it will bring pain to us and our house.”

Cregan nodded, his expression resolute despite the alarm in his eyes. “It’s okay,” he said softly, pulling you closer to his body. “For now, try to rest. You need it” He cradled your body as you leaned towards him, the warmth of his body bringing you comfort.

As you lay back down, you could feel the storm of fear inside you slowly ebbing, but the weight of the dream’s prophecy remained heavy in your heart.

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[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑! 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your people have a legend: mermaids only ever fall in love once. you never put much thought into it, until you come across a band of human pirates.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: romance dawn trio x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: sleep who's she? ~7k baby (1.7k intro, 1.4k luffy, 2k nami, 1.9k zoro)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: my contribution to mermay... on the last day of may, it gets increasingly more unhinged, sanji kinda gets bullied, robin is carrying the last two relationships, my own made up mermaid courting rituals, biting, a bit of violence

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: i had this playlist on repeat while writing 🙆

The last island had warned the waters to come were infested with dark creatures of slithering scales and tempting voices. Creatures that pull you in deep and leave you out to dry a corpse. Born from seafoam, storms, and desire. Mermaids.

“Mermaids?” Zoro drawled. 

“I met a mermaid once,” said Usopp, and everyone groaned unanimously. “She tried to take me down, but my charms were just too much, so she let me go.”

Everyone surely believed him, of course. 

And of course the motley crew ignored every reservation and warning and sailed headfirst into the treacherous sea. At first, nothing at all was out of the ordinary. The morning fog hung tentatively over the water splashing at the ship's hull as it powered through. Sure, the sun could’ve shined a bit brighter through the thick clouds, but it was a lovely day for adventure.

Nami stood at the helm keeping an eye on the horizon, relishing in the breeze hitting her face, when you heard an odd buzzing in her ear. She swiped at the air and rubbed her ear on her shoulder, but the sound only grew louder. Puffing her cheeks, she turned to ask Sanji to get her the bug spray, when she noticed he too was messing with his ears. 

She laid eyes on each of the crew scattered around the deck, enjoying the cool weather. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, faces screwing up as though in pain. 

“Do you guys hear that?” she asked needlessly, gathering their attention.

Zoro cupped his ears, nodding. “Yeah, it’s like…”

“Buzzing,” Luffy finished. He kept swatting at the air, searching out for some fly assaulting him.

“No, it’s… it’s singing.” Sanji faced the waters, the words of the village folk coming back to him as his eyes widened. He whipped back around to lock eyes with Nami just as she put everything together too.

She gasped. “Mermaids.”

The ship rocked and the weather shifted drastically in seconds. Already thick clouds doubled in number, drawing close and creating a swirling mass in the sky. Waves rumbled and rose to crash over the deck, sending the crew into hysteria to grab their bearings. 

And on top of it all, the most beautiful melody rose above the chaos, filtering into the ears of the crew and blocking all else out. Usopp’s hands slackened around the rope he held steady, eyes glazing over as he leaned toward the far off sound. Sanji’s eyes flickered up to the sky, roamed over the gray clouds, and fell to the waters below, his mind dizzied by the beauty and lithe of the voices. Zoro stumbled drunkenly over his own two feet, desire furling in the pit of his stomach, legs carrying him to the edge of the ship to catch a glimpse of the one singing to him. Luffy froze midclimb up to the crowsnest, head darting this way and that, mind clouded. Nami gritted her teeth, resolve formed to not give in to the angelic, mystifying, amazing song sung just for her—she left the helm unguarded, leaping to join her friends in calling out to the seas. 

The crew’s voices overlapped in thier pleading for the woman to come near, to give them all that the song promised. Their every dream would come true, if only the mermaid would help them into the water. The pod of mermaids encircled the ship, their harmonies intertwining in one mind. The ship might have kept on drifting, guided by rough waters manipulated by the mermaids’ hand, and crashed right into the reef and all the crew would be scooped up by the she-beasts, thrust into the deep to drown,

If not for one voice which rose above the rest in a demanding, desperate order: “STOP!”

Instantly, the clouds parted and sun bled through. The song fell through to indignant shrieks, splashes dying down to ripples as shiny tails descended into the blue. Nami blinked awake, feeling hungover and headached, looking blearily out on the water. Vision clearing, she caught a sight she would never forget; a woman lain on the far rocks, a single beam of sun illuminating the vibrant scales running along her skin till they met at a tail dipping into the water. 

The fact that their ship was headed right for those jagged rocks was an afterthought. She lurched back and sped into motion, barking out furious orders and smacking the men upside the head to push them into gear. Sanji stood frozen at the ship’s rail, gripping the wood in a vice, eyes glued to the creature. “Nami, it’s—”

“I know!” She gripped his shirt and whipped him around, slapping the side of his face a few times. “We’re going to crash!”

Sanji blinked, shook his head, and raced to grab a flinging rope, jumping high and tying in down in one swoop. Nami bolted to the steer, an eye out the window as she pulled with all her might to change their course. Usopp soon joined her, guiding the ship bit by bit to the left’s clear passage. She fell backward when Zoro’s shout reached them, “We’re clear!”

Risking a moment of peace, the navigator cupped her hands over her face, allowing her body to calm all its flighting-fighting instincts. The calm lasted for all of five seconds before the screaming began.

“Luffy! What—Why—What?!”

Nami sprang upright, locking eyes with Usopp, and the two sighed in unison before heading above deck. Whatever Nami expected, it wasn’t the terrified, shivering form of a mermaid baring her two fangs at a looming Luffy. The others stood a ways away, unsure what to do with themselves, but certain they didn’t want to get involved with this.

“Luffy!” Nami cried. “Did you drag her up here?”

Given the mermaid’s following hiss, Nami assumed that was the case. Luffy inched closer still, and the mermaid lost all her gusto, face falling as she scrambled away form him, dragging her tail behind her. 

The mermaid was beautiful; that was the common thread of thought. Her damp hair hung all around her face, nearly covering her deep eyes. Scales creeped up her torso and faded into skin around her chest. Her every movement was caught by the sun, her scales shimmering rainbow reflections into the air around her. 

“Stay back,” she hissed out, eyes narrowing upon Luffy. “Demon.”

Usopp scoffed, grabbing the mermaid’s sharp attention. “What, long-nose?”

Ruffling, chuckled awkwardly, he looked around at his friends for help, receiving nothing but raised brows. “I just mean—you’re the mermaid.”

The mermaid blinked slowly. She seemed to have forgotten the threat before her, all attention directed at a quivering Usopp. “I’m the demon? I’m the one who saved you. You think my people decided to let you live on their own?” She laughed, and the sound had a pretty ring to it. “No. I commanded them.”

Her eyes darted back to Luffy as he took to sitting criss-crossed in front of her. “I should have let you and this demon-child die on the rocks.”

It soon became obvious she knew Luffy ate a devil-fruit just by one look at him, and she was not happy about it. Luffy only tilted his head at her hostility, a little frown on his face. “Are all mermaids this rude?”

You balked, gaping before snapping your mouth shut, not dignifying him with a reply. Luffy persisted. “I like your tail. What do you mean you saved us? Why?”

Curling your tail closer to yourself, hands holding your upper body up, you glanced from the pirate captain to each of his crew. They didn’t look too threatening, but you’d learned long ago to never trust a human’s looks. Many a mermaid died on the grounds of humans looking nice. So Luffy’s question begged an answer. Why did you save them?

You shrugged a shoulder, eyes drifting out to sea. “My people need to eat.”

Usopp gulped. “We’re very gamy. You wouldn’t like us—”

“I wasn’t done speaking,” she quipped back, a brow raised. “Mers are carnivores by nature. Normally, we steer clear of humans.” You sneered at the word. “We find your kind to be a predator, and we’re a peaceful people.” The swordsman scoffed and rolled his eyes at that. 

“But times have changed. The fish have fled this sea.” You took a deep breath, shakily letting it out. “My people are starving, and they look to me as their princess for guidance.” Quickly clearing your throat to hide how the topic gloomed you, you snapped, “All that is to say that I strictly forbade the hunting of humans despite the starvation. They disobeyed me. That is why I helped you.”

You faced them all as your tail began to glimmer even brighter, slowly but surely parting down the middle. Your face contorted slightly as your scales seemed to mold into your skin, leaving you bear before the crew of pirates. You shivered in the breeze, raising your gaze once more. “Any other questions?”

There seemed to be none, silence running around the deck, and you prepared to jump back into the water before your parents sent the guard to find you, when the demon-child spoke up.

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded, face taken by seriousness. “How do we bring the fish back?”

You blinked once, then twice, and then a third time for good measure, but nothing in his expression betrayed hilarity. He wasn’t pulling your fin. The devil-fruit eater meant to help you. 

Demon. That’s what he was. You knew this fully well. It’s what your parents taught you from a young age. Devil-fruit eaters are the enemy of the sea, and thus the enemy of the mers. You’d followed this rule all your life… but then you looked at the one they called Luffy, you really looked at him right in his face… and none of that made any sense anymore.

Sure enough, Luffy led the charge against the oil corporation mining near your peoples’ home, threatening convincing them to move elsewhere. Within a few days of the miners’ departure, some mers managed to coax schools of fish back to their reefs. With the ecosystem and chain of life restored, the Straw Hat Pirates had no reason to stay.

And really, neither did you. What you did have, however, was a reason to go with the pirates. Adventure, the life you’d always dreamed of, away from the reef you’d felt tethered to for so long… and a certain member of the crew who had caught your rapt, undying attention.

There’s a legend that mermaids only fall in love once, never to find another who would fill the gap in their hearts. You would always call it foolish romance… but really, there might be something to it.

LUFFY

You were a goner the moment he offered to help you with those big, genuine eyes of his. As much as you tried to deny it—and you did try to deny it—you were falling in love with a human. A devil-fruit eater at that. What had you been reduced to?

And yet, there was no denying it. Especially not when you couldn’t bear to go an hour without laying eyes on him. Your mother said it was normal for mers to feel… possessive over the one who holds their affection, and that fact was not lost on you as you slithered through the water, approaching the pirate lazed out on the rocks he’d dragged you from about a week before.

Your eyes rose above the water first, little grin still below the surface. Luffy looked so relaxed, eyes on the clouds, every once in a while glancing at his crew on the anchored ship nearby. You braced your hands on the cool stone and launched yourself upward, fanged smile gleaming as water splashed Luffy’s legs. His laugh had you keening closer, dragging your tail along the rocks. Luffy grinned for all of two seconds before the seawater sunk in. Instantly drowsy, he tried to offer up another smile as you winced.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “I always forget.”

He laughed it off, already recovering as he shifted to face you. Luffy’s eyes followed your tail to where your fins dipped into the sea. “If only I could swim with you. Bet it’s fun.”

“If only.” You shared a smile for a little too long, but it never grew uncomfortable. Lingering in the moment, you gazed over at his ship, melancholy taking over as your smile faltered. “So… you’re leaving soon?”

“In the morning.” You clicked your tongue and tried your best to act nonchalant, failing miserably as you pursed your lips and combed through your hair.

“Why not tonight?” you offered with a tight grin. “You should get away as fast as possible. I don’t know how one becomes pirate king but it's not by sticking around a boring reef and its boring princess. Ha! I’ll even help bring your anchor up faster! Then you can be out by sundown.”

The silence crept up your spine, getting you all antsy as you lowered your gaze to the rippling waters. Shoulders tense, you could feel Luffy’s eyes on your profile as you picked at the algae along the rocks. He probably thought you were an idiot, rambling like that. And if so, that was fine. It would make him leaving so much easier. 

Luffy inched toward you and ducked to meet your gaze. “Come with us.”

“What!” You hit an octave the best soprano would envy, losing your grip and slipping right off the rock back into the water. Your hands grabbed at the slippery stone, panic all over your face before you plunged under the surface. 

You drifted under the waves, unmoving as the words replayed over and over in your head, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Glancing up at Luffy’s bright laughter, you caught sight of him peering down into the sea, his face muddled by reflections and ripples. He couldn’t be serious. He just couldn’t. 

Luffy grew nervous when you didn’t resurface, leaning over the water to catch a glimpse of your shimmery tail, when as quick as lightning you broke the surface and came nose to nose with him. Blinking wide, you breathed deeply, so close you felt his every exhale on your skin. “You mean it?”

“‘Course!” Luffy offered you his hand despite the fact he’d lose all his strength the moment he touched your sea-soaked skin. “Wanna join my crew?”

Yes. You wanted nothing more than to follow him to the end s of the earth and then some. Part of you had been hoping he would ask. The rest of you longed to take his hand and smother him in hugs till he pried you off him. But… the water swirled around your tail, threatening to carry you off in a current, and your lips quivered down. 

“I… I can’t!” you cried, dipping underwater before he could catch you, darting off into the blue. Panic bubbled in your chest, strangled gasps sending pops of air into the water around you. No matter what you wanted, you were bound to this reef. Your home, your kingdom… and above all that, to ever think of running off with a human was foolish beyond measure! So you wasted away all night long, lamenting around the sea, hiding above the coral and sands. 

Luffy watched the water all morning, trusting you would show despite your disappearance implying otherwise. Nami set a hand on his shoulder. “Luffy, she’s not coming.”

He had to hope. You wanted to go, he saw it in your eyes, and he wanted you to go too. Luffy didn’t think he could bear leaving without you, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. He knew from the moment he met you that he needed you on his crew—but why? He searched his head for an answer, coming up short. Giving the sea one last hopeful glance, Luffy sighed and gave Nami the go-ahead. 

The ship had barely sailed off when a shimmery, sparkling thing leaped out of the water, shouted his name, and plunged back into the blue. Luffy raced to the ship’s edge, a smile creeping up his face. You raked a trail of seaspray behind you as you darted just below the surface. Again, you propelled yourself out of the water. “Wait!”

Luffy threw his head back laughing, holding down his hat on his head. He shot Nami an I told you so look, to which she rolled her eyes and turned, lest he catch her pleased smirk. A round of chuckles ran amongst the crew as they slowed the ship’s leave, not that it mattered; Luffy was already slingshotting his rubber arms out at you, and the next time you appeared arcing through the air, your shout turned into a yelp as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you in. Another panicked shout of his name left you before you collided with the rubber man, the pair of you rolling to the deck.

You worried your tail crushed him, the hefty weight of it landing on his legs, but all reservations fizzled out the moment his arms wrapped you up in a warm embrace. Luffy’s head found your shoulder, your hands hooking around his shoulders. “I’m covered in seawater…”

“Don’ care,” Luffy muttered into your skin even as he weakened and sank into you. “I knew you’d come with us.”

“With you,” you corrected instinctively, pulling away to stare right into his eyes. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

He giggled softly. Luffy’s arms unraveled as he opted to instead cup your shoulders. “Good.”

From then on, where one went, you’d soon find the other. Not only on your end; Luffy quickly grew so accustomed to your presence that he began to wait for you to start eating, much to the amazement of his friends (Zoro almost admitted he was jealous before he saw the hints of puppy love in his captain’s eyes, and decided to let it go for now). 

You still had some things to wear off before you fully let yourself admit you were falling for a human. Luffy seemed to be completely comfortable just going around holding your hand, swinging them between your bodies as your cheeks warmed. Luffy never strayed far from your side, comfortably resting an arm on your shoulder or some other contact. You never completely told him off for it, somewhat liking how his warmth contrasted with the cold of your sea-ridden body.  

Now, it’s a given that Luffy cannot swim. He ate a devil fruit—everyone knew this fact very well. But now Luffy had his mermaid with him! All his faith went into knowing you would always swim to his rescue should he need it, so what’s the harm if he got a little bit more reckless surrounding the sea?

(The harm is to your stress. By God, he would be the end of you one way or another).

The number of times one of the crew has called your name, given you this tired and sorry look, and pointed out to sea. Luffy was likely to be flapping about in the distance. The most recent occurrence, Sanji set a hand on your shoulder and went to let down a rope ladder. “I’ll help you back up, lovely.”

Outwardly, you might gripe about holding his hand and having to save his devil-fruit ass from drowning every other week—but inwardly? You’d turn hell over before you let Luffy die. So you held his hand tightly in yours, wearing a smile so small only Luffy’s keen eye could see. 

NAMI

Without really realizing it, Nami had fallen headfirst for your awkward, waterlogged, fishy kind of charm (and she wasn’t at all going to complain). She first started feeling it when the freshly victorious crew met your mer royalty parents at the surface, your tail mesmerizing as it dipped just into the water, your upper body propped up onto some scattered rocks. Your eyes filled with hope the longer you spoke to them in words too far to reach. Majestic. That’s the only word to describe you.

Well, majestic and graceless. That second descriptor was added when you rolled off the rocks into the water, beaming up at your parents before doing a figure eight around the sea and vaulting into the air. You flipped tail over head, cackling as you hit the water with a splash. A tiny laugh left Nami, eyes shining.

She was the first to help haul you up a rope ladder, hands clutching your damp arms. Nami met your smile steadfastly. “What’d you tell them?”

You giggled, cheeks warm at how you practically laid across her legs, the rest of the crew gathered around. “I just told ‘em I found something worth leaving for.”

(You’d told them you found a pretty human girl and had to leave with her or else you would probably die).

You promised to return for your birthright throne one day, though that promise hurt you. You had a duty to your people after all, no matter how pretty Nami was. But until then, you had today, and you would make the most of it. 

Love wasn’t enough of a word to describe what you felt looking at Nami, and obsession was a bit too extreme (though Usopp would teasingly disagree). You simply… couldn’t help but gravitate toward her any chance there was, ever in her orbit. Where Nami was, you were soon to be found. Nami never told you to screw off or give her space; on the contrary, when your shoulder brushed hers, she pressed into you fervently, skin to skin and warm.

It only took a month for you to throw all caution to the wind and do the only thing you knew—go forth with the mer courting rituals (you were hopelessly at a loss, only doing what you’d seen the older mers do to beckon the attention of their intended).

Nami, clueless, accepted each gift of dazzling seashells and shimmery pearls with alighted smiles, taking you in her arms even when you smelled of the kelp forest you’d swam through to find the treasures. She laughed off the bites you gave her wrists, arms, and sometimes shoulders, snickering about how it tickled. And she sat and listened to every song you sat her down to listen to, closing her eyes as the melody calmed her, never needing any actual enchantment to draw her in. 

In turn, you assumed her habir of buying you things was some sort of human ritual. Why else would Nami’s cheeks be so rosy as she handed you a luxury hairbrush you’d raved about seeing in a shop window? 

“Did you see this new pearl she brought me?” Nami leaned toward Robin giddily, rolling the pearl in her palms. Her lip between her teeth, she stifled a too bright smile. “I’ll have enough to make a bracelet if hse keeps this up.”

“Then I’d say you’ll soon have a bracelet,” Robin mused, turning a page in her book. Nami tilted her head, eyes narrowed.

“What’s so funny?”

Robin’s lips curled up into a grin, eyes darting up to meet Nami’s. She barely contained her mirth as she flipped the book around and handed it over. “Nami, she’s been courting you.”

Jaw slack, Nami poured over the open page, heart stuttering. She slapped a hand to her temple, huffing a laugh. “So by giving her gifts, I’ve been courting her back?”

Humming, Robin took her book and closed it gently. She turned to face Nami entirely, brows raised. “You don’t seem upset.”

“I’m not,” Nami quipped, cheeks warming instantly. Robin chuckled behind her hand. “I—I mean—Uhm…”

The older woman stood and set a hand on Nami’s shoulder. “I’d expect an invite to swim fairly soon.”

Sure enough, not a day later, you shyly slinked up to Nami as she headed to the galley for dinner. Your hand found her wrist, tugging her aside as Zoro and Robin passed by wearing matching grins. You stared at your feet uncharacteristically, shuffling back and forth. Nami felt hot all over. She reached out a lissome finger to wrap around your pinky, whispering, “What is it?”

Swallowing thickly, you huffed a confident breath and snapped your head up. “Would-you-go-on-a-swim-with-me-tomorrow?”

A little smile worked its way up Nami’s face. Your eyes squeezed shut the second you finished your sentence, wincing like she might lash out. “I’d like that.”

Your whole face lit up, eyes wide as saucers. “O-Okay. At sunset. We’ll be docked at that island by then, right?”

Nami nodded and pulled you into the galley. Right as she passed through the door, before she could catch the teasing glances of the others, she turned and mumbled, “It’s a date.”

Nobody questioned it when you hissed your fangs at poor Usopp, booting him out of his seat right next to Nami, and promptly plopped down next to the grinning navigator.

Sunset came to slowly, in your opinion. All day you’d been tripping over nothing, nervous hands making your awkward legs even more coltish than usual. Around evening, the ship tipped too far left far too quickly, sending you careening right into Nami. You dragged the both of you down to the deck, face hidden in your hands as she laughed brightly.

And finally, the sun descended across the sky, shooting oranges and yellows and pinks into the clouds. 

The wind kissed your face as you leaned against the ship’d railing, eyes darting back and forth over the rippled waters below. Fish flittered at the surface, bubbling her and there, muttering awful curses at each other. Nami sidled up beside you, eyeing your profile before gazing down. 

You snickered, drawing her attention. “Fish hear all sorts of swears and insults from the sailors. I wish you could understand them because I will never be caught translating that mess.”

Your laugh trickled off as you looked at her, eyes trailing up and down her form. She wore one of her bikini tops and a pair of shorts, nothing too special, but something flared up in your chest at the sight of her. Skin prickling, you whipped around and found Sanji not too far away. The cook took a drag of his cigarette, admiring eyes set on Nami. Your fangs peeked out of your lips, trilling a low hiss. Sanji choked and nearly dropped his cig into the sea, catching it betwixt his fingers at the last second.

Nami’s laughed gently, taking your arm and swinging one leg over the ailing, then the other. You gazed into her eyes deeply. “C’mon,” she smiled. “I thought we were swimming?”

With that, she jumped off the ship and plunged into the sea. You jerked forward, watching bubbles fizzle up from the deep before Nami’s head popped back into sight. She kicked into deeper water, calling for you. Taking a moment to sike yourself up, you stood precariously on the ship’s railing, preparing to make a graceful dive after her—when your foot slipped.

Yelping, you tottered offbalance and fell face first off the ship, just barely flipping around to land feet first in the water. The water fizzled and bubbled all around you, the usual sting of scales surfacing from the depths of your skin causing you to squirm slightly. Your senses enhanced instantly, so Nami’s rich, boisterous laughter flowed down from the air to the sea, embarrassment flooding your body. Slowly, you swam upward, water parting over your head and dripping donw your face. 

Eyes hooded, you came to face to face with Nami’s state of hilarity, clutching her sides as she struggled to remain above water. You waded toward her, hands finding her sides and giving her a break from kicking even as your eyes avoided her own. She hooked her finger under your chin, grin cheeky. “I thought it was cute.”

“Wasn’t meant to be,” you grunted. 

Nami rolled her eyes and kicked away form you. “I thought we were swimming?”

“Not here,” you said, coming back to your sense. You reached for her hand and led her along the coast. “This way.”

You placed her arms around your neck and sped through the water, taking the pair of you far from the prying eyes of the crew and nearby sailors. Nami tucked her face into the crook of your neck, chuckling as seaspray stung her skin. Your tail propelled you toward a secluded cove you once visited with your aunt’s migrant pod, and you reached your destination in no time at all.

Now, Nami had done her research. She knew what to expect… But then you actually started to swim, your tail not making the usual constant up an down movements. You took a deep breath, eyed her hopefully, and parted the water by arcing your arms outward. Using a single, powerful thrust of your tail, you glided through the water like a piercing arrow, rotating in a spiral corkscrew. You circled Nami, who treaded water with a confused furrow in her brow. 

She had been picturing the Dance of Sea Hearts all day, and yet she hadn’t come close. 

Taking a breath, Nami gulped some air and ducked under the surface, flinging open her eyes. The salty water stung her eyes but she remained wide eyed, gaze trailing after your lithe curves and spirals. She caught your eye and the whole world seemed shifted all at once.

Suddenly pickiing up speed, you swam on your side round and round Nami, creating a current that spun Nami in a circle. Cheeks puffed of air, she went up for another bout of air and sank back down in one fluid motion. It was odd sort of dance, your fins brushing her skin and your hands tangling in her hair, taking her hands and spinning Nami in circles till the girl’s lack of oxygen and dizziness created a euphoric lightedheadness. But she trusted you, so she rose up for air and descended under the waves once more. 

When you finally started to sing, Nami wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to return to the surface. You were one person yet your voice sounded like a choir, echoes forming under the water and overwhelming every living creature in the vicinity with the beauty of your vocalizations. She remembered when she heard your people singing her crew to thier watery depths… and this was nothing like that. Their voices beckoned her forth with promises of jewels and safety of wealth… but you didn’t promise anything other than the safety of your love. 

Nami’s lips returned to the surface, sucking in as much air as she could. As the water closed around the crown of her head once more, you floated right in front of her, careful to not allow any enchantment into your voice. You wanted to do this right, not the way your people usually took the hearts of humans. Lips parted, you strung out your song—the song your father sang to your mother, and her mother to her father, and his father to his partner, and so on. 

The dazed look in Nami’s eyes was nearly concerning, and you nearly feared you’d let slip some magic, when her hands cupped your cheeks and her forehead collided with yours. Bubbles flew form your mouth, song halted instantly. Nami gave you a tilted grin, picking up the melody where you’d dropped it, and you were putty in her hands. 

Deeper the pair of you sank into the waves, your arms enveloping her body and holding her close, your tail curling around her legs. Noses brushing, your voices twinned together as your smiles rose to greet each other. Nami tapped your arm rapidly, on the brink of suffocation, and you swiftly swam the both of you back to the surface. 

Gasping in air, Nami curled her arms round your neck, lungs no longer straining under the power of the sea. “Are we, like, mermaid married now?”

You laughed awkwardly, nosing her cheek. “Not exactly… Do you understand what I’m asking?”

“I do.”

“And?”

She pecked your lips. “I like you too.”

Though your heart threatened to sink, you accepted her kiss wholeheartedly, vowing to someday make her understand the depth of what you felt for her. The night grew long and full of laughter, splashing water hitting your faces as you committed a dance of your own making: having fun.

ZORO

Zoro knew the moment he laid eyes on you that you were dangerous. 

With sharp fangs, fins that flared when angry, and the most hypnotizing eyes that made him feel things when he looked in them—you were close to the myths he heard growing up on his home island. Except, unlike the myths, you were kind, and maybe that’s what made it worse.

Zoro also knew something else the moment he saw you jump in the way of a sword strike from an oil miner and proceeded to tear him to shreds. With a mumbled curse and flushed face, he felt a thump in his heart as you heaved, dark eyes taking him in like you intended to devour him whole. But then you smiled, corners of your mouth curling to reveal shiny teeth that should have been threatening, and all he could think was a very firm shit.

He wasn’t getting a crush on a mermaid. 

Yet, he found his eyes always drifting to you one way or another. And that voice—you swore you never used your enchantments on anyone, finding it unethical, but you had to be doing something to him. Each morning you went up to the crows nest and sang a song. Zoro was able to name every single one by now, but he’d rather die than admit it. 

(But you knew, having a keen eye to catch his eyes fluttering closed whilst you spun your melodies).

You composed yourself far better despite feeling a similar tug in his direction. You were a princess, after all—albeit a feral sea princess, but you held poise nonetheless. Of course, that didn’t change the fact that every time you laid eyes on Zoro you had this innate desire to bite him. Maybe then the cook would get the message and stop staring.

Either way, it was really only a matter of time before the culmination of looks, touches, and songs took its final toll on you both. 

You sat with Robin on the steps leading up to the helm, you head propped in your hands, eyes unabashedly laid upon the swordsman training on the deck below. Robin’s eyes drifted up from her journal, flicking between you and the source of your admination, before shaking her head. “You could talk to him, you know.”

Blinking, you glanced her way. “I do talk to him.”

“I mean,” Robin laughed. “Talk to him. About you and him.”

“Oh no, I can’t do that. It would complicate things.”

“And constantly undressing him with your eyes doesn’t?”

You cast her a little glare. “Don’t test me.”

Rolling her eyes, Robin shoved your shoulder, nearly sending you falling donw the stairs. “I’m sick of watching you two. It’s sickening. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of your own romantic customs?”

Cheeks burning, you stammered over incoherent words and wobbled to your feet. Pausing to breathe, you peered over your shoulder, losing yourself for a moment as you caught sight of the grace with which he moved. He moved on from lifting weights, instead going over his katas and form with sword, the Wado Ichimonji. 

Robin’s chuckles brought you back to reality. Pouting, you gritted out, “Shut up.” You whirled around and meant to march right up to Zoro—what you were going to say was the issue of future you—but you walked head first into a broad chest and fell in a heap of limbs on the ground. 

Zoro’s eyes went wide, motionless as you glared up at him only for your eyes to soften instantly. Zoro huffed a laugh and reached out his hand. You eagerly accepted his help, jumping back to your feet and falling right into your habit of admiring every detail in his face. Your surprisingly strong grip remained on his wrist, your eyes darting between the flesh of his arm to his chesnut eyes. Zoro frowned deeply, confused, trying to tug his hand away and reeling at how strong your vice was. 

Blinking quickly out of your trance, you released him, stared blankly, and bolted below deck. Zoro watched carefully, having half a mind to call you back; he’d walked over to talk to you, after all. He liked talking to you (it was a shocking revelation he was still having trouble accepting).

Robin felt like an intruder on such moments, yet always found herself in the middle. She snapped shit her journal and Zoro’s head snapped in her direction, quickly darting his attention elsewhere. Robin let loose a sigh of exasperation. 

“Ridiculous.” Before Zoro could process whatever that meant, Robin was gone, leaving Zoro clutching his hand ot his chest and wondering why his skin crawled with the lingering sensation of your touch. He really couldn’t take much more of this. And neither could the crew.

“Every time they speak I feel like I’m walking in on a hook up,” Nami complained to Sanji. “They make asking about the weather feel sensual.”

Sanji chuckled to that. “Patience. Not everyone is as emotionally aware as you, darling.”

A week passed, and the usual brief glances and looks of longing exchanged readily. And then came the night of your watch. Everyone always knew when you had watch because you made it everyone else’s problem the whole day. Groaning and grunting, you lamented your lost sleep, and the others usually chuckled behind their hands whilst you sighed.

Usually, you spent your watch alone, charting the stars to pass the time and singing old sea shanties to keep yourself awake. But tonight was different; tonight, someone joined you.

Zoro’s footsteps thunked against the deck, startling you from your daydream. Shoulders dropping, you sent him a smile and went back to leaning against the mast. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope,” Zoro sighed. He followed you gaze to the night sky. “Have they moved?”

“Have they—?” You paused to stare at him, mirth glittering in your eyes. “Have the stars moved?”

He flushed from his neck to his nose, only worsening at the sight of your blue-moon smile. “You know—are there new ones? Constellations. Don’t new ones appear when we’re in different areas?”

His frantic explanations only humored you more, dragging tiny chuckles out of you even as you nodded. “I know what you mean. Sorry for laughing… There are new ones. See there?” You sidled up to him and pointed to the left side of the sky. “There’s the South Mother. I could never see her back at my reef.”

Zoro’s brows met. “South Mother?”

“I think you call her Ursa Major,” you explained. “To us, she’s our ancestor, banished to the stars for loving a human.” Realizing how close you’d drawn to him, you glanced at Zoro before swiftly clearing your throat and stepping away. The tranquil quiet filled the space between you, before the stories of your childhood rose to the surface of your memory.

“My mother always told that story as a warning. Never deal with humans. They get you cast among the stars.” A tiny scoff left you, smile forming. “But my father? He told me South Mother was a revolutionary. Why shouldn’t she have loved a human? If she found one worth her time, then that’s her choice.”

You chanced a look at Zoro, locking eyes with him. You found it in yourself to not look away. “I always liked my father’s version better.”

Zoro nodded tentatively, unsure what to say if he should say anything at all. He settled for sitting against the mast, motioning for you to join him. You dropped down quickly, taking a spot on his right and resting you head against the wood. Minutes went by in blissful silence.

“Can I bite you?”

The question caught him off guard, Zoro lurching up to stare at you. His jaw agape, he found your expression to be one of utter seriousness, blinking at him expectantly. His swallowed thickly. “I—In what context?”

You shifted around to face him, waiting for him to do the same. “In the context that I want to bite you so no one else does.”

Reeling, Zoro managed a laugh, lips curling upward. “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone else biting me.”

“So you don’t want me to?”

“I didn’t say that.” Gods, what was he doing? He lowered his gaze, watching your hands fidget nervously with your boot laces. You were nervous… Glancing up, he saw that same nervous energy swarming your face. “Can I ask why you’re worried someone else will bite me?”

You thought back to your conversation with Robin, and her advice, and regretted ever bringing any of this up in the first place. It was all so stupid. You’d done so well of pushing all of this down… but he was waiting for an answer, and you’re quite certain you’d give Zoro anything he wanted.

“In my culture,” you started, “we bite those we… feel things for. It lets others know they’re talking with someone.”

Zoro understood what you actually wanted to say, no matter how hidden in your words it was. “And you want to talk with me?”

You wanted so much more than that. Honestly, you were clinging to your composure. He’s lucky you even asked first. “Yes. I do. And I don’t want you… talking to anyone else.”

Squinting at the space over Zoro’s shoulder, you awaited the blow of rejection. Surely, Zoro had other options. He was a warrior—strong, wise under all that moss on his head, and kind. Yet slowly, Zoro moved into your line of sight. His heart thundered around in his ribcage, his next sentence feeling silly, yet true. 

“Humans do something similar,” he offered. “You bite me… and I’ll bite you.”

You hadn’t expected to get this far. Nodding gently, you threw caution to the wind along with all the pretense. “All that is to say… I… Well, I understand the South Mother because I met you.”

Zoro’s gaze softened, his hands drawing you closer till his exhale fanned your face. You knelt before each other, a single question in his eyes, to which you nod and lean in if only to be near him. His hand cradled the back of your head, lips dancing across the skin of your neck, finding the spot that made you squirm and biting. Zoro had no fangs to sink into your flesh but it hardly made a difference; the mark was there, along with several others littered along your shoulder.

Letting out a shaky breath you gripped Zoro’s jaw before he could go any further and brought his face level with yours. Running your tongue over your two jutting fangs, you muttered, “Where?”

Zoro craned his neck to the side, his breathing heavy and pupils consuming his irises. You gently traced the line of his jaw, completely enamored, before latching onto the skin where his neck met his collarbone. Careful to not wound him, you bit down just enough to leave your mark. Zoro’s slight hiss had you soothing your tongue over the mark, remembering the feel of his lips on your skin, and copied his earlier ministrations. Zoro would deny it over and over, but he whined, and you would take that knowledge to your watery grave.

Come morning, imagine the crew’s surprise walking into the galley expecting the usual dance of awkward feelings, only to find the pair of you thick as thieves showing off the fresh territorial markings splayed across your necks. 

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s @murnsondock

[sparklingblu]

Parádeisos

Miyeon X Male Reader

(Wrote this one based on the tale of Calypso in the Odyssey, bear with my obsession of mythologies)

People call Helen of Troy the face that launched a thousand ships.

That's because they have never seen Miyeon.

Not like you have any idea what Helen looks like. But if a hundred thousand people go to war for her, she must have been a pretty big deal. You would do the same thing for Miyeon. But there isn't anyone who will steal her to start a war or rather, no one can't. That's her problem.

As you stared at her amidst the lush grass under the shade of the trees, you couldn't help but admire how she looked so ethereal, almost inhuman. The way her hair fluttered in the breeze, the delicate fabric of her dress hugging her frame, her eyes that reflected the color of the summer sky. All seemed perfectly orchestrated to capture your attention like a snare and pulled you in deeper like a vortex.

She plucked a flower with her slender fingers and a faint smile crept across her face. You were glad because she rarely smiled, always foreboding with a mysterious expression with her brows furrowed. You wanted to help her except that when you tried to talk to her, she became silent. A few words here, a few words there. Never enough to make a conversation. At this point, you are certain she hated you.

As if to prove your point, she met your gaze with a scowl and tured her attention back towards another organism that wouldn't bother her unlike you. You sighed, shifting your body to turn towards the wide blue sea that seemed to stretch endlessly. The occasional waves rising and falling, sweeping away the white sand of the beach, glittering in the sunlight like diamonds. The crest of the hill surrounding the slopy geography of the island on either sides slithered down smoothly to encircle the beach at either sides.

It's an absolutely panoramic view and you could stare at it for hours. But that's what you had been doing for god knows how long. "Time flows differently here" Miyeon had said. For the love of god, you could have been stranded on this island for a millennia. Everyone in the outside world you know gone forever.

Considering, they even remember you exist. You have never been much of a social type. You were sitting in a corner at prom, sipping on coke when others danced around with their dates. That doesn't mean you are a nerd either. Sure, you studied and your grades weren't bad but not enough to be considered a geek.

You grew up, graduated with a major in Classics and through highs and lows became a professor at a relatively young age. Things were starting to look good when you got a call from a University in another city, telling you you have been chosen. You got on a plane a week later, headed to a new start. Nothing could go wrong, right?

Except that everything did. The first thing you remember is the way the plane suddenly jerked. Then came the sound of the air hostess on the intercom and the flashing emergency lights. You held on to your oxygen mask and prayed to whatever god is out there as the jet spiralled to a free fall. Your internal organs felt like they were on fire.

The sound of the aircraft colliding to a surface of water is the last thing on your mind before you passed out.

Dead would have been a luxury compared to the agonizing pain that accompanied your wake. The first thing on your mind, of course, I'm alive. Then you opened your eyes and started doubting.

The warm glow of the fire in the hearth and the crackling firewood sent a wave of relief over your psyche. You were lying in a bed so fluffy it could have been a cloud. Pulling down the sheets, you sat up.

The faint smell of a stew brewing greets your nostrils, churning your stomach. How long have you been out without food or water? You were clueless.

The rest of the room is circular, the walls solid rock. Countless little crystals the size of your fist glowing like fireflies were embedded in the ceiling, casting an eerie gloom over the cave, making the shadows dance. You have watched in a tv show that Heaven is where you stay in your happiest moments forever. This was not so far from it.

You have always imagined living in a little house by the ocean, free from the hustle of the outside world. Just reading a good book and basking under the sun everyday. Is that it? Have you achieved that?

Out of the corner of your eyes, a shadow slithered across the wall, making you jerk your head to the other side.

And god, you finally believed you are in Heaven. Because there was an angel.

Near the foot of your bed stood a girl. Her doe eyes slowly studying you like an interesting specimen. She blinked and her eyelids flattered gracefully. The smell of the stew got stronger and you realized she is holding a tray with a bowl in it, which, no doubt, contained the stew. She held it far enough not to stain her white column dress, which accentuated her curves in the most elegant way possible. Her long blonde hair was swept to one side of her shoulder, up to her collar bones. Her rosy lips unfolded.

"You are awake"

Just three words but melodic enough to pull you back into reality.

"Yeah...where am I?" You uttered, hoping the answer is Heaven.

"Ogygia" she mused.

"Ogygia? Like the one where Odysseus..?"

"Yes" she nodded.

"But it's not real" You protested.

"It is" she retorted with an expression like she was offended. "You are at the heart of it"

"So...that means you are...?"

"Enough questions" she snapped, placing a bow on a low stool that had somehow magically appeared.

"Have some. It will heal you" she said, though her tone didn't sound so enthusiastic. "I will check on you later" And just like that she walked out from an opening at the corner.

You might as well have been dreaming. You are in Ogygia? That's impossible. It doesn't really exist. Or does it?

The story from the Odyssey, an extremely long poem by Homer that you learned back in university rushed back to you. So basically, there's a hero name Odysseus and he went on quests and all. Then at some point, he got stranded on an island called Ogygia where he met a nymph named Calypso, who was punished by the gods for a reason(it will be too long to explain so let's just skip it) and damned to stay there forever. Immortal but unable to leave.

Calypso kept Odysseus on the island for seven years, trying to win his heart but he was either faithful to his wife or just in general hate nymphs. He rejected her everytime until he was finally able to leave the island.

A tragic tale. But that's all to it. It's a tale. If this island is Ogygia, does it mean the girl is Calypso? She doesn't look much like a nymph but god, she is beautiful. Maybe Odysseus was stupid enough to turn down such a beauty.

But that's a matter to deal with later. Currently, your stomach was growling like a wild beast and the smell of the stew is the only thing on your mind. You picked up the bowl and took a spoonful. A warm feeling spread through your core, easing the pain earlier. It tasted a bit like chicken but you couldn't be sure. You dug in, until the bowl left no evidence of the stew and your hunger was qenched.

Calypso or whoever the girl is didn't seem too happy with your arrival but you felt thankful. She took you in afterall, though you were not sure how you ended up here in the first place. You doubt you were worthy like Odysseus to be saved by the gods.

The stew seemed to be working its magic because you started to feel drowsy. Your eyelids felt weighted down by hundred pounds of iron. You set the bowl back on the stool and submerged yourself back in the warm embrace of the sheets.

-

You didn't know how long you slept but when you open your eyes again, the fire in the hearth had been put out and the crystals in the ceiling have sheathed their glow. A ray of sunlight poured through a hatch in the ceiling.

All your fatigue had been replaced by a new kind of energy. You felt like you could outrun a stallion. (Well, not literally) You got up and stretched. To your surprise, you were wearing the same clothes before your plane crashed. They looked no different from before, cleaner even.

Maybe the girl have washed them? A tinge of excitement ran through your spine. But it quickly disappeared when you remembered she didn't even seem to want to be near you, much less took off your clothes.

You walked through the opening through which the girl had went out before you fell asleep. It opened up into another part of the cave. This one much wider.

A small bed almost identical to the one you slept in lied on one side and a loom on the other. On its side laid stacks of fabrics of different textures and colors. So she's a weaver, you thought.

There was an opening at the end of the cave, giving way to an endless plane of green. You emerged, and the view left you breathless.

As far as your eyes could see, the ocean stretched all around the island. The cave was on a hill, which descended to another hill then to a beach of sparkling white sand.

The most intriguing of all, however, was the garden which stood atop a nearby hill. Filled with vegtation, orchards and endless variety of flowers you had never seen before, it looked like something straight out a fairytale.

You walked down the hill, breathing in the fresh breeze blowing from the sea. You were thinking things couldn't get any better when your eyes caught sight of a slice of heaven.

The girl was on the beach, laying on a blanket, her eyes closed. The two piece swimsuit woven of velvet hugged her body perfectly, outlining every trace of her curves. Her bosoms rised and fell with each breath she took, her flawless skin glowing luminously in the sunlight.

Did she weave that swimsuit herself? You would never know. But you are enjoying the view too much to care. Each breath of hers seemed to fuel your impulse just to walk to her, rip off that swimsuit and-

"Men are all the same"

The words snapped you out of your fantasies. She sat up and turned her head slowly to you, her brows creased.

"Stop staring" she snapped.

"Ehh....I wasn't..."

"Save it" she cut you off. "You slept like a baby"

Was that a compliment? You doubted it.

"Yeah..thanks for you know...saving me"

"I didn't have a choice" her expression turned gloomy. "Sometimes, I don't understand the gods"

"Eh...yes..." you muttered, suddenly remembering the question that has been on your mind. "So you are Calypso..?" you finally dropped it.

She scowled. "God...they still called me that" she picked up a seashell from the sand and twisted it in her fingers. "I grew tired of that name long ago"

"What should I call you then?"

"Miyeon" she answered, throwing the seashell away into the waves. "And you?"

"Gabriel" you answered. "Well, my friends call me Gabie though"

"Gabriel it is then" Miyeon said. A drop of sweat rolled down her temple and god you just wanted to-

"How do you know about me?" Miyeon asked again, crossing her legs smooth as silk.

"Someone named Homer wrote this really long poem and you are featured, you are pretty popular"

"Popular?" she scoffed. "Not for good reasons, I'm sure"

"You did keep Odysseus all to yourself for like seven years so-"

"Oh, shut up" her expression darkened on the mention of her old flame and you knew you had hit a sore spot. "That was like....three thousand years ago, I'm amazed people still talk about it"

"Well, actually I studied all about it"

Her eyebrows raised, like your words made no sense.

"You are a fool" she said. "And a pervert"

"What?"

She rolled her eyes. "Look, I know you have been staring at me, just because my eyes are closed doesn't mean I can't sense you"

"Can you blame me?" you asked, and now you did sound like a pervert.

She let out a chuckle. "You do have your way with words, Gabriel. However, I won't yield" She stood up, brushing off the sand from her thighs. "I guess you are stuck here with me, feel free to explore this dump. If you are hungry, there's something I made" She pointed to a wooden table in the garden. As she bent over to pick up her blanket, you were blessed with the sight of her toned ass.

"So, I can't leave....?" you asked.

"Well, you might...but it's never sure" she replied. "Enjoy doing nothing everyday"

As she walked back up the hill, your mind was left in a state of disbelief and awe.

-

So, your days on the island of Ogygia begun. And just like Miyeon said, you did almost nothing. Well, it's hard to do anything else except nothing when you were stranded on an island with no electricity or internet. If you were Miyeon, you would have died of boredom long ago even if you were immortal.

Your daily routine consisted primarily of naps and more naps. Whenever you went to your room in the cave to sleep, you never saw Miyeon in her bed. Even when it's nighttime. When you woke up in the morning, she's already in the garden or sometimes at the loom, weaving different dresses of every color. You had to admit her handiwork was impressive but you wondered what's the point of making such dresses if there's no one to show it off to. Well, there's you but it's highly unlikely.

You didn't need to worry about food. They were always on the table in the garden when you needed them. Or you could pluck a fruit from the orchard. Miyeon didn't mind.

You had gone around the island in circles. Mostly, it's hills, trees and grasses. There's a small forest at the east end but you didn't explore it just in case something dangerous lurk there. You have never been much of a fan of dark, secluded places anyway.

That left you with only one option. The beach. You would either sunbathe or just walk around idly, picking up seashells sometimes (which you threw away back into the sand later). The ocean is not bad either. The water is always the right temperature, not too hot or cold. But even swimming, one of your hobbies, become another another gruesome task to get the day by when you did it every single day.

The only silver lining is the ocassional views you get of Miyeon. When she was either sunbathing or swimming, you would sit in a shade and watched her like a film. Maybe she didn't know or she just didn't care because she never gave you a single glance.

Once, the wind blew strong, lifting her skirt up just enough for you to see her cheeks and you praised the gods.

But that's it. You just get to watch. Until now, you had never realized how internet porn is one of the greatest inventions made by humans. Jerking off to your thoughts all the time isn't really doing the job.Thankfully, you have an active imagination. Sometimes, you imagined Miyeon, riding you, sucking you off.

That lead you to wonder, does Miyeon have those urges too? Probably, seeing how she was head over heels for that Odysseus dude. So maybe, she did find a way to relieve them.

You didn't know if someone who have been imprisoned since the dawn of time knew how to masturbuate. Maybe you could teach her. If she didn't turn you into guinea pig first.

You try ticking a mark on a tree nearby with a gardening knife for each day that pass but it got hard when you sometimes fell asleep on the sand under the morning sun and woke up to be greeted by the same warm rays, feeling like you had been out for at least a week.

All this time, Miyeon and you barely interacted. You tried to start conversations, asking her if she needs help in the garden or trying to get her to teach you weaving. But of course, she simply shaked her head, not bothering to waste a word on you.

Apart from being in the middle of nowhere, you thought being ignored by the only person accompanying you is bad enough. Until the events of one night changed it all.

- × - × - ×-

The wind whistled in your ears. The pressure of the air so strong you felt like you are gonna be crashed flat. Darkness ruled every corner of your vision. You were falling, deeper and deeper into the eternal abyss. The growls of beasts echoed from the depths.

You thought you would never stop falling, until something sharp speared your chest.

You woke up with a start. You were sweating like crazy despite the breeze blowing through the hatch in the ceiling. The first dream you had had since you were here. Or rather, the first nightmare.

Feeling thirsty, you looked around for water but had no luck. Usually, Miyeon left a jug on the bedisde table but there wasn't one that night. So you got out of the bed, wiping away the sweat on your forehead.

You found your way out of the room from the glow casted by the crystals. As usual, Miyeon wasn't in bed. You looked around. No water here either. As if to mock you, an unfinished shawl in the loom depicted the shapes of blue waves.

You walked out of the cave, maybe there was some on the garden table. The night was quiet other than the chirps of cicadas. The full moon shone brilliantly on the canvas of the night sky.

Was the moon always full here? You couldn't remember. The distant sound of waves crashing and falling pierced the night.

You headed towards the garden, which beauty never ceased to amaze you. Certain types of flowers bloomed and glowed silver and gold along the path that lead straight across the place. Trees that don't exist in the outer world cast shadows across the shorter plants. It would always be a mystery how Miyeon managed to took care of all of them without fail. You were near the vineyard when you heard a faint sound from the center of the garden.

Beneath the willow tree in the heart of the garden sat a humanoid figure. Your heart skipped a beat. The fear that the nightmare earlier gave birth to still clouded your mind. You never believed such absurdities like ghosts exist but if Ogygia is real, what else could be?

Taking careful steps, you slowly approached to the source of the sound. The moonlight casted a faint glow and the scene in front of you unfolded clearly.

The person beneath the willow tree was no other than Miyeon. But a different version you have never seen before. She sat there, laying against the trunk of the old tree. Her whole body bare. Her legs spread out so obscenely yet so ethereal. The depths of her pink cavern being sown by her middle and ring fingers. She lets out a moan as equally melodic as a sonata with each thrust of fingers into her pussy. Her tits rock hard and heaving with each breath. Those doe eyes of hers that were filled with elegance were now rolled back with pure lust. Her fingers that brought life to her loom now became nothing but a mere tool for her pleasure.

As if under a spell, your gaze was rooted to the scene before you, your heart racing faster with each passing second. If someone came and make you and offer to trade immortality for this moment, you would have rejected it.

Miyeon's body started to shake violently, her toes curling and uncurling. The dripping juice from her pussy start forming a puddle on the grass. Finally, her body jerked, spraying her sweet nectar all over the green plane. She panted softly, sweat trickling down her temple, her blonde hair a messy nest.

That was when you knew you were fucked. Even if you tried to turn now, you would be in her range of sight. If you tried to hide, she could sense you. So you just stood there like a statue, not daring to breath.

Miyeon's eyes slowly opened then focused on you. An expression of pure awe formed on her face which quickly turned into one of disgust and fury.

"You!" she yelled, her voice still hoarse from the moaning earlier. "How long have you been here?"

"Don't get me wrong! I was just trying to-"

"You fucking pervert" she yelled, trying to cover up her assets with her hands. Her brows furrowed and If looks could kill, you would have been dead a thousand times.

"It was an accident, ok? I'm not trying to peek on you. I was justrying to get some water"

"That's your excuse!?" she shriek, her tone no longer mellow. "I should have left you to die on the beach if I have known you are a creep"

"Look, Miyeon. I swear I wasn't trying to-"

"Oh, then what's that?" she pointed below your waist.

You looked down and notice the bulge. Your cock so hard it feels like it's gonna pierce your trousers. You shouldn't have but you blushed.

"Look, I can explain"

"You don't need to explain, get out of here. Leave my island!"

"Wait but how-"

"Leave me alone!" she yelled so loud you thought the ground is going to crack open.

"Fine fine" you replied in a rush and walked out of the garden as swift as you could.

However, the scene you witnessed was embedded in your memory for as long as you live. The way the moonlight showered on her skin, the pure baloney of the hidden side of Miyeon that you never knew exist. The way she reacted was totally opposite from her graceful and tranquil manner. She looked like she was about to kill you and you believed she could.

The silver lining? You knew she did masturbuate now, which meaned she has sexual urges just like anyone. This would have made you hopeful but after what happened, it didn't seem to matter. She hated you now. If you were to wake up as a guinea pig the next day, it wouldn't be a surprise.

With a heavy burden on your mind, you sighed and headed back to the cave.

- × - × - ×-

Your train of thoughts were cut off by a melody that graced your ears. Miyeon was singing. You had heard her sweet voice many times but it never failed to grip your heart. It was just the perfect balance of harmony and rhythm. Most of the times, you don't understand a word she is singing. But you can swear you heard her sang Love Story by Taylor Swift once. You have no clue how she even knew the song.

Miyeon continued her song while she picked flowers of various colors from the garden. A tulip here, a lily there. And another one you don't know the name of. Regardless, her movement were as poised as ever, which brought back the memory of that night.

Since the day of the incident, Miyeon have not uttered a single word to you. She still made you food and occasionally weaved new clothes for you but whenever your gazes met, she would either avert her eyes or scowled.

As the time went on, the silence became unbearable. Sure, she didn't speak to you much before. But it wasn't total silence. Now, you felt like she had ignored your existence which she probably did. It's true that you had been staring but it wasn't intentional (though it was a nice surprise). She was too consumed with rage to hear you out. At least she didn't burn you or turn you into an animal.

You thought of attempting to clear the air between you but you are worried it would push her away even further. You sometimes felt homesick, wanting to return back into the human world. But no one could help you with that, not even Miyeon. According to the myth, the gods had saved Odysseus from this island by sending Hermes, the messenger god, asking Calypso(or Miyeon, whatever) to free him. But Miyeon isn't obsessed with you like she was with Odysseus to even keep you captive. So, there isn't a need to free you. Maybe you can try building a raft and sail away. But staying here seems better instead of dying of hunger and thirst in the middle of the ocean. This island was made by the gods themselves and it can't be escaped in an ordinary way.

You are not so happy with the idea that this island made its inhabitants immortal. What's the join of being immortal if all you do is sleep, eat and swim everyday? You are stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Miyeon's singing had stopped and now her gazes were back on yours. She scowled again but this time her eyes didn't waver. She beckon you with her hand to the cave. A jolt of excitement run through your body. Is she finally forgiving you? Or she's planning to kill you in the cave.

Nevertheless, you sat up and followed her across the hills, her shapely hips swaying with every step. You entered the cave after Miyeon and found her sitting on her bed. The expression in her eyes was unreadablele.

"Look" she spoke the first words in a long time. "Maybe I overreacted"

You wanted to say "Of course, you did" but you forgot about it. "Yeah, I'm sorry too" you apologized, though a part of you didn't want to.

"I was just...you know..." A faint blush appeared on her cheeks. "Trying to...eh..."

"I get it" you said. "That's a very normal thing, humans do it too"

"I know.." she said in a low tone. "But being seemed by someone else, it's embarrassing....and..." she paused and bit her lower lips.

"And?" you asked. You expected another word of resentment but what she said surprise you.

"Hot" she replied and looked down.

You can't believe your ears. She thinks being watched is hot? Her mask of innocence was starting to unravel slowly.

"Hot...?" you mused. "So you like me watching you?"

"In a way, yes" her fingers ran along the bedsheets. "You don't know how it feels to be alone for so long without anyone. Anyone who can satisfy my urges. I try to do it myself but I'm never satisfied. I need something else.....I need...."

'A cock' you thought. All these times, she had never been anything but a cockhungry slut. You shouldn't have been intimidated by her right from the start. Afterall, you are the only one who can give her what she needs.

"I know what you need" you said. "And I have it, don't I?"

Miyeon swallowed and nodded. You had never seen her so vulnerable it give you a sense of superiority. The tables have turned.

"Look, I'm desperate. I'm sorry for the way I acted. But I can't help thinking about your....cock. Since I saw that bulge, I have been in heat" As those filthy words left her mouth, her face turns so red it could have been a tomato. "So, you know, can you...?"

"Eh....I see..." you said with a hint of mockery. "I thought you think I'm a pervert"

"That was long ago!" she quickly retorted. She's that desperate, huh? "And I apologize for it, so if you can just give me...your cock..."

"It's not something that I can just give easily. I have my pride too, you know" That's bullshit. You were just as desperate as her. But you masked it better.

"Please, I will do anything" she begged again.

"Anything?" you started imagining scenarios.

"Yes"

"Like what?"

"I...I can suck you off..." she murmured quietly.

"What was that, Miyeon?"

"I will give you a blowjob" she said, much louder this time.

The corners of your mouth twitched into a wicked smile.

"Hmm, I don't know....is it really worth it?" you pushed her even farther.

"Please, I will make sure you are satisfied. You can cum wherever you want"

The idea of her perfect body covered in cum finally lead you to your decision.

"Alright but I will leave if you are not good"

"I promise!"

"Fine..."

"Please lay on the bed" she said, gesturing towards her bed.

You follow her orders, sinking into the feather bed. Miyeon slowly crawled up your legs until she reached your crotch area. She traced her fingers along your already bulging cock like it's something delicate.

"Finally..." she murmured dreamily as she slowly pulled down your pants and it sprung up to hit her in the nose.

"This smell..." she brushed her nose against the underside of your shaft. Then she pressed it to her cheeks, making her head look so much smaller. "So big..."

Finally, she started planting wet kisses along the side of your cock, sending a jolt to your spine each time. Those rosy lips of hers brushing against your unholiest place. After she pestered your shaft with kisses, she moved to the tip, where she trailed her tongue slowly across the sensitive slit then swirling her tongue.

"God, Miyeon, don't stop..." you tried not to sound desperate but it gets harder with each dance of her tongue.

She slowly started to take your tip into the warm embrace of her mouth, moving her head in a constant pace. Her fingers stroke from the base to her lips, then back again. The way her fingers move is just as masterful as the time she weaved, tracing every pulsing vein.

Her lips opened up to take more of your cock, half of it now being licked and gobbled in her warm cavern. Her pace increased, matching the rhythm of her fingers. The sound of spit squelching echo around the room. Each time your cock disappeared into her mouth, she would hum, sending vibrations across your shaft.

With each twirl and twist of her tongue, her pace increased even more. She had swallowed most of your cock now and her hands were on your thigh, holding on for support.

"Mmmphh" she mewled as your whole manhood disappeared into her mouth and her nose pressed right against your pelvis. She held you in her throat for a moment before she comes up for air, gagging and spilling spit. After a second of rest, she went down again, swallowing you like a vulture. Her blonde hair bobbed with each movement of her head. You realize her mouth does more than just sing. Her tongue is no less masterful as it traced along the underside and dance on your tip.

You fetl like your body is floating. The pleasure of her mouth made you yearn for it more and more. You didn't want this feeling of pure bliss to stop.

Her cheeks hollowed, sucking the life right out of you as her tongue greedily lapped up your precum. You were not a virgin and you had had your fair share of experience but the way her mouth worked is out of this world. (It literally is) She came up for air again, her chin dripping with her spit mixed with your precum.

"Ugh......so... juicy....." she panted s she looked at you with eyes full of ecstasy. And that look reminded you, you need her mouth back on your cock right now.

Without warning, you grabbed her hair and impale her mouth on your cock, stuffing her throat with your length. She struggled at first then calms down, as you hold her there, your fingers tangled in her locks. Her throat pulsed against your own pulsing cock, squeezing your tip.

"You don't stop unless I tell you to, ok?" you demanded.

She nodded furiously, feeling the lack of air as your cock blocks all her pathways of oxygen. You jerked her head up from her hair, look at her ruined face, then pressed it onto your cock again. You repeated the motion rapidly, using her like a fleshlight.

As he throat constricted around your mamba, you started feeling the familiar sensation of the finale approaching to this act. There's so many ways to fill Miyeon up or paint her. Then an idea came to your mind.

You stop thrusting Miyeon's mouth on your cock and let go of her hair. Her head tilted ninety degrees, gagging loudly then coughing.

"Miyeon. lay on the bed sideways but hang your head off the sides" you ordered as you get off the bed and Miyeon complied, shifting her position so that her head now hanged loosely from the side of the bed.

"Good slut" you praised as you take your position in front of her, gripping her throat and shoving your dick all the way in. Your balls slapped her nose and her eyes widened but then relaxed. You started thrusting your cock into her wet vulgar hole, admiring how her thraot bulged from the foreign object entering it.

Miyeon let you use her hole without complaint, lying there still as you get closer to nirvana with each thrust. You pulled your cock out all the way then back in with so much force, Miyeon's body jerked.

"Miyeon. I'm gonna..."

Your flood gates broke open. You shoot load after load of thick cum into Miyeon's throat, which she gulped down eagerly. But it must have been too much, because she started to cough, which is hard to do with a cock in her throat. She could drown in your cum, she asked for it. You kept thrusting until you finally came down from your euphoric high.

You pulled out your cock and the mixture of spit and cum flowed down from her mouth to every part of her angelic face. She murmurs in a ragged voice. "Thanks..."

"You are welcome" you said, admiring the beauitful mess, which is Miyeon. Her chest heaving and her mouth gaped open like a fish. Her face covered in spit.

She started to get up from her position, her hands pressed against the bed for support, but you had other ideas. As she was just getting off the bed, you pushed her head back down into the mattress, her lower body dangling from the side of the bed.

You pushed her head deeper into the mattress muffling her scream. With the other hand, you pulled up her white dress from the hem, exposing her round ass.

"Gosh, you are already so wet"

You saidbas you collected the juice within her folds with your middle finger and shoved it into her asshole, which clenched it down in a vice grip. You pull your finger free from her grasp then shoved it into her ass again.

As you finger her asshole, her pussy dripped even more, flowing steadily down to her bedsheet, staning it with her juice.

"Are you turning on from getting your ass fingered?" you asked. She replied in something that sounded like "Mmmf....umff".

"You must be desperate, huh? How long has it been since these holes are filled?"

You pull out your finger and slaped er ass, making her cheeks jiggle. You groped her ass some more, before you shove two fingers into her wet folds, extracting another inaudible sound from Miyeon.

You started pumping your fingers, gliding them in and out of her cavern. It clenchednon you tight like it's worried your fingers will stop thrusting. But she didn't need to worry because you were not going to leave the wet goodness of her hole anytime soon.

Miyeon let out more muffled moans and her body writhed like she was being tasered. But that's not so far from the truth because your fingers are sending shockwave after shockwave of pleasure through her.

With your free hand, you slapped her ass again, the way it wriggle almost hypnotic. The white backdrop of her skin marked with your handprints. You brought your palm down again and again, until her ass becomes nothing but a crimson plane.

"Look how much you are dripping. Do you like being spanked that much? No wonder Odysseus ignored you. You are such a whore"

Miyeon is no longer protesting, not even muffled sounds escaped her mouth anymore. She just lays there, face down ass up and let you toy with her body. The movement of your fingers became swifter, spraying juice each time they collide with Miyeon's depths.

Her pussy squelched happily each time your fingers enter, as if showing its gratitude. And it should. Miyeon had called you a pervert twice. Maybe she's right. But that pervert is the only one who can save her from her eternal damnation of the denial of pleasure. She should be thankful.Her legs started to quiver and you realized she was close. But you wouldn't be too hasty in giving her release.

You stopped, pulling out your fingers. You pulled up Miyeon's head and turned it a 180 degree, looking down at her eyes, far gone.

"Why..why do you..?"

Her protested are quickly cut out by your tongue which entered her mouth, swirling and tasting every inch of her another hole, which you just filled up with your cum a while ago. But you didn't care. Her lips feel velvety, just like all those fabrics she weaves. The tenderness of it got you asking for more. Miyeon returns the action by wrapping her own tongue around yours. It took two to tango after all.

Your other hand reached for her clothed boobs, pushing out from the textile of her dress. Miyeon's bosom is not one you can call big but they are not tiny either. It's just perfect enough for you to grope and pinch her nipples, already rock hard from the stimulation.

You pulled back, a trail of saliva glistening between her lips and yours. She looked at you with those needy eyes of hers, begging you to give her the release she desperately needs.

"Please...I....I need to cum..." she mummuredm She looked so pathetic you almost felt sorry. But after the treatment she had given you all those time, why should you be?

"Look at you, begging to me" you mocked. "Miyeon, you are nothing but a cockhungry whore, admit it"

Her face flared up. Then she tried to hide it and fails.

"I'm not a whore....I just need..."

"If you keep lying to yourself, you will never get the reward you seek from me"

"But I'm not a whore..."

You chuckled. "Aren't you the one who asked me for my cock? Beg me to taste it. Hell, you have been a whore since the beginning of time, falling for every man who ends up here"

Her expression turned confused, like she's debating with herself on your words. Finally, she spoke again.

"I.....I'm not falling for you. I don't even like you"

Oh, now she wanted to play it rough.

"Is that so? Then I guess you don't need me"

You turned to leave, which is all a trap to lure Miyeon to your dungeon of lust. And she fell right into it.

"Wait!" she called. "Don't leave"

You turn your head and raised an eyebrow. She was sitting on the bed now, her fingers fidgeting nervously.

"I....I will say what you want me to, so please don't leave"

"And what will you say?"

"I...I'm a....whore" Her voice reduced to a whisper at the last word. She looked own, her face burning with shame.

"I can't quite hear you from here"

"I'm a...whore" she said again, a bit louder than the last time. But you were not satisfied.

"Still can't hear you"

"I'm a whore!" she shrieked much to your surprise. "I need your cock so please use me"

You had done something that no one had ever achieved. You had ripped Miyeon of whatever remnanta she left of her pride, dginity and grace she had feigned all this time. Now she's no different from a typical whore who will let you use her for money. In Miyeon's case, she didn't need money. She needed your cock.

"That's more like it, no need to be shy" You walked up to her and hold her chin between your thumb and index fingers, admiring the angleic features of her face, from her aquiline nose to her sharp chin. A drop of cum from earlier still hanged on one of her eyebrows.

"Show me that ass" you ordered and she doesn't complain, getting on all fours and raising her ass for your eyes, her dress becoming nothing but an added luxury for you to feast on.

You got behind her and hiked up her dress to her waist, giving you full access to her ass. You dug a finger into her pussy, retractedband licked her juice off it. Maybe it's a nymph thing or you are just overwhelmed with desire but it's the sweetest thing you have ever tasted.

"Please, I need your cock inside me" Miyeon whined again, no longer hiding her desperation.

"Patience, slut" That came out so lame you promise yourself not to say that ever again.

You lined up the tip of your cock to her pussy, which was already convulsing with anticipation. In the beginning, you just pushed in your tip, testing the waters. Her pussy was wet enough you don't need to put any extra effort. You don't know if she is a virgin with the way her walls hugged you and gripped you like they are familiar with the alien object entering it but that's a question for another time. For now, you only have a single task to complete, filling her up.

"More..." Miyeon pleaded. That breathy voice of her with a hint of melancholy is what ignited the flame inside you.

With no further words, you pushed you whole length into her opening and she letbout a guttural moan. The way her walls swallowed your manhood leaves you struggling not to make a sound.

"Fuck, Miyeon, you are so tight..."

"Yes, fuck my tight pussy, I need your cock pounding me"

With each vulgar word that left her mouth, Miyeon push her hips back, trying to fuck herself on your cock. But you were going to be the one in charge. You held her tiny waist, stopping her from going further.

"I'm gonna fuck you, not the opposite, remember?"

"Yes..yes, sorry. I just need it...Hhng!"

Her apology was cut short when you start bucking your hips slowly, getting your cock accustomed to her wet cavern. Each thrust left you feeling breathless, the friction against her slick walls like no other feeling you have experienced. At this moment, you feel like you are the luckiest (and only) person on Ogygia.

Miyeon's moans grew louder with each pump of your cock, occassionally begging you for more. But she didn't need to because you are going to give her your all, satisfying the needs of her pussy that haven't been fucked properly for eternity.

So you picked up the tempo, waves rippling across her ass each time you thrusted into her. If her pussy was wet before, now it's a river, juice flying everywhere with each thrust you gave her. And she tool it like a champ. You think you eere going fast enough but she kept begging for more, to ruin her, to pound her into oblivion.

And who are you not to comply when you were held captive in the most heavenly place of the most beautiful woman(or nymph, whatever) you have ever seen. You channeledbevery single ounce of energy into pounding Miyeon's pussy and the effort started heating your body up, your hair slick with sweat.

Miyeon's not so different. Her dress is sticking to her skin with her own bodily fluid while she closed her eyes, drinking up the ecstasy only your cock could give her.

You wrapped your arm around her waist and pulled her back against your chest, tracing your tongue across her ear while the rhythm of your cock remained unwavering. She tilted her neck to one side, beckoning you to taste her even more and you obliged, licking across her jaw up to her temple.

"Mhmm....yes, just like that....god, don't stop.."

You helpee her pull off her dress completely to have full access to her goddess like body. You cup your hands on her boobs, which are so soft they can melt from your touch. You squeezed and kneaded, adding a side dish of pleasure to the main course of your cock against her pussy.

You let a hand travel down between her legs and there you attacked her weak spot, rubbing her clit. Miyeon's eyes widened at your ambush and her body start to shake violently. You pinched her nipple and she lets out the most euphonius of squirms, which graced your ears like a melody. Miyeon was so overcome with pleasure, she no longer seem to be aware of her own actions. She bucked her hips back each time you pull back your cock, wanting to be filled up at every millisecond. Her milky white was now glistening from all the sweat dripping down from the heat of the moment.

The deadly combination of your fingers and cock finally let her to her orgasm. She moaned at the top of her lungs, juice spilling out of her holes like a dam breaking open. Through her high, you keep fucking her, bringing you closer and closer to your own climax.

"Yes, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me"

Miyeon cries as your cock kept burying into her to the hilt and back even after she had cummed. Her body twitched and writhed with each thrust her now sensitive pussy took. You were not so far from following Miyeon, the clench of her walls driving you to the finish line until...

"God, yes, fill me up. Cum inside me. Fill your slut with cum"

Miyeon screams as you finally deposited your load into her cunt, sending shots after shots of thick white liquid into her. Your hips bucked wildy, filling her up with each movement. The bliss that you felt is phenomenal, out of this world. Arcs of pleasure coursed through your veins like electricity. You finally come to a halt, panting. You slapped her ass one last time and pull out.

"Oh, god....." Miyeon panted as she lays there on the bed like a broken doll, her face that of pure satisfaction. Her pussy leaked a steady stream of your cum down to her sheets, which were already filthy enough with her spit and juice. But that's what she wanted. She's a slut afterall.

"You are welcome" you said as your body suddenly grew tired from the intense session you went through. You sat down at the foot of the bed, closing your eyes, steadying your breathing. Your mind was still in a state of bliss, imagining what to do with Miyeon next after you recharged again. But for now, you needed rest and you were too tired to walk back to your own bedroom. So, you rested your back against the bed, dozing off.

- × - × - ×-

"Mister?" a female voice rings in your ears.

You open your eyes, an air hostess is looking at you like a pest, unwanted.

"What..what?" you mutter drowsily.

Her eyes glitter with amusement when you yawn.

"We have landed, we have been trying to wake you for fifteen minutes. We thought something happened to you. We have even called the medics"

"Fifteen minutes?" you looked around the empty aircraft, deprived of passengers.

"And you were mummuring some words like... Ogygia and Calypso?"

Your face flushed and look down at the book on your lap, half opened. "The Odyssey" said the cover. "Odysseus and the island of Ogygia" said the title of the chapter on the right page.

It was all a dream. A product of your arousal and obsession. It felt so real, however, you start thinking maybe you really have been to Ogygia and Miyeon have somehow returned you back here.

But that's a fantasy. Just like the photos of Miyeon that filled your gallery, your obsession. Despite the madness, you grin and the air hostess stares at you, her mouth gape open.

"Sorry" you apologize, stading up. Your phone chimes and you look down, only to be greeted by your wallpaper of Miyeon, your own version of Calypso.

This is going to be a long day.

-x-x-x-

(Wrote this a bit longer than I intended to. Thanks for reading as always~)

[o-batll3]

lena request! reader and lena are in an established relationship but play for different countries. during a match between their countries, lena injures reader badly (ankle or hamstring injury). lena is sorry about it but reader is upset at her. angst but happy ending when reader forgives her?

i don’t know how to make it stop - l.oberdorf x reader

warning : just angst with happy ending

masterlist

the roar of the crowd was deafening, flags waving in a sea of vibrant color, national anthems echoing through the packed stadium. it was the World Cup quarter-final, a match that promised intensity, determination, and skill. y/n stood on the pitch, heart racing with excitement and nerves. this was the kind of game she had always dreamed of playing, the kind of challenge that pushed her to the limits. she caught lena’s eye across the field - her girlfriend, but also her rival for the next ninety minutes.

they had shared moments like this before. they were both professionals, used to putting their relationship aside when the whistle blew. but there was lena a tension that lingered beneath the surface. lena, playing for her country with the same fierceness that y/n played for hers, was not going to hold back. nor would y/n. they both knew what was at stake.

the game started off at a furious pace, each team pressing hard, neither willing to give an inch. the stakes were high, and the tension built with every passing second. y/n was playing some of her best football—quick, clever passes, bursting runs into open space, her energy filling the team with hope. lena was everywhere, a shadow in midfield, intercepting passes and driving her team forward. every time they collided, every challenge they shared, there was a spark of something electric, something both familiar and dangerous.

and then it happened.

it was the 68th minute, and y/n made a darting run into the open, the ball at her feet, defenders falling behind. she could see the goal, feel the moment, the chance to change the game in her favor. but she barely registered the movement on her left before lena’s foot came out in a desperate slide, an attempt to block her progress. y/n twisted to avoid the challenge, but her ankle buckled, giving out underneath her. a sharp pain shot up her leg, and she went down hard, clutching her ankle with a scream.

the referee’s whistle blew. lena was already there, hovering over her, panic in her eyes, her face stricken with horror. y/n’s own heart was pounding, not just with the agony that shot up her leg but with the harsh realization of what had happened.

“y/n, oh my god,” lena’s voice was broken, her hands reaching for her. but y/n’s pulled away, her expression filled with raw pain and shock.

physios were rushing onto the field, lena pushed back by y/n’s teammates as they encircled her, creating a barrier between them. lena was shouting something, but y/n couldn’t hear it over the rush of blood in her ears, the pain that clouded her mind. she knew, even before they touched her ankle, that it was bad. the stretcher was brought out, and the looks of pity, the sympathetic nods from the trainers, were all too telling. her world cup was over.

she was out.

the crowd’s cheers were still echoing in y/n’s ears, even as she lay in the treatment room. the adrenaline was gone now, leaving only a dull ache in her ankle and a far sharper pain in her chest. her dream—everything she’d worked for—was ripped away in a single, brutal moment. she squeezed her eyes shut, willing the tears back, trying to push away the image of lena’s face, the horror that had twisted her expression just after the tackle.

she heard the door open, and her heart lurched when she saw lena standing there. lena’s eyes were wide, filled with remorse, but all y/n felt was anger—blazing, hot anger that burned away the sympathy she might have felt. she couldn’t look at lena without seeing the tackle, without hearing her own scream of pain over and over again.

“y/n,” lena started, her voice unsteady. “please, just let me explain.”

“explain?” y/n’s voice cracked, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “what is there to explain, lena? you tackled me. you didn’t even hesitate.”

lena’s face paled, her bottom lip trembling. “i was trying to win the ball. it was instinct—I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“well, congratulations,” y/n spat, eyes flashing with fury. “because you did. you ruined everything.” her voice broke at the end, and she hated how vulnerable she sounded, hated the tears that blurred her vision. she didn’t want lena to see her like this, broken and devastated.

lena stepped closer, but y/n pulled away, shifting painfully on the treatment table. “i’m sorry,” lena whispered, and y/n could hear the desperation in her voice, but it only fueled her anger. “i never wanted this, y/n. you have to know that.”

y/n’s hands clenched into fists. she wanted to yell, to throw something, to make lena understand the depth of her hurt. “do you have any idea what you’ve taken from me?” she said, her voice shaking. “this was my chance, lena! my chance to prove myself on the biggest stage! i trained for this. i bled for this. and you—you took it away. you didn’t even think.”

tears were streaming down lena’s face now, her shoulders shaking with the effort to hold back sobs. “i know, i know,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “i’m so, so sorry. if i could go back, i would”

“but you can’t!” y/n interrupted, the anger swelling until it choked her. “you can’t take it back! i’m out, lena! i’m out of the world cup, and i don’t get another shot at this. it’s over. and it’s because of you.”

the silence that followed was suffocating. lena’s face crumpled, and she took a step back, her arms wrapping around herself like she was trying to hold the pieces together. “i love you,” she said, the words sounding so small, so fragile in the heavy quiet of the room. “please don’t hate me. i love you, y/n.”

y/n wanted to scream. she wanted to shout that it wasn’t enough, that lena’s love couldn’t fix what was broken, that she didn’t have the right to stand there and cry after what she had done. but she couldn’t find the words. instead, she turned away, her voice icy and distant.

“just leave,” she said. “i don’t want to see you. right now”

lena didn’t move at first, rooted to the spot like she was waiting for y/n to change her mind, to call her back. but when y/n didn’t, when she kept staring at the wall with her jaw set and eyes hard, lena’s shoulders slumped, and she left without another word. the door closed softly, and the emptiness swallowed y/n whole. it broke a piece of y/n, knowing that lena wouldn’t be there like usually would to help her through something rough, but her mind didn’t want to see her, all she wanted to do was isolate herself.

y/n barely left her room for days. she couldn’t bear to see her teammates, couldn’t stomach their pity or their attempts to comfort her. all she could think about was the sound of her ankle giving way, the burning pain that had shot up her leg, and lena’s desperate face in the aftermath. her phone was full of missed calls and unread messages from lena, but she couldn’t bring herself to look at them. she was so tired of the apologies, of the guilt. they didn’t fix her ankle, didn’t change the fact that she was sidelined, watching her dreams crumble from the shadows.

she lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling, hating the silence and how it left her alone with her thoughts. every time she closed her eyes, she was back on that field, feeling the grass give way beneath her, hearing the sharp whistle of the referee and the stunned gasps of the crowd. sometimes she felt like she couldn’t breathe, like the weight of everything was pressing down on her chest until she was drowning.

and then, a week after the injury, there was another knock at the door. y/n knew it was lena. she’d felt it like a pulse, like some invisible thread still connected them even though she wanted to cut it clean. for a long moment, she didn’t move. she thought about ignoring it, letting lena stand there until she gave up and went away. but something made her get up, her feet moving almost without her permission, and she opened the door.

lena looked awful—eyes red and swollen, dark circles under them, like she hadn’t slept in days. her face was pale, her mouth drawn into a tight line, and when she saw y/n, something broke in her gaze.

“please,” lena said, her voice raw and unsteady. “i can’t—I can’t take this silence anymore. just tell me what to do. tell me how to fix this.”

y/n stared at her, the anger and hurt rising like a tidal wave. “you can’t fix it, lena!” she shouted, her voice cracking, the emotion spilling over at last. “don’t you get it? this isn’t something you can just make better with an apology. you ruined everything!”

lena flinched, but she didn’t look away. she took a shaky breath, stepping into the room as if she belonged there, despite the pain between them. “i know,” she said, her voice breaking. “i know i messed up. i know i took away something you loved, something you fought for. and i hate myself for it, y/n. every single second, i hate myself for it. but i can’t stand losing you, too.”

y/n’s hands were shaking, the tears streaming freely now. she wanted to stay angry, to hold onto it because it was easier than feeling the deep, aching sadness that lay beneath. but seeing lena like this, so utterly broken, cracked something inside her.

“i hate you,” she choked out, the words barely more than a whisper. “i hate you so much for what you did.”

lena’s face crumpled, but she didn’t turn away. “i know,” she said, and her voice was so full of pain that it made y/n’s heart twist. “and if that’s what you need—if you need to hate me—I’ll take it. just don’t shut me out. please, y/n.”

the room was spinning, y/n’s emotions too tangled to untangle. she took a step forward, and then another, until she was standing right in front of lena, her breath hitching. they stared at each other, and the anger, the sorrow, the grief—they all collided, bursting out of y/n in a sob as she collapsed into lena’s arms.

“i’m so mad at you,” she cried, burying her face in lena’s shoulder. “i’m so mad, and i don’t know how to make it stop.”

lena held her tightly, her arms wrapped around y/n like she was afraid she might disappear. “i know,” she whispered, pressing her face into y/n’s hair. “i’m here. i’m not going anywhere. i’m so, so sorry.”

for a long time, they just stood there, holding onto each other as the storm of emotions raged and slowly settled. y/n’s sobs quieted, her breath evening out as the weight she’d been carrying began to lift, just a little. it wasn’t fixed. it wasn’t over. but in lena’s arms, the anger didn’t feel quite so overwhelming. and for the first time since the injury, y/n allowed herself to hope that maybe—just maybe—they could find a way forward, together.

SEND REQUESTS I NEED IDEAS

[tetzoro]

STRAWBERRY FRECKLES — ༉‧₊˚.

ft. portgas d. ace

꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : feeding ace strawberries during some down time

꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : fluff ! a little suggestive at one point — WC : 1k

꒰ NOTES ꒱ : i haven’t really written anything in almost a month but i enjoyed writing this so, so much !! i hope you enjoy ^_^ divider by @/cafekitsune ᰔ

reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ

ace had an aura like no other. the light, the warmth that he exuded was easy to fall into. a pool of molten lava that you think should burn you alive but ends up delicately caressing your skin, leaving gentle kisses in its wake.

a man the world sees as someone to be afraid of, someone that should be captured and answered for his crimes beams up at you with a smile that seeps through your skin, filling you with a warm glow that you couldn’t get anywhere else, shooing away any coolness left in your body.

times like these with ace were like no other. the two of you lived busy — extraordinary lives, ones that kept you at just out of arms reach from one another far too often. but the times you could steal a moment alone together was the very thing you both treasured most in this great big world.

the moby was busy, per usual, but today you had the luxury to hang back and relax. you and ace returning from a mission that left you both exhausted yet happy to be safely back in each other's arms.

earlier, you had the bright idea to sweeten the day a little, a reward for your heroics. sneaking into the kitchen, narrowly avoiding thatch and grabbing a small bowl full of the ripest strawberries you’d ever see.

a fruit that always brought your mind back to ace, the seeds resembling each little freckle on his face. the pinkish red color matching his skin whenever you caught him staring at you for a moment too long or anything that left him a little bashful.

nestled in a more private spot on the main deck, ace lays his head in your lap, looking up at you like he’s found the secret that ties this world together — or at least the one that ties his. you were his saving grace, his anchor, the one he was able to call home.

no matter how stormy his seas got, he always knew he’d have a safe place to rest his head — literally. in his favorite spot, he soaks up all of the love you have to give him like little rays of sun directly washing over him.

and the fact that you were feeding him definitely helped make him feel it all the more. gently reaching down with a strawberry for him to eat out of the palm of your hand, spoiling him as richly as he deserves.

“careful!” you warn him again, with absolutely no bite in your voice as his teeth stray dangerously close to the tips of your fingers. he would’ve taken you more seriously if you weren’t fighting for your life trying to choke back a giggle.

“‘m always careful!” he smiles, encircling your wrist with his hand, the muted heat from his palm warming you up from the inside out. he finishes chewing, bringing your fingers to his lips and placing a delicate, albeit sticky kiss on each one. “thank you for taking care of me.”

“of course.” you smile as he lets go of your hand. your softly caress his freckled cheek, freshly kissed fingertips running over each one as you map out the endless constellations, prettier than the night sky could ever show you. “it’s my most favorite thing in the world.”

his brown eyes glaze over, something inside of him dragging him back into the depths of his mind. the gears in his head turning as he tries to figure out how lucky he was to be loved by someone like you, before morphing into something darker, if he even deserved your love.

something you find yourself easily reassuring him, as simple as breathing. loving ace was the thing you were put on this world to do and you’d do it again and again every day, for the rest of your life.

“what would i do without ya?” ace’s smile pops back up on his face before he opens it up, eagerly waiting for another berry.

“the real question is what would i do without you?” you boop his nose and he playfully scowls, closing his mouth when he realizes another berry isn’t coming yet. he had already eaten more than half of the ones you stole.

“you’ll never have to know.” he sits up, facing you now so your knees are touching, plucking a strawberry from its dish. “your turn.”

ace places the end of the berry in his mouth before leaning forward, waiting for you to take the other end. he watches as your lips wrap around the vibrant fruit before biting down, the juice gushing between your joined lips, coating you both in its sweet nectar.

you can’t help but suppress a giggle as you lean back, chewing your half of the strawberry. you watch as he eats his share, practically inhaling it.

ace makes a show of swallowing it down, an audible yet satisfied gulp that shows that berry was the best one yet.

strawberry coated lips meet yours as he presses them against you. moving and gliding in sync as you’ve done a thousand times before. warm palms run up your thighs before finding purchase in your lower back — effectively pulling you into his lap.

gone were the sweet moments with the strawberries, something else taking its place as ace’s tongue slips into your mouth and drowns out any rational thought you had left.

whisked away by his passion for you, getting lost in the love ace so easily basks you in, you didn’t hear the angry footsteps stomping your way.

“there you two are!” thatch’s voice rings out, breaking you two apart. you both jolt back, the evidence of strawberries coating your mouths. “i knew it was you guys who took those berries.”

“uh oh, look at the time! we better go!” ace yells, fiercely grabbing your hand. you all but trip as he pulls you up before dashing away with you in tow. thatch was still scolding you from where he stayed put, a playful smile on his face as he watched the two of you make your great escape.

but you couldn’t hear him — the only noise that filled your head was ace’s sweet laugh dancing in the air, swirling with the love you held for each other.

thank you so much for reading ᰔ

[storiesfromgaza]

"Mom, does it hurt when we get bombarded? Do we feel the pain, or do we just die at once?"

These are the questions that Reporter Youmna El Sayed began with in her interview conducted by the AJ+ network to document her struggles with her children and the suffering of all the people of Gaza

When my kids ask me, 'Mom, does it hurt when we get bombarded? Do we feel the pain, or do we just die at once?' and I have to tell them, 'No, don't worry. It's not going to hurt.' Their father reassures them, saying, 'Don't worry. It just happens once, and that's it.' In the past, we would comfort our children, saying, 'Don't worry. It's going to be okay. It's going to end soon. You'll be fine. We'll be fine.' Everything is shaking—constantly. But now, every night, we tell them, 'Don't worry. We're together, sticking together. If we die, we die together.' Death has become a looming reality since the Israeli army encircled Gaza city. The bombardments have been relentless—from the land, air, and sea. Our building is in a perpetual state of tremor. Three days ago, we awoke to the smoke of nearby fires filling our homes. We sought refuge in the basement, the best option with the least smoke, but it was still overwhelming. The kids were coughing, suffocating, and their eyes were itching. But when it comes to my children, it just hits me so hard, Dina, and I just feel that I can't control it anymore. I can't be that strong, brave woman who's able to control things or get things under control because they're my weak part. I feel a loss of control, unable to maintain the facade of strength and bravery. Judy, usually full of life, now appears quiet and terrified

She doesn't eat much. She doesn't feel like doing anything. I tried to speak to her about things, you know, bring back some happy memories, and I said, as usual, 'What would you like to do the first thing after this war ends?' She told me, 'Mommy, I don't want to do anything except for this war to end. I just want these bombardments to end, everything—the destruction, the despair, the loss.'

I think they tell you that now—we're just hearing news of people dying every now and then—people that we know, friends, colleagues, everyone around us. And it just, you know, really, like, 'May he rest in peace,' and that's it. I just—we just go on because we were just waiting for our turn. You mentioned to me that food is scarce and supplies are low. What is the water situation? We can starve, right? We can go on without food, even as adults. But without water, I'd rather die from bombardments than die from thirst. I don't want my kids at the end to die from thirst. Are you still thinking to move south, and what would that look like? The last attempt was a couple of days ago, and we found out that to move south, we need to walk for at least 6 to 7 km on foot and not carry anything at all with us—none of our belongings. Basically, walk this distance while we raise our hands to show that we surrender, just holding our IDs in one hand and raising the other. And I think that's just extremely humiliating. And it's not just that, you know?

You remember the massacre that everyone saw on TV screens for the civilians that were bombarded on the road? They're still lying there. Until this day, lying there in the streets, their bodies. The crows and the birds are eating from them, and no one has been able to pick them up. The Israeli army has not allowed anyone or ambulances or any medical teams to come to pick these people up and to bury them. How can I let my kids go through a street while they see other children and other people killed and thrown just like that, lying in the street like that, while birds are eating from them? I think that this is just inhumane and more cruel than anything. This is not to worry about fighting Hamas or Palestinian fighters. This war began by eliminating and wiping out the Palestinian people in Gaza. This isn't a war against Palestinian fighters nor Hamas; it's a genocide against Gaza.

[cherry-burst]

Caleb x MC “Beach Day”

Tags: Fluffy/Smut 18+ mdni | New Relationship | Grinding | First Time Fingering | First Time Hand job | WC: 4010 Love and Deepspace

The summer air warmed her skin the second she left her apartment. The beep of a car caught her attention and she turned to look, her hand shielding her eyes from the sun. 

Caleb waved from the driver seat, stuck behind several cars in traffic. She smiled and rushed over to the vehicle and hopped in before the light turned green.

The AC in the car cut through the thick haze of humidity that was already dampening her brow. 

As they headed to the beach, Caleb glanced over with each item she showed him. A couple of water bottles for each of them, his favorite sour candy, her favorite chocolate, fruit snacks, a bag of chips they both like and some cookies.

Caleb waved to the back seat of his car indicating the cooler he'd brought. He declared it filled with sandwiches he made for their lunch picnic and a few different sodas because, secretly, he wasn't sure what her favorites were anymore.

She adjusted the strap of her bathing suit top and pointed out the window as the ocean came into view. The undulating blue water sparkled invitingly against an equally blue sky.

Sand flew behind them as they ran to the beach, cooler and bags in hand. The two of them found a perfect spot to settle. There was a clear patch where seaweed hadn't washed up that was also a good distance away from other beachgoers.

Caleb tossed his shirt onto the towel she'd laid out for him and reached out his hand to invite her to go with him. Forsaking her cover-up and sandals, she grabbed his hand with a big smile and they rushed off to the ocean before them. 

Despite the warm air, the water was cool against her skin. It was easy to wade through the lapping waves with Caleb pulling her forward. They walked until they could sink down into the refreshing waters and enjoy a swim. 

Caleb went under first, wetting his black hair. He re-emerged, shaking his hair out and wiping water from his eyes. She laughed as the droplets splashed on her face. She dipped down too, the ocean water muffling the sound of wind rushing past and beachgoer's chatter. She stayed in the short infinity, floating weightlessly momentarily before coming back up for air. 

Caleb stepped forward and circled his arm around her waist. Her toes sunk into the sand as he pulled her forward.

“Hi,” She smiled up at her new boyfriend.

“Hi,” He greeted her back, a large smile playing on his face.

Despite their relationship being so new, it felt like they'd been together forever. The first few weeks we're sort of awkward, getting used to each other's company in a new way. They both gave the relationship the grace they knew it needed to bloom and grow and now, as they stood toe to toe in the shallows of the sea, they were finally in sync. 

Sunlight reflected off the surface of the water onto Caleb's face. A look of pure love enveloped his features as he bent his neck down to press his head against hers. Water droplets spilled down her face as her arms went up to encircle his neck.

When she realized they were about to kiss a giggle past her lips. It wasn't a nervous giggle. Instead, it was an excited one. A giggle that reflects how giddy her heart was in his presence. Caleb let out a small chuckle and rubbed his forehead against hers. 

“Did we establish if PDA was okay?” He asked, his nose rubbing against the tip of hers.. 

The waves kept her body afloat, picking her up off the sand and then gently bringing her back down again.

“Nooope,” She smiled, her cheeks heating from both the sun’s rays and her proximity to an impending kiss. “But we can establish it now.”

“Hm,” Caleb pretended to think. His fingers brushed her wet hair off her shoulder. He kissed the apex of her shoulder and then looked up innocently. “Is it safe to say, kissing in public is okay?”

Her heart happily kicked into gear. “Um,” She pretended to think, her eyes drifting off to watch a flying seagull dip towards the beach and catch food mid-air that someone tossed at it. “I think it's safe to say, yes”

“How dare you keep me in suspense” Caleb teased, his face moving closer to hers once again. He angled himself to the right, his violet eyes holding her gaze. “How should I punish you?”

Water lapped all around them, the flow of the ocean moving them to and fro from where they started. 

She hugged her arms around his neck closer, bringing his chest flesh with hers. The water, heat, and sweat made his skin feel sticky against hers. 

“You holding off is punishment enough.” 

He gave her a wicked smile “That's what I like to hear.” 

His lips, warm from the sun's heat, gently pressed against hers. Her eyelids slid closed as she drank in the sensation. She tried to commit it to memory, like Caleb always did, every piece of information she could about their kiss. The exact placement of his hands on her hips, the sound of the seagulls calling out, the rush of the ocean waves as they backed away from land, and the thump in her chest that just his proximity seemed to ignite. 

His fingers sunk into her flesh, his tongue dipped past her lips, and his wet hair tickled her face. Her legs lifted from the seafloor and wrapped around his waist. Caleb held her close in an embrace, his lips leaving hers only to change angles and kiss her anew.

The kiss lasted a while, before others began invading their space. They opted to regroup later, but for now, they had a beach day to enjoy. They swam in the ocean, dug around the sand to see who could find the coolest seashells, and bought ice pops from the bike vendor that was passing by. 

The popsicle juice dripped down her chin and landed on her bathing suit top as they lounged on the beach. The towel she lounged on was sandy thanks to the wind, but she paid it no mind as she listened to Caleb chat with a passerby about recent whale sightings in the area. He seemed to attract people anywhere they went. 

“They usually don't come this close,” Caleb said to her as the passerby left. 

“Maybe the whales had to change their migration route for some reason.” She added, licking juice from the popsicle stick before it dripped on her again.

When their sandwiches were eaten, and their bodies sufficiently exhausted from the sun, the two packed up to leave.

Caleb's car would be full of sand for the next week despite their efforts to brush it off their shoes before entering. He smiled anyway and happily tapped his hand on the wheel to the music on the radio.

She invited him up to her apartment to wash off and stay for dinner. Caleb readily agreed to the change in plans of his day and rattled off some dinner ideas as they rode the elevator to the 5th floor. 

They entered her apartment and emptied their pockets full of seashells into the bowl where she usually put her keys. The air conditioner had done its job while they were away, making her sigh in relief from the hot air her body had grown accustomed to. As they kicked off their shoes, she brushed the sand off Caleb's back. 

“Thanks,” He smiled at her, then quickly frowned “You've got sand all over your face and neck.”

He gently brushed his hands over her skin, making her shiver despite being warm to the core from the weather. Sure enough, granules sprinkled her carpet. 

“We should shower.” She said, pulling Caleb's cooler into her kitchen to store the leftover drinks in the fridge.

“‘We’ should?” He asked, a teasing tone lacing his voice.

She eyed him over the refrigerator door and playfully rolled her eyes. “I have to watch what I say around you now and how I say it?”

He let out a light laugh and rested his elbow on top of the fridge door. He watched her place the sodas in a row on the shelf. “You even have sand in your hair. I'll bet we'll be digging sand out of our belly buttons for a week.”

She turned the AC down to make it cooler in her apartment while Caleb plopped onto the couch. He brought his arm up to rest on the back of the couch and reclined “Ah, this is nice.” He said, closing his eyes. 

As she moved to the living room, she drank him in. His hair was messy from the salt water, drying this way and that. His cheeks and nose were tinged pink despite all the reapplications of sunscreen she insisted they do. He looked tired around the eyes, yet his face held the smallest hint of a smile. Caleb was content. 

A smile grew of her own and she slid onto his lap facing him. “Ooh, yes this is nice.” She teased. 

Caleb's eyes flew open in surprise before his body reacted by pulling her in for a hug. 

“I can't let my guard down around you, it seems.” His brows went up at his comment.

She hummed, a single finger tracing his sunkissed neck “Seems not. It isn't smart.”

“Oh? It isn't?” He questioned, his hand coming up to grab her wrists to stop her finger from venturing lower down his abdomen. He held her arm up in front of his face.

“Anything could happen, you know.” She insisted, adjusting her position to sit comfortably in his lap.

His eyes held hers for a moment, a familiar look of wanting crossing his features before retaliation struck that he didn't have to hold back anymore. He let go of her wrist and wrapped his arms around her. 

“Anything?” His voice was quieter.

The AC unit kicked in, blowing freshly cooled air into the space. The sun, which was now preparing to set, shone its spectacular rays through the living room window and spilled its light over the couple. 

“Even a meteor could crash down any minute,” She said, unable to help herself from cutting the tension. Despite their constant dates and hanging out, she still wasn't used to this more intimate side of Caleb.

He seemed to understand, smiling at her words and leaning back against the couch. “I see. That would be unfortunate.”

She felt the loss of closeness like a pang in her chest. She moved forward again, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly.

Caleb's brows rose, but he accepted the closeness. He took his chances tracing his fingertips over the curve of her jaw, the slope of her nose, and the edge of her lips. 

Kissing in private felt more heavy than in public. It had more implications, like the fact that they were alone and there would be no one to disturb them anytime soon. No one could be witnessing their intimacy that they'd need to stop for. It was just them, and the unshared moments that stretched ahead that were a blank slate. Possibility hung in the air as they gazed at one another. 

She swallowed the pooling saliva in her mouth and licked her lips. “Well, I can tell you what I'm down for. Out of anything.”

She wanted to pat herself on the back for being brave, especially when a flicker or something haughty flashed over Caleb's features. Did he like it when she took the initiative? She decided yes when his gaze dropped to her lips and he sighed.

“Tell me then. Don't keep me waiting.” His pupils dilated as he gazed at her.

She could tell his words were meant to be playful, but the seriousness of how he said them fueled her advances.

She was sure she was as red as a lobster, and it had nothing to do with her onsetting sunkissed glow. 

“This?” She said, kicking herself internally for it sounding like a question instead of a sultry exclamation. She decided to move anyway, closing the distance between them and kissing Caleb on his parted lips.

He breathed into the kiss as if giving it life. His hand was in her air-dried hair, while the other moved to her lower back. 

Her tongue touched his and they both took a sharp inhale. Would this ever become normal? Or had they both been pent up for so long that every touch between them would feel this electric?

His lips moved from hers, kissing along her jawline to her ear. 

“You taste…” His voice was a low whisper, his breath tickling her lobe causing chilled bumps to race down her arm. “Salty, like the ocean.”

Her heart galloped away in her chest. His lips trailed over her neck, nipping and kissing her sensitive spots. 

“And sandy?” Her voice was a sultry groan that she hadn't anticipated.

He huffed a laugh against the curve of her neck “Very,” His tongue teased her skin. “...but I don't mind.” 

She let her voice be heard as his kiss trailed to her bathing suit strap then lower to her collar bone.

His body's reaction was obvious where she was seated. He was quickly growing more turned on with each bated breath she released. She couldn't tell if she was bold, or if she was pretending to be, but she rocked her hips once nonetheless to see his reaction.

A groan caught in the back of Caleb's throat and he caught his breath where his lips landed on her cleavage. 

He pulled back, his half-lidded eyes locking with hers. “Do that again.” He asked, his hands sliding down her back to brace her. 

She did it again as their lips collided once more. Caleb used his hands on her ass to rock her hips forward into his lap. She adjusted herself for optimum pleasure, making sure his length was hitting her in the right spot, then rocking again.

Caleb moaned into the kiss, his whole body curving forward into hers. He braced his feet on her floor and used his balance to grind back up into her.

Sweat broke out on her brow anew. Their kiss was a frenzy of passion while they rubbed themselves on one another for pleasure. 

The shower would be delayed. 

As the sunset, her automatic lamps clicked on, bathing the couple in a warm glow. 

Caleb changed their positions, moving her down to lay on the couch while he fit himself between her legs. He kissed her neck and ear, rubbing his hard length against her clothed core. 

She wrapped her legs around his waist, rubbing herself shamelessly on his hardness. It felt good, amazing even. She wondered if he could feel how wet she was as her bathing suit bottoms slid easily now against her slick center. 

Caleb's moans were everything to her. It skyrocketed the experience by tenfold and made her feel dizzy with lust. 

She felt braveness again as she reached down and palmed him through his bathing suit trunks. The arms he was using to hold himself up gave out and he rested on her chest.

“Please,” he hissed out, rocking his hips into her palm. “Hhh, yes” His sultry tone was new to her. She'd never heard him sound so pleasure drunk. 

“Say my name..” She whispered, genuinely wanting to know what her name sounded like on his lips when his voice was so lustful.

Caleb moaned her name, his hips eagerly bucking into her palm. He said her name again, and again.

He eased up, his lips coming to claim hers in an eager kiss. His hand slid from her face to her chest, then lower. 

“Can I…?” His palm moved down her stomach giving her massive butterflies. 

“Yes.” She breathed out, hands trembling from anticipation. 

His large hand slid down, cupping her pussy over her shorts. He rubbed as she rocked into his palm, making her lose all focus.

“Oh my god,” she moaned, her body arching and flexing with this new intimate touch.

“Your turn,” He said, his lips finding her neck again. He whispered as his palm rubbed between her legs “Say my name,”

She groaned, her legs kicking out. Her full body blushed before she said “Caleb,”

He let out a harsh breath. 

“Again, again,” he demanded, “Please.”

“Caleb,” She moaned.

He stopped his rubbing, then his fingers dipped down the front of her shorts and bathing suit bottoms. 

“Caleb!” She gasped when his fingers brushed against her clit.

They trailed down the center of her pussy until they met their goal. 

“You're so wet,” He said, as if he was talking to himself. 

“Caleb,” she moaned his name again, this time louder. 

“I want to touch you here so badly,” He admitted, dipping a single finger inside her. He rubbed his hard cock against her thigh. 

“If feels.. Mmm, good," She admitted.

“Where does it feel the best?” He asked, moving his finger in and out, pressing down then up-.

“There!” She moaned. “Up, there, right there”

Caleb sighed, looking down at her. “Look at me,” his voice was soft and gentle. “Look at me, please.”

She peeled open her eyes and locked gazes with him. She'd never seen him so disheveled. She knew he'd never seen her in this state either. 

His finger brushed up against that spot again, and she moaned. Her eyes started to close but Caleb called out her name. “Keep your eyes on mine while I finger you” He spoke as if he couldn't believe his own words. “Just, keep looking at me. Tell me how you like it.”

She nodded, her hands coming up to grip his shoulders. His finger felt incredible against her g spot. Her legs squirmed with pleasure with each pump of his finger.

She kept her eyes on him, her stomach sinking like she was falling from great heights. 

Caleb studied her face, her reactions, and her body language as he fingered her. She was gasping and moaning under his touch.

“Now, how about here?” His wet fingers receded and moved up to circle her clit. 

She arched into the touch, her eyes closing against their will.

“Keep looking at me,” He asked, his voice laced with a plea. 

“Sorry, sorry.” she looked him in the eye again. “Yes, feels so so good, Caleb. Don't stop.”

A hint of amusement washed over his features. “Don't stop?” Realization glittered in his eyes. “…Do you want me to make you cum?” 

His voice alone sent her stomach into a flutter. She nodded, his cheeks burning red. “Yes,”

His slick fingers rubbed her clit up and down, side to side, circles to the right, and left. “How do you like it?” He asked breathlessly.

She almost laughed. Everything he did felt amazing, she couldn’t possibly decide. “All of it.” She squeezed his shoulders. “Anything. How you're doing it right now,” 

Her hips lifted from the couch as the pressure on her clit increased. 

“You don't have to say anything else when you cum. Just say my name. Okay?” Caleb's voice was like a warm embrace, a safe space amongst the crackling fireworks in her mind.

“Yes yes, okay-” Her words were rushed out.

She breathed heavily, her hands fisting his white T-shirt, pulling and pushing as her mind spiraled into ecstasy. 

Caleb leaned in, his eyes holding hers, looking from her left eye to her right eye. 

“Spread your legs a little more, okay? You're clamping down, it's hard to maneuver.” His free hand pulled at her chin to angle her face to him.

She gripped the fabric of his shirt and did as he asked, easing her legs wider. Her thighs strained, wishing to clamp shut with the mounting pleasure. 

“Oh, please don't stop don't stop don'tstopdon'tstop.”

“I won't” He reassured her. 

His fingers swirled in a tantalizing circle with quick succession around her sensitive clit. She bucked and rocked faster than before, her eyes breaking contact with him for short moments before she re-engaged with his gaze.

“Mhm, Caleb!” She didn’t recognize her own needy voice as the swinging pendulum snapped and pleasure raced through her veins.

“That's it,” He encouraged as her body throbbed in time with her pleasure.

“Caleb, Caleb, Caleb..!” Her eyes were glued to his as he witnessed her reaction.

Soon, she slumped back to the couch, her body easing away from his touch. She sucked in air, heart hammering away against her rib cage.

Caleb hummed, his brows pressing together in concentration still. 

“Did that feel good?” He asked, his forehead pressing into hers.

“Yes…” She huffed, “Yes it did.”

He smiled, cupping her cheeks in his hand and holding himself up by his elbows. “Then I want to make you feel like that all the time.”

Happiness flashed over his face before he leaned in and kissed her once more. A slow, eager kiss that stole the breath from her lungs.

She pulled back, her fingers running through his salty hair. “I want to return the favor…” Her hand slid down his chest to his stomach. Caleb let out a low gasp. “May I?” She tugged at his swim trunks' tie.

“I won't last...” He admitted a bit bashfully. His eyes searched her face to gauge her reaction.

“It's okay. But you deserve some relief.” Her fingers snuck down his waistband and her stomach flipped anew. His skin was smooth here, soft, and warm. She moved further and felt the base, hard and straining. 

He rocked his hips into her hand, his gaze dropping down to watch her actions.

“Eyes up here,” She commanded. It was her turn to watch him.

Caleb’s gaze dragged up to her face again. He relaxed to one side of the couch and she scooted over to where they were almost side by side. 

She took him in hand, but Caleb did all the work. He rutted himself into her fist, thrusting eagerly as he pressed his forehead against hers.

His breath came rapidly, his movements sloppy yet eager. His hand slid down her back as he anchored himself to her. 

His cock was already leaking, impossibly hard, and swollen, eager for relief. He’d worked himself up when he was grinding on her. So much so that he’d been teetering on the edge since the beginning. 

He moaned as he fucked into her hand. She tried to match his pace, jerking him off with as much enthusiasm as he was showing. His pleasure stricken face made him look even more handsome as their eyes locked, making the moment even more intimate. 

He was right, he didn't last long. Without being told, her name was falling from his lips as cum soaked the front of his shorts. He throbbed in her hand, his hips stilling as he panted. The look of euphoria on his face would be ingrained in her mind forever.

She rubbed him after he stilled, coaxing out every last drop until he placed his hand on her arm to silently let her know he was spent. 

He collapsed to the couch, his eyes closing and his chest heaving. His large arms wrapped around her smaller frame and he hugged her to his broad chest. His heart raced against her cheek as she snuggled against him. She relished in his warmth when he tightened his arms round her. 

“Maybe now we can take that shower together.” She said, kissing his red cheeks and nose.

He huffed out a laugh. “Deal.” His speech was slowed as he recovered from the high. “But don't be hoggin’ all the hot water, got it?”

She laughed with a smile of pure joy on her face. It was like nothing had changed between them, yet everything had. 

[zarameraki]

♡₊˚✒️₊✧ 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗼𝗿 𝗻𝗮𝗻𝗮𝗺𝗶'𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝘃𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝘀𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 ♡₊˚📓₊✧

: ̗̀➛ tropes: fem! reader 𖥔 minors do not interact 𖥔 unprotected sex 𖥔 professor x student 𖥔 alternate universe 𖥔 nsfw 𖥔 smut

: ̗̀➛ words: 1.7k

: ̗̀➛ notes: contemplating if i should do a full series on professor nanami. if you have any requests, don’t hesitate to send them. pls follow, reblog, like, comment—whatever you want! okay love you and enjoy.

Professor Nanami was captivated by you from the moment you walked into the classroom on the first day. Among the sea of students, you were the only one who chose to sit right at the front, directly in the middle, with a radiant smile that caught his attention instantly.

He always seemed to lose his train of thought during lectures whenever he directed even a brief glance in your direction. 

When he found out your name during one of the online quizzes, he shamelessly delved into researching your social media accounts. Every image he came across painted a picture of sunshine and rainbows, but it was that one image of you in a bikini that sent shockwaves to his cock.

His obsession grew to the point he intentionally gave you a lower grade on an exam you clearly excelled in, just so you would have a reason to schedule office hours and discuss it with him.

As you sat across from him, he found himself struggling to catch his breath. You passionately argued why you deserved a chance for a retake. Tears welled up in your eyes, tracing the delicate edge of your waterline. He didn’t realize it would go this far and he was a fucking idiot for it.  

Nanami rushed over to your side. He quickly crouched down, gently cupping your flushed face in his hands. His thumbs wiped over your wet lashes as he whispered, “I apologize, sweetheart. I purposely gave you a failing grade just to have this chance to speak with you. It was not my intention to cause you distress.”

He held his breath, eagerly awaiting your response, your face still cradled in his hands, only for you to ask, “So, did I pass?” And with a chuckle, he nodded affirmatively, replying, “From the very start.” Because you were a smart girl. The smartest out of everyone he’s ever met. 

His chuckle abruptly ended when you leaned in and kissed him, causing him to freeze with wide-open eyes as yours remained tightly shut in anxious anticipation.

Then like a pliable putty responding to heat, he melted into the kiss, responding with fervor and intensity, while you stood there, arms encircling his neck, both of you lost in the moment. He awkwardly fumbled with locking his office door in a desperate attempt to maintain some semblance of professionalism amidst the escalating moment.

You were perched comfortably on his lap, your lips moving in perfect harmony with his, your body undulating against his erection, fulfilling the dirty fantasies you've harbored for your professor since you first enrolled in his class.

He showered your face and neck with kisses, quickly removing your sweater to unveil your breasts. He teasingly latched onto your perky, sweet nipples, all while he struggled to contain his own orgasm, barely held back by the fabric of his boxers.

In a matter of minutes, he had you bent over his desk, pants and boxers dangling carelessly, his thick, veiny cock buried within you, thrusting vigorously, the force causing his stationary and name plaque to crash to the ground. You gripped the edges tightly, cheek pressed against the smooth mahogany surface, your ass arching to meet his every powerful thrust.

Finishing his heavy load inside of you, he marveled at the sight of his release dripping down your legs, mirroring the tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. Your asscheeks showed signs of discoloration from his relentless spanking; and your legs trembled with the aftermath. He helped you stand, but you sagged into his embrace, causing him to lift you in a bridal-style carry.

Settling into his chair, he gently stroked your face, showering you with praises for being such a good girl for him.

Relentless since the moment he first fucked you, Nanami couldn’t seem to get enough, whether it's after his lectures in his cluttered office, or shooting you a text asking you meet him in some deserted storage space, or inviting you to his place for a cozy evening of dinner and drinks.

And sometimes, it's not even about the sex but just cuddling on the couch, binging movies until you both fall asleep wrapped in each other's arms. It's like time stood still in those moments, suspended in a bubble of warmth that you both never want to burst.

Nanami had become your boyfriend months into your relationship. He surprised you on your graduation day by proposing to you in the lecture hall where you first met four years ago, and as an extra reward for being his good girl, he also asked you to move in with him.

He cried when you said yes.