#When The Harbour Becomes The Sea

[humanpurposes]

August

Part 1: Possibilities and Peace Offerings

Your family has been invited to spend August at Dragonstone, where things get a little tense after an unfortunate first encounter with Aemond Targaryen, one he's determined to put right.

Aemond Targaryen x Reader // Modern AU

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist // Read on AO3

Warnings: 18+, nothing too bad here, eventual smut, slight enemies to lovers, mutual pining

Words: 7k

A/n: Summer romance is here!! hope you likeeee. This is going to be three parts in total.

The impending summer exists beyond time, beyond the rest of the world. Exams are over and you’ve already received a mark for your dissertation. The dorm room you called home for three years is packed up and returned to its prison-like appearance, just as it was when you were an eager and excitable fresher. Suddenly the world is an endless sea of possibilities and you’re standing on the water’s edge with nothing to lose.

You spend a few weeks with your friends, drinking in pub gardens and driving down to the rammed beaches along the coast near King’s Landing, but this summer of possibility takes an unexpected turn when your father receives an invitation to spend the month of August at Dragonstone, as a guest of Viserys Targaryen. Viserys and your father have been business partners for just under a decade, but to be welcomed into his inner circle, to the ancestral home of the Targaryen family, is another honour altogether. 

Your parents are beside themselves with excitement. You’re a little more sceptical but you won’t let them know it. So once your uni friends have gone back to their hometowns, you pack an array of swimsuits and summer dresses into a suitcase, and bundle into the backseat of your father’s car. 

The aircon is on full blast. You sip on the last of your water as an 80s playlist blares through your headphones to block out the conversation of investments, clients, lawsuits and legal fees from the front seats.

Dragonstone is three things; an island, a town, and a castle. You drive out of the city, red and grey buildings blurring into greenery and vast spaces of blue, the sky and the sea. A ferry takes you from the mainland to the island’s port. The song you were listening to fades away as you slip your headphones off your ears. The town is utterly charming, from the rows of fishing boats in the harbour to the cobbled streets and obscure little buildings, bookshops, bakeries and butchers. The sun shines brightly, heat pulses through the window even with the blast of cool air.

A few more miles and you reach a gatehouse, ancient stone walls smothered with ivy, guarded by two stone creatures with their jaws wide open— dragons with spikes and sharp teeth. The driveway is lined with thick trees and foliage. Suddenly you turn a corner and there it is, towers and turrets reaching up into the summer sky, hundreds of windows, more carvings of dragons looming proudly over where Blackwater Bay becomes the Narrow Sea. 

The man who greets you by the doors is not a Targaryen. He has dark hair, dark eyes, a crisp white shirt and a radio on his belt. Your father seems to know him already. He greets him as “Cole,” and introduces him to you and your mother.

Cole offers his hand to you. “Criston,” he insists, “I’m the head of Mr Targaryen’s security.”

Two identical butlers take your bags from the car while Criston shows you into the entrance hall. He comments on the antiques and the 14th century timbers, leading you through to the room he calls “the waiting chamber”. It has high ceilings, wood panelled walls, an enormous fireplace and aged but comfortable looking leather sofas at the edges of the room. You note the portraits on the walls, the more recent photographs on the mantle, but before you can get a proper look, someone announces their own arrival into the room.

Viserys Targaryen has his arms open, dressed far more casually than you’ve seen him at various galas and events, he even has a pair of aviators keeping his silver hair out of his face. He greets your father with a smile and a firm handshake, his eyes sharp but somewhat hollow. 

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” he says, moving onto your mother and then to you. “We’re having drinks on the patio, enjoying the sun. Why don’t you join us?” He chuckles and you don’t really understand why. You’re not sure how any of this works.

Viserys leads you through the house, stopping by the great hall and the library, pointing out details like Criston did. His home is devoted to family and every furnishing carries some sentimental value. The curtains and the sofas in the library are Arryn blue for his first wife, the shelves are laden with books that belonged to his grandfather. There are items here which have belonged to the Targaryens for generations and their house’s sigil is carved into the walls and wooden beams. 

At last you come to a hall with tall windows, glass chandeliers and marble floors. Viserys calls this “the west gallery”, a more modern addition to the castle, built in the 17th century. He opens a double glass door and you can already see the sprawling green gardens, the unnatural blue of a swimming pool somewhere in the distance. Before all that is the raised patio, an array of chairs and the people sitting in them.

You step into the heat of the garden, into cigarette smoke and the sounds of laughter, loud and seemingly rehearsed. Your father knows most of these people, other associates of Targ Corp, Corlys Velaryon and his wife Rhaenys Tagraryen, Jason Lannister and his wife Joanna, Lyonel Strong and his son Larys. Even Otto Hightower is lounging back in his chair, sunglasses over his eyes, a pale pink cocktail in a crystal glass. 

Your parents smile graciously, your mother clutching her handbag over her shoulder, your father wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to air out the damp patches in his shirt. They’ll want to make a good impression. Each person staying at Dragonstone this summer is another opportunity for your father.

You glance down at your denim shorts and your sandals— an outfit for comfort, not for networking.

Viserys directs the three of you to a cushioned wooden bench and you squeeze in beside your mother. Another butler appears and offers you all a drink. Your parents both ask for a gin and tonic. You’re thinking that you’d like to dunk yourself in the pool, so you ask for a large glass of water. 

“With ice and lemon, miss?”

“Yeah, please, if you have it?”

Your mother nudges you with her elbow and whispers in your ear. “This is Dragonstone, if you want it they probably have it.”

“If I asked for the Prince of Pentos’ phone number, do you think they’d bring it out on a silver tray?” You return with a grin.

The minutes drag by. Lyonel Strong asks your father about his law practice. Corlys Velaryon and Jason Lannister enter a heated discussion about yachts. Otto Hightower mentions the name “Daemon” and the other voices go quiet. You take large gulps of your water, occasionally sharing silent looks with your mother.

The heat is sweltering. You feel your head pulsing, your skin becoming damp and you worry you may end up as a puddle on the patio if you don’t find a reason to escape soon.

The glass doors open and two women enter the garden, one with auburn hair, dressed in a floral dress and high heels. The other, younger, blonde hair cut into a fashionably short fringe, barefoot, dressed in denim shorts and baggy t-shirt, goes straight to Otto. She doesn’t look at anyone else. She stands behind Otto and leans down to wrap her arms around his neck. This must be Alicent Hightower and her daughter.

Alicent makes her rounds elegantly. She’s familiar with all the people present, except for the three of you, the outsiders, piled onto a single piece of garden furniture. Her eyes are wide and brown, her lips full and fallen slightly even when she smiles. She asks about the journey from King’s Landing, if you’ve had a chance to explore the town.

She asks you a lot of questions too, what you do, where you studied, what your plans are for the Autumn. And once she’s found out what she wants from you, she starts telling you everything about her children, unprompted.

“Helaena’s starting a PhD in a few weeks, staying in King’s Landing– King’s college, of course, not KLU, seven heavens. We didn’t want her to be too far away from home,” she says, looking back at her daughter and her father. “Etymology. Well, she’s always had a thing for insects, I could never understand it, but it’s easier to let her follow her interests, she’s that sort of girl.

“Now Aegon is like that too, he likes a lot of things, would be nice if he could be interested in something that makes him money. Oh well, he’s into the arts, fancies himself a photographer, directed a few plays at university– Oldtown. He wrote a screenplay, you must remind me to show you, it’s really quite clever. It’s about injustice or something like that.

“Daeron is at Oldtown too, at Citadel Boys. He’s the only child I sent to board, I just felt he might be happy with a bit of space from all of us. He wants to go to Oldtown like his brothers. His father wants him to do economics, but he’s very good at history.

“Aemond did history, but then he trained in accountancy. He’s worked all over, Oldtown, Storm’s End, Harrenhal, but he’s looking to stay in King’s Landing now–”

“Mum, you’ll bore her to tears,” Helaena says and it’s only now you notice that she’s moved to stand in front of you. 

Alicent frowns.

You stifle a smile and raise your brows hopefully.

“Do you know where you’re sleeping yet?” Helaena asks, looking at her mother.

“I’ve put her in the moat room,” Alicent says. She turns back to you, “I’m sorry, darling, you’re probably tired, aren’t you? Helaena can show you your room.”

You kiss your mother's cheek and agree to reconvene for dinner in the evening.

“Sorry about mum, she just jumps at the chance to talk about her kids,” Helaena says as you walk back through the west gallery.

“It’s sort of cute,” you say, staring up at the gold detailing on the ceiling. “Very informative.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” she says with a wicked smile.

When Helaena laughs she scrunches up her eyes and her nose. She sways her arms by her sides as she walks and trails her fingertips on the walls. Unlike Criston or Viserys, she doesn’t have little anecdotes about any of the vases or paintings on display. She’s a juxtaposition of her family’s ancestral home, airy and lighthearted, earthy and inexplicably real.

“Your parents are probably in the west wing,” she explains as you come to a winding stairwell. “That’s where everyone else will be too. The moat room is on the other side of the house.”

You nod along, stealing glances out the windows, at the gardens, and from higher up, you can see the sea.

“Don’t be too disheartened though,” Helaena says, “that means you’re with us.”

She shows you your room first. It sits at the very corner of the castle with windows to the north and the east. The moat in question isn’t a moat, it’s more of a well kept ditch. By the rest of the house you were half expecting the room to be medieval, but to your surprise it’s bright, carpeted, sans priceless antiques and heirlooms. A queen-sized bed waits for you piled with pillows. 

“I’m down the hall, and the boys are in the next corridor,” Helaena explains. “If you smell something suspicious, it’s Aegon.”

She helps you unpack your suitcase, admiring your swimsuits and looking through the small collection of books you’ve brought to pass the time.

She shows you her room which is further down the corridor. It’s much larger than yours, far more personal. She has worn patterned rugs over the wooden floors, dark blue wallpaper and accents of gold everywhere, the mirror over her vanity, the handles on the drawers and the wardrobe. You’re most intrigued by the framed taxidermies on the walls, butterflies with the most beautiful wings you’ve ever seen, moths, beetles, even a scorpion.

You’re a little relieved when you see a cat curled up on her bed, with a thick white coat, brown ears. 

“Dreamfyre,” Helaena says, scooping the cat up in her arms. “She’s named after the Valryian god of prophecy and wisdom.”

You hold your hand out for Dreamfyre to sniff. She considers you for a moment, and runs her head against your fingers. “So can she tell me my future?” you ask.

Helaena stares at you. “Don’t be ridiculous, she’s a cat. Why, hoping for something in particular?”

“I like to see where life takes me,” you say.

After exchanging phone numbers and scrolling through each other’s Spotify playlists, Helaena tells you that she thinks the two of you are going to be friends.

Dinner is surprisingly more pleasant, where you all eat around a table on the patio. Being outside is far more bearable once the sun starts to set and a breeze sweeps in from the sea. You’re served white fish, potato salad coated in herbs which Alicent says she grows herself, summer vegetables, grilled courgettes, red and yellow peppers, sweet and tangy tomatoes, washed down with white wine.

You sit beside Helaena, opposite two of her brothers, Aegon and Daeron. Daeron is far taller than his older brother but his face is clearly younger. His pale blond hair is slightly overgrown, his nose a little pink and his skin freckled from being in the sun. “Aemond managed to beat me at tennis today,” he says.

Aegon rolls his eyes, far more concerned with scratching the ears of a golden labrador perched on the floor beside him.

You look to Helaena for an explanation.

“Daeron’s looking to go pro. Aemond can’t stand that he’s not the best at something.”

There’s an empty space at the head of the table, between Aegon and Helaena. You’ve yet to see any other evidence that the elusive middle brother exists.

“There’s a tennis court here?” You ask.

“Towards the water garden, you should be able to see it from the moat room.” Helaena says. “You should have a look.”

Dessert is pistachio ice-cream, then everyone starts to disperse. Aegon grabs a bottle of wine and he and Daeron traipse over to a firepit at the edge of the patio, followed by the labrador. Your parents follow Viserys and the others into the house. Corlys and Rhaenys linger at the table, staring up at the sky and taking long drags from their cigarettes.

You trail Helaena to a neatly kept kitchen. Some of the staff pass through, into a far larger back room with metal surfaces, where the real cooking is done. Criston sits at the kitchen island on a stool, eating a pasta salad from a glass bowl. Helaena pats his head as she passes him. He doesn’t seem surprised by it, perhaps it’s a common occurrence.

“Feel free to grab anything you want, by the way. There’s all sorts of snacks and stuff, and if you want more of something give Criston a shout,” Helaena says, picking out bags of chocolate buttons and sour sweets from a cupboard.

“That’s kind,” you say, twisting your fingers over each other in front of you. “I’m quite tired, I think I might just have a shower and go to bed.”

“Darling, it’s summer, you can do whatever you want,” Helaena says. “See you at breakfast, yeah?” She pulls you into a quick hug and disappears out into the garden.

Not wanting to linger when Criston’s phone starts to ring, you decide to brave it and find your way back to your bedroom. Aegon and Daeron seem like fun, maybe too much fun for tonight, you just need to sleep off the fatigue from the sun.

This place is far too big for you to feel settled just yet. It amazes you how everyone can navigate the castle so easily, it’s like a maze. Eventually you find your way back to the entrance hall. You think you might know the way to the east wing from here, but when you see the sky beyond the windows, lilac and orange, dotted with grey clouds and the first few stars of the evening, you want to make the most of the dying light. Maybe you could head towards the water garden and find the tennis court.

Your sandals crunch against the gravel which stretches out into paths leading in three directions. The central one leads to the driveway and the gatehouse. To the left is the gardens past the edge of the moat, and to the right is an outlook and a downhill path which disappears from sight, which you assume leads down to the sea. You can hear the waves in the distance.

The sunlight is fading fast. You cross your arms over yourself, shivering and regretting the lack of a cardigan. You tell yourself you might warm up with a bit of a walk.

You take a few paces down the path towards the gardens– a dog’s bark has your heart leaping out of your chest. It’s deep and loud, coming from behind you. Your head darts around. An enormous dog has emerged from the downhill path and is bounding towards you, covering ground quickly.

You keep your feet planted on the ground, out of fear

The dog, a great dane, stops before you— it truly is huge, its head would come up to your torso if you were close enough, and you don’t really want to find out– barking viciously. Its teeth flash, flecks of saliva dripping from its mouth.

“Back off! Come, Vhagar!”

You look back along the path. A man in a black t-shirt and black shorts is walking quickly towards you and the dog. He grabs it by its collar and yanks it back, fastening it on a leash.

His eyes dart up— eye, you realise. The right side is a bright blue, the left is clouded, framed by a scar slicing down from his brow to his cheek.

“Who are you?” He asks like an accusation.

You hesitate, your heart still racing in panic.

You say your first name, then your family name, at that the man tuts and raises himself to full height, keeping the great dane on a short leash. “Right. What are you doing out here?”

“Just… looking around.”

“Just looking around someone else’s house?”

Gods now you’re really starting to panic. He’s glaring at you as if it’s your fault his dog just made a break for you.

He huffs irritably through his nose. “Look, Vhagar’s not always friendly and especially not around strangers. Be careful, yeah?” 

Vhagar now seems content enough sitting by her owner’s side, wagging her tail and panting with her tongue out. Her grey coat is covered in sand, especially her paws and her nose.

“If your dog’s not always friendly why wasn’t she on a leash?” 

His face hardens. Frowning suits his sharp features and the intensity of his eye. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this is my fucking house.”

That explains the blond hair, and you suppose now he has the same lanky look as Daeron and the same gauntness in his face as Aegon.

“Right, your dog could have just mauled me but thanks for the friendly reminder.” You turn towards the house and mutter loud enough for him to overhear, “prick.”

You can’t shake the frustration. Nothing takes the edge off, not the hot stream of water from the shower, the routine of your skincare or the feeling of sinking into an impossibly soft mattress. Dragonstone is perfect… and all you want to do is scream, just a little.

Breakfast is served in the morning room, next to the kitchen, according to the text you got from Helaena. You put a swimsuit on, a patterned one piece and pull on some shorts. Before you head downstairs you grab a pair of sunglasses, a bottle of suncream and a book, determined that your morning will be peaceful and idyllic.

People flitter into the morning room as they please. Helaena is still in her pyjamas, tucking into a bowl of yoghurt and fruit. Daeron comes in and starts eating toast off Alicent’s plate, having already run a casual 5k about the grounds.

The man from last night is hovering by a side table, placing sausages and bacon onto a small plate. He glances sideways at you as you enter. 

You keep your teeth pressed together as you reach for a plate and go for the platter of pastries, reaching for an almond croissant.

His elbow must be a few inches from yours. “Morning,” he mutters.

You were half expecting him to act like you don’t exist. “Morning,” you mumble back.

“Have you two already met?” Helaena asks loudly from the table.

“Briefly,” he says.

“And you didn’t actually tell me your name,” you say, adding some strawberries to your plate for good measure.

“The boy has no manners,” Daeron says in a mocking voice, earning him an exasperated chide from his mother. Helaena giggles to herself.

He faces you fully. “Aemond,” he says.

“Good for you,” you say, and go to take a seat beside Helaena.

“Tea or coffee?” she asks you, reaching towards the two silver pots in the middle of the table.

“Coffee, please.”

Helaena makes a shocked expression. “Blasphemy. I’m a tea girl.” 

As Helaena pours some coffee into a china cup, Aemond takes the free seat opposite you. Your heart races a little, infuriated at the sight of him, somewhat guilty that your time at Dragonstone has already soured and his entire family is there to see it.

You add just a dash of milk to your coffee. In the corner of your eye you see him watching you, fork hovering in front of his face. You muster the confidence to look up and he averts his eye.

After you’ve finished your breakfast you head out to the patio, down the stone steps and to the pool, settling on one of the lounge chairs. Helaena has gone back up to her room to change and bring you both down a towel.

You lather suncream on your limbs, face and neck, and open your book. This is a nice kind of heat, one that you’re more prepared for. You can almost feel it permeating your skin, breathing new life into your blood. 

You get a few moments of bliss until a silhouette appears beside you.

You raise your eyes from the page, over the edges of your sunglasses, staring ahead at the surface of the pool. You can smell a man’s aftershave, and you can tell he’s too tall to be Aegon.

Ice clinks against glass. He leans down to place something on the small table beside you. “Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

You don’t want to turn your head, that might be misinterpreted as you actually caring.

But then Aemond’s voice takes on a lighter tone and he says, “Are you reading Crime and Punishment?” 

You scrunch your brows in bewilderment as you look up at him.

His eye moves between your face and the book in your lap

“Yeah,” you say, shifting your legs and drawing your knees closer to your torso, “I’m finding it a bit boring to be honest.”

His lips are parted ever so slightly and you can see the tips of his teeth. “It’s one of my favourite books.”

“I think that might explain a lot,” you say.

The corner of his mouth flickers like he might smile. He holds it back. 

“What’s this?” You ask, looking down at the glass of iced coffee he’s placed on the table. 

“A peace offering,” Aemond says. “I really am sorry about yesterday evening. I just… panicked. Vhagar isn’t always good around people she doesn’t trust. She bit my nephew once actually.”

“Oh, not good.”

“It was years ago, and to be fair to her—” he doesn’t finish that sentence. He presses his lips together. “I just thought I should apologise to you.”

Even when apologising he sounds smug.

“Thanks, I appreciate it,” you say.

He hums, it’s cryptic and it throws you off a little. He looks at you like he has a secret, like he’s managed to spot something that you haven’t. 

You feel aware of yourself and now you can’t breathe without doing it consciously. You feel beads of sweat forming at the back of your neck, the warmth of your own skin with your thighs pressed together, the pulse in your chest, the restless feeling in your stomach. You’re worried you might do something stupid, but how could you? You’re only sitting in a swimsuit and sunglasses, while Aemond is doing nothing to hide the fact that he’s looking at you– studying you with a hint of excitement in his eye.

And after about a minute of this he says, “enjoy your morning,” turning and strolling towards the patio. 

You clench your jaw, determined that you won’t look back at him, but you listen to his footsteps as they move away. 

With each line you read, you can only think of Aemond pouring over every word and making this book his bible. You imagine his hands holding the cover, his fingertip dragging over the page, his lips parted in concentration. It feels intrusive, it feels too involved. You couldn’t possibly put this book down now.

Aemond is an understated presence amongst his own family. He often lurks in the library or in a corner of the sitting room with a book. He wanders the gardens with his headphones on. He takes Vhagar down to the beach every evening and some nights you steal glances of them from a window at the front of the house. He gets these headaches, something to do with the scar over his eye, and when he does he likes to retreat to his room. When he is around for dinner he sits at the head of the table, opposite his father but miles away from him. He’s not a big talker but when he does have something to add to the conversation he commandeers it. Everyone stops to listen when he speaks.

You like watching him, the way he fiddles with anything within his reach, how he strokes his fingertips over his hands, the edge of his jaw. You look for his microexpressions, the twitches of his brow and the quirk of his lips when he finds something amusing, and how at the mentions of sensitive subjects or certain names, his eye widens. 

He smirks when he sees you looking, you don’t mind that he knows that you are.

You don’t want to seek him out, but you don’t try to avoid him either. He’s always somewhere in your periphery, his hand brushing against yours at the dinner table, the smell of his Marlboros wafting from the patio when you’re sitting by the pool which makes you wonder if he’s watching you. In the evenings after dinner, you and the Targaryen siblings hang around the firepit late into the night. Helaena and Daeron talk about constellations and roast marshmallows, Aegon plucks on a guitar, and you and Aemond fall into a game of pretending like you’re not looking at each other. 

Some nights you sit across from him, your view distorted by the heat and the flames. Other nights he dares to sit beside you, close enough that his leg will rest against yours. He keeps his voice soft until you’re leaning in closer to catch every word he says, this insufferable man who bings you a coffee every morning and asks you about the books you read.

One night Aemond is sat beside you. Helaena sings along to Aegon’s guitar, Daeron drums his fingers against his legs, gazing in wonder at his siblings because moments like this are a rarity for him.

“Do you forgive me yet?” Aemond asks, his arm draped along the back of the bench you sit on. Maybe he can read your mind because you’ve been silently begging for him to come closer… closer…

Your senses are hazy, the smoke of the fire, the scent of cigarettes and aftershave lingering on Aemond’s shirt, the glasses of wine you had with dinner, the clear, cold night air piercing the backs of your arms. He notices you shivering and slips his arm around your shoulders, slowly, so you have a chance to tell him to stop. His heat is white hot. Your chest feels hollow and weightless.

Everything about him is hypnotising, the curve of his mouth, his self-assuredness, the look in his eye that’s gentle and intense all at once.

Your body feels heavy; you should probably go to bed soon. “Do you care if I forgive you?”

He frowns, less disappointed, more intrigued and lifts his hand to brush your hair from your neck, fingertips grazing over your skin. Your body stiffens in his wake, like electricity coursing through your shoulders, down your spine.

“I’d hate to have it hanging over my head,” he mutters.

You turn your head and now your faces are inches apart. His nose twitches as he breathes, you notice.

His palm comes to rest on your bare thigh, below the hem of your shorts. In the corner of your eye you see heads of silver hair glancing across the firepit. Aegon chuckles. You’re content to let the distractions fade away. “Keep bringing me coffees and I’ll consider it.”

The next day you’re laying on your bed, enjoying the cool of the early evening against your damp skin and hair after a shower. How you can be so exhausted after a day of reading by the pool makes you despair a little. It’s the heat, it messes with your brain.

The music through your headphones is interrupted by a notification.

Helaena Targaryen: Aemond said he’s off to walk the dogs if you want to join him.

You frown at the screen. Did he want Helaena to ask you? You specifically?

Surprisingly, you were getting on rather well with Aemond today, not enough for him to text you himself, or ask for your number for that matter. At the very least, things have been less hostile since your first encounter. You saw him at breakfast and he asked you how you were getting on with Crime and Punishment, if you had finally realised that it’s the best piece of literature put to the world (his words). You said you were not convinced, only because it was fun to argue about it with him. While you were sitting by the pool he came down in a pair of black trunks and no shirt, swam twenty laps in twenty minutes, then dried off in the lounge chair next to yours. Later, while Helaena was sitting with you, he appeared from the kitchen with two bowls of strawberries with the stems cut off. And then at lunch he sat between Aegon and Daeron, and hardly looked at you.

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, painfully conscious that Helaena will be able to see that you’re typing.

Helaena Targaryen: I think it’s part of him ‘making amends’ with you.

Helaena Targaryen: He probably still feels bad about it.

Helaena Targaryen: Loser.

You smile to yourself and type out your reply: Yeah, why not. Where does he want me?

While Helaena starts to type you quickly pull on some shorts and a clean t-shirt. Your phone dings while you’re in front of the mirror, dabbing concealer under your eyes.

Helaena Targaryen: Front door. Five mins. Have fun :) 

It will probably take you five minutes to find your way down to the entrance hall anyway. You finish your face off with some blush on the apples of your cheeks and a thin amount of mascara on your lashes. There’s not much you can do about your wet hair, but other than that you’re mostly satisfied with yourself, so you pull on a pair of trainers, slip your phone into your back pocket and hurry through the corridors of Dragonstone.

He’s waiting for you in the entrance hall by the door, Vhagar, the great dane on one leash, Sunfyre, the golden labrador on another. He gives you a half smile as you approach them.

“Who am I walking?” you say.

“My girl stays with me,” he says, offering you Sunfyre’s leash, which you take, ruffling his ears.

“Vhagar is your girl then, is she?” you ask as Aemond leads you out the door and down the front steps, past the spot where she scared you half to death. The dogs are eager to storm ahead but Aemond keeps Vhagar on a tight lead, so you do the same.

“I suppose. We’ve had great danes forever, my father’s very fond of them. We got Vhagar when I was sixteen and well, we just like each other a lot I guess.” 

“What about Sunfyre?”

“He’s Aegon’s really, but mostly he stays at the Keep with mum and dad. Aegon doesn’t really stay in the same place long enough.”

“Sounds exciting.”

“Yeah well, he does what he wants. This way,” Aemond says, nodding towards the downhill path to the beach. You’ve been down here with Helaena already, a winding gravel path lined with bushes and brambles down the cliff face. Vhagar plods along leisurely, Sunfyre can’t get down fast enough. When you stumble, Aemond steadies you, a large hand wrapped around your forearm. “He can run off now anyway,” he mutters, undoing the leash, and Sunfyre darts along the path in a golden flash.

Low in the sky, you see the sun dancing along the surface of the sea, waves rolling orange and blue into white foam as they meet the shore.

“What about you?”

Aemond looks at you with a brief look of bewilderment.

“Are you not doing what you want?”

He tries to conceal a frown, pouting his lips slightly. “Maybe I did for a bit, wound up working for Targ Corp, so I don’t see what difference any of it made.”

Once you reach the sand and Sunfyre is sniffing at some rocks along the base of the cliff, Aemond looks at you. “Are you alright if I take her off the leash?”

Vhagar looks pleadingly up at her owner, her tail thrumming against the ground.

“Yeah, of course,” you say.

“I just didn't know if you’d be comfortable after…”

“Oh,” you say, “thanks for considering it, but yes, it’s more than fine.”

Aemond grins as he undoes the clasp connecting the lead to Vhagar’s collar.

“What?” you ask.

“Does that mean you forgive me now?”

You fold your arms, your cheeks straining as you try to withhold the extent of your smile. “You do make a good coffee, I’ll give you that.”

Sunfyre and Vhagar entertain themselves, chasing each other, running to the edge of the water where the waves rush over the sand and retreat again. You and Aemond walk along the shore where the sand is damp and stable. Aemond says the tide will be coming in within the hour.

“So why work for Targ Corp if you don’t want to?” you ask him. 

Aemond contemplates this for a moment, making a low humming noise in his throat. “If I really didn’t want to, I wouldn't.”

“But if Aegon gets to do what he wants, why don’t you?”

He looks down at his shoes, white sneakers, and digs his hands into the pocket of his joggers. “I remember thinking when I finished my bachelor’s, there were lots of things I was good at.”

You make a teasing face.

“No, I just mean there’s lots of things I could have done. I thought about being a curator, or something, you know? I did my dissertation on that actually, how museums and exhibitions can distort the past as well as preserve it–” he interrupts himself with a short tut. “Sorry, I don’t need to bore you.”

Your eyes trail along the curve of his jaw and his chin in the fading light. The wind is gentle, whispering over the bare skin of your cheeks, your arms, your legs. The smell of sea salt lingers in your nose and on your tongue. “I’m not bored,” you say.

With a shy sort of smile he tells you more, how he used to spend hours in the museums in Oldtown, looking at exhibits on Dorne, Essos and Valyria, the papers he read, the cultural memory and the dissonance. “History and heritage, when you think about them, are inherently vague concepts,” he says, “because they’re all based on claims and narratives that are difficult to determine and if they are clear cut, they’re biased. So how do we find the truth? How do we know that what we’re claiming is the right story is actually accurate?” You find yourself watching the parts of him you usually do. He speaks with his hands, indicating and gesturing and moving them randomly when he’s trying to think of a word or explain himself. Occasionally he runs his fingers through his hair or rubs his chin. And his single eye is wide, looking up as he pieces together a thought, looking back to you so he knows you’re still listening. 

“But after all that, you went and trained to be an accountant?” you ask.

“You should have seen the look on my father’s face when I told him I wanted to do a masters in museum studies. So yeah, accounting it was.”

It makes you sad, but you don’t want to tell him that. The entire time you’ve been here you’ve never seen Aemond so animated, talking about something he seems to love.

“What about you? What are your big life plans?” he says.

“Anything but accounting.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I bet.”

“I’ll do a masters eventually, but I want to work for a little bit. I’ll start applying for jobs when I’m home.”

“In King’s Landing?”

“Yeah.” You look back up at the dark stone of the cliff, the layers and straight lines, the tops of the castle’s turrets just visible from the shore. “Yeah, yeah I think there’s so much pressure to find something to do. I mean, I was trying to focus on my dissertation and my exams, and I kept having these weird moments where I’d think, what’s the point? I don’t have a job ready to go. I don’t have a place on a masters course. I don’t have any plans to travel or volunteer at an orphanage in Meereen. It was like there was a timer going off in my brain and if I didn’t make something of my life before my exams were over, well it was all going to be a waste.” Now you’re the one moving your hands mindlessly, and you don’t know why but saying it all out loud makes you nervous. “Sometimes I feel like I’m running out of time.”

You look back at Aemond and realise you’ve stopped walking. Somewhere along the beach the dogs bark and splash in the shallowest part of the water. Aemond is watching you. He still has his hands in his pockets, his lips curled into a vague smile. “You have plenty of time, don’t worry,” he says. 

It suddenly strikes you what Alicent had mentioned, about him moving back to King’s Landing.

Without stepping away from him you take a mental note of him, your eyes glancing up and down. You want to remember his silhouette, his posture and how he stands, the way he angles his chin, the way he likes to hold his hands behind his back, the joggers and the shape of his torso though his t-shirt. You think you could recognise him at a brief glance, a single body in a crowded city. You think you’d find him.

Aemond meets your eye and raises his brow. 

You smile slightly to fein innocent interest. “We’ll be neighbours, we might see each other wandering around the city.”

But you realise you’ve made a mistake. His amusement starts to fade from his face, his shoulders stiffening. He turns and puts his middle finger and thumb in his mouth to whistle the dogs. They both freeze and bound back towards you. “Tide will be coming in soon,” he says to you.

He has Vhagar and Sunfyre on their leads again. By the time you come back to the path on the cliff the sky is a dull shade of dark blue. The castle looms in darkness and the light comes from within, golden through all of its windows.

“I’m sorry if I was a bit of a downer,” you say.

“You’re fine,” Aemond says. Your steps sound in perfect time along the gravel, up to the front steps. Vhagar and Sunfyre huff and pant, pulling on their leads and eager for a rest.

You reach the door and Aemond opens it. Down the hall one of the butlers is waiting to take the dogs.

“It’s just, I thought we were getting on.”

“We are,” Aemond mutters. “Do you think we are?”

It’s hard to tell with Aemond. He’s polite when he needs to be, easily irritated around his siblings. He’s so calm and composed, but you can see it in his eye when he’s thinking– you just don’t know what. But then there are moments like this, when you think you’ve scratched the surface, when his gaze lingers on you and his eye is soft but intent. When he brings you a coffee in the morning, when he tells you about his favourite book and the things he wishes he’d done with his life.

You’re standing in the entrance hall. Dragonstone is alive, filled with people and distant sounds. Beyond the ancient walls the wind picks up and the tide is coming in. If you took one step closer to Aemond, your navel would be pressed against his.

“I want us to get on,” you say.

“Me too.”

“And I thought we were getting somewhere.”

“Maybe we are,” he says. “I liked this, you’re a good listener.”

“I don’t get that a lot.”

“Do you not?”

“Well I suppose it helps if the person speaking has something interesting to say.”

“Oh,” he says with a little nod, “I thought you were going to say you just liked me that much.”

“That helps too.”

No taglist, follow @ficsbygee and turn on post notifs for updates <3

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Choice (Halbrand x fem!Elf!reader)

-> in which you try to persuade Halbrand to follow you to the Southlands, regardless of his past

Warnings: surprise kiss, heavy make-out, implied smut (in a public place)

You don’t even receive a greeting. Before he even turns to face you, the first words out of Halbrand’s mouth are:

“Has she sent you to persuade me?”

He sounds bitter, and you don’t fault him after Galadriel had promised his service to the Queen of Númenor without his consent. She thought it might coax him into following her to the Southlands, but all it had done was earn her his supposed king’s sigyl, unceremoniously dumped into her hand as he told her to find someone else. Now, that pouch rests in your hand, but it wasn’t what drove you to come find him in the smithy.

“She meant to persuade you herself,” you tell him. “I pointed out that what she had to say would most likely not be well received.”

Halbrand gives a mirthless chuckle. “In that, you were correct.” He finally looks up from the table of daggers he has forged, and fixes you with a displeased gaze. “Yet here you stand, prepared to speak in her name.”

“Not in her name.”

“Why did you seek me out, then?”

There’s a challenge in his voice, and any other time you would gladly take it up. But, however much you might enjoy it, there had been enough playful banter between you. Now is the time for honesty, even if it doesn’t come easily.

“Galadriel is a dear friend of mine. I trust her. However, I... do not always agree with her.” That confession seems to spark his interest, if only a little. He raises an eyebrow, waiting for you to go on speaking. “She has convinced herself that you are the lost king of the Southlands. And, once a thought has entered her mind, well... it isn’t easily dislodged.”

“She has ‘convinced herself’?” he repeats pointedly. “So, you believe me when I say that,” he points to the pouch in your hand, “was never mine?”

“I believe...” With a sigh, you set the pouch down on the table, leaving it behind as you step closer to Halbrand and hold his gaze. “It doesn’t really matter what I believe. It doesn’t matter who you were. Only who you choose to be. The path ahead of you. And the one behind you, whatever it held, it has put you in a position where you can reclaim what was once yours and put an end to the suffering of so many.”

He eyes you with a mix of intrigue and disbelief, crossing his arms over chest and moving closer to you himself. “You would have me lie to the Númeóreans and Southlanders alike? Claim a crown that is not my own? I did not take you for such a deceiver.”

“I would not have you do anything,” you counter, undeterred by his skepticism. “You are your own person. But I would hope to see you lead. Inspire. Unite. Not because of your blood, but because... Because I can see that you have the makings for it. Because, even if the sea didn’t put a born king in our path, it certainly revealed to us one who can become it.”

Something shifts in his gaze. You think there is some sort of hope in it, mingled with sorrow, but you can’t quite read it. As long moments pass without a response from him, you begin to feel discouraged, thinking you have overstepped.

“It’s a great deal to ask, I know,” you admit apologetically. “It wasn’t right of Galadriel to deceive you into leaving the island, regardless of her belief. If you truly wish to stay here, I will speak with her and—”

It happens in a flash—one moment you are speaking, the next he has taken your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours. There is a moment of surprise, a small sound that escapes your throat, and then you’re kissing back, matching his urgency.

You hadn’t expected this. You’d felt the tension, the occasional flirtation in the words and looks exchanged between you. You may have denied to Galadriel, but not to yourself that you were beginning to harbour desire for this man you had met at sea. Yet somehow, whether because he wished to stay on the island, or because of your different natures as man and elf, acting on those feelings always seemed out of your reach, and you had put such thoughts aside.

Now, however, all thoughts of restrain are shattererd. Under his kiss, demanding and deep, you can’t help but savour his taste, tighten your fists in the fabric of his clothes to pull him closer. He smells of fire and metal and some musky personal essence that captivates your senses, and his stubble is rough against your cheeks in the most delightful way. You’re not sure whether he is the one pushing or you’re the one pulling, but you stumble back until your thighs meet the edge of the worktable. Consumed by desire, you have half a mind to toss aside all the knives laid out there and hoist yourself up onto it—but then he suddenly pulls away, leaving you wanting. The hunger in his gaze scorches you to the bone, but beyond it is a sentiment yet more feral which seems to hold him back.

“You say these things,” he says, breath heavy and voice gruff as if frustrated to the point of rage. “You say I should be king. You return my kiss, you welcome my touch. But if you knew what I did before I ended up on that raft... If you knew how I survived...” His thumb grazes your lip, his eyes dropping to it with a kind of tragic longing. “You would sooner plant a knife in my chest than put a crown upon my head,” he all but whispers, “let alone give yourself to me.”

His touch is gone then, and he pries himself away from you—or rather means to, for you catch his hand at the wrist and keep him still, holding his gaze unwaveringly.

“Do not presume to know my mind, Halbrand,” you say sharply. “I’ve had my fair share of fights. Of deeds I wish I could undo. It’s all ashes in the wind now.” You release his hand, trying to tame the fire he had stoked within your own chest and speak calmly. “If you wish to turn away from me, that is your choice alone. But don’t pretend like I asked it of you. Because I would not.”

For a while, there is only the crackle of the forge to fill the silence. It’s as if both of you are waiting to see which one of you will leave first—if one of you will leave. Your skin still sings where he has touched it. The air feels charged with promises not yet made. But you want to make them. This alliance, this passion—this folly, if that is what it is—you want it regardless.

In the end, it’s Halbrand who breaks the silence. His eyes stray from you to the pouch that is still on the table, and he speaks as though from a distant dream.

“A man once told me that being good is a choice you make every day.”

“So?” you ask, patiently. “What will you choose now?”

He looks back to you then, and it really shouldn’t take so little for your breath to catch in your throat after all your years of living, but he seems to have a talent for it. It’s because of the intent written plainly in his eyes, even before he returns within your closeness and leans in slowly, until his breath falls warmly on your cheek. This time, he makes no further move. It’s as if he offers himself, waiting for you to decide whether you want to take him or not. There’s a vulnerability to it that makes your heart ache.

You allow your lips to ghost over each other, relishing the thrill of anticipation for a moment before you close the remaining distance. This kiss, unlike the first, is gentle and unhurried. You bring your hand to his cheek, fingers sinking in his hair, and he gathers you into his arms as you taste each other at leisure. So content he seems taking his time that it comes as a surprise when, suddenly, he reaches behind you and clears the table of daggers in one fell swoop of the hand. You break the kiss with a gasp when the metal clatters to the floor, earning a short laugh from you that is cut off by the return of his lips on yours. Finally, he lifts you onto the table, hips bracketed by your thighs. His lips stray to your cheek, then wander to your neck, and you moan his name softly as his hips press into yours. It earns you a groan of your name in return, and a gentle nibble of your skin before he lifts his head slightly, cheek pressed to yours.

“You want this,” he murmurs lowly in your ear, “regardless of what came before?”

Eyes shut, you nod without hesitation as you breathe out, “Yes.”

He hums, and plants a short kiss on your lips. You chase his, but he keeps frustratingly out of your reach before lowering his head to kiss the other side of your neck as well.

“Are you certain?” he murmurs against your skin, and you know from his tone and from the slowness of his movements that he means to tease you, to stoke your desire for him even further.

“If you tease me too long, I might change my mind,” you warn, even if your voice is breathy with need.

Halbrand chuckles softly. “Well,” he says, “I would not risk that.”

And he doesn’t. Any more talk of Númenor, or Southlanders, or of anything at all is firmly postponed until morning. For now, he lays you down on the table, and you shed whatever darkness lies in your past the same way you do your garments. And, for better or worse, you choose to become one. If only for now.

Sequel -> Decision

[milkbobatyun]

a fallen star

pairing: zhongli x reader

genre: angstober, events

summary: to spend an eternity with him, was something you could only hope fate was kind enough to grant you in your next life.

word count: 1.7k

a/n: i love archon zhongli smsm, im sorry to all the guizhong lovers for making her evil, but it's for plot purposes alr :( lwk ended up rewriting this like 3 times cus i didn't feel like it was good enough LMAO

when guizhong was there, morax barely spared a glance towards you. her beauty and skill easily outshone yours, rendering you a mere shadow in her presence. it made your heart ache with sadness. she was the sun, you were the moon, silently beautiful.

they were comfortable, guizhong laughing daintily at a joke morax made, hand placed on morax’s arm. she held his attention, like she always did.

“...what do you think, [name]?” the sudden question startled you from your thoughts as you blinked and smiled apologetically.

“sorry, i was lost in my thoughts.” your own voice sounded dull, not tinkling and pleasant on the ears like guizhong’s.

morax’s amber eyes swept over yours, picking up the dejection in your posture, how you seemed uncomfortable, every muscle tense, as though you were ready to flee at any moment.

“i was just considering some new activities we could introduce for the upcoming lantern rite.” guizhong piped up, cheerfulness lacing her tone.

morax nodded in agreement, “guizhong’s ideas were innovative, as expected from the goddess of dust.” he praised.

of course, guizhong would be praised for her brilliant ideas. she was the perfect goddess, flawless in every way. unlike you, whose body was adorned with imperfections, from battles with the enemies of war and your own inner demons.

standing next to her felt like standing next to the sun, bright and warm, while you were the moon, unnoticed, but trying your best. thinking back, you realised that it was a long time since morax glanced at you the same way he looked at guizhong.

to him, you were the reliable goddess of strategy, someone he could always trust to have his back. in his eyes, you were his world, the one who hung up the stars and kept the world turning.

like stone, his faith in you was immovable, he trusted your words and plans for the archon war, to train and teach xiao. but guizhong, she held a different type of beauty, her presence commanded attention, her creations and innovations new and intriguing. he found himself spending more time and attention on guizhong, pushing you aside.

like stone, he was dense. if he had known earlier, had accepted his own feelings and understood why, when he was lost in the sea of people at a festival, his eyes searched for you, how your touch sent sparks of electricity across his skin, then this, all this, could’ve been avoided.

poor cloud retainer. she pitied herself. how did she, the clever, unparalleled adepti, become chained down by two idiots for friends? it was clearer than day that the two of you harboured feelings for each other, but how did neither of you realise.

it was time for her to be the perfect wingwoman and start her matchmaking career earlier than anticipated, before she lost the chance.

the tea had been poisoned. from the faint curve of guizhong’s lips, her eyes, alert and watching as you downed the cup she had given you, it was so obvious a five-year old could guess.

but you were preoccupied, the slip of paper your messenger pigeon delivered sat on your desk, strewn about with papers on war strategies and your mind racing through all the reasons why he wrote that message.

‘come meet me at the pavilion balcony. xiao will come find you.’

xiao escorted you along the path, the two of you discussing his training, for morax had entrusted you, the goddess of strategy, to be his teacher.

the terrain to the pavilion was difficult, you found yourself panting for breath. halfway up the mountain, the path began to twist and turn under your feet, sweat beading on your forehead. you tripped, feet stumbling over the stones of the path, each step weighing down on your feet.

xiao reached out, brows furrowed in concern.

“is everything ok, shīfu?” xiao’s quiet voice cuts through the ringing in your ears.

you lean against the stone face, shaking your head.

“i must be too tired.” you assure him, though your voice was tight with pain. “you little rascal and morax, always keeping me on my toes, overloading my desk with work.” you jested, playfully poking xiao in the side. “let me rest for a bit and we can keep going.”

pausing, you take in several shaking breaths. xiao’s golden eyes remained fixed on you, concern reflecting in his amber eyes.

with an effort, you pushed yourself off the stone face, marching onwards. xiao crouched in front of you, offering to carry you on his back. you stubbornly disagreed.

“whoever heard of a disciple carrying their master?” you teased, though pain was etched in the lines of your forehead.

xiao hesitated, his eyes flickered between your pale face and the inclining path ahead, but he respected you. thus, he fell into step beside you, ever watchful.

shadows crawled into your vision, blurring the edges and twisting the view of the path. a sudden wave of lightheadedness forced you to your knees, the world spinning sideways. xiao’s quick reaction caught you, leaning you against his shoulder.

“shīfu,” his tone filled with a rare edge of worry and fear. “you’re in no condition to continue.”

you shook your head. “i can do it, it’s going to be fine.” you didn’t know if this was to reassure yourself or xiao, but the sentence repeated itself like a mantra in your head.

the sun slowly set, painting the surrounding mountains with stunning shades of orange and gold, before the deep velvet of night overtook it, stars twinkling in the sky, the moon a watchful guardian.

with xiao supporting your weight, you stumbled up the last few paces up to the pavilion, not noticing the tall figure already present.

your heartbeat raced in your chest at an uncomfortable pace. the hollow thuds rang in your ears, mixing into a clashing melody with the piercing ringing. it made you feel nauseous, bile rising in your throat. you clawed at your chest, hoping it would slow down.

with a heave and a wretch, you threw up, the scarlet liquid splattering on the pristine stone tiles underfoot.

startled by the noise, morax spun around, amber eyes falling upon your trembling figure. xiao’s golden gaze, usually so calm and steady, now radiated desperation a silent plea for help.

for a heartbeat, morax stood frozen with shock. then, without a second thought, his posture of elegance thrown to the wind, morax races towards you.

he dropped to his knees, sinking to the floor, gently cradling you in his arms, gloved fingers gently tapping against your cheek, desperate to keep you awake. his voice trembled as he chanted your name, praying to the stars you would stay with him.

“[name],” he murmured urgently. “wake up, look at me.”

through the fog of pain and exhaustion, you felt the warmth of his embrace radiating, a familiar voice cutting through the pain. his scent–earth, osmanthus and tea…no, the scent of home–wrapped around you like a hug. you squinted up at him, your body feeling impossibly heavy, darkness threatening to bring you under.

“morax,” you breathed, chest heaving as you fought for breath. “i came…to see you, as you asked.”

morax looked at you in confusion. “wasn’t it you who asked to see me?” he questioned.

confusion surfaced on your face, until you realised who the mastermind behind this meeting could’ve been. you chuckled, clear and bright, gave way to violent coughing, which left you gasping for air.

“it must’ve been cloud retainer then.” you wheezed, breath struggling. “sly crane,” you teased, voice devoid of malice or hate. “this is her way of meddling.” you manage a wry smile.

you don’t give morax a chance to reply before you’re speaking again, holding a finger to his lips as words gushed from yours like a fountain.

“you know, i’ve liked you for a long time,” you confessed, your words carrying the weight of years of longing. “so long. i’d always hoped that you would look at me the same way, but you never did. seeing you with guizhong all the time breaks my heart.”

your chest tightened painfully, each breath a battle, but you fought on. “you mean everything to me, but i dont mean anything to you. i see the way you look at her, i hope she brings you joy.”

you open your mouth to speak again, but cold droplets that land on your face interrupt you from speaking. with an effort, you tilt your head up, watching the tears cascade down morax’s face.

with a trembling hand, you reach up to wipe his tears. morax’s hand envelops yours, his warm hand contrasting against your cold, clammy skin.

morax’s breath hitched, as his amber eyes searched yours. you open your mouth to say something more, but morax interrupts you.

“no,” he breathed. “i do love you too, i think,,” he pleaded, “ if you give me some time, let me work this out slowly.”

“i want to,” you breathed out. “but i dont know if i have time left. i’m cold.” you snuggled deeper into morax’s embrace, uncertainty weighted in your heart. you could feel your life slipping away, the edges of darkness creeping closer.

“im tired.” you mumble, your voice barely a whisper. “i’ll just…sleep a little while…”

“shīfu,” xiao’s trembling voice broke through the silent night, “please, don’t leave me yet.”

you peel your eyes open, turning your head in xiao’s direction, motioning him to come closer. obediently, xiao approaches, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall.

“shǎháizi,” you breathed, voice light with teasing. “listen well to morax, he will be your new master from now on.” you instructed, hand reaching out to pet his head. “smile for me?” you mustered a weak smile that xiao reflected, his own sorrow mingled with hope.

a final bought of violent coughing tore through your body, each one sending pain sparking through your body. blood spilling from your lips. the metallic taste filled your mouth, mixing with the bitter taste of fear as darkness overtook you.

your eyes fluttered shut as the life left your body. in the distance, a star fell out of the sky, its tail trailing like a sorrowful goodbye.

“[name]?” morax whispered, voice raw with regret. “open your eyes, look at me.” his plea fell on deaf eyes. “you never heard my response, you can’t leave me yet.”

“i think…no, i know, that i do love you.”

fate was cruel, you had found your forever, but at the wrong time. someday, perhaps fate would grant us a second chance.

footnotes:

1. shīfu (师傅) — meaning master or teacher, this word is often used in chinese to express respect to someone who is skilled in a particular area or field.

2. shǎháizi (傻孩子) — "shǎ" meaning foolish (傻) and "háizi" meaning child (孩子), this word can be used as a term of endearment, meaning foolish child

taglist (open): @leehanscorydora

∧,,,∧ ( ̳• · • ̳)  © curated with love by milkbobayun 2024 / づ ♡

[littlefreya]

Neptune's Snare

Summary: She came to take revenge on the loathsome man who murdered her fiance, only to become his captive.

Read Chapter One

Pairing: AU!Pirate August Walker x Virgin OFC (for now 😏)

Word count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, minors DNI. Sexual themes, dark themes mentioned, historical inaccuracies, kidnapping, captivity, graphic descriptions of sex, intimidation, slow burn, sexual tension, foul language.

A/N: I was unsure whether I should do part 2, but @deandoesthingstome (💖) motivated me to do it, so I truely hope you will like it. Many thanks to @agniavateira, for beta'ing. I am no longer using my old tag list, but I will tag those who specifically asked to be tagged for this story via my new Writing Update Blog @littlefreyaslibrary.

Thanks for reading, and please reblog with a comment 🖤

Chapter Two

Hours had passed since the Captain left—hours of futile attempts to escape the cruelty of the heavy iron binds. By now, the ship was deep into the ocean, miles away from any harbour or piece of land. The notion that she’d been abducted by the most ruthless murderer known to authorities had only just begun to sink. 

As hot tears stung at her cheeks, Lizette couldn’t help but chuckle at the stupidity that led her to this fate.

‘Did you really think that a foolish girl could succeed where great men had failed?’ 

If Lizette had dared be honest, she would admit she never thought that plan through, not that it mattered much anymore. Soon enough, she would be yet another shiny trinket in Blackbeard’s gaudy collection.

Exhausted from a fierce yet futile battle, she leaned her head back against the plush, gold-paneled wall. Her weary gaze drifted through the open window, where the dark skies and black seas merged into a desolate void. No light shone through tonight; the darkness has devoured the stars and the moon. Lizette felt as if she was drowning in it too, sinking into a thick, tar-like liquid. With each breath, the collar around her throat grew heavier, the iron pressing into her skin and dragging her deeper and deeper until everything faded to black.

When she blinked again, it was still night but the cabin was lit in deep shades of honey and amber. Her heart skipped—once for the iron still hanging from her neck and twice as her bleary eyes caught sight of a shadow by the edge of the big table.  

It appeared that her host had returned. 

Boots flung across the food-abundant table, the Captain sat back in his royal velvet chair. One hand cradled a silver chalice whilst the other toyed with the edge of his thick whiskers. Silver trays of food, wine, and books were splayed before him, surrounded by dozens of fat, wax-dripping candles. The flickering flame guttered upon his eyes, painting them bright red while he observed the girl intently. 

The curiosity was mutual, at least to some extent. As loathsome as the pirate was, Lizette could not help but scrutinise. Never in her life did she see a man so crude and yet so regal at the same time, He looked like a washed-out king, holding himself to a higher status amongst the scum aboard his ship. Surrounding himself with fine art, books and scientific obscurities, one would assume that this low-life man was educated, or at least aspired to be. His appearance, too, was of some sort of false elegance,  with his moustache carefully groomed and his hair neatly combed save for an errant curl that fell upon his tanned forehead. However, the white cotton shirt that hung partially unbuttoned and loose from his shoulders exposed him for what he truly was as it revealed a myriad of tattoos, scars, and coarse hair. 

‘Nothing but a filthy scoundrel.’

“At last, sleeping beauty is awake.” 

Lizette kept her tongue knotted. The blazes on her stare answered on her behalf. 

August scoffed at the silent response. ‘Precious little thing,’ Had only she known how much he enjoyed obstinate women. The only thing that was better than bending a spitfire to his will was getting a nun to kneel before his cock.

A slight twitch tugged at his cheek; his smirk widening at the fond memory.  

‘Ah, Mary… you sure pray hard.’

Letting go of his whiskers and the chalice in his grasp, the Captain reached for a loaf of bread and split it in half. Steam rose and coiled to the air.  The scrumptious scent of the freshly baked goods quickly filled the room and wafted over Lizette in a tempting invitation. Absentminded, she suckled her bottom lip, almost able to taste the sweetness on her tongue. 

The pirate held out one piece of the loaf, an unmistakably provoking grin lighting his face. “Would you dine with me, pet?”

Weakness unfurled through her, reminding Lizette that it must have been hours, if not an entire day, since she last ate. Her empty belly flipped and gurgled so loudly that the pirate could hear it even from where he sat. Joy immediately cascaded about his glance; the impish grin between his cheeks further stretched. 

To his delightful surprise, the girl was a lot more stubborn than she appeared. Instead of begging, she offered a spiteful glare and turned her face away. 

“I’d rather starve!” 

“Suit yourself.” The Captain shrugged and bit on one of the pieces. Hums and moans sputtered from his mouth, all exaggerated to taunt his brazen prisoner. As he finished chewing, he sucked on each of his inked fingers. 

“Got a name, pet?”

“What matter is that to you?” The girl spat.

August shrugged again and returned to the chalice, dragging it on the table's surface in circular motions. A deep-red whirlpool briefly formed in his drink. He stared at it indifferently as he retorted, “Matters not, pet. But since you’ll be spending some time here in my quarters, I will require a moniker to approach you by. Question is, would you rather I choose a name for you myself? It won’t be a nice one. I can promise you that.” 

Keeping her eyes averted, the girl folded her knees and hugged them, a deep sigh sinking from her. She couldn’t even bring herself to imagine the horrendous name he would choose.

“My name is Lizette.” 

A touch of dark delight kissed his face—as if he had heard the enchanting hymn of a siren. Thoughtful, he stopped stirring his drink to the sound of her name, licked his lips, lifted the chalice and pressed it to his lips. “Ah, yes, you are definitely a Lizzy.” 

“It’s Lizette!” she vehemently corrected.  

“Oh!” The pirate abruptly twirled his free hand in the air, his brows lifting in a sardonically submissive gesture. “Forgiveness! Mercy, milady!” That had earned him the attention he was hoping to receive, as finally, Lizette snapped to glare at him. 

The pure ire on her face did nothing but feed his amusement. 

With a slanted grin and his thumb brushing his whiskers, he eyed her back. It’s been a while since a girl piqued his fascination, and this one was indeed something else. Fear seeped from her like dewy nectar from a ripe fruit. The sheen of sweat clinging to her skin and the throbbing at the crook of her neck gave away her true emotions. Yet, she exuded the unyielding fury of a harpy, the shackles around her throat barely deterring her brazen spirit.. 

‘Bold little thing. As ferocious as the ship’s cat…’ August thought and then frowned, ‘Where is that ungodly creature, anyway? Haven’t seen it in a while.’ 

“Lady Lizette…” the correct moniker rolled smoothly on his tongue in an inherently sinister sweetness. “Are you always such a rude guest to your hosts?”

“Guest?!” Lizette seized the chain that held her collar to the wall and lifted it in front of him—a deep frown decorating her weary face.  

“I am not a guest! I am a prisoner!”

“Ah! Ah!” The pirate lifted his inked index finger in an unbearably pretentious manner. "It was you who came aboard my ship willingly, and let us not forget—uninvited.” 

Lizette felt a chill in her chest, the same chill she always sensed when getting an answer wrong in her Latin lessons. He was right, and there was more to it. Pirate or not, doesn't every man deserve respect in his own home? 

That notion made her cheeks hot. 

“And if I may…“ the pirate drawled huskily and shifted into his seat. Lizette’s eyes followed his movement with the wariness of a skittish cat. Initially bemused, she realised his hand had snaked below the table and was now fumbling with his waistband. 

A deep, pulsating pang bloomed in her core as the primordial anxiety every maiden is doomed to suffer from awoke within her. Alarmed, she shook her head and blurted hoarsely, “Wait!” 

The pirate paid her no mind; either he didn’t hear or didn’t care. Then, his hand sprang back sharply with a pistol in his grip—the same one he had confiscated from her merely a few hours before. 

“Did you not attempt to murder me in my own home?” 

With those words, he slammed the pistol on the table, the dull thud booming through the cabin wall and causing Lizette to jump with a start.

Sinking back to his red regal chair, August crossed his fingers together and pressed his lips together with the contempt of an authority figure. The many golden trinkets around his fingers chimed as they collided. 

“Answer me, Pet.” 

Lizette regarded the pistol carefully. The golden floral embellishments upon the handle sparked with the candle's light.  For a fleeting moment, she wondered how fast she needed to be to grab the pistol and shoot him dead in his rotten heart. Instead, she simply nodded, much as she could with the heavy collar around her neck. The spots where the sharp edges grazed her flesh burnt as sweat dripped over the bruised skin.

“Dumb as your plan was, I do appreciate the gesture, las. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to murder me, but it’s definitely the first time it was a beautiful young lady. Was all of this because of a boy?” He challenged, crooking one eyebrow. 

This time, Lizette did not hesitate to answer. 

“You robbed me of my future!” She corrected, and though she tried to maintain a fierce demeanour, the quiver in her voice gave away the rageful grief. 

Sympathy, sadly, was not in August’s books, especially not whilst being distracted by the way her breasts pressed against the confines of the corset with every fervorous breath. A small, almost inaudible groan left his lips. He wondered if she, indeed, was a virgin. Did he deny her of her wedding night? Were these lovely tits ever in the hands of a man before? 

Surely, he would find out. One way or another. 

With a glare still fixed on her cleavage, he grazed his dimpled chin and simply shrugged. 

“Pirate.” 

Lizette hissed in response. Defiant, she snapped her arms across her chest to hide her cleavage. 

‘Pig.’

“So I robbed you of your future,” August continued, mimicking quotation marks with his long, inked fingers. “And thus, you thought you should rob me of mine?” 

“And what future would that be? Murdering and whoring?” she muttered hatefully.  

The pirate swatted a hand over his chest, giving her a fake, exaggerated pout. “Now that pains me, love.” 

Lizette could sense the blood seeth beneath her skin. She was used to men belittling her, but never did she experience such sheer mockery and humiliation. Trembling, she yelled back, “Good! I wish you nothing but pain!”

“And so she continues to insult me in my own home.” August clicked his tongue and shook his head with sardonic disappointment. “You highborn ladies sure lack respect. ‘Funny thing is, no matter how uppity women like you act, they all want the same thing…” his voice slurred and deepened, coaxing a baffled look from the maiden who abruptly forgot her wrath and ate the bait. 

“And what would that be?” 

The pirate stood and calmly paced to the fore of the table, where he leaned against the edge to peer down at his prisoner. Lizette remained guarded. he was fairly far away yet close enough for his shadow to fall upon her face and for his manhood to be situated at the level of her mouth. She struggled to avoid staring at it directly, which only made that wretched smug smile light his face again.

“What you ladies truly want is to be violated by none other but us ‘lowlife scoundrels’,” August nibbled his bottom lip, a dry chuckle escaping him as more fond memories came to mind. “Truly, the lots of you are bored by the castrated virility of the poised gentlemen. All you fantasise about is to be fucked dirty like a whore by a brute who has no sense of propriety.” 

The pirate held his fist before him and mimicked a slow pumping motion. Although Lizette did not quite understand it, his words alone were enough to leave her gravely unsettled. 

“You are an animal,” she snarled, not realising that her nails were biting into her forearms as she clutched herself so protectively. 

But that merely fueled him.    

“Tell me, Pet, did your boy satisfy those dark desires before he left a delicious bonny lass like yourself all alone? Did he split open and plundered your sweet little cunt, ass, and mouth, or did he leave you wet and miserable?”

Heat crawled at Lizette’s cheeks, yet she wasn’t sure whether it was from outrage or shame. Never in her life had she even considered the possibilities he had suggested, and now those horrifying images poisoned her mind.  

Amused by her obvious mortification, the pirate tilted his head impishly. “No? Not even a finger or a tongue?”

“Stop it!” She implored, her voice cracking.

Ignoring her plea, he clicked his tongue. “Aw, sweet, tender flower. That’s the problem, isn’t it? He left you all alone and uncharted—that lonesome seal, begging to be invaded. Well, milady, you didn’t have to threaten me with a pistol in that case. All you had to do was ask.” 

The pirate reached for his bulge and squeezed it, much to Lizette’s dismay.

”Trust me, one night with me, and you’d forget you ever loved him.”

That was enough to send Lizette over the edge. Not thinking twice, she jerked to her feet, the chains around her rattling along a furious onslaught that sputtered from her mouth. 

“Love?! What do you know about love? You are a monster! All you do is kill and rape! You are incapable of love, and I’d be damned if anyone could ever love you!” 

All the candles in the cabin flickered with a sudden gust of wind as the pirate suddenly lunged forward. He moved so fast, too fast. Lizette hadn’t even had the chance to sway from his touch, and already he was upon her. Crude fingers dug deep into the hollows of her cheek, forcing her to face his terrorising stare. 

“You think this is a game? You think you know anything about me, little girl? About what I’ve done!?” 

It was not a question to be answered, and even so, Lizette couldn’t bring herself to speak; she was suffocating, drowning on the surface. All around her, the air stood dense with the scent of iron, wine, and musky sweat, whilst the weight of his body crushed as it clung to her. 

Closer, deeper. Layers upon layers of silk and wool separated their skin from one another, and still, she sensed the curve and firmness of his robust figure. The woven map of muscles that adorned his torso and the flex each muscle made as he tensed were evident 

But none of this came close to what she saw as he forced her to look into his eyesa wrathful maelstrom pregnant with sinister urges beyond her darkest fears. It felt as if it was trying to draw her into a deep sense of anger, and grief submerged her.

Dread began to spill into her veins. He was going to kill her.

Lizette sucked in a deep shuddering breath. She was not going to join her Edward. Not tonight.

“Let go of me!” She squealed and began to punch his shoulders repeatedly. It felt like hitting iron, every blow more painful than the other, yet she refused to stop. 

Indeed, she was just like that sea monster of a cat.

Stoic as an icy sea breeze, the pirate tilted his head at the girl. Despite her desperate efforts, her battle did nothing but vex him. Quirking one eyebrow, he released his grip from her jaw and swiftly reached for her hands. Lizette did her best to evade, squirming erratically, but to no avail. With a swift single hand, he seized her wrists and pinned them above her head with a booming thud.

The girl gasped out with surrender, strands of her hair blowing back and forth upon her face as she heaved and panted exhaustingly. With his hand around her wrists and his body slightly bent to meet her height, he stood  closer to her than any other man had before. So close that she could taste the wine and sea salt on his breath and study every freckle and every scar that marked his skin. He was nothing like her Edward, she thought; he was coarse and terrifying, and despite it all, she found him tragically beautiful. 

She hated him for that. 

“Listen to me now and listen carefully,” he finally spoke, tightening his grip around her wrists.

Liaette lifted her chin disdainfully; it took every ounce of self-restraint not to spit at his murderous, smug face. 

“You’ve mistook my hospitality and playfulness for kindness, but let’s get this straight; I am not a good man. Upset me, and I will pluck that little flower between your thighs without blinking and then throw you to my crew once I have my fill.” 

His words brought a stark shiver down her spine, yet it wasn’t just fear this time but something far more primordial. Between her trembling thighs, she sensed dewy wetness. A desperate gnawing need she had never known before. Trying to ease and brush it off, she squirmed and ground her thighs. 

August’s brow rose with realisation, an immediate knowing grin spilling upon his malicious face. He leaned closer, his lips and whiskers brushing against her ear as he spoke. 

“Seems like there won’t be much resistance from you, isn’t that so, pet? Soon, you’ll beg me to fuck y…”

His words were cut as warm saliva splattered on his cheek. 

He shut his eyes momentarily, releasing a deep, exasperated grunt and then moved an inch away to fish a silk handkerchief from his pocket. Lizette watched proudly as he wiped his face. 

The pirate, however, was not amused. Throwing away the handkerchief, he offered her a deadly frown. And then he leaned in, his mouth drawing voraciously closer to hers as if meaning to devour her.

“I warned you…”

“Captain.”

A low, sonorous call followed from the door, drawing both August and Lizette to turn their heads toward the uninvited guest. 

Lizette blinked twice. The man in question was almost the spitting image of August, though his hair was wild with earthy curls and his beard fully grown, pointy, and tended with wax. Indifferent to the scene before him, he drew a pipe from his pockets and lit it with the flame of a candle that stood on a shelf near the door.  

August regarded him with slight respect, yet not without annoyance:." What is it? I am busy.”

“I can see that,” the other pirate puffed out, grey lines of smoke following through his nostrils, “you are needed at the brig.”

“About?”

“Flint might finally speak.”

Eyes ablaze with sudden intrigue, August straightened to his fall height and drew a step back from the girl yet kept his grip around her wrists. 

“I assume your methods worked, brother?” He crooked one eyebrow at the other pirate curiously. 

‘Brother, of course,’ Lizette nearly chuckled. The men must have been twins, although she could tell the other sibling had far more grey in his untamed mane. 

“My methods always work.” He answered with dry arrogance. “Finish her off later. This is more important.”

August lingered, his fingers brushing over his moustache as he contemplated what to do with his sweet little prisoner. The possibilities were endless, yet the more interesting ones would take some time, and with the trouble she gave him, he definitely wanted to give her what she deserved. 

A deep, exasperated sigh left his lips. “A moment, Gus,” he requested, finally unhanding the girl. 

The man, now known as Gus, bowed his head and threw Lizette a quick glance before disappearing into the darkness behind the door.

“It seems like I have some business to attend to, love. Shall we continue our little fun later?” August teased, slight annoyance still lingering at the tone of his voice.

Lizette did not answer. Rubbing her aching wrists, she watched him cautiously while he searched within his pockets.  She wondered what new cruel method of torment he would inflict to her now. 

To her surprise, it was a small silver key.

He lifted it to her face and offered her a razor-sharp  stare." The water is close to freezing; sharks and eels are swimming within them, and every man upon my deck is probably plotting to use you as fuckhole since the moment you stepped onboard. I trust you won’t try anything stupid in my absence.”

“Like what?” Despite her physical and mental exhaustion, she dared to speak back, “Seduce one of your crew members to fornicate with me so he would betray and murder you?” 

Her weariness must have brought out the worst in her because she would have never thought of such an inappropriate, vile thing. Then she realised it was  him who, in less than a few hours, corrupted her soul. 

August paused and contemplated for a moment as if this was an actual possibility he did not consider. However, he brushed it off with a burst of taunting laughter while proceeding to unlock the collar around her neck. “I wouldn’t  recommend it, love. They all come with so many exotic afflictions on their cock s that no doctor has even heard of.” 

As the iron was removed from her little neck, the girl rested her hands around it, massaging the cuts and bruises that formed beneath. It ached even worse as the chill air of the night pecked at the raw flesh. 

The pirate waltzed toward the table, reclaiming the pistol in an obviously provoking manner. He sheathed it back at the front of his waistband and paced toward the door. 

“I won’t be long, love,” he promised, and with that, he left and locked the door behind him.

Lizette listened carefully to the sound of his footsteps, counting them one by one until she could no longer hear him. And then, she began to search around the cabin for anything, anything that can be used as a weapon. 

‘I will not be a pirate’s whore.’  She vowed to herself while absentmindedly grazing a palm over her cheeks where August had touched her. 

[ilykaveh]

ꨄ︎ . ⋆ MOONLIGHT SONATA !

thoma.

ABOUT: unknowingly summoning a demon has its consequences. you have to hold up your end of the bargain one way or another...

CONTENT: demon ! thoma , sub fem reader , humping, virginity loss, monsterfucking, possessiveness, corruption , cunnilingus, size kink, dp, praise, overstimulation, multiple rounds, dacryphilia, rough towards the end, gaping, breeding, squirting.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

being from a small fishing town just outside of liyue harbour had its difficulties. life was simple, unexciting - you envied the tales you’d heard of women in the city, spending evenings at lavish restaurants and having grandiose tea parties with guest lists containing a plethora of personalities. 

times were especially hard when the bounties from the sea remained scarce, meaning that the exports were low. everybody was becoming increasingly stressed, some even moving away to seek financial growth in some other sectors of teyvat. village elders began to find themselves in ill health, the stress wearing away at them. it was a sorry sight, one you no longer wished to perceive. 

whilst taking a late night walk along the nearby river, something glittering upon the riverbed caught your eye. it was buried under a pile of seaweed, loose mud obscuring it ever so slightly. it took a moment to shake the item free, untangling it from nature’s grasp and discovering what you recognized as a drifting bottle, containing a withered note and a rusty old coin. you dunked the body of the bottle in the shallow stream, admiring how the moonlight reflected off of the object. there was something alluring about it, and if you squinted you were sure you could see the faint glow that it emitted - reminiscent of a halo, though that would turn out to be ironic further down the line. . .

upon returning home, you started to better inspect the bottle, illuminated by the candlelight of your kitchen table. there was no indication that water had seeped past the cork, though the scroll of paper inside seemed to have aged. just how long had this been at sea for?

the cork slid out with a single tug; something that was strange considering how tightly it had appeared to be in there. you retrieved the note with the same amount of ease, carefully unravelling it to reveal a what you couldn’t distinguish as being a message or more concerningly, a warning:

“may those whom this bottle graces forever be blessed,

and be gifted benevolence in his behest;

one summon will gift you just this, so strap in! and 

for as long as you live, good things will always happen.”

you read the short poem over a few times, unsure of what to make of it. sure, you’d heard tales of spirit summoners and their adventures, though had always assumed they were simply make believe, a story utilized by adults in order to haunt or encourage a child’s imagination. it was a struggle to believe that a key to your success, a tool seeming to claim that it possessed the ability to bring greatness back to the village, had fallen right into your lap.

even if you did want to test the waters and try your hand at summoning whichever entity is referring to, you didn’t know how to go about it. all you had received was a measly note lacking decipherable detailing - for all that you knew, it could merely be a tease, a bottle set adrift by some teenagers hoping to mess with an unsuspecting traveler. 

not in the mood to further entertain such childish thoughts, you moved to grasp the bottle once again, wishing to shake the coin out of it. perhaps you could sell it to a merchant and fetch a decent price on the thing. 

confusion consumed you as you found that the coin was already resting on the table next to the withered note. surely you would remember taking it out. . . right? 

shrugging it off as becoming increasingly sleepy, you picked up the coin to inspect it slightly, flipping it in the air and catching it in a fist. it once again caught the light in an eerie manner, but you let it sit on the table and headed off to bed regardless, leaving the bottle and its contents to be dealt with in the morning.

. . .

in all honesty, you’d forgotten about the bottle. you’d had a peaceful night, more so than usual. mornings began with your usual routine, finding yourself brewing a cup of coffee when interrupted by an uproar of noise from inside the village.

flinging the front door open haphazardly, mug still in hand, you went to further investigate the commotion. it seemed as though the early morning fishing boats had already returned, and you instantly feared the worst, especially when taking into account the declining health of many of the town’s fishermen. a crowd had gathered at the docks, and your initial thoughts became immediately disproven.

the smell of fish was one that you were used to, albeit it seemed stronger than you had ever known. the closer that you got to the boats, the more fish that came into your line of vision. compared to the scarcities that the village had been facing, you were astonished that they’d returned with such an unbelievable amount! surely this would keep everybody fed for a week, along with being enough to trade for some serious mora! 

it was only then that your mind began to wander back to the bottle that you’d found; surely these two events were mere coincidences. . . right? perhaps it was simply a blessing from the archons, and nothing more. you recalled tales of entities from another world whom blessed to the regular folk of teyvat before then demanding an astounding price in return. 

the thought of being indebted to such a creature shook you slightly, an uneasy feeling settling in your stomach. you did your best to attempt to ration with these negative thoughts, instead reminding yourself that such stories were simply old wive’s tales passed down generation to generation in order to teach their young that they shouldn’t rely on others, but should instead retain a strong persistence and work for whatever it is that they wish for - to not take shortcuts nor back down in the face of difficulty. 

regardless, you went about your day minding your own business. nothing else was out of the ordinary, other than the fact that the entire village grew busier due to the morning’s large intake. the subsequent boats who returned seemed to have similar luck too, which only amplified the workload for everybody. but again, things were fairly regular outside of that. you even took another evening stroll along the same stream that you’d discovered the bottle in, finding it a calming feature of your daily routine. 

afterwards, you returned home as usual. upon unlocking your door, you removed your boots, heading to the kitchen to make yourself a hot beverage.

“hey there, darlin’,” 

an unfamiliar voice caught you off guard. a million thoughts rushed through your mind, instinctively grasping for a kitchen knife, should you need to defend yourself from the stranger in your home. you turned around, shaky hands gripping your makeshift weapon. you were met with a man, taller than yourself, donning a cheeky grin and what appeared to be two short horns. 

“no need for that,” he noted, moving to take the knife out of your hands with ease. “i’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.” he mumbled something about how stupid humans were before taking a seat at your table. 

“who are you?” your trembling bottom lip told the man all he needed to know: that you’d summoned him without knowing. he picked up the coin that you’d left on the table from the night prior, flipping it and catching it in a fist, exactly the way that you had done. 

“the name’s thoma, and just who might you be?”

your eyes grew wide, scanning memories for a reason as to why the name seemed so familiar. 

“thoma? like the old inazuman fairy story? you’re not real, i must be imagining this,” you insisted, feeling silly for talking to yourself out loud. clearly your mind was playing a cruel trick on you and there was nobody in your home except for yourself. 

“i’m as real as you, darling.” he watched your expression intently, not wanting to come on too strong. “those tales aren’t the most accurate. i just fix people’s problems, promise! my coin finds those in need and gives little humans like you a means to summon me.”

he took your silence as a cue to continue his backstory, watching as you judged the situation to your best ability. 

“i’m not technically from inazuma, you know? born and bred in monstadt! i took a ship to inazuma to visit my father. . .” there came the painful chapter that made thoma’s cheery expression falter for a split second. “i got caught in a shipwreck - i was found by a man who taught me how to best help others, to share the kindness that he extended to me, if you will.” 

thoma cleared his throat, the bright eyed and bushy tailed demeanour returning. 

“he tethered me to this coin, and now i get to travel through the lands and see places i never dreamed of!” you could detect a twinge of pain being masked here, though chose to keep it to yourself. “i help people like you - why do you think there’s an abundance of fish all of a sudden, hmm?”

your heart dropped at that statement. if he’d granted you a favor, you knew that you’d have to pay it back eventually. . . 

“what do you want?” your tone blunt and cold. 

“lighten up, darlin’! i can’t do anything you don’t agree to.”

“i don’t have much i can offer you.” the room fell silent for a moment, and your voice fell to barely above a whisper. “d-do you want me to sleep with you?”

thoma gasped, stunned at your question. “of course not! what kind of demon do you take me for?”

“i- umm,” you stuttered, “i heard stories of your- your kind offering to erase payments for sex, and i just- i’m sorry. i don’t know what else to offer-”

“relax.” thoma interrupted. “i mean, you’re a pretty thing, so i wouldn’t turn it down. but it’s your choice, doll. you get to pick what i take from you. hell, offer me something like that and i’ll stick around a little longer,”

he didn’t think you would listen to the final part of that, for your brain would instead be spinning with ideas of what exactly you could pay in return. 

“so you’d make sure there’s enough fish? i-if i sleep with you?”

thoma didn’t know how to respond, instead giving you space to continue. your gaze averted to the flooring as you admitted:

“because i’m okay with it,”

if you were looking, you would have seen thoma’s eyes darken with lust. he stood up once again, closing the gap between the pair of you. your hands gripped the counter as thoma kissed you with a fervour, lips tasting of sugary treats, though embellished with a salty twinge. upon pulling away from you, the demon licked his lips, eying you up and down. 

“a virgin?” he questioned, hungry gaze feeling almost predatory. your cheeks heated up with embarrassment - whilst thoma wasn’t wrong, you didn’t want to admit it. it felt as though he knew your innermost secrets, all from a simple clashing of teeth. 

“don’ worry, i’ll be gentle,” he continued, lifting you to wrap your legs around his waist. his grip on your thighs was firm enough to support you, though tender enough as not to cause you any unnecessary pain. occasionally he squeezed the plush skin, eliciting the cutest little whimpers from you. 

thoma was smirking by the time he had maneuvered you both so that he could rest you on the edge of your table, planting himself between your legs. the bulge in his pants was already becoming prevalent as he began to kiss along your neck, sucking a masterpiece of hickies into your sweet skin. if he was going to be your first, thoma planned to do it right. 

for a demon, he really was benevolent. the nips against the juncture of your neck were playful, though not enough to actually hurt you - they merely tickled. one of his hands pressed your lower half closer to thoma’s body as he allowed you to gyrate your hips against him subconsciously. his heightened senses could almost smell how wet you were for him, able to detect the slick gathering between your legs without so much as taking a peek for himself. his other hand trailed underneath your shirt, tracing unrecognizable shapes into your skin before reaching the hook of your bra. 

thoma took his mouth off of you for a brief moment, allowing him to strip your top half completely bare for him. the demon found himself struggling to think straight, instead overwhelmed by carnal desires to remove the rest of your clothing and plough into your virgin cunt. in a complete contrast to his prior, cheery demeanor, thoma wished to mark you as his property.

he pressed his pelvis closer to you, bulge becoming more and more evident with each passing moment. nimble fingers began to rid you of your remaining clothes; thoma shrugged off his own jacket before throwing his shirt to some unknown location that he could uncover later. 

shortly enough, the pair of you were left in only your respective undergarments. thoma couldn’t help himself but chuckle as he saw the damp patch seeping through your panties, unable to resist making a sly comment. 

“all this just for me, darlin’?” he dragged a finger across your clothed folds, applying enough pressure to make you squirm, though nowhere near the amount that you desired. 

you were already out of your depth. having a man (well, could you even call him such? he was a demon after all) see you in such a vulnerable state felt so foreign, yet at the same time was beyond exhilarating. you felt dizzy, butterflies bursting in your stomach as all you wished for in that moment was to have thoma make you scream. 

his fingers danced over your pebbled nipples, pinching at the hardened buds ever so gently. yet he still fought to contain himself, demon instincts working overtime to corrupt his thoughts. thoma’s hand then made a beeline for your pussy, hooking his fingers in the waistband of your panties. your pleas of consent went straight to his crotch, fueling his eagerness to devour your drooling cunt. 

as he slid off your underwear, thoma had to bite his lip so as not to groan at the sight. he instantly dropped to his knees, spreading your legs open wider for him to get a better look at you. 

“so fuckin’ cute,” he mumbled under his breath before diving into your weeping pussy. he began by placing a kiss to your clit, followed by kitten licks around the swollen bud, experimenting to discover how you liked it best. you didn’t know what you were expecting, though were pleasantly surprised to discover that your demon seemed to come with a forked tongue that you hadn’t previously noticed. a guttural groan fell from his lips as your hands shot to grip the two black horns protruding from his head, your cunt muffling the sweet sound. you used this as leverage to pull yourself closer to him, and if it weren’t for thoma holding you in place you were certain that you would have fallen right off of the edge of the table.

he changed things up, licking a long stripe up down your slit until he located the tight muscles of your entrance. with the knowledge that you hadn’t laid with another before, thoma decided it best to insert his tongue, lapping up your juices as he prodded the warm muscle against your opening. 

meanwhile, you were reduced to euphoric gasps. you’d only ever played with yourself, and this was a feeling much different to that of which your own hands could conjure. thoma was diligent, not even leaving your clit without attention as he brushed his nose against the twitching nub, one flat palm keeping you spread out for him. the only sounds filling the kitchen were that of your angelic moans and the lewd noises of him slurping at your cunt. before you knew it, you could feel yourself getting closer to the edge. you tried to hold back, you really did. yet thoma’s mouth was rather heavenly (ironic, considering his demon blood).

“‘m gonna cum,” you whined, grasping thoma’s horns tighter. 

instead of replying, he simply patted your thigh a few times, refusing to stop his ministrations and merely hoping that you catch on to his non-verbal cue. you did just that so perfectly, your pretty pussy fluttering around thoma’s tongue as he continued to eat you through your high. 

you didn’t even notice that your grip remained on his horns until he patted your wrists, signaling that you could let go of him now. he praised you for how well you had done for him, kissing your forehead and ensuring that you were okay.

in all honesty, he would have been happy to call it even right there and then. the taste of your cunt echoing on his tongue was enough for him to retreat to whatever realm that he hailed from and to jack himself off to. but how could he do such a thing when you sat there begging him for more?

there it was again. the primal urge to stretch your cunt and claim you as his territory. the thought of branding you with a mark, officially claiming you as his, even crossed thoma’s mind. he worked to chase away those ideas by tasting your lips again, simultaneously slipping his hand down to your folds once again. 

he coated his middle finger in your slick before aligning it with your hole, continuing to kiss you as a distraction should any pain occur. gently, he circled your entrance before easing his digit into you, massaging your walls as you clamped around him. once satisfied, he added another, beginning to scissor your pussy open, preparing you to take your first cock. 

thoma wanted to hear you, instead pulling away from your mouth and letting you rest your head on his shoulder. he cooed your incoherent babbles, telling you that this was necessary before he could fill you up himself, and reminding you that he wished not to hurt you.

he listened as a ecstatic yelp feel from your lips, indicating to him that he’d discovered your g-spot. as the soft pads of his fingers glided across the sweet spot with each thrust, making the stretch even more bearable for you to take. he could feel the pulsing of your gooey walls, the noises you made reminiscent of those you had previously released as you approached your prior orgasm.

“gonna take another one for me, pretty girl?” he asked, though you couldn’t decipher whether or not he meant another finger or if he just wanted for you to cum again. 

it turns out you were wrong either way, for the demon proceeded to slip another finger into your messy cunt, as well as have his thumb seek out the nub of your clit, massaging sloppy circles in order to push you over the edge. already sensitive from your previous high, it didn’t take you much longer to shout his name, nails scratching his muscular figure as you fell apart on his hand. 

“‘s it,” he muttered, “what a good girl f’me,” 

once you had come down from your second orgasm of the evening, thoma pulled his hand away from your pussy. he lifted your head up to look at your face, admiring the glow that the moonlight bathed you in before wiping away the stray tears caused by how darn sensitive your body already was. 

“that’s enough, mkay? ‘m not gonna make you-”

“no,” you interrupted, voice barely above a whisper. “need all of you, please. i don’ want you to go yet,”

despite already seeming overstimulated and teary-eyed, thoma couldn’t deny such sweet pleas. he opted for laying you back against the table, planting soft kisses along your body as he finally trailed back to your hot cunt. instead of touching you directly, he pressed his lips along your inner thigh, watching your muscles twitch in anticipation. 

“if ya want me to stop, just say so,” he warned before finally slipping off his boxers. 

the way in which he had positioned you allowed for you to see his cock as thoma unclothed, the sight making your jaw slacken. it only further cemented the idea in you head that he was indeed not human, for instead of one he possessed two cocks. you gawked, eyes wide as you felt you walls tighten at the thought of having him in you. each appendage was as large as the other, both ribbed and with a slight barb around the tip. you noticed a thick vein pulsing on the underside, wondering if that was an indicator that the demon was ready to pump you full of his load. 

as thoma approached you again, he sized you up. he rested one of his cocks on your stomach, his pupils dilating as he took not of just how deep he would be inside of you. concurrently your mind was consumed by fears of whether or not you would be able to take even one of his cocks, let alone the pair at once. could your mortal body even take such a stretch?

your fears were chased away by the feeling of his bulbous head pressing against your entrance, thoma running it along your slit a few times just to collect some of your juices. he looked to you for consent, waiting for you to nod before he started to ease himself into you. his other cock remained bobbing around your stomach; thoma would have pumped his fist around it should he not have been so concerned about you instead. 

it felt like a fire had been set ablaze in your belly, tears gracing your lashline as you yelped, yet never once telling him to stop. 

“so tight,” thoma uttered, “you virgins always have the prettiest little pussies,”

you couldn’t even retort if you wanted to, mind going blank as the ridges of thoma’s cock brushed against your sweet spot. he took his time bottoming out, revelling in the spasming of your delightful cunt as you cried out in euphoria. you could feel the barbs around his tip tickling your cervix as he bottomed out.

“look at how well ya did, darlin’,” he praised, smiling at you as you blinked through glassy eyes. “maybe i should try fitting them both in, hmm?”

thoma noted that you made no move to say no, allowing his mind to drift to filthy thoughts of truly breaking you in and how damn gorgeous you would look with a cunt full of his cum. this spurred him to begin moving, dragging his cock out of you at a painfully slow pace. his initial thrusts were shallow, waiting for you to start whining for more before pulling himself almost all the way out, until only his head rest in you, and proceeding to slide his way right back in, once again nestling himself against your cervix. 

he listened to your body, doing his best not to cause you too much pain as he stretched your poor pussy to mold around his cock. he was aware of how sensitive you were, overstimulated before he could even fill you up. 

“go on, cum on me, sweet thing,”

the feeling of you clamping around his cock was a feeling so very different to having you cum on his fingers. it was much more intense, and seemed to finally be his breaking point. you were busy seeing stars as thoma pulled you closer to him, folding you into a sloppy position reminiscent of a mating press, ensuring that he had full access to your exposed cunt as he grabbed his other cock in his fist. 

its tip was already leaking precum, a portion of which had already caused a mess on your lower tummy. he pumped his fist a few times before aligning himself with your hole once again, this time pushing your pussy to its limits as he thrust both of his cocks into you. 

knowing he was not only the first cock you had, but also the second, filled thoma with a sense of pride, encouraging him to continue his assault on your abused cunt. you took him so well, he wanted to stuff you full of his cum. no, scratch that, he needed to fill you with his cum. 

thoma had gone feral, lost his sense of reality as he pounded you like an animal. he used your body, bending it and shifting it so that he could find the best way to bruise your cervix, chasing his own orgasm without any shred of care for you. hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if you’d already cum around his cocks at least once more with how fucking amazing you felt. 

words had truly fleed you, leaving you babbling strings of his name as thoma finally began sensing his orgasm on the horizon. he ploughed into you with inhumane speed, truly exhibiting his demon side unlike you had seen yet tonight. if you were level headed enough to look closely, you could see his emerald irises be overtaken by pure black. 

all that it took was one nudge against a certain spot inside of you, and you began to fall over the edge once again. this orgasm hit harder than the last few, overstimulation having truly set in. your gooey walls held thoma in a vice grip, enough so to trigger his own orgasm as both of his cocks spurted cum against your womb, the warmth feeling comforting to you whilst in your fucked out bliss. the sensation made your pussy gush, a jet of liquid spilling all over thoma and on your table. sloppy thrusts continued as your squirted, waiting until it had died down to a trickle before pulling out of you. 

to say that you were fucked out felt like an understatement. you were exhausted, struggling to move as thoma finished with you. he was intrigued at the way your cunt gaped as he took his cocks out of you, watching ribbons of his cum dribble out of you as you lay unmoving.

he admired your trembling form basking in the moonlight before dealing with you, ensuring he cleaned up and that you got to bed comfortably. the demon even placed a kiss to your forehead once again, this time a silent promise that he’d stick around a while longer.

[talkdutchtome]

Glitch- chapter three

pairing . . . max verstappen x reader / mason mount x reader )

summary . . . when mason mount finds out that his assistant has been harbouring feelings for him for years, he makes it clear he doesn't feel the same way. but once he sees her become closer with formula 1 world champion max verstappen, he realises he may have underestimated his feelings towards the girl he has now pushed into the arms of another )

genre . . . angst )

song . . . glitch- taylor swift )

warning . . . tbd )

series masterlist . . . available here )

a/n . . . it's been a while but chapter three is here, i'm so sorry for how long it took )

Things between Mason and Y/N only seemed to get worse after he found out that she had given her number to Max; to say she was confused about the whole situation would be putting it lightly. Mason had made it clear that he didn’t feel a thing for her, he was furious that she had feelings for him, so why would he have an issue if something happened between her and Max. His attitude was not simply aimed at Y/N either, he was just pissed off at Max. When Max inevitably qualified on pole and Mason had to present him with the pole award, he did so with a face like thunder and an attitude so bad that even the members of staff that had to deal with him clearly saw that something was wrong. And if Y/N thought his mood was bad during qualifying, it was nothing compared to how he acted during the race. 

The group of four were sat watching the race in the Red Bull garage and whilst Y/N, Ben and Reece tried their best to immerse themselves in the excitement of the race; it was hard to do with Mason sat beside them in a brooding silence. His foul mood had extended beyond his interactions with Y/N too; even Ben and Reece, usually recipients of his lively banter, found themselves met with curt responses and icy glares. It was hard to shake off the tension, especially when Mason's frustration seemed palpable. Every attempt at conversation was met with monosyllabic responses or outright silence. 

As the laps passed and the tension escalated, Reece, who could tell just how uncomfortable Y/N was, decided to break the ice. Leaning over to her, he spoke in a hushed tone, "Hey, Y/N, you alright? Mason seems like he's in a mood today." 

She nodded, a small, forced smile playing on her lips. "Yeah, I don't know what's gotten into him. He’s just so angry I don’t know what to do.” 

Reece sighed sympathetically. "He'll come around. Just give him some time." 

But as the race unfolded, tension in the garage reached its peak. When Max secured the victory, the cheers from everyone in the garage were met with a stark contrast from Mason. His jaw clenched, and he rolled his eyes in frustration, clearly annoyed that Max had won, a stark change from usual races where he cheered Red Bull along.  

Y/N exchanged puzzled glances with Ben and Reece, who shared her confusion at Mason's sudden change of allegiance. The atmosphere was palpably strained, and Y/N needed to get away from it all, so she found herself wandering away from the group as they headed towards the podium.  

However, the silence that followed her being away from her friends only spurred her frustration at Masons behavior, and soon she just couldn’t cope without knowing and understanding why he was acting the way he was. So, determined to find some answers, she made her way through the crowded paddock, navigating the sea of people in their vibrant team colors. Spotting Mason engrossed in conversation with Ben and Recce, Y/N hesitated for a moment before steeling herself to confront the issue head-on. 

As she approached, the murmur of their conversation grew more audible, and her heart sank when she overheard Mason's words. "I don't know what Y/N sees in that guy. He's a real prick, and I can't stand him," Mason grumbled to Ben and Recce, his frustration evident. 

Confusion and hurt etched across Y/N's face. She couldn't understand why Mason would harbor such strong feelings towards Max, especially when he had made it abundantly clear that he didn't reciprocate her feelings. Before she could muster the courage to address Mason, Max's voice unexpectedly cut through the tension. 

"Hey, you guys! Great race, huh?" Max approached the group, a wide grin on his face, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrents of tension. Y/N glanced at Mason, who had abruptly shifted his expression into a forced smile. The contrast between his earlier resentment and his current attempt at friendliness was jarring.  

Max’s energy was contagious as he approached the group with a wide grin. 

"I'm throwing a little after-party to celebrate the win. You guys should come.” 

Caught off guard, Y/N's eyes flickered to Mason, who wore a scowl and crossed arms. "We can't, man. We got some stuff lined up," Mason interjected, his tone sharp, making it clear he had no interest in joining the celebration. 

Y/N hesitated, torn between Mason's obvious displeasure and Max's expectant gaze. The unspoken tension in the air was as thick as fog. Max, sensing the underlying dynamics, looked directly at Y/N, seeking confirmation. "You in, Y/N?" 

She bit her lip, glancing at Mason before meeting Max's gaze. "Yeah, sure, I'll be there," she replied tentatively, a slight quiver in her voice. The decision was made, but the uncertainty lingered. 

Mason's scowl deepened, and the air became even heavier. Y/N, sensing the disapproval, fidgeted uncomfortably. She didn't want to escalate the tension, but at the same time, she couldn't let Mason dictate her every move; not when he made it abundantly clear he didn’t even seem to like her as a friend anymore. 

As Max walked away to extend the invitation to others, Mason shot Y/N a stern look. "Really? You're going to his party?" 

Y/N sighed, feeling the weight of the situation. "Mason, it's just a party. It's not a big deal." Reece and Ben exchanged looks, clearly feeling baffled by the scene playing out in front of them. 

Mason, however, wasn't convinced. "I don't get why you're so eager to hang out with him." 

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Max seems nice, I like him” 

Mason's expression remained hardened, but he didn't press the matter further. Instead choosing to just walk away from her, almost as if he couldn’t even bare to look at her 

In the dimly lit hotel bar, Mason sat slouched on a barstool, nursing a drink between sips. Ben and Reece sat either side of him, exchanging concerned glances as they observed the weight on Mason's shoulders. The earlier anger that had etched lines on his face had given way to a profound sadness, leaving Mason looking like a shadow of his usual self. 

Reece cleared his throat, breaking the heavy silence that hung over the trio. "Mate, you've been quiet all night. Everything alright?" 

Mason took a deep breath, staring into the amber depths of his drink. "I don't know, man. It's just... everything's a mess." 

Ben chimed in, "Is this about Y/N and Max? Look, Mason, it might not be such a bad thing. If they get together, you won't have to worry about her having feelings for you anymore." 

Mason's eyes flickered with a hint of conflict, but he nodded. "Yeah, I know. It's just..." He trailed off, his shoulders slumping. 

Reece leaned in, genuine concern etched on his face. "Spill it, mate. Why are you so bothered that Y/N and Max are getting along? You've made it clear you don't see her that way." 

Mason sighed, his guard momentarily slipping. "It's not about that. I'm worried about Max. He's got a bit of a reputation with women, and I don't want Y/N getting hurt." 

Ben nodded in understanding, but Reece wasn't convinced. "Mate, I've known you for years. Something's not adding up. Are you sure that's all there is to it?" 

Mason hesitated, his eyes betraying a depth of emotion he hadn't intended to reveal. "I just... It's complicated, okay? I don't want to see her get hurt, and I don't want things to get even messier than they already are." 

Ben placed a reassuring hand on Mason's shoulder. "We get it, mate. Just look out for your friend. If you think Max is trouble, it's good that you're keeping an eye out." 

As Mason nodded in agreement, a pang of conflicting emotions welled up within him. In the quiet recesses of his thoughts, he wondered if, perhaps, he wasn't as indifferent to Y/N's feelings as he had convinced himself. 

Meanwhile, the after-party pulsed with vibrant energy as Max and Y/N found themselves in the heart of the celebration. The music thumped in harmony with the beats of their hearts, and the dimly lit venue became a backdrop to a night that seemed to be unfolding like a story. 

The pair, fueled by a mix of adrenaline and a few well-timed drinks, found themselves drawn to each other, their conversation charged with a playful flirtation that danced on the edges of something more. Max's charm and Y/N's quick wit created a dynamic that was both intriguing and infectious. 

As the night progressed, Y/N began to meet more and more of Max’s friends. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and animated chatter as Y/N navigated the introductions, each friend offering a unique glimpse into Max's life beyond the racetrack. The genuine warmth and camaraderie among Max's friends added a layer of connection to the night, making Y/N feel more at home in the bustling celebration. 

Later in the evening, Max and Y/N found a quieter corner of the venue, away from the pulsating beats and the lively crowd. The chemistry between them lingered in the air, and the flirtation that had been bubbling beneath the surface finally came to the forefront. 

Max, his gaze unwavering, leaned in with a playful grin. "You know, you're making it hard to focus on anything but you tonight." 

Y/N chuckled, her cheeks flushed from the mix of excitement and a few drinks. "Is that so? I could say the same about you, Max." 

Their banter continued, creating a bubble of intimacy that shielded them from the surrounding festivities. As the night wore on, Max's friends occasionally joined their conversation, seamlessly weaving Y/N into the fabric of their tight-knit group. 

Amidst the laughter and shared stories, Max's gaze turned more sincere. "You're different, Y/N. I really like being around you. Can I see you again?” 

Y/N, a mix of surprise and contemplation on her face, considered the question. "I'd like that, Max, but I don’t exactly live local, do I?” she said with a chuckle, still slightly taken aback by his forwardness. 

Max nodded, his eyes reflecting determination. "Well, I'm in the UK quite a bit for factory work. It could work out." 

After a moment's pause, Y/N agreed, a smile playing on her lips. "Alright then, yeah. Let me know when you're in town, and we'll take it from there." 

The vibrant energy of the after-party gradually faded as Y/N decided it was time to call it a night. The music softened, and the laughter in the venue became a distant echo as she made her way back to the hotel. Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, the events of the night playing out in her head like a movie reel. 

As she entered her hotel room, she noticed a text message from Mason. "Are you back at the hotel?" it read. She sighed, typing a quick "Yes" in response. Truthfully, she couldn’t deal with anymore of Mason’s childish tantrums today, but she just couldn’t find it in herself to ignore him. A few minutes later, there was a knock at her door. Y/N hesitated before opening it, finding Mason standing there, a complicated mix of emotions written across his face. 

She let him in, the tension palpable in the air. Mason's eyes avoided hers as he walked past her and took a seat on her bed, he seemed unable to find the right words. Minutes passed, but Mason remained silent, the awkwardness growing with each passing second. The atmosphere in the room became thick with unspoken words, and Y/N could no longer contain her frustration. 

"What is your problem?" she burst out, her voice a mix of anger and hurt. "First, you completely ice me out, then you get pissed at me for giving my number to Max, and now you've come into my room in the middle of the night and you're just sitting there in silence. What the fuck do you want from me? I'm sorry for how I feel; I know it makes things awkward, but I never expected you to feel the same way or to want me. I just don't understand why it means you have to treat me like shit. You’re supposed to be my best friend." 

Mason, still avoiding eye contact, took a deep breath before finally speaking. "You are my best friend, the person in the world I'm closest to, and I was scared that because of how you feel, we couldn't be friends anymore." 

The raw honesty in his words caught Y/N off guard. She took a step back, studying his face, and saw a vulnerability she hadn't expected. The room fell silent again as they both grappled with the weight of their unspoken feelings. 

Y/N took a deep breath, the intensity of the moment hanging between them. "Mason, you can't just shut me out when things get complicated. We've been through too much for that." 

Mason nodded, the weight of his actions evident in the lines on his face. "I know, and I'm sorry. I should have talked to you instead of pushing you away." 

"Why did you get so upset about Max?" Y/N asked, her voice a mix of curiosity and frustration. 

Mason hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "I guess I was worried. Max has a bit of a reputation, and I didn't want to see you get hurt." 

Y/N's expression softened, understanding the concern beneath Mason's actions. "You could have just told me that instead of treating me like I did something wrong." 

Mason nodded again, acknowledging her point. "I messed up, Y/N, and I'm sorry for that." 

The room fell into a heavy silence as Y/N processed Mason's apology. After a moment, she sighed, a mix of emotions playing across her face. "I appreciate the apology, Mason, but you need to trust me. I can handle my own feelings, and I value our friendship too much to let it be ruined by something like this." 

Mason nodded once more, a genuine sense of regret in his eyes. "I'm sorry for acting out. I don't want to lose you as a friend." 

Y/N felt a sense of closure in his words. "Let's just put this behind us. We can figure things out, but you can't shut me out like that again, okay?" 

As the weight of their conversation lifted, Y/N and Mason found themselves in an uncertain but hopeful truce. Y/N, moved by Mason's apology, decided to bridge the lingering gap between them. She reached out for a hug, an unspoken acknowledgment of forgiveness and a desire to move forward. 

Mason hesitated for a moment before reciprocating, his arms enveloping Y/N in a tentative embrace. The hug was warm, a silent reassurance that their friendship could weather the storms that had momentarily shaken its foundation. Y/N could feel the tension dissipating as they held each other, and for a moment, everything seemed to be okay. 

However, as they lingered in the embrace, Mason's mind was in turmoil. A wave of conflicting emotions swept over him, and an unsettling realization settled in the pit of his stomach. He started to question the nature of his feelings for Y/N, wondering if there was more to their connection than just friendship. 

Internally, Mason panicked. This wasn't a revelation he was prepared for, and the timing seemed utterly inconvenient. He tried his best to maintain the facade of casual friendship during the hug, desperately suppressing any hint of the internal storm raging within him. 

Y/N pulled away, smiling warmly. "Thank you for apologizing, Mason. I really appreciate it." 

Mason managed a tight-lipped smile in return, the internal turmoil hidden behind his eyes. "Yeah, of course. Friends, right?" 

"Friends," Y/N affirmed, her expression one of genuine warmth. 

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[ltwilliammowett]

Superstitions of Scotland's fishermen

Perhaps due to the dangers of their profession or their interdependence, fishing communities developed their own unique customs and folklore. They were close-knit and conservative, and their names, food and way of life differed from those of the neighbouring population. There was often rivalry even between different fishing villages, and they rarely married outside their own community.

Because of the dangerous nature of their work, they were unusually superstitious, as were all those involved with the sea. There were words that were considered very unlucky, for example the word minister was never mentioned - he was called the man in the black coat, and the words hare, salmon (red fish), rat (long tail), pig (curly tail) and salt were among the most forbidden words. If the men came across a hare, a dog or a red-haired man, they refused to set sail, and if they found a rabbit, a hare, a pigeon or a dove on board, they certainly did not disembark. The antidote to bad luck was to touch cauld iron.

Other customs were associated with sailing and fishing. For example, it was bad luck to cast the nets on the port side, to taste the food before the first fish was caught or not to take the blood of the first fish. In some places, fights were instigated so that blood could be spilt before the fleet set sail. Some boats were considered unlucky in themselves because they had the wrong names or did not behave according to the rules. One way to avoid bad luck was to never row against the sun (anti-clockwise) when leaving the harbour.

Rituals and spells were said to influence the weather. It was believed that you could whistle up the wind or untie it with special knots in a rope - one knot would cause a breeze, the second a hurricane and the third a storm. The weather was always expected to change on a Friday.

In some areas, other days of the week had special significance, bringing either good or bad luck. For example, most communities did not fish on Sunday, even though it was considered a lucky day. It was believed that work started on a Saturday took seven more Saturdays, while work started on a Monday was quickly completed.

Before a young man could become a fisherman, there were initiation rituals where he had to prove himself, and even today, customs and superstitions still influence the life of a fisherman. Echoes of the old customs can still be found in the villages today. However, as you may have just realised, this type of superstition is confined purely to Scottish fishermen, these types were also regularly found on ships. The reason for this was that many sailors came from the fishing villages as well as their compatriots, and so their superstitions and rituals were taken on board and spread.

[hyunverse]

wherever you are ☆ hwang hyunjin. (teaser!)

hyunjin x fem!reader. childhood best friends to lovers. slowburn, pining. fluff, angst.

OUT NOW.

Hyunjin promised you that he'll be wherever you are. What do you do when your best friend of years — the only person you've ever loved disappears without saying goodbye?

Don’t be a coward.

Four words Hyunjin told his reflection as he got ready. He was dressed in a basic tee and a pair of jeans, hair slicked back like the one time you told him it looked good. He spritzed his cologne behind his ears, on his neck, and on his wrist before repeating the four words again. This time, he whispered it, letting it soak into his brain, in hopes his heart would have courage.

It’s been too long. The feelings he harboured for you piled overtime, the crush he once thought was temporary transforming into fondness. It was becoming too much for Hyunjin’s heart to bear, he needed to let it out. If he didn’t, he felt like his heart could burst. And if it did, it would be confetti-shaped memories of you.

Chatters echoed outside your ballet academy, Hyunjin watched through the lowered window for your face among the sea of people. He had a plan in mind — he’d open the door for you, put the seatbelt on for you, and tell you about his feelings. In front of your academy wasn’t the most ideal place for a confession, he knew, but God — he couldn’t bear sitting in silence with you as a storm raged in his head. He couldn’t do it. He wanted to say it as soon as he could.

Hyunjin’s eyes were still busy looking for you when suddenly, your face came in his peripheral vision, along with another face. The other person was lean, jet black hair with bangs and puppy-like eyes. The boy opened the door for you before Hyunjin could.

Okay, step number one failed.

“Hey, Hyunnie!” your voice chirped, getting into the car. Your hand moved to buckle your seatbelt before Hyunjin could. He was too busy analysing the stranger in front of the door.

“Hey,” Hyunjin replied nonchalantly, looking at the boy from head to toe. “And this is…?”

“Seungmin. And you?” the boy said, tilting his head. To Hyunjin, he was being challenged. Seungmin’s tone was more daring than he liked, so he felt an urge to one-up the guy.

“Hyunjin. Been friends with Yn since were in diapers.” he replied, the extra detail a pathetic attempt at one-upping Seungmin.

Seungmin furrowed his eyebrows, nodding as he shut your door, “Uh. Cool? Bye, Yn. And the friend since diapers.”

Oh, Hyunjin really didn’t like him.

“Wait, Seungminnie!” you called out just as Seungmin was walking away. He looked back at the car, raising an eyebrow. You turned to Hyunjin with puppy eyes. “Can you give Seungminnie a ride? He takes the bus and I think the next one’s in an hour.”

Hyunjin clenched his jaw, eyes fluttering from your pleading eyes to Seungmin’s figure outside the car. If it was all up to him, he would probably run the guy over. But God knew how much he cherished you, how he would rather cut his tongue than tell you “no,” so he agreed.

“Mm. Sure,” he replied, swallowing back a scoff.

Your eyes brightened, “Seungminnie! Come, we’ll give you a ride!” you yelled, tempting Hyunjin to mock the nickname you’d given him.

It was going to be a car ride straight out of hell.

Hyunjin’s knuckles were white against the steering as he pulled up to Seungmin’s residence complex. The building standing in front of him definitely belonged in a gated community, ritzy and luxurious. Somehow, that pissed Hyunjin off even more. He glanced at the unwanted guest sitting in the back seat through the rear-view mirror.

“Want me to drive you to the lobby, or what?”

Seungmin looked back into the mirror, peering at the reflection through his bangs. “Nah. They don’t let random cars in. Here’s just fine,” he mumbled, unbuckling the seatbelt. “Thanks, dude. Appreciate it.”

The car door closed behind Seungmin, leaving the two of you in the car. Hyunjin sighed, feeling the nerves creeping up him again. Now that it was only the two of you, it was time for Hyunjin to confess his feelings.

Before he could, you spoke, “Seungmin’s my friend in the academy. He’s really smart,” your eyes didn’t leave the crossroad before you, watching as Seungmin walked.

Hyunjin had to stop himself from rolling his eyes. He tapped on your thigh, trying to gain your attention. It worked as you looked at him, batting your eyelashes. “Hm?”

He licked his lower lip, mustering all the courage in him. It was now, or never. “Look, I have something to tell you.”

“Yeah?”

You shuffled in your seat, tilting your body slightly towards his way. Now that you had your full attention on him, Hyunjin felt even more nervous. He scratched the skin around his thumb, tongue-tied as his brain tried to form coherent words. He’s never done this before, always made fun of his friends for struggling to express their feelings but now that he was in the same place, he wished he could take back all the insults. The brown eyes looking deeply (and anxiously) into yours were profusely blinking, as though he was at the brink of tears. You grew worried.

“Hyunjin, what’s up?”

He scratched at the back of his neck. Why did his tongue feel so numb? Why did his brain feel empty yet so full at the same time? His heartbeats were so fast, he couldn’t quite catch up. Hyunjin was on a rollercoaster — you were waiting at the end of the ride.

Finally, he managed to muster words. “Look, I’ve pondered over —”

Two knocks on the window at the back. They’re followed by the door opening, an exasperated Seungmin popping his head into the car. Immediately, you both looked back, utterly bewildered.

“Sorry. I left my bag. Thank God you’re still here,” Seungmin said, grabbing his messenger bag and slipping it onto his shoulder. “Thanks and sorry!”

The door closed, thus silence blanketed the atmosphere once again. This time, with unresolved tension. You looked back at Hyunjin, tilting your head in curiosity.

“You were saying?”

Dazed, the raven looked at you. His face was a mixture of exasperation and confusion. His head? There was a storm raging, along with curse words aimed at Seungmin.

“Um…” He licked his lower lip, racking his brain to find back the words he wanted to say. They were all lost. He was already at the end of the rollercoaster, the bumps along the way forgotten, and the thrill subsided. All that’s left was the remnants of anxiety. He couldn’t do it anymore, not when he’s forgotten the things he wanted to say, and the moment disturbed by your dear friend Seungmin.

So, he put the gear on to drive. He shook his head and made up a white lie.

“I think I want to try a new ice cream place today.”

The taste of cookies and cream could not beat the bitterness on Hyunjin’s tongue.

It may be because the bitterness had seeped into his head.

“I’m going to your room,” you announced, swinging the front door of his house open. “Hi, Mrs Hwang!” you cheered, running up the stairs after.

“I’m going to talk to my mom a little bit,” Hyunjin said, hanging both your coats on the coat hanger.

Nothing could’ve prepared Hyunjin for what was to happen next.

Both his parents were crowding the kitchen countertop when he walked in, skimming through a piece of paper. They were beaming, eyes crinkled as they smiled. A reminder that Hyunjin resembled both his parents. He blinked in confusion as to why his parents looked so happy. He didn’t think he'd seen them this happy before.

“What’s going on?” he questioned, peering over their figures to look at the paper.

On the paper were words he’d only seen in his dreams. Never in a million years he would’ve thought it’d manifest to life. His heart skipped a beat as he read the words over, and over.

“You made it, sweetheart,” his mother’s soft voice spoke, confirming his suspicion. “You got accepted. Beaux-Arts de Paris.”

“Eomma,” he mumbled, as if he was pleading. Pleading for this dream to stop. Somebody’s got to wake him up from this nightmare of a day. “There’s no way.”

Hyunjin picked up the letter, inspecting it closer. As though if he looked any closer, the words on the pristine white paper would change. Reject him. Or maybe, the logo of the prestigious school would magically transform into a logo of a school in Seoul. Anything, anything, that would keep him here. In Seoul. With you.

“You did it, sweetheart. Your dreams are coming true,” his mother keenly said, pulling him into a side hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

His dream? It was his dream, and, yours. No, scratch that — it wasn’t truly his dream. It was yours. His dream had always been to be wherever you are.

He didn’t think he would be accepted. When you told him you were rejected from the Paris Ballet School, he told you that he was rejected, too. He didn’t tell you that he was waitlisted, under the impression that he was never getting out of the waitlist. What was he to tell you now?

Hyunjin hid his sadness, wanting to make his parents proud, “Yeah. I did it. I’m so happy, eomma, appa.”

A series of praises left his parents, and he allowed for them to engulf him in a hug.

“Don’t tell Yn, ‘kay?” he muttered, before excusing himself to go upstairs. The acceptance letter was neatly folded, tucked into his pocket.

When he swung his bedroom door open, you were standing in front of his full-length mirror. Clad in only his t-shirt, you inspected yourself.

“Hey, Hwang Hyunjin,” you muttered, turning your body. “Your clothes are bigger than me now. You used to be so small.”

You looked at him, mock dismay in your face. “I was so much taller than you before. You were a dwarf.”

How was he meant to tell you about Paris?

“I was never a dwarf. You were just too busy looking down on me.”

Giggles left both of you. Silently, he observed the way you were examining yourself. You had the mannerisms of a ballerina, each gesture as gracious as your dance. Hyunjin adored the curves of your body, but God knew he loved that of your smile even more.

Later, you were both laying on his bed, you in a starfish position. Hyunjin was at the edge of his bed, trying his best to not fall.

“Ballet was so hard today,” you sighed. You turned your body sideways, burying your face into Hyunjin’s chest. He could smell you in this closeness.

“Are you wearing my deodorant?” he queried, bowing to clasp his nose onto your shoulder. It felt like a kiss to him. “This is literally the smell of my deodorant.”

You shrugged. “Yeah? What about it? You should’ve gotten used to me taking your things by now, Hwang Hyunjin. I’ve been doing this our whole lives.”

Touché. The boy sighed, letting you fill in the silence with your babbles. Wordlessly, he listened to your words, letting it be the white noise to his thoughts.

His head was clearly not there. Unbeknownst to him, you knew of this. He’d been off all day. You’ve picked up on each signal, knowing him like the back of your hand. As much as you wanted to know what was wrong, you knew not to pry. You resorted to comfort instead.

Your fingertips met at the back of his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. He was never one for physical touch but sometimes, it helped. You leaned your head into his neck.

Gingerly, you whispered the words you thought he would need.

“You’re always here, around me. You don’t know how much that means to me.”

The exact words he did not need to hear that day.

How was he meant to tell you of his feelings now?

Especially when he was leaving — oceans away.

taglist: @zoe8stay , @starlostseungmin , @bakugossanity , @hwajin , @sleepyleeji , @skizzel-reblogs, @jdopes-recorder , @sherryblossom, @cb97whoree , @alyszaen , @aaliyahxsx , @jeonginsyoungestsibling , @hyunluvxo , @bokk-minnie , @ghostyycat7 , @fortunatelyhertragedy @yongbokkari @ameliesaysshoo @seoli-16 @jisungsdaydreamer @soobnny @seolboba @in2heartz @jehhskz @astraystayyh @mnwrld

[ghostsandmermaids]

Podcasts To Listen To If You Like OFMD

Today is the anniversary of the finale of Our Flag Means Death season 2. One whole year without our favorite pirates :( But if you miss OFMD as much as I do, I have some podcast recommendations I think you'd enjoy!

If you want more queer pirates:

Trice Forgotten

Trice Forgotten is a found-family, pirating adventure. Alestes puts her head down working as a merchant, couriering deliveries and carrying travelers to destinations across the seas. Only, her travelers gradually become permanent crewmates, until she realises her ship has become a floating museum, laboratory, vault of repatriated ‘treasures’ and chef’s kitchen. After spending most of her life with the understanding that nothing changes, no matter how hard you fight, Alestes is faced with a choice: Will she use her new network of allies to build safe harbour and potentially a future for her new community, or will she once again put her head down and drown in her sea of excuses…

Queer neurodivergent pirates of color! Found family! Homoerotic sword fights! What else do you want? (And they even talk about OFMD in one of the Below Decks episodes!)

The Ballad of Anne & Mary

It's 1721, and London is abuzz with news of notorious pirates Anne Bonny and Mary Read, currently languishing in Newgate Prison. It’s the perfect time for debt-ridden journalist Nathaniel Mist to exploit the public appetite and ghost-write a sensational (and hopefully best-selling) history of pirates. But as the balladeers and gossips on the streets of London build myths around the blood-thirsty, perverse lady pirates, Mist is forced to reckon with the real Bonny & Read… Featuring musical sensation Christina Bianco, actress and comedian Sooz Kempner, Hamilton star Karl Queensborough, drag legend Le Gateau Chocolat, and more.

If you can't get enough of Anne Bonny and Mary Read, listen to this podcast musical about them!

If you want more queer comedies:

Welcome To Night Vale

Welcome To Night Vale is a twice-monthly podcast in the style of community updates for the small desert town of Night Vale, featuring local weather, news, announcements from the Sheriff's Secret Police, mysterious lights in the night sky, dark hooded figures with unknowable powers, and cultural events. Turn on your radio and hide.

Okay, it's a horror comedy and can be creepy at times, but it's also one of the few shows that have made me laugh as much as OFMD.

Starship Q Star

When a space agency sends the “first all woman and non-binary crew” on a blatant PR mission to Mars, they inadvertently end up the last six humans in the universe. Lead by Co-Captains (and exes) Aurelia and Sim, Starship Q Star follows this madcap crew on their quest across the galaxy in search of a new home… which is basically one hilarious mishap after the other.

I suppose if you found the absolutely two perfect ex-girlfriends and sent them to Mars, then they could potentially… co-captain?

If you want more queer historical comedies:

Fawx & Stallion

London, 1889. When the residents of 221B Baker Street leave town for the weekend to solve one of their most famous cases, no one is left to clear a poor housekeeper’s name of a crime she didn’t commit. Well, no one except for their neighbors at 224B…

Tonally, this is probably the closest to OFMD. I started this podcast yesterday and fell in love with it immediately. If you like OFMD and Sherlock Holmes, please check out Fawx & Stallion!

The Kingmaker Histories

On the 19th of February, 1911, in the Valorian Socialist Republic, an assistant tailor named Colette Geise experienced a migraine that ruined her life. This is a historical account of what happened next. THE KINGMAKER HISTORIES is a steampunk weird fiction podcast about being gay and doing crime, brought to you by the freaks who brought you Less Is Morgue.

Alternate history + magic + comedy + queerness. Do I need to say more?

If you want more (queer) rom-coms:

Me and AU

When Kate “ACunningPlan” Cunningham sparks up an online friendship with a fellow fanfiction writer it seems like the perfect distraction from a summer stuck in her hometown of Kamloops, B.C., not to mention the coming terrors of her final year of university and the Real Adult Future beyond. (Seriously, please don’t mention them.) After all, Hella--Enchanted is funny, smart and writes canon-divergent werewolf fic like no one else. She’s everything a fandom could ask for. But… what if she’s everything Kate could ask for, too?

Me and AU is not only an adorable sapphic rom-com, but also a love letter to fandom! Go listen to this, it's so cute!

Life With LEO(h)

A sci-fi(ish) romantic comedy podcast starring a repressed lawyer, a criminal client, a pesky sister and her fiance, an infuriatingly sexy coworker, and an android in the mood for love. Jeanine Bell​ is a robotics intelligence lawyer whose laser focus on her career has come at the expense of her romantic and social lives. After successfully keeping AI genius Penelope Lane out of prison, Jeanine receives the gift of LEO(h),​ an android with Synthetic Sentience. LEO(h) is Loving, Empathetic, Optimistic, and (only sorta) helpful. He's programmed to love Jeanine. He’s also very, very illegal.

I'm only two episodes in and already so invested in this story! Jeanine and LEO(h) are absolutely adorable.

(Note: as far as I know, the main romance isn't queer, but there are other queer characters in the show.)

If you want more queer found families:

Hello From The Hallowoods

Darker than your dreams, and farther North than you remember, there is a forest where life and death meet… Come walk between the black pines! In this award-winning queer fiction podcast, a cosmic narrator follows the increasingly connected residents of the forest at the end of the world. It's a bittersweet story that explores queer identity, horror genre tropes, and finding hope in humanity's last moments.

Did I only add HFTH to the list because it's my all-time favorite podcast and I want more people to listen to it? Maybe. But I also genuinely think that if you like OFMD, you are going to love some of these characters. Check out my fandom manifesto if you want to learn more!

Starfall

Starfall is a fantasy audio drama about the adventures of the Carouvel Traveling Acting Troupe - a theatre troupe that uses magical items to create illusions for their shows as they move around the Falstenian Empire. The story begins as the troupe is joined by Leona, a young warrior with a mysterious past and even more mysterious powers. With their new guardian in tow, the troupe traverses the continent, encountering the dangers of humans, fae, and greater forces alike, all while still trying to put on a good show.

Remember Stede's fuckery play in S1E6? Now you can listen to a fantasy theatre troupe put on magical plays! How cool is that?

If you want more of the cast:

Kisses in the Dark

Against the bright lights of Blackpool, a supernatural killer is at work and a dark and dangerous love affair begins… A sinister, disturbingly romantic seven part podcast drama written by Marty Ross (BBC’s Catch My Breath & Ghost Zone and Audible’s The Darkwater Bride) and starring Con O’Neill (Chernobyl, The Batman) and Rhiannon Clements. A contemporary Gothic horror tale set against a background of life on the narrow edge between Pleasure Beach and wild cold sea, between secret desire and a deadly evil. Also starring, Kyle Rowe, Pamela Mayoss, Steven Gidwaney, Patrick Price & Ryan Clayton.

Con O'Neill plays one of the main characters!

What Will Be Here?

In What Will Be Here?, five friends send a rocket to space with a collection of recordings on it that document the world’s decline, the stories they want to tell, and their efforts in building this rocket to get their message to the stars. They wonder what their world will have become by the time their message is listened to. At its core, this show is about living and creating when things feel pointless. It's a story that came out of the pandemic, and the landscape in which this story was written and produced greatly influenced how it turned out. What Will Be Here? is set on earth 200 years in the future, where large-scale crises are fully normalized. But despite the bleak backdrop, this story is one of hope - of overcoming challenges, of making things that might be temporary, but also things that might be launched into space and continue on forever.

Vico Ortiz plays one of the main characters!

Dungeon Masters

Dungeon Masters takes a behind-the-curtain look into the world of Dungeons & Dragons, told through the lenses of the creator of the game, Gary Gygax, played by Wil Wheaton and of private investigator, William Dear, played by Jon Hamm, a swashbuckling tough guy in 1979. Gygax guides the audience through this incredible true story as our Dungeon Master, as we follow Dear on his quest to find Dallas Egbert, a Michigan State student, who supposedly disappeared in the steam tunnels under his university while enacting a real-life version of D&D. What Dear encounters on this journey and ultimately discovers, defies all expectations, and changes the culture as we know it.

Kristian Nairn plays one of the main characters!

The Diaries of Netovicius the Vampire

Neto is an artist first, an immortal vampire second, but for now he's being kicked out of his Beacon Hill apartment in Boston Mass. That's where we begin, but more than a year into this audio-series I can't believe the journey Neto, and me, the creator have been on. But that's a longer story than I can get into here. For now, I hope there is something in this audio-series for you. It's about vampires, but ultimately it's about recovery, from trauma, from alcoholism, even from cults. It asks: Does time really heal all wounds? Featuring VAs known for Valorant, Diablo IV & Overwatch

Written and performed by Hugo Pierre Martin!

The Cryptid Factor

Three best buddies - Rhys Darby, Dan Schreiber, and Leon 'Buttons' Kirkbeck bring you The Cryptid Factor - a podcast dedicated to all things weird that are yet to be defined by science. Since 2008 they have passionately (and often awkwardly) been discussing 'cryptids' and monsters like Yeti, Chupacabra, Bigfoot and Nessie - as well as weird news of the world, UFO's, Time travellers, robots and space stuff. Though they take these pseudosciences as seriously as they can, they struggle to take themselves seriously at all. Hosted by comedian and actor Rhys Darby, star of top rating podcast 'No Such Thing as a Fish' Dan Schreiber - and Pulling it all together is their best friend, 'Buttons'. If anything goes wrong, it is probably his fault.

Rhys Darby is one of the hosts!

Date My Abuelita, First!

From Executive Producer Wilmer Valderrama comes a dating show that proves abuelita knows best! Host Vico Ortiz alongside our resident abuelita, Liliana are ready to meet their match! Three single contestants will compete for a date with one lucky guest. Through speed-dating rounds, hilarious games, wildly silly and genuinely heartfelt introspections, and grandmotherly love, one contestant will either be a step closer to love or be sent back to the apps. Abuelita holds all the cupid power, so let the chispas fly!

Vico Ortiz is one of the hosts!

[thetempleofthemasaigoddess]

Being part of a rival crew and becoming Sanji's lover would involve...

Sanji x reader. NSFW!!!

This fic is dedicated to @vespidphoenix.

*****

🩵 At first it’s only flirting. 

🩵 You aren’t expecting anything special today, only yet another boarding on a rival pirate ship that has had the misfortune of being on the same route as yours and that your captain, Loras, has decided to invade and lighten of their treasures and whatever other commodity they carry. The other crew as expected retaliates, and a battle ensues… a battle that sees you confront one of them, a blond young man who immediately catches your interest because of his fighting prowess, and then some. 

🩵 You’re evenly matched, which makes the fight more fun; and your opponent is an extremely handsome young man, which leads you to flirt unashamedly with him as you exchange blows. Rather than being distracted or embarrassed as it usually happens, your opponent seems delighted by your interest, and starts flirting right back with equal intensity. “I’m not used to fighting women, especially one so amazingly beautiful like you.” “This does you credit, but is complimenting me all you’re going to do, or you wanna fight?” “If I have to; you’re quite strong, I have to admit.” “Likewise. I must say, you’re the most attractive opponent I’ve had the pleasure of fighting in a while…” 

🩵 The fights end in a draw, both yours and Sanji’s and that between the Straw Hats and your crew, forced to abandon the boarding. You retreat, Loras grumbling and severely scolding the crew for their failure, but you feel satisfied and even energised, strangely not disappointed you were not able to best your opponent. In the next days, as you take care of your duties or contemplate the waves lapping at the side of the ship, you find yourself thinking back to Sanji, to his bright smile and lovely eyes, to the strength and gracefulness with which he fought, and smile to yourself, thinking that who knows, the sea is vast and full of pirate crews, but maybe one day you will see each other again…

🩵 One day ends up meaning eight days later, because the two crews run into each other a second time, this time at the harbour of a tiny island, and while the two captains argue you and the blond pirate immediately lock eyes. You grin. He winks. A new fight ensues a minute later, the two of you immediately heading towards each other for a rematch. “I must admit I’ve been thinking about you.” “Have you? I’m flattered; may I know the name of such a lovely young lady?” “I’m (name). What about you?” “I’m Sanji. You look lovelier than ever, I must say; I hadn’t noticed what beautiful eyes you have…”

🩵 Long story short, you end up fighting again, neither able to surpass the other, as you flirt and exchange compliments; once more, your crew is forced to scarper after Loras has been thoroughly drubbed by Sanji’s captain Luffy. “To our next meeting, my dear.” you say as you prepare to depart, blowing Sanji a kiss; he grins, clearly flattered. “I miss you already.”

🩵 That last comment is meant to be a joke; after all, meeting the same crew twice in the great vastness of the sea can be a coincidence, but thrice it would be nothing short of a miracle, which surprisingly saddens you a little: meeting and fighting Sanji was… fun, in a way, and you wouldn’t have minded repeating the experience.

🩵 You do, no more than a week later, when the two crews meet for the third time. Loras, still resentful for the sound defeats received recently, accuses Luffy of following you; the straw hatted-pirate swears they are not, he is not believed, and soon you are fighting again. Once again, you and Sanji find each other and fight furiously. “Did you miss me, beautiful (name)?” “I didn’t, actually; and I recently met another pirate who is more attractive than you.” “Oh, you’re breaking my heart…” At one point during the battle, you find yourself pushed against a wall, with Sanji’s body caging yours; your heart leaps in your heart as you both suddenly realise you’re closer than you’ve ever been, close enough you can feel his breath on your face, and he can feel the frenzied beating of your heart against his chest. For a moment you both hold your breath, suddenly shy and unable to speak… and then realise that Sanji’s hand is resting on your breast. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, I hadn’t realised… I swear I’m not that sort of man…” he stammers, blushing furiously, and you wink; had you had the impression he was that sort of man you would kick his ass to the other end of the Grand Line, but since you do realise it’s been an accident, you simply wink at him. “At least buy me a drink first.” you tell him batting your eyelashes, and you see Sanji grin.

🩵 This time it’s your crew that comes out the winners, but as you depart to follow the others, you find yourself grinning, just like Sanji is doing behind you. To that third encounter a fourth follows, and then a fifth, and so many more; suddenly, despite the mounting improbability, it’s like the two crews can’t help running into each other. At first convinced Luffy is persecuting him, Loras soon decides to turn the situation around, chasing the straw hatted-pirate across the sea to decide once and for all who is the strongest between the two of them; he’s so focused on his new rival he seems to have forgotten his first and most important goal, to find a legendary treasure that his grandfather told him about years ago, and that has been the reason both him and you, his childhood best friend, have taken to the sea. Nevertheless, the large majority of the encounters between the two crews are accidental, rather than one of the two looking for the other; you’ve never believed in destiny, but it does seem like an invisible force, the Gods or Fate or whatever name one wants to give it, is pushing them together, to meet over and over again. And the same, consequently, happens to you and Sanji.

🩵 You’re not the only one among your crewmates to have developed a rivalry with one of the Straw Hats; Loras is soon convinced Luffy is his fated enemy, so to speak, the only man that stands between him and glory and that one day the two of them will fight to the death, and the two swordsmen of the crew have started training harder than ever in anticipation of the next time they can cross blades with Zoro. No one suspects your rivalry with Sanji is more than that, a series of fights during which neither is able to best the other, but it is. He’s strong, quick and agile, and fighting him does make you strive to become stronger and give your all in order to win - or at least not to lose, but on the other hand, you can’t deny your heart leaps in your throat every time you glimpse his crew’s jolly roger on the horizon, or notice his blond head, and his smile, among his crew. You are sincerely happy to meet him, as if you were old friends, and become frustrated, even melancholic, when more than a few days pass after your last encounter. Also, you can’t deny Sanji is one of the most attractive men you have ever met; he has a fine physique, expressive eyes, and a very nice smile. No matter how fun and stimulating it is to have him as an opponent, you can’t help wishing you’d have the time and the opportunity to just talk, and learn something about each other… and then perhaps discover if all that flirting between the two of you only serves to joke and pass time or not.

🩵 The first time you meet alone, perhaps unsurprisingly since you have by now learnt he is his crew’s cook, is at the marketplace, on an island your crew has reached that morning. You are wandering around, looking around in search of something interesting enough to buy, when suddenly you notice the back of a by now familiar blond head -not to mention the firm backside a few feet beneath it- in front of a fruit stand. You smile to yourself, take a moment to fix your clothes and hair, and approach. “If I remember correctly you owe me a drink.” you say as you saunter to him; Sanji, busy analysing two different qualities of peaches, turns, sees you, and the largest, happiest smile you’ve ever seen opens on his face. “Well if it isn’t my favourite opponent. Are you here to challenge me?” “Not particularly, I’m just enjoying a free afternoon. What about you?” You end up keeping him company as he buys provisions for his crew, both unbothered by the risk of being seen by your crewmates; later he does insist on buying you a drink, and you blush, unable to remember the last time someone did the same for you. You spend more than an hour talking, of yourselves and of your dreams and your crews, and it’s genuinely the most interesting conversation you have had in your life; no one has ever looked so interested in what you have to say like Sanji is, no one has been so able to make you laugh like he does, and even though this is your first real conversation, you both feel perfectly at ease, as if you had known each other your whole lives, enough you’d happily spend the rest of the day like that.

🩵 You can feel a jolt of electricity running through your body every time your knees touch his under the table; as you finally leave the bar, you only need to share a glance before Sanji takes your hand to pull you into the closest alley, and a moment later you’re kissing furiously, his back pressed against the wall as he holds you by the waist and your hands play with his hair. Neither speaks for several minutes; you feel on cloud nine, Sanji’s heart beating against your chest as you explore each other’s body, and the longer your embrace lasts, the less satisfied you are with just kissing him, no matter how sweet his lips are. “I saw an inn across the street.” you murmur in his ear “I know we don’t have long, but…” You don’t even have to finish the sentence; Sanji’s handsome face lights up. “Are you sure? I don’t want you to…” “Of course I’m sure! Come on, any minute we waste here is one we could spend doing other things.”

🩵 He laughs -a celestial sound- and a moment later he has taken your hand once more to lead you out of the alley and towards the inn; neither pays any notice to the way the inn-keeper looks at you when you inform them that no, you’re not going to need the room for the night, only a couple hours. You start kissing while you’re still in the corridor, and when the door closes behind your backs you part to share a look, not tense but well aware of what you are about to do. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.” Sanji murmurs, his hands delicately holding yours “I… I’ve never felt like this before; I think about you all the time. The last thing I want is to betray my crew…” “And I’m not asking you to do it, nor will I betray mine.” you reassure him, happy and relieved to discover he feels the same “I just want us to be together, even just for an hour; I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine, only for today.”

🩵 The first time two people have sex is often awkward, especially if they don’t know each other well platonically either; you and Sanji are the exception to the rule. Despite the little time at your disposal, you don’t hurry in getting rid of your clothes, but worship each other as your hands and your mouths explore the skin you gradually expose; you help Sanji remove his shirt, taking advantage of the proximity to gently bite his shoulder, and he moans - a wanton, completely lurid sound that excites you both. A moment later, he returns the courtesy, kneeling in front of you as he opens your belt and lets your jeans slide down your legs. “I like having you in this position.” you murmur, and Sanji winks at you before kissing your navel. “I aim to please, especially in moments like this.”

🩵 A minute later you’re finally bare, as you lie together on the bed and your kisses multiply. “You are so beautiful.” Sanji murmurs as he hovers above you, his free hand caressing your cheek, and you find yourself smiling, that probably predictable compliment filling your heart with joy. You doubt this moment will repeat itself in the future, but rather than saddening you, the knowledge pushes you to enjoy it to the fullest, to create good memories you will carry in your mind and in your heart forever, months and even years after you and Sanji have parted ways; you know already it will be unforgettable.

🩵 It is.

🩵 Your lovemaking is intense, vigorous and at the same time gentle, both of you taking care of the other’s pleasure as you chase your high together. Having made sure he actually likes it, you kneel between his legs and take Sanji’s -lovely, just a little too big for his build, the base surrounded by well-trimmed blond hair- cock in your mouth, and the symphony of his moans of pleasure fills the air as you suck him. “Oh, Gods… yes… oh, darling, you’re so good at this…” he murmurs, his hand in your hair, and you smile to yourself: he’s already losing his mind, and you’re quite proud of yourself for having brought him this far using only your mouth. You work him for a while, but when you look questioningly at him, Sanji smiles and shakes his head. “Not like this.” he says as he sits and gently cleans your mouth with his hand before pulling you under him “As lovely as it would be, there’s somewhere else I’d like to come, at least for our first time.”

🩵 Sanji uses his hand to make sure you’re ready for him, and a moment later you’re the one moaning - no, you’re almost screaming as Sanji moves above you, his slim hips pressing against yours, his hard flesh splitting you open. “Oh Gods… oh Gods, this is so good!” you cry out; you’re completely lost in the pleasure he’s gifting you, and you capture his lips in a new kiss as you feel a first, powerful orgasm approaching “Don’t stop, please Sanji, I want more…” Sanji wouldn’t be able to stop even if he wanted, but smiles at you, hungry and simply awed at the way your bodies, which until today had only met as adversaries, are now singing together; he can feel your nails clawing at his back, the pain mixed with the pleasure, and for a moment he hopes you’ll actually leave a mark, a memento of the moment you are living together. A moment, and a particularly vigorous push, later he feels you come, your body contracting around his pushes him beyond the edge, and Sanji is coming as well, falling in your embrace as he pants. 

🩵 You smile at each other, neither feeling the need to speak to say how lovely it was, sweet and intense at the same time, and that you’re not yet sated with each other. “If you’re half as good at cooking as you are at making love, your crew must eat better than any other across the sea.” you murmur after a while as you play with Sanji’s hair, and he laughs, flattered. “And I can’t believe Boa Hancock is still considered the most beautiful pirate in the world with you around.” he counterattacks, making you blush. Together in that tiny, squalid room that has probably seen its fair share of clandestine lovers, at least in your case well aware of what your captain would think if he knew what you are doing, you feel at peace, the warmth of Sanji’s body enveloping yours as he holds you in his arms, the steady beating of his heart under your cheek. As a rule, ephemeral things -cut flowers, fireworks displays, butterflies- evoke a sense of melancholy in your heart, due to the awareness that their beauty is destined to disappear soon, but now, for some reason, you feel the opposite; knowing that you’ll soon have to part makes this moment of intimacy, that you’re still convinced will never happen again, even more lovely and precious. Whatever happens from now on, you think in the privacy of your heart, you’ll never forget Sanji; and you’ll never regret having been his woman, even just for two hours. 

🩵 You are both quiet, and running late, as you leave the inn; Sanji holds your hand until the very last moment. “Are you going to tell your captain about this?” he asks quietly, and you decisively shake your hand: Loras is your oldest, dearest friend, you’d follow him to Hell and back and keeping a secret from him fills you with guilt, but you know he wouldn’t understand, and you’ve always preferred to keep your private matters… private. “This is not… I mean, it has nothing to do with our crews’ rivalry, hasn’t it?” “Of course not; this is just between you and me, we are not betraying our friends, but… I do think we should keep it to ourselves. Thank you, (name); that… that was really lovely, it had never…” Sanji bites his lip, suddenly shy “So, uhm, I’ll see you around?” “You bet it.” you answer, and kiss him one last time, and you are both smiling as you part to reach the harbour from opposite directions.

🩵 You are sure it will never happen again; how could it? You are pirates, you live on ships surrounded by your crews; last but not least, your captains and dear friends are now rivals, and while what you shared in the inn room may not exactly constitute a betrayal, neither feels comfortable with the idea of carrying out a relationship with the enemy. It was lovely -it was amazing, so much that days later you can still feel the warmth of his body on your skin, and the sweetness of his kisses on your lips- but even in the remote case you’d have the opportunity to do it again, it would be highly unwise to. In the next weeks, as you meet twice more for the umpteenth fight between your crew and the Straw Hats, you and Sanji fight as usual, without pulling your punches -or kicks, or weapon blows- more determined than ever to best each other, but when your gazes meet, both know the other is also thinking back to that moment, when any distance between you had disappeared and you had shared your pleasure in an intimacy that went well beyond the simple physical pleasure. It doesn’t make you uncomfortable, you don’t feel guilty; but the intensity of what you feel, an emotion you can’t give a name to, is so overwhelming you can barely meet Sanji’s eyes.

🩵 In the end, about one month after your first time, your crew reaches an island you had never been to before. Loras entrusts you with an important mission to carry out while the rest of the crew is away, and they’ll be back in a few days to pick you up. One day, as you return to the small house you have rented for your stay, safe from the prying eyes and ears of the other guests of an inn, you feel your heart leap when, in the crowd filling the nearby square, you recognise Sanji, as usual surrounded by his friends, the crew apparently enjoying a day off with shopping and street food. He’s so handsome, you think as you look at him peeking from behind a corner, tall and with that lovely smile and lean but strong physique; you could reach him in less than a minute, but even considering the fact that your crew won’t be back before a few days that would be the stupidest, most potentially catastrophic thing you could do…

🩵 Oh, fuck it. Hurrying inside the house, you quickly scribble a message for Sanji that you then entrust, with a few berry for the trouble, to the neighbours kid, instructing him to give it to the blond man you have pointed to him through the window, as soon as he’s alone and his friends won’t notice. You spend the next hours trembling with excitation, unsure of what it would be worse, to have your invitation accepted or not, and in the end, late in the evening, you feel a soft knocking at the door, and when you go -run- to open it, you find yourself face to face with a very serious Sanji. “This is a dangerous game.” he says, with the tone of someone who blames himself as much as his interlocutor, as he already closes the door behind him; his sweet, expressive brown eyes are burning with desire, and you find yourself struggling to swallow as you meet his gaze. “I know. I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked you to come, this was stupid, but I couldn’t stop…” “No; I’m glad you did it.” A moment later he has taken you in his arms, and you’re leading him to the bedroom, your mouths already sealed in a kiss, and you don’t care if it’s late enough many people are already sleeping and the house’s walls are thin enough you can almost participate in a discussion between your neighbours, you spend the next three hours screaming Sanji’s name as he ravishes you, ravenous and passionate and generous like the lover of your dreams. Do whatever you want to me; just touch and kiss me, I want nothing else. This is what you ask him, and Sanji is more than happy to obey.

🩵 You share a cigarette after making love thrice, both sore but satisfied. “You’re insatiable.” Sanji murmurs as he kisses you, clearly not at all displeased by that, and you smile as you run your fingers up and down his firm chest. “You’re a cook.” you remind him “Doesn’t it make you happy when someone eats a five-course meal of your food and then asks for seconds?” In the end, for the first time in your life, you fall asleep in his arms, the fingers of an exhausted but happy Sanji playing with your hair. You wake up only a few hours later, as Sanji is picking up his clothes from the floor to get dressed; the sky out of the window is still half-dark. “I’m sorry; I have to return to make breakfast for the others, before they realise I am gone.” he explains; he told you already he has waited for his friends to fall asleep before leaving to come to you, and that unfortunately his crew will leave today. “Of course.” you murmur as you get up to kiss him good-bye, disappointed you don’t have more time to spend together. You remain like that for a minute, hand in hand, both aware that you could have, if not forgotten, at least stopped after doing it once, but now that it has happened twice, you have started on a very dangerous path; going back might be almost impossible. “I feel guilty.” you confess in a whisper, and Sanji kisses your forehead. “Don’t; because I don’t either, and we’re not doing anything wrong. Take care of yourself, alright?”

🩵 And so it begins. You would have never thought a relationship like this was possible, but for some unfathomable reason your two crews keep running into each other, and destiny seems to favour the two of you -a fact you order yourself not to find comfort in, because there is no love goddess that is pushing you and Sanji together, yours is not a love story destined to an happy ending after many vicissitudes- giving you the chance to meet semi-frequently and regularly. There are inns, and empty buildings, and back-alleys, and whatever nook or cranny you find that offers you a modicum of privacy for a night, an hour, or even just fifteen minutes. Even though you have both come to silently trust each other completely, you have tacitly decided to never invite each other on your ships, even in case you’d be completely alone; neither has stopped feeling guilty for your relationship with a rival, but you both feel more and more attached with every passing day, and staying away from each other soon becomes impossible. Despite the risks, despite the shame, soon the only moments you feel alive are the ones you spend in Sanji’s arms, pressed against a wall as his fingers work their magic between your thighs, or sitting on his lap as you both contemplate the sunset in a rare moment of quiet; you know your crewmates, who you love deeply, and especially Loras, your oldest friend to whom you have sworn fealty, would be horrified to discover what you have done, and deep in your heart you know you won’t be able to go on forever, that sooner or later your luck will run out and you’ll be discovered, or the two crews will take different paths in the vastness of the sea, separating the two of you forever.

🩵 It won’t last. It can’t last, and the sooner you accept it -even better, the sooner you decide that no matter how amazing the sex is between the two of you, it is not worth all the pain and the heartbreak that it will cause- the better it will be both for you and for Sanji. But you can’t accept it, every time you reflect that one day you might not have your next meeting to look forward to, to enjoy a little time kissing his warm skin or taking a brief, secret walk on a secluded beach before you part to return to your ships, you feel a lump in your throat and your eyes fill with tears. It would be easier, you reflect one night as you contemplate the empty expanse of the sea, sitting on the ship’s figurehead as you stand watch, if it were only that: only sex, because even at your young age, you know there are many things more important than physical pleasure and no lover, no matter how attractive and passionate, is worthy the respect of your crew. Unfortunately, if you ever hoped to limit your relationship with Sanji to a simple sexual affair, no strings attached and no fealty required, to abandon once either had grown bored with it or found a new partner, those wishes are soon and thoroughly dashed, because it takes you a few weeks at most to realise Sanji has become much more important than that, much more important than you could have ever imagined; he’s now part of you, and he’s come to stay. 

🩵 On your third date -your order yourself not to consider them as such, because friends with benefit don’t date, they meet and fuck and… and…- Sanji brings with him a lovely single-portion chocolate cake, with your name written on it with cream, that he has prepared last night after his friends had gone to bed. “Had they seen me they would have insisted on having some, but I wanted this to be for you and only for you.” he explains as he offers you a fork and a napkin “I don’t know what sort of dessert you prefer, but I thought you can’t go wrong with chocolate. What do you think?” The cake is the most delicious thing you ever had the pleasure of eating, sweet and soft on your tongue, but what pleases you the most, enough to make you blush, is the fact that Sanji made it expressly for you, renouncing the few hours he has to sleep and on top of all the time he already spends in the kitchen to cook for his friends. Of course Sanji is a cook, preparing food is what he does, but you feel flattered, and sincerely happy, he decided to share something that is so important for him, his passion and the art he has dedicated his life to, with you. You end up eating the cake together, and the chocolate-flavoured kisses that follow are even sweeter than those you usually share.

🩵 One day yet another confrontation between your crew and the Straw Hats takes place; the other ship is spotted while you’re in the pantry organising the supplies you and the others have carried on board that morning, and so, by the time the clamour on the deck reaches you and you realise what is happening, the fight is already underway. As usual you immediately look around searching for Sanji, and soon yoy find him, as he defends his crew’s red-haired navigator from two of your crewmates… while a third is aiming at his head from a distance with their rifle, unseen, the shot almost sure to kill Sanji given your crewmate’s skills. Instinctively -but even if you had a whole day to reflect on it you’d do the same, completely certain of the right thing to do- you immediately intervene, putting yourself between weapon and target, risking your own life to divert your crewmate’s shot. The noise attracts Sanji’s attention; he turns, sees you, realises what you have done and stares, apparently unable to act or speak. That night, you and the crewmate you have stopped from killing Sanji have an argument most of the others also witness; thank all the Gods none of them seems to suspect you acted to defend him, rather to stop another from killing the man the whole crew by now knows you consider your mortal enemy and favourite rival. Loras, who as usual avoids taking parts when two crewmates argue, tells you both to shut it, and the matter is closed.

🩵 The next time you meet, you and Sanji only have a few minutes to spend together, kissing as if it were the last day of your lives as your hands, by now well aware of where to touch and how to stimulate to give each other pleasure, move up and down your bodies, a fight against time made more exciting by the danger of being caught. “I know what you did, you know?” he murmurs after a while, as he holds you by the waist, his free hand playing with your hair. “To defend me.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “I think you do; you stopped one of your friends from killing me, because you care about me. Or am I wrong?” Sanji grins, while you find yourself blushing; you’ve been seeing each other for months now, anyone could see you like each other, but admitting it out loud requires more courage than you possess. “Actually, I did it because only I am allowed to defeat you.” you say in the end; both you and Sanji enjoy your rivalry, the way you push each other to improve and use all your strength to defeat the other, but your explanation is hardly credible, especially after you retrieve a small box from your pocket and shyly offer it to him. “I… well, the first time we spoke you told me today was your birthday, so… this is a little thing I thought you’d like.” The box contains a wristwatch that you have found in the marketplace of a town your crew has visited recently. “I also had your name engraved on the back, apparently it’s something you do; I know as pirates we mostly use the sun to know what time it is, but… well…” You’re stammering, as embarrassed as you were that day when you were eleven and you confessed your love to the boy you liked -and were cruelly rejected- which is absurd, because you’re an adult, a ferocious and experienced pirate, and this is not a declaration, you just saw that -very expensive- watch at the stall and you thought it would look good on Sanji’s wrist, and you remembered his birthday would be soon, and… and… 

🩵 You cautiously look at Sanji to test his reaction, but he seems to be speechless; in the end he grins, broad and happy. “This is the best present I have ever received; I love it.” he murmurs as he observes his name engraved on the back of the watch and then puts it on “Thank you, (name); you… you shouldn’t have.” “I know; I just felt like buying you a present, that’s all.” you explain simply, and Sanji smiles at you, before a mischievous look fills his eyes as he kneels in front of you, his hands slipping under your skirt. “Now…” he murmurs “I know today is not your birthday, but what about I show you how much I appreciate your gift?”

🩵 You’re in the open, in a dark, uninhabited alley where nevertheless anyone could decide to step in at any moment, both passers-by and your crewmates, but acknowledging the danger only serves to make you both more excited; a minute later a hand pressed to your mouth is stopping you from screaming loud enough the whole town would hear, while Sanji is holding your panties in his hand and his blond head has disappeared under your skirt. What he does with his tongue is so deliciously lurid and sensual it takes him a minute to tip you over the edge, his intimate kiss gifting you a powerful, prolonged orgasm, and Sanji is forced to hold you to stop you from tumbling to the ground. “You are crazy.” you murmur, out of breath, and Sanji laughs. “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks.” he confides, before dangling your panties in front of your eyes “Since it’s my birthday, may I keep these as well? As a souvenir for the days I don’t meet you?”

🩵 You go around panties-less for the rest of the day, the particularly windy day putting you at risk of being exposed in front of the whole crew; Sanji carries your second gift in his jacket pocket, touching it often. 

🩵 On another occasion, your crew reaches an island on which an important festival is taking place, with music, food and games; Loras, who looks unusually pensive, slips away to talk to two people he’s been introduced to by the town’s mayor, leaving the rest of the crew free to amuse itself. You have just been approached by an attractive man who is inviting you to dance when suddenly a child approaches, offering you a piece of paper. “A man gave me a hundred berry to give this to you, miss.” he says, and you quickly read the short message before smiling, and turning to the man next to you. “Sorry, I have to go.” you say, and a moment later you’re running full speed towards a secluded beach half a mile away, where Sanji is waiting for you, with a delicious dinner for two prepared on a blanket, including a bottle of wine and candles placed on the sand all around. “I took a leaf out of your book.” he says; the way he looks at you makes you feel completely naked, but not in the way his hands do when you can take advantage of the privacy of an inn room; it’s something much more intimate, that has more to do with your heart and your mind than your body, and that fills your heart with both joy and fear… as if you were standing on the edge of a ravine, destined to fall towards the unknown “You look lovely tonight. Why don’t you sit? I prepared your favourites.”

🩵 You don’t talk much that night, rather you enjoy each other’s company, the quiet murmuring of the waves, the light of the candles reflected on your skin. At the end of what must have been the best meal of your life Sanji takes your hand; you walk for a while on the beach, and while you can distantly hear the music and the voices of the people taking part to the festival, you feel as if nothing else existed in the world - not your crew, nor the various problems and difficulties that make carrying out a relationship in your situation almost impossible. In this moment, only the two of you exist; only you, and the stubborn desire to go on, not to lose each other, because even though you are both loyal to your crews, and your captains, you know by now that what exists between the two of you is too precious and special not to fight for it. You might have avoided giving a name to it, and even talking about it openly, and who knows what would happen if you were able to meet every day and spend more time together instead of stolen moments now and then, but you don’t want to believe it’s been all for nothing, you will not accept it!

🩵 At first it was only flirting; then it was sex, amazing but nothing more. And now, you can no longer deny it has become something that is perhaps not quite love yet, but it could become so easily, and soon…

🩵 You always thought Sanji felt the same, without the need to talk about it, and he does; however, his ideas regarding the future of your relationship are partially different from yours. “We can’t go on like this forever.” he murmurs after a while; he’s wearing your watch, like he has done every single time since you have gifted it to him “You know it as well. It’s not just because every time we meet we risk being discovered by our crews; I… I’m tired of this, (name). Tired of never knowing when I’m going to see you next, tired of not being able to tell my friends about you; at first it was exciting, but now I’m feeling trapped. You deserve better; we both do.” “I agree.” you murmur, relieved to know you feel the same but unsure of what to do about it “So… what do you suggest?” “Well… I thought you might decide to join the Straw Hats; I’m sure the others would like you, and you them, even though you’ve been part of our rival crew. I’d really like to have you on board, and this way we could spend time together and go on dates rather than having to snuck around. What do you think?” Sanji looks expectantly at you, clearly hoping for a positive answer you’re not ready to give him; no matter how genuinely happy you are to hear he believes in, and wants more from, your relationship, he is not the only important person in your life, and you’re not ready to abandon everything else to follow him, and his straw-hatted captain, around the sea.

🩵 “Why don’t you join my crew?” you propose back “I could tell Loras about you, I’m sure he’d be happy to have a great fighter, and cook, like you with us, and at that point we could spend as much time as we want together.” Sanji hesitates. “Luffy is my captain; I promised to be part of his crew until he becomes King of the Pirates, and I find the All Blue. He’s my friend, and he helped defend the place where I lived when it was attacked; I can’t abandon him.” “I respect that; but I also love and respect Loras, and the rest of my crew.” “I know, (name), but if you only met Luffy…” “And if only you met Loras…” you stop him, suddenly angry “Sanji, can’t you see? What you feel for your captain and crew, I feel it for mine; how can you ask me to leave my friends for you, when you’re not ready to do the same for me? Don’t you see how egotistical you sound?” He nods, admitting that he had already reflected it was not fair to expect from you a sacrifice he is not ready to make; you could both leave your crew, either to start your own or to abandon piracy and do something else, but that would only serve to make you both unhappy - not the best beginning for your life together. “So what? Is this the best we can get, to meet once in a while, have sex hiding as if we were cheating on our spouses, until one day our captains get tired of their rivalry and we lose each other forever when they decide to take different paths?”

🩵 Neither wants it; at all. Nevertheless, it seems like you have no other choice, none that wouldn’t mean sacrificing everything you hold dear. Would a future together be worth it? Maybe, but you know already you’d feel guilty for the rest of your lives. “I… I can’t do it; I’m sorry. I want to be with you, but I can’t leave everything I love behind to do it; I’d end up hating and resenting you, or you me, and that is the last thing I want.” Sanji nods, saddened but unsurprised by your decision; you wait for his answer, praying in your heart to see him smile suddenly and say here’s what we can do or something like that, but if there is a way for the two of you to be together without having to abandon your crews -and, almost as terrifying, to admit to your captains you have both been in a relationship with one of your rivals for months; at least in your case you know Loras will probably interpret it as a betrayal, even though you have never shared inside informations with Sanji or done something at his request that might advantage his crew against yours- neither you nor your lover see it. You share a last kiss and then part ways, both waiting until you can no longer see each other before you begin weeping.

🩵 It’s the middle of the night when you finally reach your ship at the harbour; rather than walking to your cabin to sleep until dawn, you sit on the empty bridge, staring at the sea shrouded in darkness, feeling empty and hopeless. The fact that Sanji believed in your relationship, in the promise of a future together, just like you did, is only partially a comfort; you can’t resent him for having chosen his crew over you, since you have done the very same thing, but your heart is broken in so many little pieces you fear it will never feel whole again. Part of you never wants to see him again, in the hope that distance will soothe your pain; the other fears that losing him will only increase your suffering, even though you know that sooner or later you will have to say goodbye. 

🩵 You’re so focused on your broken heart you only realise you’re no longer alone on the bridge when Loras comes sit next to you; he left the captain’s cabin to go relieve himself and saw you from one of the windows. “What’s wrong?” your friend and captain asks, but you simply shake your head in response: even though you have chosen to remain with him and the crew rather than leave with Sanji you still feel guilty, knowing how he would react if he learnt of your relationship with a member of Straw Hat Luffy’s crew. “You know I’d go to Hell and back with you, right? That you are my captain, and my best friend, and I’d rather kill myself than betraying you and losing your trust?” you ask him, still staring at the sea to avoid his eyes. If Loras finds your words, that unsought pledge of loyalty, weird, or worse suspicious, he doesn’t show it; for a moment you could swear he looks sad, almost regretful, but then he bumps his shoulder against yours, a friendly gesture you both often use towards each other, and you find the strength to smile. You’ve been friends since before you learnt to read and write and you know each other better than anyone else in the world; you have always supported him, and he has risked his life to save yours more than once. One day, soon, you’ll tell him about Sanji; he won’t be happy, but you know he’ll understand, and even sympathise with your broken heart. You know you’ll never forget your blond cook, but at least you’ll still have your dearest friend by your side. 

🩵 Barely two days later, Loras announces he has received credible information about the location of the treasure you’ve been searching for years, which is excellent news; consequently, you’ll be abandoning your current route to sail in a new direction, which is… good, in a way, you reflect, since it means you won’t risk running into the Straw Hats anymore. The prospect of never seeing Sanji again is almost unbearable but, you tell yourself, maybe in time you’ll learn to live without him in your life, and be happy and satisfied like you were before meeting him. You find comfort in Loras and your other friends on the ship, and in the hope, mixed with excitement, that the treasure will soon be in your hands. A few days later you reach a small island, and Loras leads a team of his ten most loyal crewmembers, obviously including you, to an isolated cave where its guardian spirit meets you, offering to deliver the treasure to you, if you have something to offer in exchange to the Goddess. Before you have time to grasp the meaning of those words, your crewmates have grabbed you and pushed you to the ground, with Loras looming over you, his sword in his hand. “What are you doing?” you ask, dumbfounded to the point you are not even scared yet, and your friend sighs, saddened but determined. “This is the rule, (name); the treasure can only be obtained in exchange for a human sacrifice to the local deity. And since this island is protected by a Goddess, the sacrifice must be a woman as well.” he explains “I wish there was another way; but since you’re the only woman of our crew it must be you.”

🩵 As the enormity of the situation hits you, you still can’t believe it is happening. You know how deeply, almost fanatically, Loras and the rest of the crew have been looking for the treasure, that has been the very reason you and your friend have taken to the sea years ago, but… but is he really going to sacrifice your life?! You’ve been inseparable since you were children, as close as siblings, sharing the best and worst moments of your lives and protecting each other against any danger; and now he’s preparing to kill you?! You look all around you, the faces of your crewmates betraying grief and heartbreak, but none of them hesitates, none of them utters a word in your defence or to beg the captain to reconsider. “We have all voted, (name).” Loras informs you, as if he had read your mind “The whole crew, while you were away. We are all in agreement; we are all so sorry, but we believe this is the right thing to do. Think about it; we’ve been striving for this treasure for years; we can’t simply let it slip from our fingers.”

🩵 He looks at you expectantly, as if waiting for you to approve his decision and accept being put to death, but you are still speechless; the whole crew knew what would happen to you today, the whole crew voted in favour of sentencing you to death, and no one told you! You didn’t suspect anything, naively convinced your crewmates shared your excitement for the imminent finding of the treasure and that soon you’d all be celebrating together. Instead, they were all planning on betraying you, stabbing in the back a person who has been their crewmate, and their friend. “I’m sure in my place you’d do the same.” Loras insists, but you stubbornly shake your head: no matter how desperately you wanted to find the treasure, you know no riches are worth the life of a crewmate, and the betrayal of a person who would have given their life for yours. Has he always been capable of such wretchedness, or did greed get the best of him? You don’t know; what you’re sure is that this is not the man, the friend, or the captain, you could be loyal to, and sacrifice your life for. You’re alone, unharmed against ten, but fury and desperation endow you with a strength you didn’t think you’d be capable of; you wait for Loras and the others to be focused on the spirit your now ex captain is formally offering your life to in exchange for the treasure, and you manage to grab the sword and the gun of one of the others; you wound two of them, and in the ensuing chaos you slip away towards one of the tunnels that open up in the back of the cave.

🩵 You run blindly for a while, soon getting lost in a veritable maze of tunnels; for a while you hear the voices of Loras and the others, determined to take you back, but soon the only sound you can hear is that of your feet on the ground, which suggests that your ex crewmates have given up, or at least you have left them behind. What are you going to do now?, you wonder, still under shock for the betrayal; lost as you are, you could perhaps walk around the tunnels for hours before finding an exit, where Loras and the others are probably waiting for you; also, everything you own bar the clothes on your back are still on the ship. Are you destined to die here, either by Loras’ hand or of starvation as you hide in the caves? Suddenly, for some reason, you think about Sanji, and new tears fill your eyes; if only you had known what was soon going to happen, if only you had accepted his offer to join the Straw Hats, now you’d be safe, by your lover’s side or at least free. All you wanted was to remain loyal to the people you love, and look how you have been rewarded!

🩵 In the end, as you turn a corner you’re pretty sure you have already seen at least twice, suddenly the cave’s spirit appears in front of you: she -it?- has the appearance of a young woman in an old-fashioned dress, semi-transparent, her naked feet hovering a few inches above the ground. Doubting your weapons would work against her, for a moment you fear she has come to get you, but the spirit smiles gently and points to one of the tunnels. “If you go that way you’ll find an exit your enemies don’t know of.” she explains “Walk for one mile and you’ll find a village, the people there will hide you. And you might need this.” This is your backpack, that you distinctly remember having left under your bed on the ship, neatly filled with your most important possessions. “Why are you helping me?” you ask, unsure; you have never met a spirit before, but you doubt they habitually assist the living out of kindness. In response, the spirit smiles gently. “Treasures are a peculiar thing; sometimes you lose them because of all you went through to find them, sometimes you don’t understand how precious they are until they have slipped through your fingers.” she says, before disappearing.

🩵 A moment later you have grabbed the backpack. Five minutes, and you have found the exit, hidden behind a thicket of bushes on an apparently deserted corner of the island. In less than half an hour you have reached the village, a sleepy place with two tiny inns; well aware that those will be the first places Loras and the others will look for you at, you offer half of the berry in your possession to a woman you meet at the market, and who accepts to host you in her house and keep the secret regarding your presence at the village. You plan on lying low until Loras and the others have left the island, but that night, as you sleep on the lady’s couch, you’re awoken by a sudden, brief but violent earthquake; the village’s buildings and streets miraculously suffer no damages, but the next morning you’re informed the cave the treasure was kept in has collapsed… and the members of a pirate crew recently arrived on the island were buried under the debris, including their captain. You have no way to be sure but you just know it wasn’t a simple accident, rather Loras and the others were punished for trying to take the treasure without offering a sacrifice in exchange. Despite everything you cry for them, for the crewmates you have sailed and fought side by side with for years, and for Loras, for the man he was before greed destroyed the better part of him; now you’re free, no longer having to fear being hunted or kidnapped, but you have no place to go, no friend left in the world, no goal or desire on which to focus your time and energy. You feel completely lost.

🩵 For lack of anything better, you begin helping the lady who houses you at her stall at the market, nor exactly the job of your dreams but that fills your time and pays for your room and board. On your third day you’re arranging the different varieties of fruit in their different crates when suddenly an unexpected but familiar voice reaches your ear. “Excuse me, I need some apples and pears…” 

🩵 Sanji is more attractive than ever, or at least this is how he appears in your eyes as you stare at each other across the stall; for a whole minute you’re both speechless, and then “What are you doing here?” you ask at the same time, you surprised to see him so far from the expected course of his ship, him who didn’t expect to see you working as a fruit seller. You parted more or less amicably, but suddenly your heart is full of shame, and the last thing you want is for your former lover to know how low you’ve fallen; but Sanji is still looking at you with that sweet, reassuring smile that has been the first thing you fell for, and you know that at the very least he will not make fun of you for what happened. The stall owner is looking at you disapprovingly, probably thinking you’re wasting time ogling a client instead of working, so you hurry to offer him a bag with his purchases. “I’ll take a break in fifteen minutes.” you whisper to him; your hands touch as he passes you the coins to pay, and the warmth of his skin on yours is a cherished memory you could never forget “Wait for me near the fountain at the end of the street.”

🩵 The next quarter of hour is the longest of your life, but finally you and Sanji are together once more; he has bought a flower at the market and he places it behind your ear, even though, he admits, you are already so beautiful you don’t need jewels or other decorations to look more attractive. What a charmer, you think as you blush, but a moment later Sanji asks what has become of your crew, and that is enough to make the joy for your encounter disappear like snow in spring. As you sit hand in hand on a bench, you share everything that happened since you and your - and Loras’ crew reached the island. Sanji’s reaction is the one you expected: incredulity, indignation, and anger. “So he didn’t ask you to sacrifice yourself, he didn’t give you a choice… but he deliberately kept the truth secret to ambush you? What a bastard!” he exclaims “And your whole crew was on board with him? No one said a word, all of them agreed to have you killed? This is… monstrous…” Sanji’s indignation comforts you but, but not enough that the betrayal of your former friends stops hurting. “The most painful thing is… Loras didn’t know about us, he wasn’t punishing me for having fraternised with a pirate of another crew; that I might have accepted. He simply placed my life on one of the scales and the treasure on the other, and he decided I was worth less.” you confide “We were like siblings, we had promised to face any danger and enemy together… I guess he never cared about me, not in the way he swore he did; I renounced you for his sake, and now I’m completely alone…”

🩵 Sanji doesn’t speak, but he holds you in his arms for a while, his hand gently playing with your hair. “You know.” he murmurs after a while “Luffy would have never done what Loras did. No matter how much he wants to find the One Piece, he would never sacrifice one of his crewmates for it.” “Wow, you really know how to twist the knife…” “No, sorry, I… what I meant to say is, I’m really sorry for what you went through, and happy you’re fine. But your captain clearly did not deserve your loyalty and friendship; mine would… if you were to join us, that is.” He confesses that after the two of you had last met, Sanji decided he could no longer keep your relationship secret from his friends, and told them everything. While understandably surprised, the others had accepted that Sanji had never meant to hurt or betray them, especially Luffy, a person completely uninterested in romance and relationships but who nonetheless assured him that he had nothing against his cook seeing his rival’s best friend… and who offered to welcome you in his crew, so that the two of you can be together. “I know it’d be a big change for you; that having been betrayed by a man you knew since you were a child, it could be hard for you to trust a person you have never really met.” he adds kindly “But you’d love being with us; you know Luffy is strong, but he’s also kind and loyal, just like you are. I’m sure you’d get along… and I’d love to have you in the crew. I… I have missed you so much.”

🩵 You have missed him as well, like you had renounced a part of you; you look at Sanji’s kind and hopeful face, and you feel your eyes fill with tears - again. “I have been so stupid… so naive, I have given up on you, I don’t deserve a second chance…” “Of course you do; (name), you deserve people who cherish and support you like you do with them, be it as friends or crewmates… or l-lovers.” he murmurs, stammering a bit “I have missed you so much, and what I feel for you goes well beyond sex…” He can’t finish the sentence, because suddenly you’re kissing him, for the first time in days, and this hasn’t been the longest you’ve been since the last time you saw each other, but having Sanji’s lips against yours is like the first breath of fresh air after almost drowning; you’re still sobbing, tears of pain and joy together running down your cheeks, and he laughs as he kisses you back, happy and relieved, until you need to part to breathe. “Is that a yes?” he asks, eyes sparkling, and you admit that you’ll have to meet his friends, and especially his captain, before deciding, but yes, you’d be honoured to join the crew of a powerful pirate who values loyalty and friendship.

🩵 “Do you think your friends will like me? After all we’ve been enemies for a long time.” you murmur after a while, unsure; Loras’ crew is everything you have ever known as a pirate, and the idea of joining an already close-knit group does make you nervous. Sanji, who knows you well enough to know he doesn’t need to lie to make you feel better, admits that it might take the others a little longer to get used to you, but he’s sure they’ll easily accept you as soon as they realise the sort of person you are, and you’ll feel as if you had always been part of the Straw Hats. “Also, you’ll have me.” he adds, almost as an afterthought; he’s smiling, but there is a conviction in his voice that turns those words into a promise “Fully and completely, as long as you’ll want me. I swear. Having sex with you is amazing, but I want more; I want to be your man.” You smile, resting your forehead against his and enjoying the sweet, chaste intimacy of his body close to yours: you’re pretty sure your work break is over and you have to go back to the stall, but you couldn’t care less - not least because you’ll have to tell the lady that you quit. “I think I can work with that.” you murmur “Sanji, I missed you so much… I have never known why we kept running into each other, but one thing I’m sure of: I don’t want to spend another day without you by my side.”

🩵 You spend a few more minutes holding each other before standing; hand in hand, you start in the direction of the harbour, leaving the market and the village behind you. 

[the-desilittle-bird]

AN- I am back after my long writer block. Here is a little preference for you all...

Requests are Open and Well Appreciated!

Thank you and Enjoy your reading.

HOTD Preferences

You Are a Foreign Deligate

Characters - Daemon Targaryen, Aemond Targaryen, Otto Hightower, Corlys Velaryon, Cregan Stark and Criston Cole

Warnings - Angst for Criston (given that he is a King's Guard)

Daemon 'Rogue Prince' Targaryen

You are a visiting foreign delegate from the Free Cities and went to Westeros in order to establish good relations between the two places.

You and Daemon met far too later after your arrival.

You met the King's brother during the feast held in order to honour the new relations; and you were the guest of honour for the evening.

His long hair of silver catch your eyes and you were enchanted by his looks.

Viserys was the one to introduce you and you two hit it almost instantly.

While you were completely spellbound by his voice, Daemon found your intelligence extremely eye-catching.

At the end of the evening, if the prince feels quite giving, you will be spared a rare dance or two.

Or you would be sharing a cup or two of wine with him, in his room or in some tavern of Flea Bottom.

It is safe to say that he becomes obsessed with you till the end of your trip.

One fine morning, a few days before your departure back to Essos, you are informed that you will return to your place; but with an extra person.

Your marriage to Daemon was shipped on the point of strengthening the alliance, but everyone knew better...

Aemond 'One-Eyed' Targaryen

You were from Qarth and were sent by the Thirteen to secure a safe trade route. It was during the time when the King was disappointingly sick and the Queen and Hand of the King held the throne in his stead.

It was the time of extreme peace, every person in the harbour discussed quietly.

You were quite excited but also extremely nervous. You wondered what would happen if you failed to complete the task given to you.

You met the young prince when he received you at the port of King's Landing.

Despite his quietness, you were completely mesmerized by his commanding aura and killer looks.

It takes long period of time of observing you from a far on Aemond's part before he decides to talk to you.

The talk would start formally before he starts asking you about your country.

The entire conversation would be pleasant and you would be smitten at the end.

Maybe even fantasizing a life with him.

You two would met during the Council meets where Alicent makes him sit with his drunken brother. No wonder that Aegon will flirt and will end up being punched by Aemond.

A few days later, expect the One-Eyed Prince proposing you in the name of 'a way to strengthen the bonds'.

Otto 'Hand of the King' Hightower

This man has lost his wife and has plenty of kids, while you are a young and bright assistant of sorts to the visiting delegate.

You are feisty and know your way around the formalities well.

Otto notices you when you punch one of his family's knight after the knight made some comment on you.

Even though he was clear to show his disappointment to you, he kept the interest brimming in him inside his head.

Suddenly, he asks for your opinion and sometimes, catches you on your walk around the garden.

The Queen also warms up to you, surprisingly, and invites you to tea.

While you like the attention, you are confused.

And hence, you confront him.

Otto is nervous as heck. And starts blabbering along the lines of 'I know that you might not like me...' and 'We are born ages apart...'

And as much as you found him enduring, you wanted for him to shut up.

And so, you slam your lips to his.

Corlys 'Sea Snake' Velaryon

You aren't exactly a delegate but more of his friend who knows the rules of the sea.

You arrive at Westeros with him and are ushered quickly to the Small Council's chamber in order to discuss a safe route for trading.

You were quick to realize that no one in the Council knew about the pirates or literally any other threats of sea.

You were ready to interrupt the Hand of the King but before you could, the Sea Snake does.

You are surprised by his understanding of the sea.

When Corlys is done, he settles back into his seat with a smirk as his eyes find yours.

He approaches you later after the meeting is over and you two end up flirting quite a lot.

Days pass with both of you sharing your experiences.

And you end up kissing him one fine day after having enough of his teasings.

He was smug about it. But at last, ends up proposing you.

And you two end up marrying on the shores of Driftmark with only a few close friends.

Cregan 'Wolf of the North' Stark

The Lord of Winterfell was surprised to receive a raven informing him to prepare for the arrival of the king and a foreign delegate from Meereen.

That was quite unusual, but Cregan could done nothing to object.

When you arrive alongside the King, he was left completely spellbound.

Your wits and broad thoughts intrigue and so does your beauty.

Also, you aren't afraid of drinking with the vassal lords or dancing with the common ladies.

At end of a fortnight, he is completely and utterly in love with you. And you do notice.

But you wait for him to approach you.

But you hadn't expected a marriage proposal at the very beginning.

That is when you decide to approach him for a conversation.

The entire conversation was pleasant.

And at the end you decide to accept the proposal.

Criston 'Kingmaker' Cole

You notice him first when you met the Queen and you were completely infatuated, to be honest.

But your first ever conversation happened days after, on a feast.

You weren't quite accustomed to loud celebrations and quietly slips out of there unnoticed.

You see him there and somehow gather the courage to make small talks to him.

You find him a man of great morals, even if they were twisted in their own way.

That conversation sparked the flames of love in Criston's cold heart.

You try to keep whatever it is between you two a secret, given his position as a member of King's Guard.

And soon, the day for you to leave came.

You had asked him to come with you, only for him to reason with you.

At last, you part ways, grieving whatever you had.

Doubting whether it was even true.

[skywerse]

Finch finally got a redesign that suits her more... With that, if you want to know more about my riptide oc, info below! :D

WARNING: there's A LOT of yapping

Finch, originally named Farren Van Aalsburg, stands as a 24-year-old pirate whose legacy is intertwined with the notorious ship, The Arbiter. 

Known for her ruthless and calculated leadership, Finch's mere approach to piracy would send ripples of apprehension through the ranks of sailors and even unsettle the most seasoned navy officers. The very mention of her crew's arrival was often met with foreboding whispers. In taverns, pirates would share knowing smirks over their mugs of beer, while officers would exchange wary glances. They'd caution one another, 

"Retribution's coming."

Farren's lineage traces back to a well-known navy captain, Heimer Van Aalsburg, praised for his adeptness in handling internal conflicts and hailed as one of the foremost strategists in naval warfare. Alongside his family, composed of Farren, her stepsister Hestia, and stepmother Alisei, they resided aboard a wonderful mahogany vessel, embarking on voyages from one port to another.

For Heimer, Farren was the centre of his universe, he couldn't have wished for a better daughter. Their connection strengthened, particularly in the wake of Farren's mother, Julith Ferin's passing when Farren was just four years old.

The bond between Farren and her younger sister was equally profound, they had an unbreakable bond from the very moment they met. However, amidst this familial setting, Alisei nursed a vicious, festering resentment, convinced that Farren overshadowed Hestia in Heimer's eyes. This animosity later culminated in a tragic incident that took place one, stormy night. 

In an unfortunate turn of events, Farren finds herself overboard, her desperate attempt to grasp the ship resulting in a severe injury to her right arm. Eventually, the raging waters below are quick to swallow her.

As her consciousness returns, she kneels before a colossal leviathan. The creature presents a solemn pact: it will guide her to the nearest vessel and mend her injured arm, with the condition that she accepts the burden of becoming the guardian of the seas until her last dying breath. An oath that binds her to a life on the move, forbidding her to settle on solid ground or abandon her duty. With hesitation, she agrees.

One fateful day, Skip, a hardy half-orc fisherman, discovers a young girl ensnared in his ship's nets. Swift to lend a helping hand, he extends not only a refuge but a genuine home for the girl, determined to help navigate her through the uncertain future.

Now residing on a small isle, a mere few days were enough for her to befriend a whole flock of zebra finches, who trailed behind her like loyal companions. Considering the girl didn't remember anything, let alone her name, Skip decided that the name 'Finch' would be more than a suitable choice.

Finch grapples with a zero to no recollection of herself and her family. Her only tangible link is a gilded medallion etched with the initials 'J.H.F’ accompanied by a few fleeting memories of her father.

Finch becomes a stalwart protector, earning recognition as the island's guardian. Fueled by an unyielding commitment, she gathers a crew at the age of 16. Two years later, they embark on their first voyage.

Her five years at sea culminates in a fierce clash with the navy, leaving Finch and her childhood friend, Shelby, as the lone survivors. In the wake of the tragedy, Finch confronts a maelstrom of emotions, grappling with guilt, simmering anger, and the rekindling of a long-suppressed fear of the unforgiving ocean.

"What value does a fierce pirate captain, one who commands the treacherous seas yet harbours such fear, truly possess?" - Niklaus, on their last meeting.

Finch and Niklaus have a history of encounters, each one more significant than the last.

Their first meeting took place when Finch was just 16, in the midst of assembling her crew. Niklaus dangled the promise of information regarding her family, but only if she'd abandon her oath. She refused, even poking fun at him the whole time—a stance she maintained on numerous occasions.

The second encounter, at the age of 23, followed a previously mentioned, deadly battle. Niklaus presented her an offer to turn back time, still on the condition of letting go of her oath. Once again, she refused, stating he's a fool if he thinks she'll ever give it up. After a few humiliating attempts at bribing her, he gives up.

A mere few weeks later, their paths crossed once more. This time, Niklaus proposed a lasting solution to banish her deep-seated fear of the ocean in return for a future favour. He pledged to provide a specific time, place, and a duel to be won, one she'd be obliged to fulfil, that is not linked to her oath. After careful consideration, and a few conditions, Finch shook on the arrangement (and still made fun of him the entire time).

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Between Waves and Wishes

Hii I hope you enjoy this summer romance between Charles and the reader, with her being Pierre's younger sister :)

As Pierre's little sister, you've known the Leclerc's for most of your life, from going to their races to vacationing together. You being the only girl and the youngest always sucked, that's why you skipped the last vacations together, until this one, since you've moved away for uni and your parents have insisted that you come.

A week on the beautiful coast of the south of France sounds like the perfect trip, except for the fact that you need to spend time with Charles. Charles had only grown more attractive over the years. His easy smile, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he laughed, and the effortless charm he exuded made it impossible for you to forget the crush you harboured since childhood. But the thought of him liking you back was absurd. He was Pierre's best friend, three years older than you, and his ex-girlfriends looked like they had walked straight off a runway. You were convinced you didn’t stand a chance.

The sun hung lazily in the blue sky as the waves crashed against the rocky shore of the French Riviera. The villa was everything one could dream of—sprawling, luxurious, and perched perfectly to overlook the Mediterranean Sea. You stood on the balcony, your gaze fixed on the horizon, a vain attempt to steady the turmoil within you.

The first couple of days were relatively easy. The villa's size allowed you to avoid Charles without much effort. You busied yourself with exploring the town, taking in the quaint streets and local markets, or hiding away in your room, pretending to be engrossed in a book. But Charles, with his perceptiveness, seemed to notice your attempts at evasion.

“Hey, we missed you at dinner last night,” he said casually one morning, catching you off guard as you tried to sneak out to the beach.

You forced a smile. “I wasn’t feeling too well. Didn’t want to spoil the fun.”

He frowned, concern etching his features. “Are you alright now?”

“Yeah, just needed some rest.”

His eyes searched yours, as if he was trying to read between the lines. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

“Sure,” you replied, turning away before your resolve could crumble under his gaze.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to avoid him. He seemed to be everywhere—on the terrace when you went for a morning coffee, by the pool when you sought solace in the sun, and even in the kitchen when you attempted a late-night snack. Each encounter was filled with a mix of awkward small talk and lingering glances, making your heart ache with unspoken words.

Midweek, a storm rolled in, forcing everyone to stay indoors. You found refuge in the library, nestled in a corner with a book. The rain pelted against the windows, a fitting backdrop to your internal chaos. You were so engrossed in your thoughts that you didn’t hear Charles enter the room until he spoke.

“Mind if I join you?”

You looked up, startled. “It’s a free country.”

He took a seat across from you, his presence overwhelming the space. For a while, silence stretched between you, only the sound of rain filling the void.

“Why are you avoiding me?” His voice was soft, almost hesitant.

Your heart pounded in your chest. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he insisted, leaning forward. “Did I do something to upset you?”

The genuine concern in his eyes made it hard to keep up the facade. “No, it’s not that.”

“Then what is it?” he pressed.

You closed your book, setting it aside. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” His gaze never wavered.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

The words hung in the air between you. You wanted to spill everything, to tell him how much it hurt to be around him, knowing you could never have him. But the fear of rejection, of ruining the fragile balance, kept you silent.

Charles leaned back, his expression softening. “I’ve missed you, you know. You used to come a lot to our races and you've missed a few vacations.”

“That was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t be that way again.”

You looked away, the pain too raw. “Things change, Charles.”

“They don’t have to,” he said quietly. “Not if we don’t want them to.”

You met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes almost too much to bear. “You don’t understand,” you whispered. “You’ll never see me the way I see you.”

He was silent for a moment, then stood up and walked over to you. He knelt down, taking your hand in his. “And how do you see me?”

Your breath caught in your throat. This was it. The moment of truth. “I see you as someone I could never have,” you admitted, your voice barely audible. “Someone who could never want me the way I want them.”

His grip on your hand tightened, his eyes locked on yours. “What if you’re wrong?”

You stared at him, your heart pounding. “What do you mean?”

“What if I’ve been feeling the same way all this time?” His voice was low, steady. “What if I’ve wanted to be with you, but I held back because I thought you saw me only as Pierre’s friend?”

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. Could it really be true? “But… your exes… they’re nothing like me. You always seemed to go for—”

“People who weren’t you,” he interrupted gently. “Because being with someone else was easier than facing how I felt about you.”

“But Pierre—”

“Pierre wants you to be happy,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I know it won’t be easy, but I can’t keep pretending anymore. I don’t want to.”

Your heart ached with hope and fear in equal measure. “What if this changes everything?”

“It will,” he admitted. “But it doesn’t have to be for the worse.”

You swallowed hard, the enormity of the moment crashing down on you. “Charles, I don’t know if I can risk losing Pierre’s trust.”

“He’s your brother, and he loves you. He’ll understand.” Charles’s eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of determination and vulnerability. “I love you. I’ve loved you for so long.”

The words hung in the air, wrapping around you like a warm embrace. It was everything you’d ever wanted to hear, yet the fear of the unknown still gnawed at you. But looking into Charles’s eyes, you saw the truth, the sincerity, and the depth of his feelings.

You took a deep breath. “I love you too,” you whispered, the words feeling like a release.

His face lit up with a joy that made your heart soar. He stood, gently pulling you to your feet and wrapping his arms around you. The warmth of his embrace felt like home, and you melted into him, all the doubts and fears dissolving in his hold.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “We’ll figure it out together,” he murmured.

You nodded, your heart full. “Together.”

His lips met yours in a kiss that was tender and sweet, filled with all the years of longing and unspoken feelings. It was a promise, a beginning, and an end to the doubts that had plagued you.

As the rain continued to patter against the windows, you stood there, wrapped in each other’s arms, knowing that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

[emilythescribbler]

How would golden trio era characters react to reading your diary?

POV: In your diary, you've written at length about how much you like them, how you have, to your own surprise, become quite attached to them, and have grown to develop feelings for them. You couldn't possibly have known that the very person you have said repeatedly that you "simply adore" would be reading those very words, could you?

(btw gender neutral!reader !!!)

How would Harry Potter react to reading your diary?

He surprised even himself when he finally summoned up the urge to look. It had been bothering him for a long time, that need to know, like an itch he couldn't quite scratch. He often wondered if you noticed, if you had caught his often lingering gaze as you sat in the Great Hall for breakfast, appearing as if you had just rolled out of bed, but still always writing in that book, a quill never far from your grasp, the book held firmly and securely under one arm as you both walked to morning classes. When he asked what you were writing, you were quite to close the leather-bound borders which housed all your most intimate thoughts, but it was this day in particular that you had left it out - unguarded; he thought he must have been dreaming at first, considering how protective of it, but he was very much awake. Checking, at first, to see if you were around, realising that you were very much absent for the moment, he was quick to act, quicker than he thought he might be, for it was not the first time he had contemplated taking a peek inside those pages. Still, despite the courage it had taken to take that final step, his hands still trembled, wondering what your reaction would be if he were discovered. The diary did not disappoint. He sensed, for a long time, there was a part of you which might have harboured some feelings for him, as he did for you, although he, of course, couldn't have mentioned that to you, not, he would add, considering how close you were, how much he valued your friendship. He had to reread certain pages, which detailed moments he had long forgotten, which you had recorded in so much surprising detail. You commented much of his company, how you adored his sarcasm, which not many had to displeasure to witness, as you put it. What really struck him, was not the way you spoke of his eyes, or the light grin he sometimes wore when he was feeling especially bold, not restricted by the confines of his upbringing, but of his gentle valor. You spoke of his dedication to his friends, to those he cared about. When Harry Potter loves, you wrote, he loves with a vengeance, he loves until he can no longer love again, and still he continues to love.

How would Ron Weasley react to reading your diary?

Ron Weasley never felt as if he could be loved, not in the way his brothers were loved by all who knew them, not in the way his sister was loved, for she was the only girl, the sibling who stood out amongst the sea of red-haired children. He felt as if he didn't have a place in this world; even in his friendships, he always felt as though he came second to the famous Boy Who Lived, and the genius Muggle-Born witch they had welcomed into their circle years ago. He was the odd-one-out once more. He didn't realise it, but his lack of self-confidence could be felt by those around him, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. While others did their best to ignore it, to look away, you didn't. He didn't quite want to believe it, had sensed that your kind words and gentle manner were more than just simple pleasantries, but he felt, for his self-confidence could be so low that he didn't want to believe anyone could see anything quite so special in him, that he needed to see it, plain as could be, before his eyes, to believe it so. He didn't want to take your diary, but felt it were the only option available to him, for you were always writing in those pristine white pages, never allowing a single day to pass without writing something, pulled from even the most mundane of days, upon them, casting black ink - the words blotchy, messy, but still uniquely yours. And when he did, rising early one morning to sneak that small, yet most important journal into a secluded area of the common room to read what he could. He didn't take him long to find what he wanted, and it brought him some degree of satisfaction to know, to really, truly know that someone could find him to have "as big a heart as anyone could possibly hope for, which is singularly wasted on someone who can never see just how much he affects and matters to the people around him." It didn't take long for him, also, to change, in hopes he would read your diary again and find you had seen just how much he wanted to show you that his heart was being used to the max: to love, even if it meant putting himself out and risking getting hurt in the process.

How would Fred Weasley react to reading your diary?

Fred Weasley knew he was liked, he knew that both he and his twin brother were often looked up to by other students, both in their respective year group and beyond. It was an inevitable consequence of their antics, and while he often loved to be the centre of attention, as he would be the first to admit that he was far more out-going than George in many respects, he couldn't shake the fact that there was one student who didn't seem to have much of a reaction when he spoke to them, not to his behaviour which, this he could only admit to himself, was, in part, a ploy to try to get your attention. Part of him couldn't stand that, out of all the admirers he had, out of all the students who paid him any kind of attention, you seemed to be the one exception. And so it began, where he would purposefully try to talk to you, to get you to notice him, sometimes in more subtle ways, other times in more overt ways, which did nothing to discourage rumours which now were starting to spread amongst the student body. As mortifying as it was for you, as much as you tried to avoid him, he was persistent. You found it, if only secretly, endearing at times, and it only seemed to fuel his taunts even more, and thus a friendship of sorts was the next logical step. And as he hung out with you more, he noticed something he hadn't before: just how much you wrote in your diary, at seemingly all hours of the day, buried in those pages of your own thoughts, unfiltered, personal, private. He wanted to know more about you, about how you thought, for you had captivated him from the moment he first laid eyes on you, but you couldn't have known it... could you? His curiousity only fueled his desire to know more about your mind, and so he took his opportunity where he could find it, daring to look at what those pages held, finding, to his own mild amusement and surprise, detailed accounts of the timeline of your friendship, at different stages, at which you described much of how you first met, how he had irritated you at times, coming off as arrogant and cocky, but that he, Fred Weasley, had peaked your interest, even if you didn't show it. Only one of you were any good at hiding your true emotions, and Fred always wore his plain for anyone to see, always with his heart on his sleeve. It seemed that you had decided to wear yours close to your chest, never allowing anyone to see who you truly were. Fred wasn't sure why that was, for when he read how much he had surprised you with his friendly and welcoming manner, how he amused you with his wit and humour, and how he always seemed to know what to say, he felt that the person he had come to know, a poetic and beautiful soul, was a person he wanted in his life for a really long time. He was surprised it had taken him this long to realise that.

How would Draco Malfoy react to reading your diary?

Draco Malfoy was not an easy person to get to know. In a way, he would have been the first person to admit that being close to him meant that he couldn't easily allow another person to see those dark corners of his mind which had haunted him for his whole life. And when you remained persistent in proving to him that he was as worthy of love and happiness as any other person in this world, he couldn't believe it, didn't want to believe it. He didn't wish to speak about such things often, but when it was just the two of you, away from the noise which was his life, he would begin to open up, always met with this feeling that you were the only person in this world who understood him, and that no one else could make him say the things he said in your presence: vulnerable, honest, open, raw and true. It would seem the effect of such candid thoughts was not lost on either of you. He didn't have to look through your diary to discover your innermost thoughts and feelings, for one day, after he had become upset about his whole life, for the weight of it had become truly unbearable at times, you reached into your satchel and fetched the journal, still in immaculate condition after all this time, and opened it, placing it before him as you urged him to read. You wanted him to see just how much his presence had affected you, and how much he meant to you; one sentence, amongst the pages and pages of detailed accounts of your time together, mingled with a method of writing which was almost romantic in form, Shakespearean in the impact it had upon the blonde boy sat before you, as you sat with simple feelings of anxiety which lingered for long stretches of time as each second passed painfully slow into the next, stood out amongst all others: Draco Malfoy is never quite as aware of himself as he ought, you had written, but I can see him so clear, that those dark corners to which he retreats into are cast in bright light - a portrait of vulnerability when it is at its most honest.

[moutainrusing]

pirate

506 words, @wolfstarmicrofic

Sirius didn’t want to desert the navy and become a pirate just because of Remus. Honestly, there were multiple reasons. Firstly, the navy commanded by his parents committed far worse, unspeakable crimes which even pirates would vomit upon hearing. Secondly, he wanted to join James’s ship because James was brilliance personified; he was cool, righteous, and insanely good at words.

James was also loud and brash like Sirius, and when Sirius first met him, he felt like he’d found his missing brain cell. The brain cell which, when without it, Sirius was unbalanced and deranged, constantly picking a fight with anyone: navy officers, his parents, the servants.

When Sirius first met James, he’d slipped off the navy ship, having just docked at the harbour, and was dangling his feet off the wooden pier, when the infamous captain tapped him on the shoulder with a grin as lopsided as his hat.

Then James pushed him in the water, tumbling in after him. “Me mate’s lurking these waters right now, and we’re gonna see ‘im,” he laughed at a spluttering Sirius.

“…What?”

“Aye, you look like you need an adventure.”

With that, James tugged him further into the sea, until they reached a huge, rugged stone wall, with a small crack in it, where Sirius could see a writhing wolf throwing itself at walls.

While Sirius was horrified — there was a lot of blood, and the cracking of bones — James pinched the bridge of his nose, looking unimpressed. “Remus thinks he’s a hero, of course.”

“Wha—”

Suddenly, and loudly, the rock shifted, opening up to reveal the cave. James moved to enter it, pulling Sirius behind him. The wolf seemed to have collapsed on the rocky floor, and James heaved himself up, creeping closer towards it. Then it was no longer it. He shrunk, fur retreating into skin, and became a man.

He had long, wiry limbs, all tangled up like a pretzel, hugging himself like a teddy bear, curled up like a baby. Sirius wanted to wrap him up, give him even more comfort and protection, maybe some blankets, because he was shivering, and there were goosebumps all over his skin. Sirius found himself wanting to be the reason the man got goosebumps.

James shook his head. “Remus, what’re we gonna do with you?”

Remus lifted his head, wincing. He gravelly muttered, “You weren’t s’posed to find me.”

James rolled his eyes and pointed to Sirius. “This is, wait, what’s your name?”

Sirius snapped his eyes away from Remus’s body to meet James’s. “Sirius.” He looked back at Remus, “Hi.”

Remus smiled at him, baffled yet amused, “Hi, Sirius.”

So maybe Sirius did want to become a pirate because of Remus. He wanted to hear that voice greet him every day. He wanted to wrap his arms around Remus forever. He wanted to know him, be a pirate on James’s ship with him, and if Remus tried to play this ‘hero’ act, Sirius would be the one to find him and bring him back, again and again.

[ltwilliammowett]

Ekke Nekkepenn - the merman

In short, Ekke Nekkepenn is a merman who lives with his wife Rahn at the bottom of the North Sea and plays pranks on sailors and inhabitants of the North Frisian islands.

The best-known realisation of the Ekke-Nekkepenn myth today can be traced back to Christian Peter Hansen, who condensed and reshaped various sagas from the North Frisian region into his own continuous narrative in his Sagen und Erzählungen der Haidebewohner auf Sylt (Sagas and Tales of the Haide Inhabitants on Sylt), published in 1858. The first section of this tale is entitled ‘Der Meermann Ekke Nekkepenn’.

The story begins with Ekke Nekkepenn asking the wife of the captain of a Sylt ship sailing to England in a storm for help with the birth of her child. The beautiful and helpful captain's wife is led by the mariner to his wife Rahn, who lives at the bottom of the North Sea, and returns to the surface after a successful birth, richly endowed with gold and silver. The skipper and his wife are able to continue their journey in fine weather and later return safely and soundly to their home in Rantum on Sylt.

Many years later, Ekke Nekkepenn remembers this incident and decides - in view of the fact that Rahn has become ‘old and wrinkled’ in the meantime - to take the captain's wife as his wife instead. One day, when he spots the Rantum captain's ship, he persuades Rahn, who is sitting on the bottom of the sea, to grind salt, and the Sylt skipper and his crew perish in the resulting strong whirlpool.

On his way to the captain's wife, Ekke Nekkepenn, who has transformed himself into a handsome sailor, meets her virgin daughter Inge on the beach near Rantum. Against her will, he puts a golden ring on each of her fingers, hangs a golden chain around her neck and declares her his bride. When the girl tearfully begs him to release her, he replies that he can only do so if she can tell him her name the next evening. But nobody on the island knows the unknown stranger. As Inge walks along the beach again in despair the next evening, she hears a voice singing from the mountain at the southern tip of the island near Hörnum:

Today I shall brew; Tomorrow I shall bake; The day after tomorrow I want to get married. My name is Ekke Nekkepenn, My bride is Inge von Rantum, And nobody knows that but me alone.

She then runs to the agreed meeting place and calls out to the stranger arriving there: ‘Your name is Ekke Nekkepenn and I'll stay Inge von Rantum.’ Ever since that time, the man of the sea, who has been coerced in this way, has harboured a great rage against the islanders of Sylt and is always up to mischief when he feels like it. He destroys their ships in storms, causes them to sink in Rahn's maelstrom and damages the Sylt coastline with the tides he unleashes.

This myth is particularly prevalent on Sylt itself, because as soon as it storms, Ekke is said to be angry and he is once again angry with everyone.

It is not entirely clear what the myth itself is based on, but it is clear that Hansen has worked with two things: Nordic mythology and its sea god Ögis or Ekke as he is called in Frisian. In his ‘Materials for a Frisian Mythology’, published in 1850, Hansen writes: ‘The god of the sea was called Ögis by the Germans, Eiger by the Danes, Eie or Eia by the Frisians, also Ekke or Nekke. […] His wife was the goddess Ran, who blessed the beach, pulled the shipwrecked into her nets and after whom the old beach and dune village of Rantum was perhaps named. Incidentally, in Norse, Rane means to rob. According to a Frisian legend, Ekke once went to a woman from Rantum named Inge, but was given a basket.’ The problem here is that it is a pure invention by Hansen himself, this kind of Nordic mythology does not exist.

The second is Rumpelstiltskin. The Rumpelstiltskin variant used by Hansen belongs to a widespread complex of fairy tales and legends. In most of these tales, a dwarf or other creature helps a girl spin a certain amount of flax. The original North Frisian form of the story - which Hansen follows in his composition - does not contain precisely this element. This means that it belongs to a relatively small group of forms, which includes sagas from Pomerania, Lower Saxony, Tyrol, Lower Austria and Schleswig-Holstein. However, here he uses the verse often found in Rumpelstiltskin, except what is a merman doing on a mountain?

Apart from what Hansen has probably used here to give Ekke a story, it is more likely that this myth has been around on the islands for a long time and only in different versions and without a real name. It can therefore be assumed that Hansen was just trying to give it a unified story and a name.