#lessons woven into it

[immamapletreekid]

...kageyama eventually inheriting suga's number in his third year ;-;;

[itspileofgoodthings]

reading aloud in class, reading in groups, silent reading at their desk, open-book quizzes, pop quizzes, close reading activities, assignments where they have specific things to look for in the text, times where we sum up, discuss, share opinions—the combination all together pulls them along

[f-a-b-l-e]

Me: eats

My body a few hours later: guess what

Me: AGAIN????

[weavewithin]

Continued. Foreseen verse Yasuo ( @fcrgiven ) and Taliyah.

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 as she set to work on skin and ridges that had become as familiar as her own. In each movement there was tenderness, like resuming to stitch a precious and grand tapestry, like her mother had once lifted and tied her unruly hair. When she was younger, she would frown while mending her Master's wounds, out of worry for his well being, out of anger for his tendency to drift into danger. Now, she had witnessed this cycle enough times to accept it, and her expression was gentle and steady, like her handiwork.

This ritual had remained the same over the years, just like her Master's sword had remained by his side. In their lifetimes, the world had not changed enough for him to put it down, or for Taliyah to put down her needle. They had traveled the world many times, and many times thought it would be their last. They had been known as many things, but they were still Master and student. The world was still unbalanced, and they tried not to trip in its tremors. Great Weaver, she tended to ask these days, what is fate, but a row of stitches, each so alike the previous?

There was much good in that pattern too, beside the dark. In its weave threaded many happy memories, wisdom and love colored blue like the well-worn scarf she used to know many years ago, red that followed it and learnt to fly across the canvas. Her and Yasuo had always complemented each other, in the way the stone and wind learn from one another.

When the mending was done and Yasuo rose to regard her, smiling with warmth that had not reached so deep many years ago, Taliyah knew that her Master had learnt and grown beside her. Their mutual teacher was apparent, as Yasuo embraced her and kissed her forehead, as she returned the embrace. It was apparent as he voiced what had made them much more than student and Master. He spoke that simple thing which had taught them the most and made them friends, family.

Taliyah could've told him that her love for him was as deep as the earth and as vast as the sky. That it grew in her each day and wove itself into the very tapestry of her life. Instead, she raised her one good hand to his cheek and replied simply, ❛ You know I love you very much. ❜ Then, in the next moment, she was a fledgling again, having her hair ruffled. Normalcy was returning, and she knew to value it these days.

❛ Lunch sounds good. You need to regain your strength. Those scrapes might still bring a fever later on, but I hope not. ❜

There was that urge again, to frown and condemn the cause of those wounds that now threatened her dear friend. But she knew she didn't have to, for her Master to learn his lesson. A playful smile was creeping onto her features instead, as she found some humor to latch onto.

❛ I think we better listen to what you want. The body knows what it needs to recover. ❜

[loverboybitch]

knit sweater i made drying out after i dyed it in my kitchen sink.//.

[aintitfierce]

i’m certain he’s been Burned doing it countless times but nothing can convince me that vanya isn’t the type to lick things or at least poke them with his tongue when he isn’t sure what it is

[viridianvisions]

💙

MIRABEL MADRIGAL | Helping to Fulfill Everything She Hoped For

[andypantsx3]

IF YOU LET ME : TODOROKI SHOUTO x READER

SUMMARY: Disguised as a eunuch in the imperial palace, a mistake on your part leads to your unmasking before the prince. By rights it should mean your death, but Prince Shouto seems to have another plan in mind... CONTENT: Imperial Prince Shouto, AFAB fem reader, identity reveal, class differences, slight gender fuckery, historical sexism, implications of past sexual threats, vaguely imperial Japanese setting, deep historical inaccuracy, SFW (2.2k) NOTES: This was a barely-edited unplanned little thought demon I had to exorcise lol, thank you for being patient with me. Back to our regularly scheduled programming soon.

Your breast bindings were missing.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck.

You flipped your sleeping mat again, clawing through your blankets frantically, hoping you’d somehow missed them the first time. But only the tatami floor stared back up at you—strands of woven rice straw pale and bare.

You muttered a curse under your breath—you’d definitely forgotten to extract your bindings from where you’d shucked off yesterday’s robes, forgotten to squirrel them away before sinking into bed. And now they’d been whisked away by a palace maid to be laundered. Or worse, discovered.

Your eyes darted through your small sleeping chamber frantically, seeking a solution. You were already late for Prince Shouto’s first lesson of the day, and you needed all the time you could get with him today. You’d promised the Minister of Rites that you’d have a word with the prince, to try to persuade Shouto to accept the wife he was so persistently putting his advisors off on.

You were, after all, the prince’s closest confidant—his personal secretary and calligraphy tutor, an unthreatening eunuch from the lower classes with whom Shouto was clearly most at ease. And at least most of that was true—you did have Prince Shouto’s trust, friendship, and respect, as much as a member of the imperial family could bestow on a commoner, anyway.

If he was going to listen to anyone on the subject of taking a wife—at the very least one concubine, if not his future empress—it would be his trusted friend the eunuch.

There was just one very important detail that everyone, even His Highness, was mistaken about on that account.

One blasted detail that could get you killed at best were anyone to figure it out.

Your eyes fell back to your blankets, and you immediately grabbed two fistfuls, yanking as hard as you could until you felt the fabric give, the rip and tear echoing in the small space of your sleeping chamber. You kept ripping until a strip came free, a little smaller than what you usually had to work with.

But you were not about to complain, not at a time like this.

You flung the strip down to scrabble with the tie of your underrobe, unknotting it with fumbling fingers. You were just about to fling it off of you when there was a careful knock against the screen of your door.

You didn’t manage to stifle your reflexive scream, stumbling through a half-executed turn towards the door. The screen was suddenly thrown back with alarming force, Prince Shouto’s figure filling the doorway.

You yanked your shirt closed again, panicking, as you caught sight of the concern on his handsome face. You barely registered the other details, mind tripping over excuses, unable to appreciate the way his shoulders looked all the broader in his sokutai the way you normally did.

“Are you well?” Shouto demanded, his normally soft tone a little ragged. You watched his mismatched eyes dart quickly around your chambers, as if seeking a threat, only to drop back to you when there was none.

“Your Highness,” you said, lost for anything else.

“I heard—there was a scream,” he said, his eyebrows scrunching the tiniest bit.

He always looked his most beautiful when he was confused, you thought, focusing hard on a particular problem. Not that a common woman had any business thinking anything about the crown prince, never mind a woman masquerading as a man. But it was hard to ignore a face that beautiful, the way his gaze sharpened with focus, full mouth pursing as he thought through a problem.

He looked like that now as his gaze darted over you. And then suddenly his eyes dipped to your collarbone, and his features went perfectly, horribly still.

An elegant hand reached back, and he immediately drew the screen closed behind him, eyes never leaving you as he took another step into the room.

You stumbled back, almost tripping over your bedding. You did not dare to turn towards him or away, scuttling sideways instead like a nervous crab.

“Your Highness,” you began again, heart shooting into your mouth when Shouto’s long fingers tangled in your undershirt.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, his tone softening. You gripped your shirt closed as hard as you could against the tug of his fingers. “Did something happen?”

“N-nothing,” you stammered, not liking the way it made him clearly more suspicious. “I was just changing.”

But Shouto’s beautiful, cursed eyes dipped to your bedding, where the torn strip lay across your blankets in plain sight. You could almost see the calculation as his eyes widened the tiniest fraction, and his grip tightened on your robes. Of course he’d seen it, and of course it looked like a wound dressing you’d just been about to apply.

He took another step closer, too close, until you could feel the heat of him through your sleeve, smell the sweet blend of dried herbs the servants kept his clothing stored with.

You tried to twist out of Shouto’s grip without rucking up your shirt, but his hold was too strong.

“Let me see,” he ordered in his soft, low tone. Your heartbeat kicked up higher, hammering in your chest so hard it could have broken a rib.

It was a death sentence to ignore an order from a member of the imperial family. It was also a death sentence to reveal what you’d been these many years. You hoped Prince Shouto, something of a friend to you, would let you off lightly for ignoring him.

“Please, Your Highness,” you said, clinging even harder to the closure of your shirt. “I will be ready in just a moment, I am simply running late. I beg your forgiveness.”

But if there was one thing about the crown prince, it was that he was stubborn, bullheaded when it came to the ideas and goals he took seriously. And he had always made it clear he took your friendship seriously.

That perfect mouth shifted into a frown. “I order you to let me see,” he said, his tone still soft but firm. “You will let me.”

You froze under his hands, muscles locking up in panic. Shouto was still between you and the door, and your chambers were not wide enough for you to slip around him without him being able to easily catch you. He was also, unfortunately, extremely quick with sharp reflexes honed by years of swordsmanship. There would be no escaping this situation.

Fuck. Fuck, you were out of ideas.

“Hold still,” Shouto commanded gently, long fingers prying your stiff ones away from the shirt ties. You watched his face in mute panic, not wanting to see the flash of betrayal and disgust, but unable to look away as he prised your robes aside. Shame heated your cheeks.

Shouto’s long eyelashes dipped, before his gaze froze on your chest. For a second, he went as stiff as you. Then he was yanking your robes closed again, a watercolor of pink washing across the bridge of his nose and those high cheekbones.

His eyes darted back to yours, his expression perfectly still though his face was flushed. “You never told me,” he said accusingly.

The right thing to do in this situation was to go to your knees in a kowtow and beg for his mercy, but Shouto still had a grip on your robes and did not look like he meant to let go. You ducked your head in as much of a bow as you could manage, your face warm. “Your Highness, I have no excuse. I have betrayed you.”

When you had concocted this scheme, you had wanted to put yourself beyond the reach of a local official back in your home village. His advances were becoming increasingly aggressive, and as a common woman, you had no recourse. You could only escape into a place where his rule was circumvented by a superior one, where no man would think to have an interest in you.

You had not intended to become Prince Shouto’s tutor, had not anticipated the true risk of your gambit until it was already too late. But you would still rather die than be returned into the hands of your village’s preceptor.

If this is how it ended…

“I have compromised you,” Shouto’s voice startled you out of your memories.

You glanced up at him, befuddled.

Shouto’s fingers twisted in your robes. “Just now, and—all the many times we have been alone until now. I did not know.”

Honor and compromise were the least of your concerns right now, and would matter even less in the event of your death. You did not know where the prince meant to go with this.

“Your Highness, you were not expected to know,” you said, shame coiling in your belly. You would make the same choices you had made over again, if given the chance, but you had never meant to betray Shouto. You had genuinely liked him, and you would regret losing the chance to be by his side in the years to come.

Shouto’s eyes flicked over you in some kind of assessment. He lifted one hand from your shirt, gasping your scholar’s cap and tugging it free from your hair. You felt his fingers tangle so very gently in the strands of your hair, seeking out the ties and pins.

Your own eyes traced over him as he did, drinking in the firm planes of his chest in his sokutai, the dark blue a beautiful contrast with his pale skin. You heard pins dropping to the ground beside you, as Shouto rubbed a strand of your hair between his fingers. He seemed to be evaluating you in a new light, relearning your appearance though a clearer lens.

Disgust and betrayal were not evident in how delicately he was handling you. You did not know what this meant.

“They will put you to death if they know,” Shouto said, eyes slowly moving from the hair between his fingers to your face again. “You cannot hide like this forever.”

You did not know what other choice was to be had. If Shouto did not plan to put you to death himself, then what other choice did you have than to go on pretending?

Shouto’s gaze dropped to your mouth and you realized you’d spoken the thought aloud.

“There is one other way to put you beyond the reach of the court,” he said slowly.

You felt your eyebrows raise in question. “I cannot think of it, Your Highness.”

Shouto absently curled the strand of your hair about his fingers, the little crease between his perfect eyebrows appearing again. He looked the way he did when he played games with his strategy tutor, or when he was thinking hard on a new sword form.

“The ministers wish for me to take a wife,” Shouto said softly. “My household is mine to manage alone.”

Outside the laws of the court, he meant. A strange flutter went through you, heat spotting your cheeks again. Shouto’s presence before you was suddenly magnified a hundred fold, and you became singularly aware of the breadth and height of him, the heat of him almost against you.

“You do not want a wife,” you said, well aware of the many years he’d spent bullheadedly resisting the idea.

“I do not want any the ministers have selected for me,” Shouto corrected.

Your whole body felt flushed again. He meant he was amenable to you.

You had never let yourself think it but he was more than amenable to you as well.

“I would keep you safe,” he promised.

You almost slumped to the floor in relief, only Shouto’s grip on you keeping you upright. You would not die. You would not be returned to your village. You would, through all of this, it seemed, keep Shouto’s friendship.

“I know you would,” you said.

Shouto understood your acceptance. Slowly his fingers untwined themselves from your hair, and he drew your robes more firmly around you. Your body burned hot, still, stomach fluttering under his renewed brand of regard.

“I will arrange it quickly,” Shouto said. “You must stay here. I will send someone for you.”

You nodded.

Shouto looked regretful as he stepped back from you. “We will do it properly, later,” he said. “I will pay my respects to your family.”

You waved a hand frantically, shocked by the idea of the future emperor making his bows in your family’s rundown hut. It was not as though you would be his first-ranked wife or empress! He did not need to pay any respects to the family of a concubine out of a common family!

“There is no need,” you insisted, but Shouto was already turning towards the door. You could see by the set of his shoulders this was another thing he meant to be stubborn about.

“I will honor my first and only wife,” he said, turning to pin you with that heterochromatic gaze.

Your mouth dropped open in shock, but you had no time to reply before he was sliding the door closed behind him again, leaving you alone with the sudden weight of the statement. It had all happened so quickly, you had never expected that Shouto meant what he did.

You wondered what it meant that Shouto had made such a promise so readily, when he had known the truth about you for only minutes.

And you wondered if, like your original entry into the palace, you were getting yourself into something far beyond what you initially understood.

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Writing Notes: The Shape of Story

by Christina Wodtke 

Start with Conflicted Characters

The character needs a goal, a motivation and a conflict.

The goal can be alien to your audience,

but the motivation must be shared by them, and

the conflict creates struggles that increase engagement.

Paint a Picture

Details transport you into the story.

The world disappears and you have a story play in your head.

Even though there are no literal pictures.

But be careful—Too many details and the story gets bogged down.

Make the Protagonist Suffer

“Be a Sadist. No matter how sweet and innocent your leading characters, make awful things happen to them - in order that the reader may see what they are made of.” (Kurt Vonnegut, How to Write a Great Story)

And when it can’t get any worse, make it worse before it gets better

The two key moments that create the peak of excitement in a story is the darkness before the dawn, and the dawn. 

The climax is the moment when the protagonist is either rescued or rescues themself.

In older tales, we saw a lot of Deux ex Machina (the hand of god) rescuing the hero. A hero could be rescued by luck, a partner, another hero…but modern audiences strongly prefer stories where the protagonist helps themself.

Resolution is Boring, Keep it Short

Interest grows with every additional conflict, but once the hero figures out the solution, our fascination collapses.

Don’t natter on while the audience’s mind is drifting.

Also Consider:

You need a good inciting incident to move your protagonist to action.

A setting is more than a place, it’s a situation and a moment in time. A vivid place has details.

Modern audiences prefer “return home changed” to “return home the same.”

EXAMPLES: ARCHETYPAL PLOTS ALONG THE ARC

Boy Meets Girl

Internal conflict is always satisfactory (e.g., she believes love interferes with his career, he believes love interferes with his beer.)

The crises usually revolves around betrayal — lying, cheating — and the climax shows it was a misunderstanding or we get atonement.

The struggle is always about them being separated.

The resolution is about binding them more tightly together than ever.

The Quest

You seek things, and find yourself.

Return home changed and don’t pass go.

Common elements include companions, a mentor, great losses and extreme character arcs.

The Underdog

Even though they do not have a shot in hell, the underdog wants something. They want it so bad.

Common elements include an enemy who blocks their path, and a coach who helps them forward.

In this case, they do not return home changed but rather move into a new life that fits their changed self.

Coming of Age

Naive person has the world teaches them a hard lesson, and they become a better person for it.

Struggle revolve around life sucking and then sucking more.

The hero grows and becomes better because of it, and via new understandings becomes competent.

In some tragedies, the world breaks them.

They can return home changed, but more often they move to a new life they have earned.

More Examples. Justice & Pursuit:

Weaving Multiple Plots:

Weaving multiple plots together to make subplots can further increase tension.

Multiple plots woven together makes the whole story not only unique but very compelling.

Writing Notes & References

[felassan]

"If you don't romance characters in Dragon Age: The Veilguard, they'll find other partners for themselves

"Some characters may be a little more steamy..."

---

"Dragon Age: The Veilguard features a far more fleshed out romance and relationship system than in previous BioWare games, the developer has told Eurogamer - including the ability for party members to go off and find their own love interests, should you not be interested yourself. Speaking to Eurogamer's deputy editor Chris Tapsell at an event in LA this week, The Veilguard's creative director John Epler revealed more of the game's relationship system. "In Dragon Age games, BioWare games, romance is a core part," Epler said. "We wanted to give each character their own flavour, or their own style, of romance. So some characters may be a little more steamy while some characters maybe a little bit more innocent. But for each one, you can build these relationships. "And what's interesting in this game is, if you don't romance characters, they may decide to find their own romances for themselves, whether within the team or within the world itself." It's reminiscent somewhat of how Shepard could walk in on Garrus and Tali locked in a kiss towards the end of Mass Effect 3 - but only if you had chosen not to show romantic interest in either one beforehand. What sounds like another improvement from previous BioWare games is how a character's romance arc will be better woven into their own personal story arc, and their involvement with The Veilguard's core questline. BioWare has also worked to ensure that getting to know your characters as friends feels just as satisfying - and that just because you're not banging your buddy, their (platonic) relationship with you will still continue. "One of the things we tried to do with The Veilguard is it's not just romantic relationship building," Epler continued. "You need to get to know a person before you can really build that kind of relationship with them, and if you choose not to build a [romantic] relationship, we never want to feel like you're being cut off. There's no 'okay, well, their arc isn't progressing, I'm done'. "We want to make sure the non-romantic relationships are deep as well, with friendships not just for companions and yourself, but also between companions across the party." For much more on Dragon Age: The Veilguard, be sure to read Eurogamer's full preview of the game's opening hour, as well as much more from Epler on lessons learned for BioWare's present - and future."

[source]

[spatialwave]

Confession || Jayce Talis x Reader

➸ ask: “The sacred romantic moments prompts are so darn cute I can’t choose😩how about ‘truth is that i’m so damn in love with you that i don’t know what to do with myself’ for jayce. Thanking you🫶🏻” – ➸ pairing: jayce talis x gn!reader ➸ word count: 1.9k  ➸ tags: mdni! fluff, hurt/comfort, yearning, one-sided love, confessions, childhood friends, no use of y/n. ➸ notes: i think i popped off with this one! took me a couple of days to write, but i am so happy with it! if you like yearning then this one is for you!! hehe. the ask came from this prompt! – ➸ summary: jayce talis has never experienced love quite like this.

The melodic whistling from Jayce had woven itself into the very fabric of your life. A soundtrack to your life you hadn’t asked for. You were never able to escape the sounds or his presence. Stuck at the hip since children, spending much of your life watching him dream larger than life. 

Jayce Talis was hope personified.

He carried a quiet tune under his breath, careful fingers toying with a rune he had meticulously carved. The warm pads of his thumbs brushed away the layer of dust that accumulated from the careful engravings, pausing his whistling for a moment as he carried out the task with a swift blow of his breath.

“Someone’s chipper,” your voice rang through his cluttered apartment. Leaning casually against the door frame, you watched as he perked up, head snapping over his shoulder. Those eyes reminiscent of the sun breaking through the clouds settled on your figure.

It was a pain, Jayce thought, for you to be so oblivious of his feelings.

Days, weeks, and months turned into years. All this time spent loving you, one-sided and terrified that you may never know. Too afraid to ruin a perfectly good thing. His yearning clung like a shadow.

Jayce had been there for you – always. Your first broken bone, your first love… your first heartbreak. Jayce remembered that day vividly, the way your body shook as you sobbed on his shoulder begging for the ache in your heart to stop, all while he held you and drowned with guilt for feeling happy that was the one there for you.

All because it meant that just maybe you would see him in another light. See him as a man who was worthy of your love.

As always, he bottled it up. Refusing to jeopardize the bond you shared. If he couldn’t have your heart, he’d protect his own.

“Yeah,” Jayce replied, his voice filling your heart with a sense of familiarity as you stepped into the room, hands settled onto your hips. Dropping his supplies, he quirked an eyebrow and straightened up slightly, “Wait, how’d you get in here?”

“You know, Jayce,” you sighed, giving a short ‘tsk’ of disappointment as your eyes bounced around his lab. It was messier than usual, the scattered tools and half-finished contraptions indicating he’d been spending more time here lately, likely on the brink of another grand discovery, as he’d call it. 

“Locking doors is free and usually saves you from burglars,” you continued, bending to poke at one of the hextech crystals on a messy desk.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, hurrying to your side with a breath of concern, snatching the orb from your curious touch, “Careful!”

The way he carefully handled his precious work was endearing, almost as tender as cradling a newborn baby. There was no faulting him for that–after all, you weren’t going to be the one to have your eyebrows burn into flames again. You learned your lesson, but it was hard not to rouse a reaction out of him once in a while.

To see the way he’d growl under his breath when you pestered him, or how he’d nudge you with his elbow affectionately. Little gestures that made him fall for you harder and harder with every passing day.

You were so damned insufferable, and he couldn’t get enough.

Eyes met yours as the two of you stood next to each other, silently. A moment of solace to bask in each other’s presence.

“You look like you need a break,” you murmured, eyes squinting to get a better look at Jayce to take in the obvious signs of exhaustion on his face. His eyes were heavy and highlighted by dark circles underneath, the growing stubble–“Did you even sleep last night?”

“I’m fine,” he chided, avoiding your gaze as he turned to tuck away the crystal you’d bothered, safely in its proper case, “As for sleep, I got enough to keep me going.”

“So… three hours, give or take? Including a twenty-minute nap for about ten minutes sometime around the three o’cock mark.”

“That’s creepy,” Jayce shot you a sideways glance, a smirk pulling the corner of his lips, “You’re creepy for knowing that.”

Your mouth dropped in a dramatic expression of mock disbelief, a silent gasp, “And you’re quite rude, Jayce. It’s not kind to name-call.”

“Okay, okay, sorry,” he snorted, slipping off his gloves from his fingers and resting them atop the desk behind him. As your eyes flickered out his open window, momentarily distracted, he took the time to admire you as you soaked in the sunlight that cascaded past his open curtains. The sunlight illuminating your features.

Jayce smiled, captivated by your effortless beauty. He would do anything to be given the privilege of showing you the way you looked in his eyes.

“You need a break,” you declared, your eyes landing on his just as he averted his gaze, “Come on before you go crazy.”

Your hand extended toward him, causing his heart to leap up into his throat as he stared down at it. Impatient, you shook it in silent urgency, and he was quick to fill it with his own as you tugged him far, far from his cluttered sanctuary that desperately needed a good clean.

“Gods,” you breathed, laughter bubbling up your chest as you found yourselves standing on the bridge that separated Piltover from Zaun. Your hands rested over the railing, fingers curved along the stone as you leaned over and looked down at the waters below, “Remember that time we came out here back when we were… what, fifteen? We stole that bottle of wine from my mother’s cabinet and drank so much that you nearly toppled off the ledge trying to climb on it.”

Jayce hadn’t been paying attention, hands tight over the rail like yours, entranced by you. Your lips were stretched into a wide, toothy grin as you looked down and relished in the cool breeze that tickled your warm skin.

His heart ached, thumping irregularly as it yearned, and cried out to be loved by you.

It’s why he allowed himself to be swallowed by his work for days on end–anything to escape the unbearable ache of being around you. It hurt, to be next to you, like a physical blow to the chest.

For years, he stood quietly off to the sidelines, watching as you were loved by others. Seeing the way your entire being lit up when you spoke so passionately about the love in your life, light in your eyes. Only to be shattered when they inevitably stomped all over you like you were nothing, leaving you a shattered mess. Jayce would be there to pick up the pieces, spending long, sleepless nights consoling you until your soft snores overtook the tears that streamed down your cheeks.

Jayce was nothing if not a coward. Regret clouded his mind each night when he would berate himself for not having the courage to confess his feelings. To tell you how much he fucking loved you.

He hated how angry it made him.

“Hello?” 

Your voice snapped him from his reverie, and his amber eyes widened as you stared at him, piercing through the fog of his thoughts.

“You really need some rest,” you said quickly, your eyebrows furrowing together in concern, “are you sure you’ve been okay?”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled, running a hand over his tired face in frustration as he turned away from you, “just tired.”

“Jayce,” your voice softened, and it struck a nerve in him that he wished hadn’t.

“I said I’m fine. Can you just leave it?”

Your body stiffened as you watched him in stunned silence, searching his face for any understanding of what was going on behind those pained eyes. Was it the research? Had his big breakthrough fallen out of grasp? Maybe he needed a nice herbal tea and a nap.

The entirety of your mind reeled with ways to help him, anything to alleviate the weight of the world he seemingly carried on his shoulders–unaware of the emotional turmoil that chained him to the ground beneath him.

“Why are you lying to my face?” You stood your ground stubbornly, arms crossed firmly over your chest, “It’s okay to be tired, Jayce. You work too hard.”

“I’m not lying,” Jayce replied sharply, a mix of frustration and desperation bleeding together. One hand lingered along the railing, the other moving with the passion of his words that masked the truth, “Why would I lie to you? I just–” he scrambled to gather his thoughts.

The struggle was evident on his face, and you felt your own frustration boil over. It was far and few between that you both indulged in these confrontations, bickering like an old married couple until they exploded into fiery words that often ended in mumbled apologies.

“Why are you being so difficult?” Your tone was loud and sharp, “I’m just trying to help!”

“I didn’t ask for your help!”

The words stung your cheeks like a harsh winter storm. 

Jayce’s jaw clenched tight, emotions roiling under his skin,  “Do you want to know the truth?”

You watched him, noticing the storm that swirled in his eyes, “Jayce–”

“The truth is–” Jayce began, lips trembling as he pushed through, “the truth is that I’m so damn in love with you, that I don’t know what to do with myself,” he exclaimed, confession spilling from his lips as he pressed a hand to his chest, “It’s impossible to be around you because my heart breaks every time I have to watch you leave, knowing that I can’t be the one by your side,” he choked on his words, eyes glistening with unshed tears, “I’m so in love with you that it physically hurts. It’s unbearable, gods, it hurts so fucking much.”

Jayce’s chest heaved with each deep breath, his guts spilled out in front of you. Vulnerable and open–what he’d been avoiding for so long.

Your lips trembled. Moving, but unable to form any sentences. All you could do was look into those eyes that spoke more than his passionate ramblings.

Your heart swelled, chest tightening in the best way possible.

“Do you know how hard it is?” he mumbled, taking a step back, “I can’t stand this anymore. I can’t. I’m sorry–”

“No,” your hand shot out and latched to his wrist, fingers tightening against his skin and holding him back from leaving. Gold-specked eyes widened, staring at you with yearning, “You don’t get to leave me here, not like this.”

Jayce watched as tears brimmed in your eyes, a smile creeping onto your lips. Beaming under the evening sun and glowing so beautifully, as if you were both earthly and divine–transcending. You were too good for this world, too good for him.

“Don’t make me stay if I can’t have you,” he whispered, voice fragile as it broke like glass.

Then your lips were on his, a gentle touch that eased every worry that dared to destroy his mind with heartbreak. It planted a seed of hope deep in his heart, one that would blossom too quickly and strongly. All because it was you who did it, the one he’d longed for all these years.

“Then stay,” you murmured against his lips, answered only by strong arms wrapped tightly around your waist with no intention of letting you go.

[backpackingspace]

Penelope: odysseus darling....I'm not judging but why are you strapping knives, money, and an emergency pack to your chest? Is something happening? Should I grab one too??

Odysseus, not explaining anything: I'm not taking any fucking chances I've learned my lesson the last time she caught me off gaurd I was 17 it's not fucking happening now when we're married. I know better

Penelope who speaks odysseus: ....lady Athena attacks you in middle of the night?

Odysseus: YES it's so rude of her

Penelope, internally: don't laugh don't laugh don't laugh: should have just been a weaver instead, then lady Athena would just show up demanding woven battle scenes and new capes.

Odysseus: incoherent screaming

Later that night

Athena: Hey hey penelope I'll give you the power to see colors you can't even imagine and the threads to go with it if you get rid of that survival bag.

Penelope, not even hesitating: deal

[giuliettagaltieri]

Smile for Me

Pairing: President!Coriolanus Snowx First Lady!Reader

Synopsis: With your family involved with the politics of Panem, it was expected of Coriolanus to make you the First Lady. Only, he cannot return your affections as he long gave up on such pursuits and only wanted a loveless marriage, until he had to listen to you make a stand for your beloved fabric.

Warning: arranged marriage, angst, unrequited love, mentions of sex

Word Count: 1653

Coriolanus Snow swore to himself to never make the same mistake as to fall in love again.  The last time he tried, he had come undone, almost destroying himself while doing it, almost sacrificing what could have been his.

Still, a President needs a First Lady.

You come from a family with deep roots embedded in the politics of Panem.  One could call you a political dynasty, but nobody ever pays it any mind, at least inside the Capitol.  You are so good to your people, always putting the Capitol first above anything else.

When Coriolanus asked for your hand in marriage, your family and all of Capitol were simply elated.

But marriage with Coriolanus was not the fairytale you thought it would be.

He was not unkind.  But he was never warm with you either.  He tends to sleep on his side of the bed, his back turned to you.

But you never really gave up on him.  You wanted the marriage to work, even if he cannot offer his heart to you.

Coriolanus lets you join him for breakfast, nodding to your narration of your shopping escapades, shyly smiling at him, thanking him for paying for all the bags he let you buy. 

You would butter his bread for him, pour him his tea as you tell him that you are planning to take cooking lessons so you can cook for him one day, especially when you are to have children.

There were times in which you would bother him in his office, bringing him his lunch that you oh so carefully packed in your pretty woven basket.  You would show up in your long flowy dresses that he liked to see.  It made you look like a real spouse and not just the Capitol socialite that cling to his arm during parties.

When you become intimate, you never let your lips touch.  You are always faced with such great disappointment.  He always pleases you good but there is nothing intimate about what you do. 

You cannot forget how he pushed you off like you burned him when you kissed his lips as you chased your carnal rapture.  His eyes were hard when he glared at you, a thousand of unspoken words being lashed at you with that single look. 

With shaking hands and a crumbling heart, you pull the blanket up to your chest to keep your modesty while he stalks off to a table in the corner of your room in the nude to gulp a glass of whiskey.

He never spoke nor looked at you for days after that.

You have come to understand that the marriage was just an agreement between Coriolanus Snow and your father, another ploy of your family to take power in Panem. 

You would not let them.

Coriolanus noticed how no more stories filled the warm morning air of your dining area upon breakfast.  Still, you offer him smiles when you do decide to talk.

Loving you is not and never was in the plan of your husband, you accept that now.  Still, you take care of him as you know that in his own way, he looks after you.

Your card is never empty no matter how mad your shopping spree was the day before.  The dining table is always filled with your favorite food.  Your home is decorated with your favorite colors.

Coriolanus wanted a First Lady, not a wife.

He chooses not to say anything when he finds you in his office one day, staring at the map of Panem, your eyes scanning over the borders of each District.  He stands by the doorway, your back to him.  

A small smile falls to his lips as he observes how you dolled yourself with your latest purchase.  A pretty white dress that suited you so well.

You grasp your hands behind you and you walk curiously to his bookshelf, hardbound books of various shades and thickness fill every space and he watches how your head tilts to the side, making your heavy gemmed hairpins wink under the sunlight.

Coriolanus heads to his desk quietly, only clearing his throat to announce his presence when he is seated.  He watches from the corner of his eyes how you jolt in surprise.  He almost felt bad.

“Looking for something, wife?”  He asks as he opens a letter.  He does not have to look at you to know that you are squirming from having been caught.

“Not really.  I am sorry for barging in.”  You laugh lightly to try and cut through the tension.  You know he does not like having anybody in his office.  Even if it was you.  “I was simply admiring your collection of books.”  That was a lie, they were all about the history of the leaders before your husband and battle strategies, you liked your books fiction.

He smiles briefly, it does not reassure your spirits but it was an attempt from him.  “Are you starting to get interested in politics?”

Your eyes widen as you laugh a little lighter.  “Gods, no.”  You hold your wrist behind you.  “I’m content with being the First Lady.”  You have enough on your plate.  Being a perfect companion to your husband, role model to the women of your great nation, and a daughter of your family.

“I thought you would be having tea with your mother today?”  Coriolanus glances at you and you press your lips to a thin line as you walk over to the couch and straighten up the throw pillows.

You take your time to answer, a small and gloomy smile on your lips.  “I decided not to come.”  You are not in the mood to feed your family information about your husband.  They were very good at it, extracting information from you without you doubting any ulterior motives behind them.  But you changed.

“Well, since you’re here.”  Coriolanus sits straighter in his chair and beckons you closer with a gentle tip of his head towards the seat in front of his desk.  You take it and you look at him with apprehension.  “Why don’t you help me decide a few things?”

Your brows immediately meet in concern.  “Oh.  No, Coriolanus.  I do not wish to overstep.”

He brings a hand up and you shut your lips.  “You are not overstepping.  I am asking for your advice.”

A gentle scoff escapes your smiling lips as you look at him with playful incredulity.  “Surely, I do not know more than you do.”

Coriolanus shrugs, he agrees to that to some extent.  “District 8 plans to discontinue producing Vicuña wool-”  You cut him off with a dramatic gasp.

“They cannot!”  You say in distress.

He leans on his chair to smile at you charmingly.  “Read their letter.”

You reluctantly take it.  Coriolanus watches how your lips form a pout, your eyebrows meeting as you huff, and your eyes dropping to the side in pity.

“Poor Vicuñas.”  You whisper as guilt and desire battle in your eyes.

“Do you support their decision?”  Coriolanus asks as he opens another letter.

“No.”  You immediately say, which piques his interest as he did not know you as someone who passes any opportunity to protect animal life.  “But perhaps we can put it to a pause?” 

You were begging him with those wide glassy eyes of yours as you continued.  “We can put the production to a halt for a few years to let the Vicuña population grow to a reasonable number and once they reach that, they will be shorn under strictly regulated conditions.”  You bite your lip.  “Vicuña wool has been a staple in the wardrobes of the Capitol women, it would cause an uproar if we shut down the productions for good.”

He stifles a laugh as you justify your disapproval.  You were about to continue when you saw the crinkle in his eyes, making you break into a small smile.

“I sound silly, don’t I?”

He shakes his head though he does not bother to hide his grin.  “Not at all.”

You groan as you place the letter firmly back on his desk.  “This is why I never want to get involved in politics.  I just embarrass myself.”  You say while standing up and smoothing out your dress, just to try and hide your flushed cheeks.

“No, no.”  Coriolanus walks over to you and cradles your face.  You still all your movements as you meet his eyes.  He seems to recover from his brief enjoyment and realizes what he has done.  You never know your husband to back down and he chooses to dig his heels right at this moment.  “You have made a brilliant point, wife.  I would have approached this issue with only one perspective, thank you for enlightening me.”  And to both your surprise he presses a soft kiss on your forehead.  You at his sudden display of affection and him for his lack of control of his own impulses.

Your hands grip his coat for support even as he parts from you.  For a moment, you held each other’s gaze, not quite wanting to break it as you know that once you do, whatever you have created between you will burst like a bubble.

“I-I’ll make us dinner.”  You smile shyly.  “There’s this dish I learned recently.”

He nods, a small smile still on his lips.  “I am looking forward to it.”

You smile back in response and reluctantly, you let go of each other.  Coriolanus clears his throat as he returns to his desk as you head towards the door.

“I’ll be joining you at seven.”

Glancing one last time from the door, you nod as you offer him your sweetest smile.

Coriolanus Snow swore to himself to never make the same mistake as to fall in love again.  But when you smile at him that way, he wonders how long he can keep his affections in check.

[eternalguk]

Before Sunday Ends | jjk. (M)

I love you the first time, I love you the last time.

↠ Pairing : Jungkook x Reader

↠ Summary : With scents of vanilla lingering in the air. With the comforting sound of Jungkook cooking. And, with a deep, unspoken connection that needs no words... you find yourself falling in love with Jungkook all over again.

↠ Genre : established relationship au, slice of life au, boyfriend.jk & teacher!reader (just slight references)

↠ Word count : 4.5k

↠ Warnings : flirting (you make cringe!), kissing, making out, mentions of shirtless Jungkook, mentions of food / cooking, making out, shower!sex (he fucks her from behind), unprotected!sex, a small spank for oc, mentions of hickey’s, Jungkook has a filthy mouth, Jungkook himself. (I think that’s everything, please let me know if I miss something).

↠ A/n : hi there ; happy Sunday 🤍 although it is not officially winter, the start of December usually is for me! So, as we roll into a month of wintery nights and frosty mornings, I hope that boyfriend!jungkook can bring you comfort 🫶🏻. Your feedback will be appreciated & happy reading 🦢!

The pale light of an early winter afternoon filters through the frosted windows, casting a cool, silvery glow across your cozy apartment. The faint rustle of an icy breeze stirs the heavy curtains, their edges lifting slightly to allow the crisp, earthy scent of the season to seep in.

It is a rare, lazy Sunday afternoon—perfectly quiet except for the sounds coming from the kitchen, where your boyfriend is busying himself.

Jungkooks back is to you as he moves about with casual grace, preparing something simple yet comforting. You haven’t even asked him what he is cheffing up, knowing he would insist it is a surprise.

The sizzle of food in the pan mixes with the occasional clink of dishes, but the atmosphere itself is quiet, serene. The kind of peace that only comes when two people are so deeply in tune with each other that words are unnecessary.

And that is exactly what life with Jungkook is.

You watch him from the couch, your heart swelling with a mixture of affection and contentment. The past feels like a distant memory, the scars that once felt so raw now healed by the warmth of his love. He had been patient with you. Gentle and understanding. Every touch, every kiss, every whispered word had woven you back together, piece by piece, until you felt whole again.

You stretch out with your blanket, trying to relax, but the stack of unmarked essays on the coffee table keep catching your eye. With a resigned sigh, you reach forward, fingertips just brushing through the papers when Jungkook’s voice floats from the kitchen.

“Yah, don’t even think about it,” he calls out, not even bothering to turn around.

You still, knowing you’ve been caught, and huf out a laugh. “How did you even know?”

“Because it’s Sunday and you always try to sneak in grading,” he taunts, still facing the stove as he flips something in a sizzling pan.

What is he even cooking?

“You’re supposed to be resting,” he finishes off before cracking open another window.

“I am resting. I just thought I’d get a head start…” you reply. Though the defense is weak even to your own ears.

“Mhm,” he immediately acknowledges your defence, clearly unconvinced. “What happened to the deal we made a couple of nights ago? Sundays are for us. No grading, no lesson plans, no sneaking off to answer emails.”

Speaking of emails…

“Yah! I know what you’re thinking.”

You roll your eyes playfully, leaning back and propping your chin on your hand. “Yeah, well, you’re one to talk…” Your brain racks for something to taunt Jungkook about.

“Mr. Timer-for-Everything,” you teass, “Bet you’ve already set three timers for each step, haven’t you?”

You could’ve done better than this, but it’ll do.

“Excuse me, but this is a very precise art. Unlike someone, I don’t wing it.” You could almost hear Jungkook’s smile as he stirred the contents of his pan.

You grin yourself. “So precise that you can catch me reaching for my work without looking?”

Jungkook sets the spatula down and finally turns around, a gleam of mischief in his eyes.

Oh, his beautiful face.

“I’m good like that, babe.” He wipes his hands on a towel and walks over, stopping just in front of the couch. “Now, hand over the papers.”

You hold them closer to your chest in mock defiance, eyes twinkling. “Make me.”

Jungkook shakes his head, amusement dancing in his gaze, as he leans down to press a quick kiss to your lips.

The warmth of it had barely registered before he begins to pull away, but you quickly hook your arms around his neck, pulling him back down and deepening the kiss.

His mouth is warm and soft, and just as you feel him starting to reciprocate it with his usual energy, Jungkook pulls back with a reluctant laugh.

“Ah—wait, wait,” your boyfriend chuckles, breaking free as you frown. “My timer for the onions is about to go off.”

You snort as he scurries back to the stove, shaking your head in disbelief. “I still can’t believe you time every single step. It’s like cooking is a military operation for you.”

Jungkook flashes a smile over his bare shoulder. You almost feel guilty for wearing his t-shirt, but the breathtaking view of his back makes you feel otherwise.

“Hey, it’s a form of respect for the ingredients, you know? Plus, this way I know it’ll taste good.” He glances at the sizzling onions with a contented look, before turning back to you, more serious. “Just like you know taking a break makes you a better teacher, so… no more work today, okay?”

If only your school cared this much about your wellbeing.

You bits back a smile at his soft, affectionate tone. “Okay, okay. You win.”

You were truly so blessed to have Jungkook in your life. A million reminders will never be enough.

Satisfied, Jungkook sends a boyish grin your way before returning his attention to the stove, a sense of warmth filling the room as the smell of caramelising onions and spices floated through the air. As you watch him, you feel your heart swell a little.

Sundays like this weren’t just a break—they were a reminder of everything you shared. And maybe, just maybe, that was worth more than any head start on grading.

An hour had passed and you had become bored of endlessly scrolling through TikTok. Having tried reading a book, browsing through Netflix and messaging your friends, you decided to settle for your favourite pastime. Ogling your beloved boyfriend.

Jungkook must have sensed your gaze because he turned around, a soft smile playing on his lips. “What?” he asks, his voice a low, affectionate rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“Just admiring the view,” you respond, grinning as you stretched lazily on the couch. The sunset lamplight caught in your hair, giving you an ethereal glow that makes his heart skip a beat.

He chuckles, before putting away the last dish and making his way over to you. Jungkook had insisted that he would wash the dishes today as well, not letting you lift a finger.

“I think that’s my line,” he murmurs, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, and finally your lips. His kiss is slow, lingering, and filled with unspoken promises. Exactly what you needed before.

When he pulls back, his dark eyes search yours, as if he is still trying to comprehend how someone like you could love him so completely. You cup his soft face, thumb brushing lightly over the scar on his cheekbone. “I love you, you know that?”

“I know, baby,” he whispers, his voice full of emotion. “I love you more.”

The two of you stay like that for a moment, simply basking in each other’s presence, the world outside forgotten. Flirtatious gazes being exchanged, having an effect on both of you even years later.

Eventually, Jungkook slides onto the couch beside you, pulling you into his lap with a playful tug. You laugh, the sound bright and carefree, wrapping your arms around his neck as he holds you close.

You trace the tattoos on his arm with your fingertips, your touch feather-light. Each mark tells a story, and you loved how they were a part of him, just like you were now. He rests his chin on your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin. “Desserts almost ready, but it can wait,” he mumbles, his voice thick with the lazy drawl of a man completely at ease.

Dessert. Yes, you heard that right. Jungkook had spoilt you so much. What had you done to deserve him?

You nod in agreement, turning your head just enough to catch his lips in another kiss. This one is deeper, more insistent, as if he was trying to convey everything he felt for you in that single moment. His hands move to your waist, holding you tight, and you feel the heat of his body seeping into yours, a comforting presence that grounds you.

The warmth of the fireplace fills the room, wrapping around you like a blanket, and the world outside faded even further. All that matters is the two of you, lost in the quiet rhythm of your breaths, the gentle hum of life moving around you.

Jungkook’s kisses grow more urgent, his hands wandering, exploring, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. You feel a familiar warmth pool in your stomach, a spark igniting between you that has nothing to do with the setting sun. He pulls back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath coming in soft, ragged bursts.

“Stay with me?” he asks, his voice a soft plea, his eyes coloured with emotion.

“Always,” you whisper back, your heart racing in time with his. You now feel the early winter chill spilling from the cracks in your window sill, but it doesn’t matter. With Jungkook, every chill and every breeze feels like a form of comfort.

He kisses you again, and this time there is no mistaking the intent behind it. His hands moved with a newfound urgency, tugging gently at your clothes, (his t-shirt) and you feel yourself responding in kind, your body melting against his. There’s something intoxicating about the way Jungkook touches you, so reverent, and so completely in love.

Jungkook’s fingers trace lazy patterns along your back as he pulled you closer, his gaze warm and heavy-lidded. You were both tangled up in each other, basking in the soft glow of fireplace. He lets out a sigh, his hand pausing.

“I really, really want to keep this going…” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. “But I keep smelling the onions from earlier.”

You blink, caught off-guard, and feel your face flush. “Then… well, go shower,” you reply, stumbling over your words. “It’s fine! There’s, um… the whole evening left.”

“Whole evening left for what?” Jungkook flirts.

“Yah~”

Jungkook laughs, giving you a look, before his lips curve up in that signature teasing smile of his. “Or…” he begins, voice laced with suggestion, “you can just join me?”

Your face heats even more, and you bite your lip, looking away. “I—uh—I mean…”

He laughs, tipping his head to the side to catch your eye. “Come on, jagi. You don’t have to be shy with me,” he says softly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Besides, I think you need a break from that whole evening plan you’re making in your head.”

You let out a breathy laugh, finally meeting his gaze. “Oh, so you know my plans now?”

Jungkook nods, his thumb brushing softly against your cheek. “I can read you like a book,” he mutters, leaning in to plant a gentle kiss just below your jaw. “And right now, that book is saying… maybe a shower with my hot and sexy boyfriend wouldn’t be so bad.”

You laugh, rolling your eyes at his goofiness, but you feel yourself melting under his gaze. His hand slips into yours as he sits up, pulling you with him to head upstairs.

“After all,” he says with a playful glint in his eye, “we do have the whole evening left.”

“Why is this still on?” Jungkook grunts, walking you backwards into the running shower as he practically rips off your t-shirt.

His t-shirt.

You gasp, the cold finally hitting you. Jungkook smirks seeing the shirt on the floor. He was in for a ride.

His hand tightly grips your jaw in place, noses touching as his hot, minty breath fans your face. His mouth captures yours in a fast, rhythmic movement as he undoes your red lace bra he chose himself earlier today.

All you had done was suggest there was a whole evening left. And now?

Now, you are watching your boyfriend hiss in delight as he feels the warm water run over his sore muscles. Jungkook throws his head back, groaning as he presses your naked self closer to his toned body.

He turns back to stare down at you, sending a wink your way before he dips his head into the junction of your head and shoulder, pressing slow and sensual kisses up your skin. You moan whilst craning your neck, craving more of his sinful mouth as his veiny hands wrap around you.

Jungkook unhurriedly drags his tongue up your pulse point, spontaneously biting down as you reel. He continues pressing gentle kisses until he reaches your ear.

“My baby’s enjoying this, isn’t she?” he whispers with his mellifluous voice, knowing how sensitive it makes you. It sends a shiver down your spine, eyes shutting tightly which only spurs Jungkook on further. “Guess I’ve found a better form of stress relief for you. I should’ve known.”

You purr when he takes your earlobe between his plush lips, suckling the soft flesh in his hot mouth. He doesn’t miss the chance to breathe into your ear again, knowing it’ll only arouse you further.

Jungkook grabs your ass, pulling you closer. His semi-hard cock rubs against your stomach, eliciting heat to run through your core. You reach for his hair, pulling at it as you yearn for more. He groans, backing away from your neck, hovering his lips against yours. He pecks you twice before taking both of your hands and pinning them against the steamy shower wall.

You glance up to your restrained hands, pouting at not being able to touch Jungkook. He notices your pursed lips, smiling to himself at your cuteness before letting them go and cascading his own down your body to your backside.

“Can we fuck?” he asks you shamelessly as he kneads your ass with his rough hands.

“You know it’s never a no from me, baby,” you tip-toe, whispering into his ear. About time you gave him the same energy back.

You run your fingers up and down his biceps with a knowing smirk.

“God, I missed this,” he rasps in his husky voice before reaching down to kiss you intensely. Jungkook touches you all over as he grinds his built, wet body against yours in the most seductive way. The scorch water cascades down his body making him look hotter than usual.

“We literally just had sex yesterday ,” you snort whilst pulling away from him.

Jungkook isn’t pleased with your comment and he shows this by diving for your neck and biting, making you moan indulgently in his hold. Your knees buckle, but his strong grip on your hips stops you from slipping.

“Fuck, babe,” you groan out as the sting spreads. You dig your nails into his toned arms, letting him know how good you feel. Jungkook removes his mouth from your pulse point, instead pressing soft kisses against your jawline, contradicting his previous ministrations.

“You always taste so good,” he hoarsely whispers, “I’ll never get enough of you,” he adds before he joins your lips again. Jungkook mouths at you sensually, kissing you with an insatiable force that leaves you breathless when you pull away.

You throw your head back, arching into him. Jungkook knows you need more and smirks at you falling into your usual state of submission around him.

“Wan’ more,” you whine. Jungkook reaches forward and presses kisses against the column of your throat. You drag your nails down his chest, evoking a playful growl from your boyfriend.

“More?” Jungkook teases you. You quickly nod, moaning his name, hoping it would provoke him to provide you with the relief you desperately need.

Jungkook brings his tattooed hand to cup your breast in his palm, eliciting another needy moan from you. He hisses pleasurably at your lewd sigh as you twitch in his hold.

“All mine to play with, huh?” he whispers in his low-pitched voice as he fondles your breast, dipping his head down to them to press open-mouthed kisses.

Jungkook decorates your skin with dark, flourishing hickies and you can only hope that they fade before you have to return to your responsibilities.

You feel Jungkook lightly smirk against you when you let out a sultry sound.

“My sensitive princess,” he says as his breath tickles your ear, leaving you to feel more aroused and dizzy.

You physically feel your pussy gush as your body buzzes due to the unmitigated affect your lover has on you.

“Kook, please,” you whine loudly, needing to feel him inside you before you combust untouched. You crave for this man as if you haven’t just been having sex from the moment he carried you inside your bathroom.

“Wanna turn around so I can fuck my princess how she deserves to be fucked?” he sighs out against your lips before joining them together for the umpteenth time that day.

You move your hands to cup Jungkook’s cheeks whilst you gaze at him with imploring eyes, showing him immediately that you’re extremely needy.

“You’re so fucking hot, babe,” he exhales wistfully, smothering his lips with yours again for an all too chaste kiss.

Jungkook tilts his head further to nibble on your plush lower lip, his skillful tongue.

“Want you in me, baby,” you prompt him urgently, “wan’ your big cock.”

Jungkook is quick to comply, hastily tightening his grip on your waist, “Go on then baby, turn around for me.”

He doesn’t need to tell you twice, shifting so your face presses to the fogged wall of the shower. You glance over your shoulder fleetingly, admiring your boyfriend’s personable build.

His perfectly sculpted body that glistens underneath the water, jet black hair cut sexily short, beautifully tattooed arm and damn eyebrow piercing he got recently has you feeling giddy all over again, the same intoxicating effect from your college days together.

You can’t wait to marry this man.

Jungkook sweeps his wet hair back and you moan again, the heat of the shower water making him more delectable than before. The most erotic thoughts flood your mind and you grow more impatient, anticipating his next move.

He catches you staring at him and a mirthy smile graces his face as he grabs hold of his length, pumping himself a few times. His tip painfully glints a burning red and it leaves a heavy ache in your core, making you press your legs together to provide yourself with temporary relief.

Jungkook catches you off-guard, grabbing hold of your hips and yanking you back so your ass presses against him. You jump at his sudden attack, peeking behind only to see him wear a shit-eating grin on his face.

He drags the palm of his large hand down your smooth back, relishing in your silky smooth skin. “So fucking sexy,” he mutters, “and all mine.”

Reaching for your ass, he slaps it playfully, “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

“Kook, please,” you groan out of frustration. He softly apologises before rubbing his hard-on against your ass, stepping closer to press the length of his girthy cock against your soaked folds. The sensation is strong enough to bring you back to reality.

Jungkook is going to fuck you and fuck you good.

Your legs part on their own as you arch your back, offering your ass to your husband shamelessly.

Jungkook curses at the salacious scene before him, pressing his cock further into you and somehow growing harder.

“Fucking incredible,” he rasps with his mellow voice, “ready?”

“Jus’ fuck me, Kook. You’ve got me all soaked.”

“Fuck, so hot,” Jungkook groans as he rubs the tip of his hard cock up and down your dripping pussy. He reaches your hole, teasing it as you moan for him to give you more.

“Gonna stretch you out so good, baby,” he mumbles more to himself, goading you with a gentle pressure that’s enough to rile you up.

“Quickly,” you urge him once again by arching more and wiggling your ass against him, tired of his unnecessary teasing.

Your boyfriend finally decides to push against you, sliding his cock past your folds, burying himself deep within you. The two of you groan at the lewd feeling.

Jungkook lets out a guttural moan as he watches the view of him entering your tight pussy. He hears you let out the most sinful sounds as you bask in the feeling of him filling you up whole.

“Jungkoook...”

“Fuck, the way you moan my name,” he breathes out as he buries himself to the hilt, hips rolling into you with the deepest of strokes.

Jungkook fits into you snuggly, grinding in you with small and precise thrusts. His fingers dig into your hips, his eyes fixated on the soft and plump swell of your ass.

He groans satisfyingly, watching his cock slip in and out of you easily, hard thighs rubbing against the back of yours in the most euphoric way.

“J-Jungkook, fuck, always so big.” You whimper, your entire body craving more of him.

“But my good girl takes it so well, doesn’t she?” he praises you, shutting his eyes underneath the hot, steamy water. Jungkook gasps, dipping his head into your shoulder and letting it rest there as he begins to smack his hips into yours relentlessly. He feels your walls flutter and tries hard to contain his load and not shoot it inside you just yet.

“Moree..” you plead, body shaking with utmost pleasure.

Jungkook complies, going deeper as he hits the best spots inside you. You press your temple against the tiled wall as he fucks you with languid, steady strokes. You feel his cock throb inside you, moaning his name again.

“Harder..” you mewl, compelling him to growl as he provides you with forceful thrusts, letting out the most animalistic of growls when he hears you cry out in delight. His tattooed arm reaches forward, veiny hand gripping your breast, pinching your hardened nipple as he presses sloppy kisses just behind your ear.

“Gonna fuck you so hard everyday,” Jungkook pants, thrusting with more fidelity as your walls pulse around him, “for your wellbeing of course,” he swears breathlessly.

You’re so caught up in being pleasured, you don’t even laugh at his joke.

He knows you are getting close and snakes his other hand down to your clit, rubbing vigorously as he drives you closer towards the edge, eliciting the most whiny moans out from you.

“Mmm, Koo’ you feel so, so good,” you cry out as he rams his cock further into your wet mess, groaning at the sensation. His delicious abuse on your engorged clit makes you hiss out in pleasure.

“Your wet pussy feels so good, baby,” Jungkook moans out as he continues his onslaught, pulling you back onto him.

“Holy shit, Jungkook,” you whine, knees buckling at the savouring drag of his appetising length.

“Right there, baby?”

“Oh God, yea..” you moan, nodding your head incessantly.

You mewl again, arousal spilling out of you, but Jungkook fucks it right back in. He pinches your nipple again whilst simultaneously teasing your clit. Jungkook sucks a hickey on your shoulder blade, cum aching his heavy balls as he pumps into your soaked walls.

You throw your head back onto his shoulder, stretching your hand to tug at the short tendrils of his hair. Jungkook knows exactly what you mean without you having said any words.

“Wann’ see you, baby,” you whimper, “need to feel you more..”

Jungkook groans at your neediness, pulling out of you fairly quickly, both of you wincing at the loss of warmth. He wastes no time in turning you around and lifting you up, deeply penetrating you again as he continues with the same, brisk pace as before. You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him closer to you so your foreheads touch.

“All mine,” he growls, “only mine.”

“Only yours, baby,” you purr, “all yours to fuck.”

Jungkook moans deeper as you begin to grind against him, clinging onto him firmly as you attempt to alleviate the burning pressure that shoots through your core. He knows you’re closer than ever, hearing your moans turn into gasps.

“Fill me up first, babe,” you manage to whimper out of yourself. You crave to feel full of his cum, squeezing against him to urge him more.

“Ah shit!” he grunts, orgasm hitting him as his hot cum shoots inside you, painting your insides white, shoving his face in your shoulder.

Jungkook sneaks his arm around your waist, bringing you closer to him as he repeatedly pecks your pulse point. He is mindful of your sensitivity, allowing you to relax before he picks up his pace again.

“Wanna ruin you, my love.”

You’re at a loss of words, the only thing on your mind being that you’re once again being fucked full of Jungkook’s cum. He reaches down to place more hickies on your neck as his eyes remain glued to where you both connect. He watches your stomach clench and relax with pleasure, throbbing hard he fears he might shoot his second load into you before you can have your first release.

You sob and wail, clutching onto him further. Jungkook snakes his hand back down to your clit, rubbing against it as he tries to urge you to squirt around his cock.

“Close?” he asks you as he grunts, rubbing your clit harder and faster. You inform him yes through quick nods, eyebrows furrowing as the pleasure overtakes you completely.

“Come all over me, angel. All over my cock,” he demands with a growl against your open mouth, rutting against you in a frantic manner.

You clench down on him as you release with a mix of your boyfriend’s names and curse words. You ride out your climax with him and he puts less pressure on your clit as he watches you in your throes of pleasure.

His confidence shoots up, smirking at the way you scream his name over and over whilst squirting out both his and your mess.

“Fuck, that was incredible.” You’re breathless as you carefully slip out of his hold, leaning against his broad chest for support.

Jungkook pulls you into him, pressing soft kisses against the crown of your head as he praises you for how good you were for him. Your chest swells with pride, feeling shy as you curve further into his warm body.

He reaches to turn the shower off, dipping his head down to litter soft kisses over the hickies he made. You pull him back to face you with his hair and he nuzzles his nose into your cheek.

You feel him still slightly hard against your stomach and chuckle to yourself.

“Wanna fuck me again, baby?” you ask him with suggestive eyes, “Bedroom though, I can’t stand here any longer.”

Jungkook gulps, nodding his head fervently.

“Fuck, you’re in for it, Mrs. Jeon,” is all that leaves his mouth. You become shy as you hear you favourite nickname.

Jungkook flashes you his signature smirk before abruptly lifting you and taking you towards your shared bedroom, whispering all he’s going to do to you.

The things you do before Sunday ends.

Thank you for reading 🦢! Please do leave me some feedback; it motivates me to write 🫶🏻. Have a lovely week ahead. Sundays can be so difficult for me, so I hope this makes you feel better if you also get the Sunday scaries :)

[nashusglasses]

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.**.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

(background to this nsfw drabble)

thinking of marriage of convenience AU with jing yuan and general’s daughter!reader from xianzhou yuque. a rogue sect of the disciples of sanctus medicus try to execute a plot to destroy a jade abacus warehouse on the yuque—important machinery is destroyed, two critical injuries reported, one death—and intra-alliance tensions among the populace start to boil over. arrests are made. citizens are scared. general yaoguang knows the cloud knights are smart and resource-savvy enough not to respond to any taunts from angry yuque residents of the luofu, but he’s champing at the bit trying to quell public dissatisfaction on either ship. it’s fu xuan who suggests it in one meeting with jing yuan and yaoguang.

“great relations,” she says, “start with an even greater union.”

you’ve been married for five months. you’re lucky if you see jing yuan more than twice a week, and today he’s holed up in his home office signing off on contracts for the alchemy commission to order new supplies. he’d said good morning when you entered the kitchen for breakfast, and you could only offer a nod before he bade you farewell for the day. a typical conversation. you’re not unhappy, but you are awfully bored. 

your handmaiden, lihua, promised a new harvest from the garden today. she’s back by the time you’re done with your speech lessons (you still struggle to adapt to the local dialect, but jing yuan has always been kind not to fuss about your vowel inflections), and you help her wash and spread the fruits on bamboo-woven trays in the cool heat of the afternoon. 

“does jing yuan have anything to drink on days like this?” you ask lihua.

she hums thoughtfully. “i’m sure he’d appreciate his wife coming to greet him with something sweet. can i show you how to make simple syrup?”

it’s simple enough. you make a pitcher of iced lemonade in no time, and lihua prepares a tray for you to bring a glass to jing yuan’s office. you shake with every step you take. internally, you scold yourself for feeling so anxious — this is your husband. jing yuan, who asked you personally for your allergies and food preferences to curate a menu for your daily consumption for the kitchen staff to follow. jing yuan, who had a room specially built for you in the east wing after you’d told your father how much you’d miss seeing the sunrise from your window. jing yuan, who’d once accidentally walked in on you in the hot springs on his rare day off, and grew as red as an angry tuskpir, leaving with a hasty apology. (you didn’t see him for three weeks after that.)

you steel your resolve, and knock on the door. when he doesn’t answer, you gently creak the door open, jing yuan coming into view as he’s hunched over sheets of paper, hair tied haphazardly with his red ribbon. he holds his pen so rigidly. you wonder if he’s taken a break at all today. 

you tiptoe in, lest you break his focus. “sorry,” you whisper. “i brought this for you.”

jing yuan spares you a single glance, watching you position the glass at the edge of his desk. he does not say a word. 

you think… he might be a little peeved. yes. why would you even think of interrupting him? oh god. his schedule must be packed tight, his rhythm stunted with your unannounced arrival. you immediately open your mouth for an apology, feeling the pinpricks of tears at the thought of disappointing him.

he’s already looking away. his writing is even faster than before. you leave with a bow and nothing else to say.

(jing yuan drinks your lemonade in three gulps after you’ve closed the door behind you. he reminds himself to have a bundle of flowers delivered to your bedroom door by sunrise the next morning. for the rest of his working day, your face, so beautifully concerned, plagues his head.

he wants to know what else makes you cry.)

[pretzel-box]

Summary: You're a mortal fisher that catches the attention of an ancient sea god without knowing it.

Tags: Some 'fluff', mortal reader, sea god sebastian

Words: 2,6k

There was a small village that was cradled on the edge of an unknown island like a forgotten secret among humans, made out of solid stone, earth and sand while being shaped by the restless waves of the deep ocean. Narrow cobbled streets would wound between the homes of sun-bleached woods and weathered bricks while fine smoke curled up from the going chimneys, mingling with the salty sea air. Many signs of a life gathered around this place despite its unknown status.

The endless ocean surrounded the village on all sides, an eternal sentinel, its deep blue waves gently lapping at the shoreline as if it were whispering ancient lullabies. The sun hung low in the sky, casting the world in hues of gold and lavender, where the horizon blurred into a seamless meeting of sea and sky. The sound of gulls crying in the distance echoed through the air, carried by the wind that rustled through the tall grasses and wildflowers growing at the island’s edge.

Farther out, where the cliffs rose jagged and defiant against the endless ocean, the waves crashed with a furious roar, sending white spray high into the air. Yet here, within the village, the sea was gentle—a mirror reflecting the sky’s fading light.

Small fishing boats bobbed in the harbor, tethered to wooden posts worn smooth by years of use. Their painted hulls were chipped and faded, yet they held a quiet dignity, as if they had borne witness to centuries of tides, storms, and the steady rhythm of life. Nets hung drying on the docks, draped like lace over the old wood, waiting for the morning light to send the fishermen back to the open sea.

The wind picked up, carrying with it the scent of salt and damp earth. A few villagers, their faces lined with age and the sea’s touch, gathered in quiet conversation near the docks, their voices low, as if unwilling to disturb the peace. Lanterns flickered to life in the twilight, casting a soft, golden glow over the village, like stars scattered across the earth.

As the day gave way to dusk, the village seemed to breathe, a living thing, connected to the ocean and sky in a way that was timeless. The sea, the cliffs, the forest—they were all one with the village, woven into its very being. And as the stars began to emerge, one by one, above the endless horizon, the island seemed to settle into itself, cradled by the ocean’s eternal embrace, waiting for whatever secrets the tides might bring.

"Listen, my child. Our story began long ago, when the gods still walked the earth and the stars were young."

Once upon a time…

The land was molded by the hands of glorious deities, their fingers painting the skies and carving the rivers. They placed the sun on the horizon and the plains upon the earth. The world flourished, but with its growth came envy, as some gods overshadowed others. To gain power, they created life—humans, born from their desire for control.

At first, humans worshiped their creators with devotion, pledging loyalty to one deity, then betraying the next. They defiled the divine in their thirst for more, striking down gods one by one. Until, at last, only humans remained, reigning over the world they had once been given. The gods, once mighty, were destroyed by the very hands that they had shaped.

The lesson was clear for the mortals: gods could not be trusted.

You grew up in the small village, cradled by the sea, raised between the wind and the waves as if you were a child of nature itself. The first thing you learned was your origin, that you were descended from the gods—gods who were flawed and fallible. Your grandparents told you stories of your ancestors, how they fought with their lives for the right to live on this island, battling forces far beyond their comprehension.

Ages ago, a fierce god named Solace ruled over these waters. His rage, directed at both his siblings and their creations, churned the oceans into relentless fury. Your ancestors tried to cross the waters for months, many drowned and many got sacrificed to soothe the will of the deity that ruled in the waters. His anger blinded Solace, his envy and his feelings were like a sharp sword, pointed at himself. Your ancestors tricked him, like they did with so many other deities before. They sealed him into the ocean, robbing him of his necklace that he wore. And after they triumphed over him, the ocean came to rest. All thanks to the necklace that secretly holds Solace his powers.

A necklace that rested around your neck, a family piece that was given down as the generations passed. It was a sea shell pendant, reflecting in beautiful blue-silver hues as if the sea itself was placed upon you. And you wore it with pride.

Your mother gave it to you the day you joined the family tradition, stepping into the life of a fisher. It was a simple gift, passed down through generations, as much a symbol of your heritage as the sea itself. You learned to live in harmony with the waves, to respect the life beneath the surface, and to take only what was needed. Your family had always been blessed by the ocean, and so would you. It was honest work—give and take—where you not only harvested from the sea but also protected it, keeping it clean and honoring its depths.

"Keep calm," you murmured to yourself, the words a quiet mantra as you sat in your small boat. The sun was warm on your back as you focused on tying the loose strings of your net, the gentle rocking of the boat a familiar comfort.

Your mother had taught you to knit the nets in the old traditional way, every knot a connection to your ancestors. Your father, in turn, had shown you the art of fishing—how to hunt with respect, how to make the death of the fish swift and painless, and how to use every part of it in reverence for the life taken. A true fisher never wastes, for the sea gives generously but only to those who understand its balance.

The rhythm of your hands, the whisper of the wind, and the quiet lap of the waves against the boat—they all wove together like a song. You were part of something much larger than yourself, connected to the ancient currents of the sea, just as your family had always been.

You lifted your finished net, admiring the neat knots with a smile of quiet pride. A rush of happiness filled your chest as you hugged the net, feeling accomplished. You had honored the legacy of your ancestors, crafting the tool with care, just as they had done for generations. It was a simple but profound joy, knowing that you were connected to something so old and enduring.

With a steady breath, you prepared to cast the net into the water, hoping for a good catch to feed your family tonight. The gentle hum of the waves blended with your thoughts, and as the net unfurled, you missed the soft snap of a string breaking. But the sudden blue shimmer at the corner of your eye did not go unnoticed.

Your heart dropped as you realized it was your necklace—the one your mother had given you. Somehow, it had tangled itself in the net, and as you began to fish, it slipped from your neck effortlessly, tumbling into the water before you could react. You watched in stunned silence as the delicate jewelry disappeared beneath the surface, swallowed by the depths in an instant.

The sea, ever so calm just moments ago, now seemed impossibly vast and unyielding. That necklace was more than just a piece of jewelry; it was a part of you, a part of your family. And now, it was gone.

It sank slowly, the glimmering stone catching the last rays of sunlight as it shimmered just beneath the surface, suspended in the water like a delicate promise about to be broken. You watched, helpless, as it drifted deeper, the blue hue of the ocean swallowing it whole. Your heart pounded in your chest, a heavy sense of dread filling you as the necklace—your link to your family, your ancestors—vanished silently into the dark water below.

Your hands slackened, the net forgotten, slipping from your grasp into the boat. Without a second thought, instinct took over. Before you even realized what you were doing, you dove headfirst into the water, chasing the fading glint of silver.

The coldness of the ocean hit you like a shock, but you didn’t care. You kicked your legs, your arms pushing against the water, desperately reaching for the necklace as it continued its slow descent. The light above you grew dimmer as you sank deeper, the world around you a muffled echo of the surface. You could barely see now, the shimmering silver reduced to a distant gleam.

The water pressed in on you, chilling your skin and constricting your lungs. Panic began to claw at the edges of your mind, but you couldn’t stop—wouldn’t stop. It was more than just an heirloom; it was the weight of your ancestors’ blessings, the legacy of your family, and it was slipping further and further away.

Your lungs began to burn, the pressure of the deep water pressing against your chest, but still, you reached out, fingers stretching into the darkness. The necklace was now just a faint blur, fading into the abyss. Desperation surged through you as your arms flailed in the icy depths.

The darkness was overwhelming, the cold water pressing in on all sides as you sank deeper, the faint shimmer of your necklace vanishing into the abyss. Your chest burned, lungs screaming for air, but your limbs were too heavy, too numb. The weight of the ocean dragged you down, and for a moment, you felt yourself surrendering to the pull, the necklace gone.

But then, something strange happened. A warmth surrounded you, gentle and reassuring, cutting through the icy water. A firm hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you upwards with a strength that felt both human and not. Yet, the darkness caught you and you passed out.

The first thing you felt was a pair of warm lips on yours, innocent, shy and yet somewhat dedicated. A wet hand was placed close to your throat. Then your head shot up as reality caught up to you, the water in your lungs creeping up your throat as you coughed it all out.

Coughing, disoriented, you blinked away the saltwater from your eyes, the world around you blurred. As your vision cleared, you found yourself being held by a man—no, something far more. His eyes, a deep and endless blue, locked onto yours. His presence was as overwhelming as the ocean itself, powerful and ancient, yet there was a softness in the way he held you.

You opened your mouth to speak, but no words came. The stranger's arm was still wrapped around you, steadying you against the gentle rocking of the waves. His dark hair flowed around him, as though it were a part of the sea, and his skin, shimmering faintly in the light, seemed to glow with a quiet radiance. He wasn’t human, no, but he felt familiar.

“Breathe,” he whispered, his voice like the soft murmur of the tide, calming and steady.

You did, drawing in deep, shaky breaths, your heart still racing from the shock. “Who… who are you?” you stammered, your voice weak, barely above a whisper.

He gazed at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable but his eyes filled with something tender, something that made your chest tighten in a way that had nothing to do with fear. "Sebastian," he finally said, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "I live within these waters."

You nodded slowly, still dazed, as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. The cold of the water, the rush of drowning, and now… this.

Then, the realization hit you like a wave crashing over your head. “My necklace,” you breathed, panic swelling inside you again. You turned to look down into the water, but there was no shimmer, no sign of the silverish blue. “It’s gone… my necklace… I lost it.”

Sebastian’s eyes followed yours, and for a moment, a flicker of something like regret passed over his face. “The sea does not return everything,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a kind of sorrow that seemed to echo from somewhere deep within him. "Not all that it takes can be given back."

Your heart sank, the weight of his words settling heavily inside you. The necklace—your family's necklace—was gone, lost forever to the depths. Tears pricked at your eyes, but you fought them back, not wanting to break down in front of this strange, beautiful man who had saved your life.

Sebastian’s gaze softened as he watched you, and before you could react, his hand reached up, brushing gently against your cheek, his touch feather-light. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, and you could hear the sincerity in his voice, the sadness that lingered in his words. “I wish I could have saved it for you.”

You swallowed hard, nodding, though the ache in your chest was still raw. “It was my family…” you whispered, your voice trembling. “It was important.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, simply letting his fingers linger against your skin, his presence steady, grounding. “Your family's memory doesn’t live in that necklace,” he said softly, his eyes searching for yours. “It lives in you. In everything you carry with you. That cannot be lost, not to the sea or anything else.”

His words, gentle and warm, wrapped around your heart like a soothing balm. You nodded again, still feeling the loss, but somehow, in his presence, the grief didn’t feel quite so unbearable.

For a moment, you simply floated there together, the waves lapping gently against your bodies, the sun casting a warm, golden light over the surface of the water. Sebastian’s hand stayed close to yours, his touch lingering, as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to let you go.

“Why did you help me?” you asked after a long silence, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure if you wanted the answer.

Sebastian’s gaze flickered, his deep blue eyes searching yours. “Because,” he said softly, a hint of something more in his voice, something unspoken, “I couldn’t let you go.”

There was something in the way he looked at you, an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat. You couldn’t understand it, the pull between you two, but it was undeniable. He had saved you—not just from drowning, but from something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name.

For now, you let the quiet peace of the ocean surround you, content in his presence, even as the necklace drifted farther into the depths, lost but somehow no longer the most important thing in your heart.

You finally took the time to admire his large form, he was as pretty as the mermaids from the childhood stories, as gentle looking as the ocean and his eyes, his eyes were like the ones of a god. You never saw someone like him before, but he mesmerized you.

He had placed you back into your boat, his hand lingered a bit longer on your cheek than anticipated and you could feel a mutual spark between you two.