#oare village

[aisphotostuff]

Oare Village North Kent by Adam Swaine Via Flickr: Oare lies just to the north of Davington, Faversham in Kent, separated from Faversham by Oare Creek. To the north of the village are the Oare Marshes and Harty Ferry. Historically, Oare was the southern terminus of the Harty Ferry, which ran across the Swale channel between the then Isle of Harty (now part of the Isle of Sheppey) and the mainland.

[themidnightcrimson]

the scarlet siren ࿏ wm

summary: in which you take a trip out to sea that you will regret.

words: 6.0k

warnings: siren!wanda, dubcon/noncon, fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), size kink, biting, a lot of blood, violence, fear, suspense, drowning, deep water, mentions of death, i wrote this in an irish accent for some reason, did you know i have thalassophobia?

this is a dark!fic for 18+ only. minors dni. read with discretion.

masterlist.

Fishing was competitive these days. It was a bad winter and an even worse famine, and with beef and poultry no longer in the shops, the villagers were forced to turn to the shore to fish.

Your little village was nestled on a plateau of land that stuck out into the cold sea. The shore was lined with big, black rocks that had tumbled down from the looming hills over time and landed at the water’s edge with only a thin strip of grainy brown sand between them and the water. Travelling down to the shore over all those rocks was already hard enough, but it was even harder when you had to carry your boat on your back.

People had tried to carve trails through all the rock to make the beaches more accessible, but with all the storms that the area faced, the rocks just got tussled back around and demolished any trails attempted.

In fact, it had just stormed the night before. It pissed rain and spit wind so hard that people woke up to holes in their roofs. Naturally, the beach was all torn up from it, but it would always clean itself up and go back to the way it was at some point before another storm came along. And while most people were at their cottages fixing the storm’s damage, you saw this early dawn as a prime opportunity to fish.

Fish had also been scarce recently because of all the people turning to the water for food sources, but you knew that the previous night’s storm had tussled the waters, which meant the fish were probably scurrying all around. The sun hadn’t even risen yet as you dragged your wooden boat down the rocks in the dim dawn hue, the wood scraping loudly against the rock’s hard and bumpy surface.

Managing to get down the rocks without twisting your ankle, you finally plopped down into the pebbly sand with a huff of breath, pushing your boat off your back. This was only half of your journey, though, because you weren’t even going to fish here on the beach like most people did.

Adjusting the leather strap around your neck that was holding your oars to your back, you dragged your boat through the damp sand to the rickety wooden dock that stood beside the lighthouse. The lighthouse was even more rickety, since no one bothered to upkeep it since this beach was the worst beach for ships to come in at. They almost always hit the rocks because of how deep the water dropped off from the shore and how thin the strip of sand was.

You pulled your boat to the very end of the dock and then threw the oars down in it, and then your bag of fishing gear, along with your pole. Taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself as you began pushing the single person-sized boat into the water. When it finally was fully in the water, you quickly jumped into it, causing a splash and a stressful cracking sound as you struggled for a moment to catch your balance. Finally, you sat down in the boat and let it settle before getting your oars and rowing yourself towards your destination.

There was a little cove area almost like an island to the east of the plateau of land. It was your favorite spot to fish because hardly anyone knew about it. It was barely visible from the shore even during a normal day, but it was completely out of sight on this extremely foggy, dark morning. The fog became more and more dense the further you rowed out into the water, until finally you were completely blinded.

“Fucking hell,” you murmured, reaching into your bag for your compass. The fog had completely surrounded you now to the point where you couldn’t even see the front bow of your boat. It was getting colder further into sea, too. Though the air above was tolerable, you couldn’t imagine how cold the water below felt.

The salty, wet air clogged your nose as you finally felt the cold round of metal in your hand, bringing your compass out of your bag. Sniffling from the cold air, you tried to adjust and read your compass when you suddenly heard something behind you—a voice.

Gasping, you whipped around to look behind you but only saw the thick white of fog. The voice had been shrill and steady, calling out some sort of smooth singsong noise that echoed over the water.

And then you heard it again, clear as day, right in front of you.

Snapping back around, you still could see nothing but the fog, yet the voice was still echoing all around you. It was a single note drawn out, not quite a shout or a scream, just an eerie note drawn out through the fog. Chills overcame you, but not from the cold.

Setting your compass down on the boat’s bottom, you grabbed your oars and began to quickly row towards the east. The fog seemed to be squeezing in on you now, some of it even spilling over the edge of the boat like thick smoke. Your heart was pounding—you couldn’t see where you were going, and you could still hear the voice in the back of your head. You wanted to get to the cove fast.

Suddenly, the wooden oar in your left hand stopped against something. You paused and looked over—you weren’t even able to see the paddle of the oar, only the handle you held. You tried to move the oar, but it wouldn’t budge. What could it be stuck on? Even though you couldn’t see, you knew you weren’t at the cove by now, and you were still heading east so you hadn’t drifted back to the plateau. These waters were so deep, there certainly was nothing your oar could be stuck in.

It was when something tugged your oar right out of your hand that you shrieked and jumped so hard that the boat rocked, icy water splashing onto your legs. With your left oar gone, you quickly used your right oar to haphazardly row forward, having to switch it over to the left side to keep going straight, more of the cold water splattering over you. Though you were crippled now with only one oar, you were so afraid that you rowed even faster than you normally would with two oars.

Though your arms ached, you kept rowing as fast as you could until finally the fog started to thin out. You were starting to break out of whatever thick cloud of sea fog you had been stuck in. It felt like you could breathe again when finally you pushed forward completely out of the fog, letting your tired arms go limp as you looked behind you at the cloud of fog. You searched for the silhouette of another boat but saw nothing. What the hell had grabbed your oar?

Turning back around and taking a deep breath, you swiped your forehead with the back of your wrist—now your body was so hot it was steaming in the cold air. Looking ahead, you could finally see the cove just a little ways away.

Glancing to either side of you, you saw nothing but black water. These waters were always dark, mostly because of the black rock and black mud, but it was completely opaque now. All you could see was reflections of the dim grey sky above you and your own face distorted in the lapping water. You wondered what was below it—something that now had your oar, certainly. Shaking your head to rid yourself of the paranoid thoughts, you rowed on to the cove.

The cove was a U-shaped island that looked like a fragmented piece of the plateau your village was on—all black, rocky shores with limited sand, a cluster of dark, woody trees behind it that shielded it from the nothingness of the sea. The shape of the U was wide enough that the cove water leading up to the center of land was deep enough for fish to live. It was the perfect fishing spot, especially the further one went into the cove so that the island’s rocks and trees surrounded them.

Finally, you got to your favorite spot tucked further into the U shape where you were surrounded by the island, and you rowed your boat carefully until it was finally still. You glanced around the island—it was a little spooky in the foggy, dark morning. The trees were blackened, fog stuck all in them. The big rocks were an even darker black from the wet morning, and where there was usually a strip of sand, there was only a bunch of pebbles and rocks that must have been pushed onto shore from the storm. Sometimes, you would sit on the sand and enjoy the quiet alone, but you couldn’t imagine sitting on all those rocky pebbles.

You set up your fishing pole and cast it into the black water, setting the pole against the side of the boat while you opened your fishnet and made it ready for fish. You had even brought a little breakfast along—a pathetic piece of bread with a slice of cheese. Holding the end of your pole between your feet, you relaxed against the boat and ate your bread and cheese.

It took a minute before you got your first bite, bringing up a thick, silvery fish out of the water and tossing it into your net before recasting your pole. You were able to get three fish before suddenly they just stopped biting.

“For fucks’ sake,” you cursed like a sailor, bringing up your pole out of the water to see that something had taken the worm off the hook, even though you didn’t feel a fish bite. “Greedy fuckers. I’m tryin’ to eat, too.” You took another worm from your bowl of bait and stuck it onto the hook.

And then you heard it again.

It was the same shrill voice, but this time, it sounded like an eerie, angelic song. You froze. The voice lilted, echoing through the trees of the cove. This time, it wasn’t just a single note—it was words you could barely make out, but they were there.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya..

Your breath hitched in your throat. You lifted your head, eyes wide, and slowly looked around, seeing nothing but the black faces of the rocks and trees looking back at you.

Ya smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

The voice was beautiful, etching out every syllable of the foreign language like poetry. It echoed over the waters in a whisper, filling your ears like honey. You held your breath. You wanted to ask who was there, who was singing, but there was a buzzing sensation through your body like fear, but something different. It was like the voice was reaching through your ears and into your brain, its angelic fingers scratching and poking and twisting your brain around until you were in a dumb daze.

It was when you noticed something in the corner of your eye that your fear came through more prominently. The water, black and opaque, to the side of your boat was rippling with motion. It wasn’t the bubbles of a fish. It wasn’t movement from your still boat. The water rippled from one end of your boat to the other, pausing between ripples like something was swimming right there. But you couldn’t see anything.

Your lungs ached as your breathing picked up, yet you stayed completely still. You watched the water ripple around the bow of your boat, and down the other side. It was circling you, and it was entirely too large to be a fish.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

The voice came again, filtering through the cove’s forest, over the rocks, right into your ears. You don’t know why, but you found yourself slowly leaning over the boat’s edge, peering into the black water that rippled as something swam below it. Your vision became hazy. Your skin felt numb all over. Your heart pounded dangerously fast.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

You barely processed the sound of something brushing the side of your boat before you felt the hard vibration of something hitting the underside of your boat, something big enough to rock it.

“Woah!” you cried out, grabbing the sides of the rocking boat. You tried to get to your feet, but something hit the underside of your boat again, and it tipped over.

You had never felt such cold. The splash of your body hitting the water, and then the water flooding your ears, deafened you like the sound of glass shattering from inside your head. It struck your entire body like lighting—pure, icy shock and arctic pain. It almost felt like your bones cracked upon impact like a frozen branch falling off a cliff.

You couldn’t move as your body sank under the freezing black water. You opened your eyes, felt the cold freeze over your eyeballs. You saw nothing at first and wondered if you were dead, or even worse, struck blind from the freezing water. When you could finally see dim light filtering through the water, as much light as the cloudy early morning could give, you realized you weren’t blind. But the water was so cold, too cold to move. You tried to move your arms and legs, but you felt stiffened, shot with pain.

As you stared into the sea of black and tried to clench your frozen muscles, you saw a shadow forming in the water beyond. You could do nothing but watch with fear as the shadow formed into an unrecognizable silhouette.

Quickly, you glanced up and could see the shadow of your boat flipped upside down on the water’s surface above you. You didn’t realize how deep down you were. Even if your body was working again, it would take a minute for you to reach your boat.

You looked back in front of you. The shadow was closer now. You attempted to flail your arms and were able to move them a little. You screamed through your closed mouth, your lungs burning for air.

The shadow came into the glare of light in the water, and your scream intensified.

It was a woman, or something like it. A woman’s head, and neck, and chest, and torso, and waist, but right where her hips stopped, something else started. Where her thighs would have been separated and covered with skin, they were welded together and covered with scales. It was some sort of a fish tail attached to where the lower half of her body should’ve been. Instead of skin and legs, she was dark red and black scales on a long tail with a finned end that gently undulated in the water to keep her floating. Her tail almost sparkled in the light. It was so dark, but you could see hints of a deep ruby color between the dark scales. Her chest was bare along with the rest of her upper body. Her hair, a dark brown with reddish tint, bowed above her head in the shape of an obsidian flame. Her arms floated beside her elegantly, and you noticed her fingertips were black.

Then there were her eyes. A deep red like the color of her tail. Too much white between the bottom curve of her pupils and her lower lashes. Darkened around the lids with some sort of black paint. Even in the darkness of the water, the red of her irises caught you. Even in the fear, there was beauty. She was haunting, and her eyes stared you down like you were her food.

A mermaid, you thought. You’d only ever heard of them when the sailors of your town made it back from faraway fishing trips. Everyone had chocked the stories up to oceanic hallucination, but now here you were, face to face with one.

And then she smiled. And her teeth were ivory white, and in the middle of where there were some human teeth, there was rows of sharp fangs like blades. Her smile was uncanny, unsettling, evil.

And then you realized she wasn’t a mermaid.

Another choked, muffled scream bellowed out from your burning chest when she darted forward. You could feel the vibrations in the water when she swished her tail in a boast of strength, her hair darting behind her as she surged forward through the water with ease. Her eyes seemed to darken.

Screaming as much as you could underwater, you suddenly found that your muscles had defrosted with your fear. You swam upwards, kicking and thrashing as much as you could, your body fatigued from the cold and the lack of oxygen. Your muscles burned and quivered as you overworked them, your lungs aching, your throat burning, vision growing dark until finally you burst above the surface, gulping down a large breath of air and several more after that.

You didn’t have much time to breathe because you became aware that the siren was still below you. Looking around, you saw that your boat had floated too far away, and the nearest place you could go was the shoreline several yards away.

Before you could make a break for the shore, you noticed how quiet everything was. The siren could have easily grabbed you by now. You tried to look into the water that splashed up on your chin, but it was still black. A soft mist came down from the bleary sky, further wetting your head.

What if she was right below your feet where they kicked obscurely in the water? What if she grabbed you and dragged you down? Just the mere thought made you start to slowly float your way towards the shore. Maybe the siren was just like a shark, and it was only sudden movement that made her attack.

You kept slowly swimming backwards, craning your head all around to get a comprehensive view of the water’s surface around you. There was nothing. No swishing of water at your feet. No ripples on the surface except the ones you caused. Not even any bubbles.

Was she gone? Had she decided you weren’t worth the trouble? Or were you just hallucinating? Maybe this was the oceanic hallucinations everyone said sailors had. Maybe all that fog had made you paranoid.

Your body was rocking with how icy the water was, though you just felt numb now. You looked behind you at the island, wondering if you could seek shelter in the trees until someone came looking for you, or maybe you could make some sort of flotation device out of something. That was silly. Your best bet would be to go back to your boat and hand-paddle your way back home.

As you turned your head back around towards the direction of your boat, you gasped and froze.

There the siren was. Only the upper half of her head was above the water. You saw her hair, much more reddish now in the light, slick to her head. Her forehead, speckled with droplets of water. Her red eyes that seemed to reflect a glare of red on the surface of the water in front of her. Beyond that, only the bridge of her nose, the end of it under the surface. She was completely still, as if she was standing on flat ground. She was only maybe two feet away from you.

“P-p-p-p,” you tried to speak, but your body was convulsing from the cold, your lips numb and blue. “Please,” you whispered in a croak. It was getting hard to breathe as the harsh cold invaded your blood. You were begging for your life because, in the haze of your hypothermia, you recognized those eyes.

You’d heard stories from the village sailors about a particular siren. You’d seen her image sketched in books. Always those red eyes, that red tail. This wasn’t a mermaid, and she wasn’t just a siren. She was the deadliest ocean creature that all the myths and legends described. She’d instilled fear in children of your parent’s and even your grandparent’s generations just through stories of her malice. She commanded every corner of the seas, and sailors who were superstitious enough always kept an eye out for her during their voyages, lest she take them down.

She wasn’t a mermaid. She wasn’t just a siren.

She was the Scarlet Siren.

Somehow, she knew you recognized her. Maybe it was the look on your face, or the way you froze. She stretched her lips open in a charming yet malicious smile. And then slowly, inch by inch, she slipped under the water.

Letting out a choked scream, you quickly turned back towards the shore and started to swim. Your heart felt like it was going to rip right out of your chest if the Scarlet Siren didn’t do it first.

When you were halfway towards the shore, thrashing the water and letting out choked breaths, you suddenly felt hands grab your ankles and yank you beneath the surface.

You thrashed under the water, your long hair coming undone and floating around your face as you watched the Scarlet Siren come closer to you. You kicked at her so hard that your shoes came off your feet, your foot hitting her tail and feeling the fishy scales there.

The Siren’s hands were climbing up your body, grabbing at your coat and pulling it off as you spiraled in the water, trying to get out of her hold. Finally, you were able to kick her tail hard enough that the force sent you popping above the surface like a fish. You were able to take one gasp of air before she pulled you right back down again.

This time, the Siren growled and nosedived towards your waist, her teeth clamping down on the fabric of your shirt. You squealed as she ripped your shirt off with her teeth, the fabric so easily tearing. The blades of her teeth had caught the skin of your belly, four long scratches bleeding through your pale skin, the blood clouding in the water. The Siren paused at the sight of your blood diffusing in the water, distracted enough for you to kick her in the face so hard that she turned downwards in the water.

You took your chance to swim, popping up through the surface and pushing yourself harder than ever. The shore was right in front of you. Your body ached and the skin of your stomach stung, but you kept going until finally your fingers touched black rock.

Coughing up water, you lifted your body onto the pebbly surface, the blood from the scratches finally able to drip down your skin, the red following the lines of water on your waist. You flopped onto your back and pulled yourself more onto the shore.

You knew it wasn’t over. The Siren’s head popped out of the water, and her hands grabbed your ankles again. You cried out and tried to kick, but she held your legs down as she lifted herself completely out of the water.

You watched the Scarlet Siren crawl over you, her strong arms planting down in the rocks on either side of your head, entrapping you. The shockingly heavy weight of her tail crushed your legs down on the rock, the smell of ocean filling your nostrils. It felt like the end of your life. You thought to yourself, as the Siren laid herself over you, that this was what rabbits felt like with dogs. This is what lambs felt like with lions. Birds with cats. Fish with fishermen. Sailors with sirens.

“Now, what’s a pretty girl like yourself doing all alone out on these waters, hmm?” Her voice was shockingly heavenly, smooth like butter and sweet like a bird’s song. It caught you off guard and somehow made you more afraid. There was also some sort of foreign accent laced in her words, somewhat Slavic. How could a monster like herself look so beautiful and sound so sweet?

You could only make incoherent noises as you watched the Siren’s tail start to morph. It ripped itself apart, and the scales sunk inwards, and the flesh shaped itself into the shape of a human woman’s legs, and pale skin etched itself over them. She was now the sight of a fully human woman, naked and lain over you, except for her razor teeth and red demonic eyes and murderous intent.

“Do you know who I am?” she asked more seriously, her eyes flickering over you. Her underwater tactics left you in only a brassiere and fisherman pants.

You were shaking from the cold, but her body felt surprisingly warm on yours. Fear had overcome you, leaving you dumb and pathetic.

“Please d-don’t kill me,” you cried, tears rushing down your cheeks.

“You didn’t answer me, detka,” she continued calmly, bringing a hand to your chin and holding it. Her skin felt inhumanly smooth. “Do you know who I am?”

Breathing heavily, you squeezed your eyes shut. “The S-Scarlet Siren.”

The Siren puckered her lips. “What a demeaning term. My scales are more maroon, don’t you think? My name is Wanda.” She paused, pressing the pad of her thumb into the dimple on your chin. “What’s your name, pretty girl?”

You didn’t answer. She trailed her hand down your stomach, smearing the blood there before she grabbed hold of your pants. Sitting back on her knees, she started to yank them down. Instinctively, you fought her, trying to kick her away.

“Stop!” you screamed loud enough that a few birds from the forest cawed and fluttered. The Siren pursed her lips and used her strength to pull your pants off, but you flopped onto your stomach like a fish and started frantically crawling away.

“Stop it, human,” she growled, grabbing the back of your thighs and dragging you back down the rocks. Using the opportunity, she ripped the last of your clothing off, your brassiere, and threw it to the side. Grabbing you by your wet hair, she turned you back onto your back and lowered down. You were face-to-face with her now, about to try and push her off until she opened her mouth.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

It was the song you’d heard earlier, before your boat tipped. But as she sang it this time, that buzzing feeling within you grew stronger. Her honey-like voice lilted in your ears as she sang, and you found yourself leaning upwards. Her red eyes, glowing now, watched you tremble as you weakly lifted yourself, your own eyes growing wide as she entranced you. You were very easy for her.

Smiling through her song, she snaked her arm under your waist and easily lifted you up, pressing your bare body to hers. You were so cold against her, so feeble and weak. Your eyes trained on her lips, your irises glowing red from her magic flowing within you. She could feel your mind breaking down, letting her in, growing weaker and weaker. Finally, you closed your eyes and leaned up to kiss her. The Siren held your head with her large hand and kissed you softly, her lips smooth and slippery.

Her song was how she got her victims, but her kiss was how she trapped them. You were under her will now.

Breaking the kiss slowly, the Siren laid you gently back down on the rock. “It’s much easier when you’re calmer, detka. Now, tell me your name.”

“Y/n,” you whispered inaudibly, but the Siren’s ears were trained enough to hear you.

“Y/n,” she repeated in her lilting voice, smiling with her sharp teeth. “You’re the prettiest one I’ve ever caught, y/n.”

Her eyes raked down your limp body that she held in her arm, her free hand pressing against the bloody scratches on your tummy. She gathered some of your blood on her blackened finger and lifted it up to her mouth, sucking your blood off her long finger. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head like a reptile.

Though you felt paralyzed, there was still some consciousness left in your head. You were starting to realize that there was a reason sailors didn’t let their women on their boats, and that the reason was hovering over you.

“You’re right, beautiful girl,” she purred, “But don’t even think about those other human women. You’re the best one of them all.” Her voice had an edge of malice, and it was sickening to hear it through the sweet, complimentary tone.

Her red eyes flickered back to the scratches on your tummy, and she leaned down, letting her long, snaky tongue slither out of her mouth and onto the scratches, licking up your blood. Her breath fanned over the expanse of your stomach, covered in goosebumps. Her hands gripped either side of your ribcage as she grazed her mouth over your stomach, landing on a spot off to the side before digging her teeth into your flesh.

“Ah!” you screamed out, feeling all the blades of her teeth stab into you. She let go, revealing a bloody bite mark on your torso.

“So sweet and fresh,” she growled.

A particular wave of water came up aggressively onto the shore, rolling over her ankles and causing scales to appear before the water receded and human skin covered it again.

The Siren moved to your chest, her large hand grabbing one of your tits and squeezing while she rolled her long, thin tongue over your nipple, her siren eyes flashing up at you. You squirmed, whimpering from the pain but also from another uncontrollable emotion. You were entranced by her, under her will, and had no control over any feeling she gave you emotionally or physically.

Moving her mouth to your other breast, she sunk her teeth into the mound of flesh, causing you to cry out again. You attempted to lift your arms to fight back, but she quickly snatched them and pinned them to the sharp rocks.

Voda glubokaya i golubaya.

YA smotryu na tebya svoimi krasivymi glazami.

Podoydi blizhe, i ya ispolnyu tvoye zhelaniye.

Podoydi blizhe i ya tebya potseluyu.

She sang again, her voice filling you as she gave you more bites between each lyric, blood now dripping down your sides. You were dizzy, from the blood or the trance or the entire situation, and helpless. Your blood was smeared across the entire lower half of her face, dripping from her chin, staining her razor teeth as she grinned. It was so strange, seeing a monstrous look on such a seductive, beautiful woman.

When the Siren glided her tongue down the center of your stomach, you felt a twitch within you. When her hands gripped your hips and scratched downward, coming to grab your tender thighs and spread them open, you obliged. You felt hotter now, as if steam would start rising out of your body into the cold air. There were already billows of fog coming out of your lips with each breath.

“Such a delicate angel,” the Siren purred at you as she lowered her body down. As she settled her elbows over your thighs, her legs tucked back into the water. The waves gushed over her bottom and onto her lower back, and when it receded, she had a tail again, halfway resting in the water, the crimson fin on the very end flipping up in the water instinctively.

You were naked, bleeding on the rocks, being overtaken by a Siren, the Scarlet Siren no less, but you felt overcome with a pleasurable sensation. It was a mix between drunken and sexual as the Siren licked her tongue over your thighs.

When she had you to a point of gyrating your hips for her, she finally put her mouth over your core, sucking on your sensitive nub immediately. You cried out, grabbing onto rocks as she suckled on you, causing arousal to already slowly gush out of you.

Her tongue was long and thin and bumpy, so when she lapped it over your slit and then pushed it deep inside you, you nearly went blind. She snaked her tongue in and out of her, her hands grabbing your thighs harshly as she forced your legs open wider, moaning onto your clit. She seemed hungry, ravenous, as she devoured you, and you felt the terrifying hardness of the very edge of her teeth almost hitting your sensitive skin every once in a while. You could tell that she had done this before, and you wondered what number you were going to be in the list of women she had killed.

“Ah!” you cried out, feeling yourself coming close already. The feeling was something entirely different, and before you knew it, you were clenching around her tongue and crying out, your body arching off the rocks.

“So delicious,” the Siren hissed when she retracted her tongue, staying where she was between your legs while you panted and squirmed. “And so tight.”

Without warning, she placed four fingers in a row at your entrance. You swallowed hard, your consciousness breaking through a little to fight back by thrashing around. You tried to close your legs, but she was amazingly strong.

The Scarlet Siren opened her mouth to sing her song, and you relaxed involuntarily. You could only scream when she forced four of her fingers into you. The pain was dizzying, along with all the blood you’d lost, and you were halfway unconscious as she stretched your cunt out around her fingers, forcing you to take all four of her unnaturally long digits. Your walls resisted, but she kept thrusting, lapping up any arousal and blood along the way. She bit into your thigh, rubbed her face in the wound and curled her fingers inside you, watching you tremble and squirm dumbly.

You finally started to come to when the pain went away, pleasure taking over. The stretch felt otherworldly, her tongue flicking your clit and lapping at it, fingers pumping deep and hard into you so that it was all you could feel. Besides the gentle waves of the water near you, all you could hear was the squelching noises that she committed on you. She devoured you and fucked you eagerly, hungrily, like an animal, becoming more and more carnal the more she had of you.

When your second climax crashed over you and you convulsed uncontrollably, whimpering and screaming and thrashing, the Siren chuckled victoriously between your thighs.

When the climax left you, your body dropped limp on the rocks. Your vision went blurry, and all you could see was red eyes hovering over you staring at you, and the dark crimson of blood on her face.

“You did so good, detka,” she lilted, caressing your cheek with her soft hand. “I think I’ll keep you.”

Fortunately for you, you could feel nothing but bliss. It was the Siren’s entrancement on you that made you feel heavenly as she took hold of one of your ankles and dragged you into the water like a dead fish, swimming away into the black and taking you with her.

Your abandoned boat still floated upside down a ways off from the shore. The cloud of fog was still on the sea’s surface, crowding into the cove. The water washed away your blood from the rocks.

[paperultra]

mise en rose.

Pairing: OPLA!Roronoa Zoro x Reader Word Count: 3,806 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use

The tune that your father used to whistle now leaves your lips the same way it left his.

Notes skip offkey across the water as your boat rocks gently, waves lapping up against the wooden sides. The moon shines brightly overhead. You shift in place and wait for a tug on your fishing line, the basket at your feet waiting patiently for its first meal.

Archy will be happy if you actually catch something for once. There’s not a lot of fish around here, and you’re not exactly sure why; something about the aquatic plants in the area, or if you were to believe the old man in the village square, a curse that swallows anything with fins that swims too close. The last time you caught something was months ago, and it was tiny and more bone than flesh.

You don’t really care. It’s enough to just sit out here and feel the waves.

Cheeks puffing up with air for another round of music, you let your gaze drift out towards the ocean and abruptly freeze.

There’s something floating in the distance.

A piece of debris. Wood from a hull, a scrap of sail perhaps?

The thought that it may be the remnant of a ship destroyed at sea is enough for you to reel in your line and start rowing towards it, anticipation bubbling up and drowning out any thoughts of a midnight snack.

You get close enough and your anticipation gives way to shock.

“Oh, shit.”

The guy clinging to the chunk of wood stirs and lifts his head, and you almost hit him upside the head with your oar.

“Oh, shit. You’re alive.”

—

“You say you’re going out fishing and you come back with a half-dead man with three swords?” Archy looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm, but this time, you don’t blame him. This is certainly uncharted territory and your older brother is hopeless without a map. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What was I supposed to do, leave him to die?”

“I dunno! Yeah!” he gestures to the waterlogged man lying halfway on the living room couch, one arm and leg hanging off the side. “Look at him. He’s probably a pirate!”

“Damn, you think?” Crouching down, you drag your eyes across Swordsman’s ragged clothing and grin. You might’ve just rescued someone with a bounty on his head. “That’d be so cool.”

“That would not be cool.”

You shrug. “Well, I brought him in already, so you might as well help me unless you want a dead body in our living room.”

“You little –” Taking a deep breath, Archy pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a long, loud groan, and you know that you’ve won once more. “Fine. But as soon as he’s even a little bit better, we’re calling the Marines.”

“Okay,” you agree amicably. “So, what do we do first?”

“We have to undress him and warm him up.”

“Got it.” Your eager fingers go straight for the swords.

The man comes to life without warning. Seizing your wrist, he cracks one eye open and speaks in a low and rasping voice.

“Don’t. Touch. My swords.”

“Uh,” you say.

“We got to get everything off, mate,” Archy grumbles, and your guest turns his glare onto your brother. “I know how to clean swords and scabbards. I’ll dry them off and put them under the couch afterward.”

“I’ll do it myself.”

With a grunt, Swordsman pushes you away and attempts to sit up. He struggles for a full minute, jaw clenched and muscles trembling; his arms, strong and sturdy as they are, look like they’ll buckle at any moment.

Your eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling when he actually manages to prop himself up.

“Well, that’s impressive,” you mutter, making eye contact with Archy. He rolls his eyes. “Can you remove your clothes and wrap yourself up too?”

It takes a few moments before Swordsman has enough breath to respond. “I’m fine,” he says once he can.

“You’re really not,” Archy replies.

“You’re probably really dehydrated,” you say. “How long were you out there?”

The man stares at you, opens his mouth, pauses.

“Three days. Maybe.”

You gape. “You spent three days floating in the East Blue and you’re not dead?” You look at his neck for gills. “Are you a fishman or something?”

“No.”

“Really? I mean, I never met any fishmen before, so …”

His eye twitches. “I’m not a fishman.”

“Well, okay, if you say so.”

What a weird guy. Then again, you’ve heard that all sorts of characters traverse the Blue Sea. Devil fruit users, talking animals, clowns. A person who can survive the ocean for a couple days on a piece of wood is hardly out of the question.

“You’re dehydrated, in any case,” you conclude. “I’ll get you some water.”

—

After gruffly accepting a glass of water and putting on some dry clothes, Swordsman proceeds to “sleep it off” for the next twenty-four hours. When he finally wakes up, it’s in the middle of the night and you’ve just started rereading your favorite book.

“Oh, he’s awake,” you say when he stirs, swinging your feet off the coffee table and leaning forward in your chair to observe.

He grimaces under the dim light of your lamp, lifting an arm to press it over his eyes. “How long was I out,” he grouses.

“’Bout a day.”

“Shit.” He wriggles around in the fuzzy blanket you’ve wrapped around him. Once he’s loosened its hold enough, he sits up slowly and looks around, expression equal parts drowsy and wary. “Where –”

“Archy took your swords and cleaned them. They’re under the couch.”

“I told you not to touch them.”

“I didn’t. My brother did.”

Casting you the most unamused glare, Swordsman bends over to look underneath the couch. He pulls his swords out and places them in his lap, inspecting the white one first with a care that makes you rest your chin in your hand, curious and charmed. His brow furrows and you know that he finds your brother’s work to be satisfactory when he moves on to inspect the other two.

“Our uncle was a bladesmith in Loguetown. He taught Archy a thing or two before he passed.”

“You’re bladesmiths?”

“Coopers. Uncle was the rebel, I guess.” You close your book and stand up. “There’s leftover soup in the fridge. I’ll heat up the broth for you.”

This time, the man does not refuse your help and only nods. As you head to the kitchen and start to reheat the soup, you glance over and catch him sipping from the glass of water you’d topped off while he was asleep. Somehow, even that small action intrigues you. You smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Ladling the steaming broth into a small bowl, you stick a spoon in and walk back to where Swordsman is, sitting beside him. “Here you go. Don’t drink it too fast, and all that.”

He takes the soup, blows on a spoonful, tastes it. His eyes close, and something funny happens in your stomach when he opens them again to look at you.

“’S good.”

“Really?” He nods and puts the bowl to his lips to drink directly from it. “Thanks.”

You let him finish the miso broth in silence. It gives you time to stare at him some more; even with the horrible sunburn and petroleum jelly smeared everywhere, he’s a very handsome man, that much you can tell, with broad shoulders and a pretty face and hair as green as forest moss. The three earrings on his left ear gleam gold and sway with every movement he makes.

“Are you gonna keep staring at me, or are you gonna ask me questions?”

“Hm? Oh!” Shaking your head in slight bewilderment, you smile. “Yeah, I guess it would be good to ask some questions … so, what’s your name, anyway?”

“Roronoa Zoro.”

You tilt your head with a frown. “Roronoa Zoro.” You taste the name in your mouth. “That sounds really familiar. Are you a pirate?”

“No. I hunt them.”

“You hunt them?”

“That’s what I said.”

You look at his swords again. His earrings. Three and three.

Shooting up from the couch, you dash to Archy’s room and slam the door open.

“Archimead! Wake up!” You grab your brother’s shoulders and rattle him.

“Shit – what?!” he gargles, pushing your face away with one meaty hand and sitting up. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

“It’s Roronoa Zoro!”

“What?”

“The guy in our living room,” you shriek at him, practically shaking, “is the Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro. I fished Roronoa Zoro out of the fucking ocean.”

Archy stops rubbing his eye. “What.”

Soon enough, Zoro faces both you and your brother in the living room once more.

“You’re Roronoa Zoro? For real?” Archy asks him.

Zoro blinks up him. “Yeah.”

“Can you prove it?”

“‘Can you prove it’ – Archy, look at him. He’s got three earrings in his left ear and three fucking swords.”

“He could be some sort of copycat. We have no idea what Roronoa Zoro actually looks like.”

“You’re such a pessimist. Nobody would lug around three swords if they couldn’t use all of them at once.” You turn your attention back onto Zoro. “How the hell did you get stranded out there?”

He looks between the two of you, waiting for a moment before crossing his arms. “I was headed to Mirror Ball Island, but the boat I was on got caught in a whirlpool,” he says, displeased. “Then I got separated from the rest of the crew. Don’t know if they survived or not.”

“Mirror Ball Island?” you repeat. “That’s a three-day journey from here, at least.”

“Where’s here?”

“Dokusha Village.” You open one of the books on the table and point to a tiny strip of coast you’d labeled on the edge of the East Blue map. “Right there. You could buy a boat and sail west, straight to Mirror Ball Island.”

“I don’t have any beri on me right now,” Zoro says.

“Oh, yeah. Of course you don’t.” Archy puts his hands on his hips. “Well, the merchant ship is coming by in two weeks. If you’re all good by then, you can hitch a ride.”

“I’ll be fine by tomorrow night.”

You snort, closing the book and reclining back. “The rate you’re going, I don’t doubt it. Does that mean you want to leave earlier? You’ll still need a boat and supplies. Food, water, towels, sleeping gear. That all costs money. I mean, we could lend you some, but still.”

“I’ll work for it,” Zoro replies. “I don’t take and give nothing in return.”

Both you and Archy give a hum of approval.

—

True to his word, Roronoa Zoro is up and off the couch by the fourth day.

He doesn’t have a clue as to how to make barrels or buckets, which is expected, so he ends up helping with the grunt work of carrying staves into the workshop and stacking finished barrels. Other than that, there’s not much for him to do.

“Sorry if it’s boring,” you apologize during lunch, speaking through a mouthful of sandwich. “You’re kind of just hired muscle.”

Zoro shrugs, chewing on his own sandwich. Two girls walking by – Phoebe and Iris, the blacksmith’s daughters – spot him on the bench and giggle, hurrying past with glances over their shoulders. He appears not to care. “It’s fine.”

“I think you’re even stronger than my brother. Is it because of your training as a swordsman?”

“Probably,” he says.

“When did you start?”

“When I was eight.”

You nod sagely. “Not surprised. I’ve been helping around the workshop since I was a kid, and I only just finished my apprenticeship a few weeks ago. It’s good to start young.”

It seems that Zoro agrees by the way he grunts, stuffing the last piece of crust into his mouth.

When he’s done, you muster the courage to ask, “What’s it like, being a bounty hunter?”

Zoro raises an eyebrow at you. Then he gazes back out at the street. “It’s fine,” he responds. “Makes good money.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Yeah, but, like, is it fun? Do you spend a lot of time at sea? See a lot of different places? Stuff like that.”

“I don’t do it for fun. My only goal is to become the world’s greatest swordsman.” He leans back and puts his hands behind his head. “It’s a shitton of traveling, both on ships and on land. I’ve been all over the East Blue.”

“Wow.” The word comes out as a sigh. You crunch longingly on a carrot stick. “That sounds amazing. It’s my dream to travel all over the world on a ship.”

“How come you’re here, then?”

You wince, hushing him hastily. Glancing behind you, you clear your throat and lean in to speak softly. “Archy hates the ocean. He worked on a merchant ship for a few months when he was eighteen and got super sick.” Upon reading Zoro’s blank expression, you clarify, “I can’t just leave him. I’m the only family he’s got now, and his younger sibling to boot. So Dokusha Village it is.”

“You’re staying because of your brother.”

“Yeah. I love him, so it’s fine.” There’s a familiar ache in your chest, but you push it down and elbow Zoro’s ribs in jest. (He doesn’t even move a muscle. Geez.) “Makes okay money. I got a bunch of adventure books to live through, anyway.”

It’s a little hard to meet your lunch companion’s eyes after that. You eat the rest of your carrots in silence, pretending to be occupied with finishing them. Zoro doesn’t utter another word.

But as the two of you get back to work, he seems a little warmer, a little less stiff. You make a silly joke and Zoro huffs out something that almost sounds like a laugh while Archy threatens to stick you in a rum barrel and roll you down a hill.

Perhaps you’ve made another friend.

—

“What are you making?”

You blow off the wood dust, closing one eye to cut a fin just right. “Shark. See?”

The bonfire you’d made crackles just a few feet away as you place the half-finished carving into Zoro’s palm. He picks it up with his other hand and twists it around, touching with intention, and you almost feel self-conscious with the way he’s examining it.

“Nice,” he finally says, and the praise makes you giddy. He hands the shark back to you.

“Thanks. I had a lot of practice.”

Zoro rests his elbows on the rock behind him and takes another swig of sake. You resume carving the shark’s fins, bare feet buried in the cool sand.

Archy’s on a date for once, so he left the two of you to your own devices for the night with a distracted wave goodbye and a warning that he’ll be back late. You took that as a chance to break into the alcohol after supper and drag Zoro down to the beach. The swordsman was willing to come along, though you suspect it was mostly for the sake.

“Ain’t that your third bottle?”

“I can hold my liquor.”

You stick your tongue out at him. “No need to brag.”

He wipes his mouth, dark brown eyes black in the firelight. They glint like steel when he looks over at you, but he doesn’t say anything – not that you’re surprised; sometimes Zoro just looks at whatever he wants without any reason. He’s not particularly complicated in that sense.

(You like that. Too many things in life are complicated.)

“Hey, Zoro.”

“Hm.”

Your lips purse. “Do you think my brother will get married one day?”

“How am I supposed to know?” His tone is flat.

“Well, I dunno! It’s just a question.” You frown, slowing in your work. “It’s just that after our parents died, he’s been too busy looking after me and the shop to court someone. He’s turning thirty next year and most people his age have settled down already. I feel kind of bad.”

“It’s not your fault,” Zoro says. “Wouldn’t he have more time now, anyway, since you can take care of yourself?”

“I think he’s been out for so long he doesn’t know how to date anymore.”

Zoro downs the rest of his sake. You know that there’s no advice he can give you regarding Archy’s marriage prospects, which doesn’t surprise you either. You suppose you just need someone to listen. It’s not like you can talk to Archy about it.

“Hell,” you remember, “I’m expected to be married by now, too. I’ve never even been on a date.”

“Really?”

“Nope. Why, are you surprised?”

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Zoro yawns and closes his eyes. “You just seem like the type.”

“What do you mean?”

“You talk a lot,” he says.

You burst out laughing. “Yeah, I do. Would that make me a good date?”

“How am I supposed to know?”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been on one, either?”

Zoro shrugs. He doesn’t look too torn up about it. “Waste of time,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “Figured you’d say that,” you drawl, digging your blade into the shark’s mouth. “Dating doesn’t really help you become the world’s greatest swordsman, does it?”

“Nope.”

“I still think it might be fun, though. If you’re with the right person.” With that, you brush away the last curl of wood from your carving. After admiring it for a few seconds, you offer the shark to Zoro, bumping the nose softly against his cheek. He opens his eyes and turns his head to squint at it. “Here you go. All yours.”

His brow furrows as he takes it.

“It’s a going away gift. Since you’re leaving tomorrow,” you say. Folding your knife and putting it down beside you, you grab your bottle of sake and gulp down half of what remains. “Don’t forget it.”

One of the logs in the bonfire crumbles, falling into the coals. Orange sparks fly up into the smoke and disappear just as quickly. You poke at the fire with a stick, trying not to think about how sad you’re going to be tomorrow morning.

“I won’t forget,” Zoro says.

“I know.”

—

It’s almost dawn, and the family boat is packed up and ready to set sail.

“Got everything?” Archy asks, lowering into a squat to scan over all the supplies.

“Yeah.” The swordsman drags a hand through his hair. “Thanks again for the boat.”

“It’s nothing.” Your brother elbows your arm, and you sway. “Oi. He said thank you.”

“I know,” you mumble. For the first time this morning, you spare Zoro a glance and smile at him, but it’s shaky and fake and you really hate how your voice wobbles when you say, “You don’t have to thank us. Just have a safe – have a safe –” Your voice cracks, and you look down at your feet, eyes burning. “Have a safe trip,” you finish quietly.

You can feel two pairs of eyes on you as your vision goes blurry. Shit. This is so embarrassing.

The fact of the matter is that Roronoa Zoro has been in Dokusha Village for only a week, and you’re already missing him like he’s been in your life for years. You’re going to watch him get into your family’s fishing boat and sail away, the wind at his back, the East Blue before him, and you will remain on the dock with your big brother beside you and your dream in your head.

You’re being selfish, but it’s not … it’s not fair.

Archy puts his hand on your shoulder and says your name.

You wipe your nose. “What?”

“… I’ve been thinking.” He sounds hesitant, taking in a deep breath and letting it go slowly, carefully. “You’ve always wanted to travel the world on a ship.”

It’s like the world tilts on its axis.

Rigidly, you look up at your brother, eyes wide.

“I’m not dumb, you know. You’ve only stayed here because of me,” Archy says. “I’m the one who’s supposed to look after you and protect you. But you’ve been able to do that for yourself for a while, now. Right?”

“Archy.” You swallow. “What are you …?”

“I talked with Zoro last night. He’s willing to take you to Mirror Ball Island, if you want.” His smile is crooked, but it trembles at the corners as he continues. “You know how to sail, how to navigate. We’ll just have to add some extra stuff to the boat.”

You can barely breathe.

“There’s plenty of merchant ships there,” Zoro adds, leaning on his sword. “Your skills are valuable. Just be willing to pull your own weight, and they’ll take you on board. If not, I’ll tell them to.”

“You don’t have to –” Now you’re full-on bawling. You throw your arms around Archy, who wraps you in a bear hug, and then around Zoro, who stiffens. “Thank you so much. Thank you thank you thank you.”

“No problem,” Zoro mumbles, patting you on the back. When you let go to beam at him, he averts his eyes and rubs the back of his neck. “Just hurry up.”

Nodding, you dash back up to your house, Archy following close behind. You grab your bag, throw what you need into it, snatch your hat from your bedpost. Less than twenty minutes pass before you’re all ready to go.

“Got everything?” Archy asks once more at the dock. You nod and look at Zoro, who nods as well. “All right.”

You hug Archy for the last time. Tears spill over and down your cheeks. “Thank you for everything, big bro. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too, kid.” His voice is rough and trembly, muffled against your head. “Come back to visit sometime, okay?”

“Okay.”

Getting into the boat with Zoro, you help him check the rigging and hoist the sail. Archy unties the vessel and pushes the two of you off. As you float away, he waves, and you wave back, staring as he gets smaller and smaller.

“I’m not turning back,” Zoro tells you as you eventually settle in your seat. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Is it?

You cast one last glance back at Dokusha Village, at the small point of your brother. Then you look out at the broad expanse of the ocean. And you feel many things – joy, sadness, apprehension – but above all that, you feel –

Free.

“Yes,” you say firmly. You push your hat down and smile at Zoro, and this time, it’s genuine. “It is.”

Zoro smiles back. And as the sun begins to warm your face, you whistle your father’s song and think about the journey to come.

[k-nayee]

Wife to the Winds Epic: The Musical | ii

wc: 3.5k a/n: yeah I'm sorry y'all. I'm, a slow updater/editor. But I'm getting faster and better! Here's the animation for this part

Traveler M.List

Previous | Next

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

recap

"You truly believe you can ensure my safe passage home? After everything?"

"With all my heart..."

|

|

The salty tang of the sea clung to your hair as you followed Odysseus back to the creaking ships. The satchel against your hip jostled with every step, containing all of your life ever since the ambush of your village.

Midway through readying the ship for their long-awaited return, the men around fell silent as Odysseus approached.

Murmurs rippled through the crew as they watched their battle-scarred leader approach, a stranger by his side.

Reaching the center of the gathered crowd, Odysseus raised a hand for silence. A hush fell over, their gazes flitting between you and their captain.

"This one!" he boomed, aura carrying the authority of a seasoned leader, "is under my is under my protection. Do not lay hand upon her, show her the respect you may give to me."

Glances flicker towards you and stare intently, their faces etched with curiosity and a hint of something...more.

What it could be? You don't know, but you refuse to show it. Even riddled with fear and wary, you held your head high, posture radiating confidence.

That's when the whispers reached your ears: "A goddess, perhaps?" one muttered. "Sent to test us," another added, a hint of reverence lacing his voice.

'Wait...what?' You blink at this. Looking closer, you realize they are staring at you in awe, not lust.

You steal a peek at Odysseus, but his face remained impassive, any amusement he might've felt hidden.

'A goddess huh?' Your lips twitch, a snort of disbelief threating to escape your lips. Seems Odysseus initial shock towards you wasn't a one man reaction.

"Men!" attention is brought once more to the King of Ithaca.

"We have weathered storms. We have battled and sacrificed. Yet, victory lies within reach. Today," he brings a fist up to the heavens. "we begin our journey home!"

Cheers erupted from them, collective roars of relief and anticipation.

The rest of the day was a blur of activity: sails unfurled, oars readied for rowing—image of home ever the motivator.

Days bled into weeks, the endless blue horizon and rocking of the ship becoming your new normal.

The crew remained wary, interactions limited to curt greetings and exchanges. Your only solace came from occasional conversations with Odysseus and surprisingly, both Eurylochus and Polites.

Speaking of which, a tense discussion was brewing near the stern. Eurylochus, his weathered face etched with worry, was locked in a heated debate with the king.

"Six hundred mouths to feed," Eurylochus stressed, frustration coloring his voice, "and our supplies are dwindling! We may not make it far, we are running on fumes!"

Polites, ever the diplomat, step forth in hopes of calming the second in command. "We'll find a way, Eurylochus. Odysseus is a resourceful man—"

"Look!" Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by Odysseus himself, his gaze fixed on the sky.

You follow his line of sight, spotting a flurry of birds flying into the distance. Your brow raise at that, catching on to his proposal.  

"We watch where they go, and there we will hunt for food." Giving a firm nod, Eurylochus began giving new orders.

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

Hours had pass, soon the Sun going down leaving the stars and moon as your only source of light.

"Captain!" Polities' cry breaks you out of your daily/night inventory checkup. "There in the distance: I see a light faintly glowing."

You quickly stuff everything back into your bag, rushing over to stand next to the Greek warrior and see for yourself.

He turns and gives you a bright grin, lightly bouncing on his feet. "Maybe it's a village lighting a fire? Who knows! They might even share some food."

"No." Odysseus shakes his head. "No, somethings not right. I see fire...but there's no smoke."

Eurylochus scoffed. "Let's raid the place and be done with it!" he barked, his hunger overriding caution.

Odysseus narrowed his eyes. "No," he countered, his voice firm. "There must be another way, one that doesn't involve bloodshed."

"Captain you can't be serious, we don't know of the danger's ahead! A—"

"Just!...just give me until sunrise," Taking a glance at the awaiting crew, his voice lower in attempt to quell their bloodthirst knowing just speaking of potential fighting would set them off. "And if we don't return, burn this place to the ground."

Odysseus turns to Polities, gesturing towards the approaching island. "Polites, gear up. We'll scout ahead."

"Yes sir!"

"I'm coming with you!"

The mortal king's head snapped towards you, frown creasing his brow. "Absolutely not."

Your voice rose in protest. "B-but I can help! I'm a fast learner. My skills..."

"There will be no debate," he states, voice leaving no room for argument. "The men are weary. They need their rest. You will stay and watch over little Ajax."

Anger welled in your chest as your teeth gritted. You storm off, the sting of rejection burning in your eyes.

Being reduced to babysitting(once again) felt like an insult to your abilities. You couldn't help but pout in disappointment as you watch the two sail step off the ship, crossing your arms with a glare.

The rest of the night crawled by, the time made longer from your simmering resentment.

It was sunrise when Odysseus and Polities returned, their faces were painted with apprehension.

"We've been told of a cave with food in the east!" he said "enough to last us on our journey back to Ithaca, even extra to spare."

You perk up at the news as men were called to arms. Pushing your way into the forming group, you stand before Odysseus who releases a heavy sigh upon seeing your wide grin. 

"Perhaps I can help assess the situation? My knowledge of—"

"We have enough help," he holds up a hand, silencing you with narrowed eyes. "You stay here with Ajax. Guard duty."

You bite your tongue to keep your anger from saying something disrespectful.

Taking a deep breath, you clasp your hands in a pleading motion. "Please. Just let me help. I-I can gather herbs, o-or even tend wounds..."

"There'll be no wounds," Odysseus says curtly. "We'll be in and out, quick and quiet."

And with that, he and his newly gathered group of men began venturing east in search of food.

Though your fists clenched in fury, you knew better than to disobey Odysseus directly. Instead, you waited, a plan forming in your mind.

It was then upon spotting the ever-cautious Ithacan Eurylochus right as he prepares to leave and catch up with the main group, an idea sparks.

You quickly approach him in determined strides. "Eurylochus, there isn't any proper medical supplies on board. I'm sure the men will gain injuries on their quest for food. And for that, I will need to go and get more herbs." 

Eurylochus barely glanced in your direction, more focused on ensuring his weapons are tied on correctly as he gives a dry chuckle. "Injuries huh? I'm sure medicine won't be needed for a little wound."

"You sure about that?" Offput at the chilly tone of your voice, he looks up only to be taken aback at the emptiness of your gaze. "Even the mightiest of warriors have fallen, crossing the River Styx from a mere scrape."

A tremor of unease ran through Eurylochus. He cleared his throat, the bravado gone

"Alright," he conceded, "but if anything goes wrong..."

"There won't be anything wrong!" you assured him quickly, smile bright and innocent as if you hadn't just traumatized this man.

Gesturing two nearby men to come over, Eurylochus gives you one final look. "Now, I'm trusting you to get what you need and get out. This is Lycus and Alexander; they will watch over you, so stay close. Understood?"

You bobbed your head enthusiastically, already launching into a flurry of excited instructions for your temporary bodyguards.

Eurylochus couldn't help but shake his head and sigh as he turned to leave. "Gods...Odysseus is gonna kill me..."

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The moment your feet touched the shore, a thrill shot through you. The air hummed with an unfamiliar energy, and the vibrant foliage swaying in the gentle breeze.

Years of training under your mother's watchful eye kicked in: You recognized the landscape instantly—the lush vegetation, the specific types of trees—everything she taught echoing in your mind.

Unlike Odysseus and his men trampling path, or the impatient stomping of your guards, you carefully navigated the undergrowth with practiced grace; steps light and sure.

Awe filled you as you surveyed the diverse flora. You stopped every so often, meticulously collecting samples in your satchel, murmuring a silent thank you with each pluck.

A memory flickered from your childhood's countless foraging trips; your mother kneeling beside you in a sun-dappled meadow as her hand gently guides yours. "Plants are lives of their own...they are deserving of respect, as would any other being."

Too caught up in reminiscing the past, you miss it when your small group stumbled into a clearing.

It wasn't until you noticed the men behind you stopping themselves did you pay attention to your surroundings.

There, in the center of the area was a group of figures. Their faces were serene, eyes filled with an otherworldly light.

You couldn't help but look at them in awe, tales heard over the years could never measure up to the—

The sound of drawn weapons snap you out of it.

"W-wait!" you cry, darting forward and placing yourself between the armed men and the peaceful Lotus-eaters. "Lower your weapons! They mean no harm."

Lycus, a gruff soldier with a gnarly scar on his cheek to match, scoffs. "They could be a threat, best get rid of them while we can" he grumbles, grip tightening on the hilt of his sword.

Undeterred, you squared your shoulders and met his gaze.

"And as I said, they mean no harm. Pose no danger Look at them!" You gestured towards the Lotus-eaters, some of whom were staring at you with wide-eyes, others seemingly lost in a blissful daydream. "They wouldn't hurt a fly."

A tense silence hung in the air. The men exchanged uncertain glances, unsure of how to react.

 You pressed further, lowering your voice conspiratorially. "Besides. I'm not moving, and Odysseus wouldn't be too happy if I got hurt...now would he?"

The mere mention of the formidable leader caused the men to flinch, images of Odysseus' fearsome wrath flashing in their minds.

Lycus grunts in defeat. "Fine." Reluctantly sheathing his weapon, Alexander follows suit in a mixture of annoyance and grudging acceptance.

The Lotus people seemed captivated by the scene unfolding before them. Their gaze remained transfixed on you, faces filled with a strange mix of curiosity and wonder.

You turn and offer them a warm smile, disarming the Lotus-eaters completely. Their gaze remained fixed on you, captivated not just by your courage and kindness, but also by your beauty. 

Unlike the warriors who had come earlier, bristling with aggression, you approached them with an open heart of respect and curiosity.

And they knew this...from the moment you stepped into the forest, you were being watched after all.

So watchful of those who arrived on their island, the Lotus-eaters had seen everything: your reverence for the plant life, your gentle touch as you collected herbs—it spoke all that was needed.

They felt—no, they knew your heart held no malice. So that's why they had no problem answering any question you asked.

Meanwhile, the men assigned to guard you grow bored from the lack of conflict. They began to talk to each other, attention drifting away from their assigned duty.

After all, you seemed perfectly safe surrounded by these serene beings.

Encouraged by your gentle demeanor, one of the Lotus-eaters hesitantly approach you. He's tall, a crown of woven leaves sitting on top of his curly-hair.

Shy and gentle eyes meet yours. A tranquil smile is etched on his face as he holds out a strange bulbous fruit within his cupped palms, its surface pulsating with an otherworldly glow.

You recognize it instantly for its legendary intoxicating properties, accepting the Lotus fruit with a grateful smile.

Knowing the dangers of the Lotus and its ability to induce a blissful forgetfulness, you carefully stow it away in your satchel.

The Lotus-eaters trill in content, their voices all speaking at once in a wave of pitches.

Straining to hear what they were saying, you slowly make out some of the words drifting through the air.

"...giant..." one voice rasped, low and conspiratorial. "...big as a mountain..." another chimed in.

You pause, a flicker of unease taking root in your stomach. 'Did I just hear that right?...'

"Excuse me," you began, your voice dropping to a hushed tone, "but I couldn't help but overhear something about a... giant?"

They eagerly nod, their excited chatter confirming your worst suspicions.

The Lotus-eater from earlier locks eyes with you. You sense a flicker of concern flash across his glazed eye before murky sereness takes place once more.

He spoke, voice deep and whimsy. "The one-eyed giant in the east? He owns most of the sheep,  calls himself Polyphemus..."

'Giant...sheep...cave...east...that means—' when the pieces clicked in your mind, dread coiled in your gut. Odysseus and his men...trapped with a monstrous cyclops?

This was a disaster.  You needed to get away, and fast.

Glancing at the warriors, still lost in their own world of boredom, a devious plan began to form in your mind.

You turn to the group of Lotus-eaters and lower your voice further.

"Listen," you began, urgency lacing your tone, "there's something really really important I need to get from the cave in the east."

You give a nudge towards the lounging duo guards. "Those men who came with me wouldn't understand. Plus they're not very nice...they've been nothing but mean and unhelpful!"

The Lotus-eaters exchanged glances. Even with their peaceful demeanor they could sense your worry.

"What do you want us to do?" the crowned Lotus-eater asked, his voice laced with alarm.

A large grin stretched across your face.

"Pretend to kidnap me!" you declared, barely able to contain a giggle. "Take me to the cave. There, I can handle the rest."

Their faces broke into wide smiles. Now this was a game they understood.

A Lotus-eater with eyes the color of the sky, clapped her hands in delight. "Oh that sounds fun!"

Before you could even blink, half of the group erupted in a playful ruckus of shouts and laughter; hurling small rocks branched leaves at the warriors.

The men sputtered in confusion as nearby plants and vines creeped down and snatched their weapons, leaving them flabbergasted and unarmed.

"What in Hades—" Alexander exclaims, eyes wide with confusion as his sword was yanked from his grasp by an unseen force.

Now for your part.

Taking a deep breath, you let out the most dramatic, exaggerated scream you could muster. "Help! Oh no! They are taking me! What ever shall I dooooo!"

The distracted guards turn in time to see the other half of the Lotus-eaters scoop you off the ground. You kicked your legs playfully, still crying out in mock distress. "No! Oh no! Let me go! Someone, save meeeeeee!"

As Lotus-eaters began moving to the cave, you grimace when realizing a little too late of your lack of fighting back and reaction to being taken. 'I hope they didn't see right through me. Probably should've acted a little more afraid.'

"H-hey!" You turn back to see Lycus' stressfully looking in your direction as he tries to dodge the sticks and stones, "They're kidnapping her!"

"We must save her!" Alexander chimed in, his panicked filled voice reaching your ears before you disappear into the foliage.

You blink in disbelief at their gullibility. 'Nevermind...'

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The further you were carried away from the clearing, the more the sounds of chaos faded into the background.

When you finally reached a safe distance, they gently set you down.

Once brushing off your clothes and looking around you immediately notice the Lotus-eaters brought you to the side of a mountain.

'Where's the cave...?' Confusion flickered across your at face as you try to understand why you where there instead.

Seeing your puzzled expression, the crowned-Lotus eater stepped forward with a gentle smile.

"We brought you to a secret passage," he explains softly, "It's a hidden way that leads to where the sheep are kept. The giant one may find you at the entrance, but this path is safe."

He gestures towards a cluster of branches and vines. Pushing them aside, he reveals a human-sized crack in the mountainside before letting dense foliage fall back over the cleverly concealed hole.

A warm smile spreading across your face at their concern and attempt for your safety. "Thank you!"

Leaning forward, you stand on your toes to place a soft kiss on the forehead of the crowned-Lotus eater who's been your main communicator of the time.

His cheeks flushed a deep scarlet red as he giggled, his companions joining in with flushed faces and shy smiles of their own.

"Good luck," he whimsically mutters, still blushing.

With a nod, you turned towards the secret passageway. Your heart pounds as you carefully push aside the branch and vines and squeezed through the opening.

The rough stone walls loomed around you as distant noises faintly echo in the background.

Air growing cooler and damper with each step as you ventured deeper inside, it wasn't until then did the faint sounds became clearer—multiple voices talking and sounds of sheep scuffling around. 

You pause at the edge of the cave, listening intently.

"Over here!" At the sound of Odysseus' commanding and calm voice, you immediately peek around the corner.

The first thing you're met with is an abundance of food and resources scattered all around: Jugs of wine stacked neatly against the walls, expensive cloths rich in color and texture, to even golden chalices and cups that gleamed in the torch-light cave.

And the sheep.

There were so many! So much, a few roaming ones were so close that you could feel the softness of their wool if you just reach out to tou—

Your nose scrunch up in disgust as a pungent wave of musk, grass, and a hint of manure hits you. 'Ugh...don't smell as cute as they look. That's for sure.'

Looking past the sheep, your body almost instinctively relaxed as you saw no signs of dead bodies or a murderous Cyclops.

Instead, you spotted the King of Ithaca standing alongside his 2nd of command and friend, onlooking as the other men got to work.

"Odysseus! Look at all this food...a-and all of these sheep!" Polites exclaims, you could even make out his bright smile all the way from here. "I can't believe it! This cave, it has all this for us to keep."

Eurylochus stood a few feet away, a begrudging nod of acceptance as he keep watch of the soldiers as they slaughter sheep and prepare to carry them to the ships. "I've gotta hand it to you both, this is quite the treat. More than enough sheep here to feed the entire fleet."

"Hmmm. I'm not sure. Looks too perfect, too good to be true." Odysseus seemed unconvinced. He shifted on his feet, glancing around as unease began seeping into his bones. "Why would the Lotus-eaters pass up on all this food?"

'Okay!' You take a step back, readying yourself for the potential scolding you most definitely were going to get for leaving the ship. 'You can do this...'

He sounds worried enough, so maybe he won't be too mad?

Taking a deep breath, you straighten you back and take a step out to greet the— 

"WHO ARE YOU?" A deep, rumbling voice echoes through the cave, making everyone freeze in their tracks.

Popping your head back around the corner, the blood drains from your face once you see the Cyclops.

Odysseus steps up with a confident smile. "Hey there! We're just travelers." He waves to the giant and motion to the others. "We come in peace."

The cyclops says nothing at first. He's monstrous, frame towering above so high you could barely make out his features—a single eye glowing menacingly in the darkness as it glared down at the Spartan warriors.

"YOU KILLED MY SHEEP. MY FAVORITE SHEEP. WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO DEAL A PAIN SO DEEP?"

You stumble back with a soft gasp and try to calm your racing heart. Your mind raced as you tried to figure out what to do.

"TIME TO DRINK—YOUR BLOOD OVER WHERE YOU STAND. YOUR LIFE NOW IS IN MY HAND."

Recalling the tales and stories of the cyclops' favored weapon (a massive club), you knew it was only a moment of time...

"BEFORE I'M DONE, YOU WILL LEARN THAT IT'S NOT SO FUN TO TAKE. YOU CAME TO MY HOME TO STEAL, BUT NOW YOU'LL BECOME MY MEAL."

Your hand flickered down to the weight in your satchel. With trembling fingers, you rummaged through it.

A Lotus fruit and bundle of dried Nepenthe and Poppy herbs are pulled out the bag, now in your hands. 'Please Gods....please. This has to work...'

"A TRADE, YOU SEE? TAKE FROM YOU LIKE YOU TOOK FROM ME."

[turtletaubwrites]

A Good Catch ~ Part 1

✨600 Followers Fic Celebration!✨

I am so grateful for all of you! This has been such a wonderful time, and having all of you around to nerd out with, and to share my writing with is the best! Shanks won the poll for the next x Reader fic, and I hope you enjoy it!

Pairings: Shanks x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 4367

Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 (End)

Ao3 Link

Summary: You are an unlucky fisherwoman having a bad day, until a red haired pirate captain offers to help you out. You're pretty sure he only makes it worse.

Rating/Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader-Insert, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Angst, Teasing, Flirting, I feel like there's some romance tropes I could tag, but I usually just write smut, so please let me know what silly tropes I have in here 😅

A/N: I am having so much fun with this one! I'm doing my best to keep it to 3 parts, so wish me luck 😅 Please enjoy this fluffy first chapter!

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

“Now I’m gonna get murdered by pirates,” you grumbled to yourself as the ship crept ever closer. “Just fucking perfect.”

The windless sea was no challenge for the massive pirate ship. All you could do was sit with your pile of fish, jealous of the huge oars guiding the threat to you. 

Dread loomed as that jolly roger closed the distance, like an animal baring its fangs before it strikes. Crossed blades, and a sinister skull with red stripes over its left eye socket. 

You didn’t pay enough attention to the gossip and wanted posters to remember who was headed your way. 

Not that it matters. They’re pirates. 

It was too much to hope that they’d pass you by. 

A few voices carried over from the deck, until a tall man leaned over the side. His bright, red hair hung still against this stupidly windless sky. 

“Hey, friend,” he called, the sun at your back giving you a glimpse of his wide smile, even from so high above you. 

“We’re not friends,” you countered, crossing your arms to keep him from noticing your shaky hands. 

“I suppose not. You seem like you’re in a spot of trouble though, and we’re happy to help.”

His deep voice sounded so friendly. Genuine. Charming. 

He’s just trying to lure me into his trap. Who knows what they’d do to me on that ship…

“The sun’s getting pretty low for a small boat to be all the way out here,” he judged, trying to block the glare as he looked down at you. “I don’t think we’ll be getting much more wind today.”

“Thank you, I’ll be fine.”

His pause made your skin itch, wishing he would stop looking at you. 

“We can bring your boat with us. I’m assuming you’re from that village a ways to the west?”

It must have been a trick of your eyes, it couldn’t happen so quickly. But you swore the day inched closer to night faster with every second. You watched the light grow golden as it lit up the red haired man, and his pirate ship.

Fuck.

“I refuse to be rescued,” you choked out, nails digging into your arms. 

“Okay,” he said in an annoyingly teasing tone, “if you insi–”

“I’ll pay you for the service! I had a great haul before…”

“Sounds good to me,” he laughed, deep and hearty. As if he were truly happy. 

You had thought pirates would seem scarier. Maybe this is worse.

You barely heard his shouts  as men started to lower ropes down, prepping to save you. 

“You should know I’m armed,” you yelled up at the back of his head, continuing when he faced you again. “Anyone touches me, and they’ll lose a hand.”

“I’ll be on my guard then. I’ve been running out of those.”

You didn’t understand, or appreciate his teasing while you waited. 

~

“Welcome aboard!”

Pirates echoed the red haired man’s welcome, and you assumed he was the captain as the rest busied themselves about. He sat on deck, calm as if he hadn’t a care in the world. Now that you were so close, you couldn’t help but notice the rippled muscles of his chest and stomach between his mostly open shirt. 

Besides the cloak over his shoulders, he didn’t seem to wear anything that could mark him as captain. Unless his red hair, and three scars over his left eye… 

“Oh.”

“Oh,” he asked, moving to stand beside you. 

“The jolly roger,” you pointed to the menacing skull. “You must be the captain.”

“Good eye,” he leaned in with a smile. 

His smile should have a completely different word. The sight from your boat was nothing compared to seeing the way this man's lips curled slowly, the left side starting first as it grew, as if he was enjoying the act of smiling itself. And his eyes…

His eyes were way too close to you. 

“Are you alright?”

Concern broke that smile, and he called for someone to bring water. 

Your face flushed, hot to the tips of your ears. You realized that you hadn’t heard what the pirate had said because you were too busy swooning over his pretty eyes. 

The water was welcome, and you gulped half of it down, suddenly embarrassed about how fucking fishy you must smell with your day’s catch beside you. 

“Is there anything else you need, miss…”

Trying to catch your eyes, the pirate leaned toward you. He reached for your shoulder, and you jumped back, spilling water down your chest.

“I’m so sorry, love. I forgot about your warning.”

His soothing voice felt real as he went to a knee in front of you. 

“I do hope you will spare me my fate, I swear that no one on this boat will forget it again.”

He’s really too charming. He’s either the sweetest person in the world, or some sort of demon with powers of seduction. 

You nodded. It wasn’t like you could truly defend yourself anyway. The fear of being at their mercy kept you hyper aware of all the moving bodies around you.

“How long until we’re at the village?”

The sun was almost gone from the sky now, and you just wanted to be home. To scrub this stupid day away, and pass out. 

“It should be about three days from now.”

“Three,” you choked out, dropping the now empty mug of water, which he caught without taking his eyes off of yours.

“We’ve got some business on the other side of the island. We'll be stopping by the village to restock supplies before we head out.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” you snapped, voice louder than you meant it.

He just smirked, tilting his head.

“Sorry, love. Would you like us to toss you overboard? I don’t think you had many rescuers lined up.”

For some reason, you couldn’t get your mouth to remember that these men could kill you as you growled back at him.

“You didn’t rescue me. I paid you for a trip back to the village.”

His lips quirked as if he was fighting not to smile again. He looked down at your haul, fish still flapping in the net. 

“That is a really nice haul, miss. Afraid it’s not enough for a direct trip, though.”

Pirates came to take your fish away, and it broke the spell his irritating eyes had on you.

“Please, save this one! You can have it, just… Make sure you cook it well.”

The two men with the net followed your gesture to that fish, assuring you they would obey before taking it away.

“Why’s that one special?”

The weight of this long ass day hit you, a heavy sigh leaving your lips before you looked back at that pretty captain. 

“It was a good catch.”

He huffed a laugh, the clear amusement he got from your words making you simultaneously annoyed, and pleased. You were mentally smacking yourself for that. 

Don’t be attracted to pirates, dumbass. 

“I’m Shanks. I don’t know if you heard me before, but…”

Your skin flushed again, and he seemed to notice, a warm, evil smile slowly forming on his lips.

“What’s your name?”

“You don’t need to know it.”

He gave a real laugh then, loud, and infectious. You had to remind yourself that he was laughing at you.

“What would you like us to call you then, huh? “Fish Girl?” Maybe “Fail Boat?” Or how about “Damsel in Distress?” I think I like that–”

You ripped your hand back as soon as you’d realized what you’d done.

But it was too late.

Your idiotic, suicidal hand had shot out and smacked him, hard, right in the center of that gorgeous chest of his.

The deck roared with laughter while you shook with horror. Shanks had looked down at his chest, and when he lifted his face to yours he looked stunned. If you hadn’t just signed your own death warrant, you might have thought his face comical, brows raised high, with his mouth and eyes wide. 

“Go easy on the girl, captain,” teased a tall man with gray hair, shaking his head at Shanks.

“Yeah, come on, captain! What kinda hospitality are you giving, insulting our guest like that?”

A whole group of pirates crowded around him, reprimanding him, and giving him a few gentle punches and shoves. 

Your mouth hung open. The sight of these pirates being so playfully disrespectful toward their captain didn’t fit in your brain. None of this made sense with what pirates were supposed to be like. 

“Fine. Fine! I’m sorry, miss…”

He’d broken away from his men, leaning toward you with that question. 

“Y/N.”

He hit you with a new grin to outshine all the others, making your breath hitch.

“What a beautiful name for a damsel in distress.”

You didn’t need to hit him this time, as pirates did the job for you, even throwing things at him from across the deck. 

Maybe it was the overwhelm, the fatigue. Maybe you’d gone insane.

But laughter built in your stomach, growing through your body, until you were shaking with it. You had your hands on your knees as it took you over, and the pirates around you joined in. 

How can pirates be laughing and smiling like this with me? How can it be genuine? 

Amidst the continued roars of his men, Shanks shook his head, gesturing for you to follow him. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’ll show you.”

Frowning at the back of his head, you followed through the wooden halls until he opened a large door, gesturing for you to go inside.

He rolled his eyes when you hesitated, before going in first. 

The large room was tiled, with lockers and showers, and there he stood in the center, grinning like a creep.

“I’ll pass,” you deadpanned, backing out the door.

“Come on, fish girl,” he taunted, “you stink, and I think you’ll be easier to clean than the blankets you’ll sleep in tonight.”

Blood rushing to your face again, your mouth opened and closed as anger and embarrassment fought to take over.

Shanks laughed again, but tried to stifle it. 

“Sorry, you’re just,” he motioned to his lips, mimicking your movements. “You’re a fish girl.”

“Shut up,” you seethed, leaning toward him. “I’m not taking a shower on a pirate ship when anyone can–”

“I’ll guard the door for you, okay,” he assured, finally seeming to take something seriously. “I’ll make sure no one comes in.”

Now his stupid smile was soft, small, and sweet. You hated it.

“Oh right,” you scoffed, “like I'd trust a pirate captain. Who’s gonna stop you from coming in?”

“What makes you think this pirate captain would even want to come in here, huh?”

“Fuck you,” you breathed, turning to leave.

He was so fast. You jumped back as he blocked the door. He saw your wide eyes, and moved out of the doorway so he wouldn’t block your exit, but he still leaned close.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. Really, okay? I promise I will sit right outside this door, and not let a single person come inside until you’re done. There’s fresh clothes for you over there too. Whatever you need.”

A very fine trembling worked its way around your body as you studied him. It seemed like such a bad idea to trust him. 

But you were exhausted. 

“You’ll sit in front of the door?”

He straightened up, a look of relief brightening that serious face.

“I will.”

“Will you wear a blindfold?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he agreed with a smirk.

“And let me tie your hands behind your back?”

Shanks sucked his teeth as he leaned back. You had a second of fear as he started taking his clothes off.

But all he removed was his heavy cloak, revealing that he was missing his left arm. 

Guilt hit you, apologies about to pour out, but he held his palm out. 

“Afraid I can’t do that, but I promise I’ll do the rest. Is that alright, Y/N?”

~

This is really nice soap.

Still on edge, your body started to relax a bit with the delicious smelling soap on your skin. 

But every time you felt a moment of relaxation, you’d remember the pirate on the other side of the door. 

“You’ve gotta make it tighter, sweetie. Otherwise it won’t work.”

That fucking sentence kept tearing through your brain. The way he’d run his fingers across yours while you adjusted the cloth to blindfold him. The way his hair and skin had felt and smelled as you moved it into place. The way he’d rasped those words while he grabbed your wrist to guide you, giving it a gentle squeeze before letting his fingers trail down your skin. 

The way you had let him touch you without arguing. His fingers had taken advantage of the moment, but it had felt almost electric to let him.

“Fuck,” you muttered to yourself.

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“Uh, yeah. Thank you.”

How did he hear that over the shower?

~

“What the hell is this?”

“Sorry, love, I'm afraid I can't see what you– ow, hold on!”

You definitely had a few red hairs between your fingers after ripping his blindfold off. 

The pirate captain got to his feet to meet your eyes, and fucking snorted.

“What is wrong with you,” you fumed, tossing the blindfold at his face.

The fact that he caught it before it hit him only pissed you off more.

“There has to be something else I can wear,” you demanded, pulling at the frilly lavender dress he stuck you with. You looked like some creepy porcelain doll.

His face was going as red as his hair as he tried not to laugh.

“I’m sorry, no one’s– we don’t have anyone your size,” he choked out, clearing his throat before continuing. “We have a few more dresses like this, though. They were supposed to be a gift for a princess, so you should feel honored!”

“Fuck you.”

His lips were fucking quivering as he fought his laughter. His eyes flicked down to your clenched fists, and he relented.

“Right, sorry, okay! You can have some of my clothes, you’ll just have to roll them up, alright?”

Very judgmentally looking him up and down, you raised your brows at him.

“Do you have any shirts that actually button up all the way? Or do you expect me to let my tits hang out like yours.”

Shanks cackled then, catching himself on the wall, his eyes even tearing up a little. 

You kicked yourself for saying something so sexual in front of a fucking pirate.

“You’re a funny one, fish girl,” he teased between hiccupped laughs, “but you definitely look like a damsel in that dress.”

You kicked the pirate for being such a dick. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he huffed, wincing as he rubbed his shin where you’d kicked it. 

“Follow me. I definitely wanna get you outta that dress– I mean into different clothes,” he almost yelled, warding off a slap with his arm. “So you stop hurting me!”

Practically boiling with a mix of anger, embarrassment, and fear, you let yourself be guided along. The lantern lit halls were roomier than you would have expected, and you could hear the distant voices of the crew. 

“Here we go,” he said gently, opening another large door. He went in first again, and you entered what had to be his quarters.

Of course. We’re getting his clothes. 

It was full of rich, dark woods, red blankets, a desk that seemed to have more bottles of alcohol than anything work related on it, and a delightful, almost spicy scent filling the air. 

The room was a bit messy, and you felt out of place standing there in that frilly dress while he dug through his wardrobe, tossing clothes to the ground as he searched.

“Here, love, how about these?”

“Do you have a belt?”

~

Managing to roll, buckle, and tuck at his clothes, you were mostly satisfied as you checked the mirror.

Even with all the buttons done up, you still had to tie his shirt to keep your chest from popping out like his does. 

“You almost finished? The party’s star…”

Those pretty eyes brightened when you opened the door. His little smirk made you frown, and he held his hand up.

“You were right, Y/N. This definitely suits you better.”

He offered that hand to you, and even in the warm glow of the lanterns, you could see scars, callouses, and thick veins that made your breath hitch for a moment. 

Your hand had almost reached his when he pulled away.

“Almost forgot,” he teased, his voice somehow lower than normal as he stepped out of the doorway for you. “I’ll lose my only hand if I touch you, right?”

“I…”

“Well, I definitely won’t risk that.”

He stepped further back, letting you follow him into the hallway. 

Your brain seemed to stutter, unable to join the moment as it flew through conflicting emotions. 

Like why it upset you that he wouldn’t risk it. 

Shanks moved in close, his spicy scent filling your lungs as you looked up at him. 

“Just let me know if that ever changes.”

He turned away after a subtle wink that made your brain short circuit. 

“You comin’? I’m hungry.”

Still barefoot without your fishy shoes, you chased that red hair down the hallway.

He really is some sort of seduction demon.

~

“Hey, girly. Is this jackass treating you alright?”

“This is how you talk about your captain?”

The older man with long, gray hair ignored Shanks’ protests as he looked you over.

“You should be more worried about him,” you grumbled, narrowing your eyes at the captain.

“Ha, I’m sure you’re right.”

He grinned down at you, before motioning toward the fire. 

“Come on, the food’s almost done.”

The crew had found a remote beach, and set up camp. Their camp supplies seemed to be mostly alcohol. 

Shanks had said they had business here, and that they’d go to the village in about three days.

What kind of business are pirates getting up to on my island?

The thought was pushed aside as Shanks called for you. Most of the pirates were holding their plates, or using boulders or crates while they ate. Captain Shanks had a dingy little table by the fire, and was waving you over. 

“Come on, love. Let’s eat, and find out why that fish of yours is so special.”

The day's events hit you again, but you joined him in a mismatched chair, and grabbed a fork. 

It smelled good.

“Here,” Shanks demanded, shoving a mug of some kind of alcohol into your hand, before standing and lifting his own to address the crew. “Here’s to our luck! We found an unlucky fisherwoman, and now we’ve got good eats. To Y/N!”

The sheer volume of their enthusiasm made your eyes go wide as you faked a sip.

“So tell me, fish girl,” he leaned toward you, the small table not leaving much space between you. “Why is this fish so special?”

Ignoring him, you focused on your plate. The way it looked and smelled was perfect, but you had to know.

He watched your movements, following along as you pierced into the flesh, bringing the first bite to your lips. 

It was perfect. Whoever had cooked it had treated it right. The tender meat and the subtle flavor were given just the amount of spice to balance it out.

It would have sold well. After all it took to get it, you were grateful that it didn’t go to waste, and tasting it yourself was wonderful.

Even if you were sharing it with a pirate.

“This is incredible, Y/N. You really are a fish girl.”

Letting out a sigh, you dug in, trying to enjoy the meal that had put you in this situation. The night was filled with the sounds of music, laughter, and endless calls for cheers, the clanging of metal mugs like the shifting heartbeat of this joyful crew.

“So, I had someone take a look at your boat, in case we could help fix it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with my boat,” you spat out, wishing you could have enjoyed your meal in peace. Without this too fucking handsome and annoying pirate captain.

Shanks tapped his fingers on the table, a smirk playing at his lips. 

“That was the report,” he said softly, the teasing tone building slowly in his voice. “They did say that one of the oars is missing.”

“Thanks for the report,” you grumbled, watching the fire now.

“Come on, just tell me what happened. How’d you get stranded out there?”

“It’s none of your business.”

Your face felt hot, the fire not close enough for the burning in your skin. 

“Consider it payment then. For my clothes, and for my company,” he taunted, his voice dipping low. 

“I could do without the latter.”

“You wound me, sweet damsel.”

He put his hand to his heart, chuckling at your frown before chugging whatever was in his mug.

“It was a really good catch,” you mumbled, giving in. He scooted even closer to you, excitement in those lovely eyes, mixing with the light of the fire.

Shanks kept that beautiful mouth shut, just tilting his head toward yours as he waited.

“My grandma used to talk about her best catch. That was it,” you said flatly, gesturing to your empty plate. “She made me promise that if I ever caught a fish like that, I had to eat it myself, eat it with friends.”

“Don’t waste a fish like that on berry, sugar. It’s a gift.”

He raised his mug as you mimicked your grandma’s voice, and you brought yours up with a sigh, still just pretending to drink.

“I’m honored, then. Your grandma was right, that fish was amazing.”

Memories of her seemed to join you at the table, bittersweet, and heavier than you’d like. 

“Sorry, Y/N. You, uh… You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” you coughed, a hint of anger back in your voice as you fought against the prickling in your eyes.

“Well,” he drawled out, extending the word for way too long, “you still didn’t tell me how you got stranded out there with nothing but the perfect fish.”

Groaning, you put your forehead on the dingy table and blurted it out, as if you could make it not true if you said it fast enough. 

“I caught the fish. I saw what it was. It started to slip through my hands. I knew it’d sell well, so I didn’t want to lose it. I ended up tripping over one of the oars. I should have let it go, I could have grabbed the oar if I’d seen it slipping. But I was greedy. I wanted to sell that stupid fish instead of eating it, and now grandma’s probably cussing at me from the afterlife.”

Shanks at least had the decency to shove his knuckles between his teeth before he started laughing. 

“Oh, fuck you,” you huffed, standing to leave the captain’s dingy table.

“Wait, please,” he called, catching your fingers in his, and pulling you back toward him. Only to drop your hand as if he’d been burned when you met his eyes.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean–”

Whatever you might have said was lost in a wave of too many things at once. Humiliation over the whole thing, fear that these pirates could still hurt you, especially if you fell asleep, and the burning in your stupid cheeks because this gorgeous asshole held your hand. 

What the fuck is wrong with me today?

The moon was mostly full, so there was plenty of light on the sand as you walked away from the camp. They were so fucking noisy, but the ocean beckoned for you to sit, gentle waves like your grandmother’s sweet voice. 

When she wasn’t giving me shit, you thought with a laugh, digging your toes in the sand. 

“The ocean makes me feel better too.”

His deep voice annoyed you more than it startled you. 

Shanks sat beside you, but not too close.

Ignoring him did not make him go away. 

“What do you want?”

“I wanna make your shitty day better. How can I do that?”

“Take me home.”

“Three days on that one, love. Anything more immediate?”

Your plan to stay up all night was already failing, exhaustion dragging you down.

His eyes were so soft under the moon, the hint of a smile brightening his face.

“I don’t want to sleep out in the open with everyone. Is there somewhere… safe where I can sleep?”

Shanks nodded, looking down as he cleared his throat. 

“Of course, let me take you now.”

The ship itself seemed to be sleeping, so quiet with only a handful of crew watching it as the rest camped on the island. 

Red hair under lantern light guided you through those wood paneled halls again, until he led you to the guest quarters. 

“Here’s the key, and you’re welcome to shove this chair under the door knob as well. Breakfast will be at the beach in the morning,” he laughed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’ll probably be the afternoon depending on the hangovers, but you– Are you alright?”

He knelt at your feet, looking you over as you slumped onto the bed.

“How long were you out there today? Have you been drinking water? Are you…”

This charming pirate stopped himself from touching your forehead, and some insane, fatigued part of you reached out, grabbing his hand with both of yours. 

“I lied,” you confessed, voice quiet and close, his pretty eyes on your lips. “I can’t cut your hand off. I’m not armed.”

The slow smile he gave you now was your favorite, somehow making the light in his eyes shine brighter. Your hands reluctantly let go of him as he shifted, but instead of moving away, Shanks touched his calloused fingers to your cheek. 

“Your secret’s safe with me, sweetheart.”

Likes and reblogs bring me much ✨dopamine✨ thank you so much!

a/n: I am obsessed with these two now. What the heck. I need Shanks to make fun of me like that 😅

Tag List: @shewrites02

Part 2

| masterlist | about me | rules | ao3 | ko-fi |

[lulublack90]

Prompt 4 - Monsters

@wolfstarmicrofic July 4, word count 979

They were cornered. Before them were an array of pitchforks, knives, various pointed weapons and torches. Sirius wrapped his arms protectively around Remus.

“Get away from him! He hasn’t done anything!” Sirius bellowed at them. The answering cacophony of shouting voices was so overwhelming that Sirius held Remus closer, using his hand to cover the ear that wasn’t pressed against his chest. He used his remaining hand to cover his own ears as best he could. 

The swarm of people pressed in on them, forcing them further into the corner of two houses. “Please, just let us go!” He begged them. Remus was shaking in his arms, he was so scared. Sirius was terrified, but he had to keep a cool head if they were going to get out of this. 

A shot rang out behind the mob and they all turned to see what was happening. Sirius used those precious seconds to escape. He hauled Remus to his feet and half dragged, half carried him out of a tiny gap that had opened up. He ran with him into the forest. 

He didn’t dare look back. He’d heard them yelling moments after they were in the cover of the trees, having realised they’d disappeared. “Come on sweetheart, just a little further,” Sirius urged Remus. Remus’s feet kept stumbling, slowing them down. He’d barely transformed back. He needed rest. But right now, that was the last thing they could afford. “Come on, Remus, keep going. You have to keep going!” Sirius was panting with the effort of helping Remus. 

“Just leave me, Sirius, you escape. I’m just slowing you down. Leave me,” Remus wheezed as he begged Sirius to carry on without him. 

“NO!” Sirius roared at him in disbelief. “If you think for one second that I’d let those monsters have you just because it’s getting a bit difficult, then you have another thing coming!” He stopped for a second and yanked Remus up onto his back before he set off at a slightly faster pace. 

He soon tired. Remus was almost a dead weight on his back and the tree roots were becoming hazardous. They just had to get a bit further, then they'd be safe. The sounds of the mob had lessened as they spread out to search for them. He could hear the braying of hounds as they tried to track them. Unlucky for their pursuers, Sirius and Remus had been all over these woods, so it would be near impossible for the dogs to follow the correct scent. Plus, with what Sirius had planned, he hoped they’d lose the trail altogether.

He pushed on. He was so close he could almost taste it. The final few trees gave way to a wide river. He carefully dropped Remus on the bank and went to drag the little raft he’d made out of the undergrowth where he'd carefully hidden it days ago when the people in the village had started getting antsy before the full moon. He should have moved them on as soon as they started stirring. But he’d shrugged it off, because how would they know? He still couldn’t figure out how they’d figured out how to capture Remus in his wolf form. 

He got the raft into the water, driving the steak attached to the rope into the ground so it didn’t float away. He helped Remus onto the raft and went back for his pack. He pulled out a thick blanket and tossed it over Remus’s shaking form. He pulled the steak from the soft ground and waded out into the icy water, scrambling to get onto the raft. 

He sat down heavily on it and picked up the oar he’d fashioned from a broken branch, ready to steer them when needed. He breathed a sigh of relief once they got out into the middle of the fast-moving river. They should be able to travel further than the villagers could be bothered to chase them and then he could find somewhere warm for Remus to recover. They’d have to find somewhere new for the next full moon, but at least they had a month to sort that out. 

They were coming up to a bend in the river that would take them away from the forest. He tentatively put the branch in the water and began to turn the raft. Slowly it rotated. They were almost upon it when a figure strode out of the tree line, walking right up to the bank. Fenrir Greyback held up a rifle to his shoulder and took aim. 

The crack rang out through the trees, sounding louder than it was. The round blew above his head, missing by inches. Sirius grabbed Remus and rolled them both off the raft. He held Remus tightly around the waist and grabbed the rope. 

The powerful current kept dragging them under as they rushed to the river bend. The rifle shot rang out again. The round plunking into the water to their left. Sirius prayed they’d get out of this alive. 

Another huge drag from the current and they were being carried away from Fenrir. The rifle sounded again but the shot landed behind them somewhere. Sirius chanced a look and saw Fernir lower his weapon. They were moving away too fast for him to chase.

With his remaining strength, he shoved Remus out of the water, then followed him. They both lay flat on their backs panting. No wonder the villagers had known more than they should about werewolves. Fenrir would have told them everything he knew just so he could finally capture Remus after hunting him since he was a teen. They would have to tread carefully for a while now. It had been over a year since Fenrir had been able to track them down, but Sirius wasn’t scared. They were good at disappearing after all.  

[devieuls]

The way of love pt.I

Neteyam Sully x Tayrangi Fem Reader (Na'vi)

Warning of the Serie: MDNI. Dom Neteyam x Fem Reader; SMUT; ANGST; FLUFF; Dirty Talk; Fangs; Bites; Blood; Spit; Power Play; Jealousy and Possessiveness; Foreplay; violence; Swearing; Teasing; Unprotected Sex; Enemies (because of you, Neteyam treats you well). Aged characters: Neteyam 19 y.o / You 18 y.o SERIE

Synopsis: After a great loss happened in your family, you are forced to take a role that before did not belong to you, following a path that you will feel like your only in time. Just when you thought you were finally overcoming the loss, your clan shows up with those you blame for the great offense received. You are the daughter of the first Olo'eykte of all clans and are about to take your mother’s place to lead the Tayrangi clan, but first you must follow Neteyam (the eldest son of the man you detest with all your heart) To train him, despite your contempt for the Sullys and everything about them, you inevitably bond with the boy, unknowingly falling in love with him.

CHAPTER WARNING: Just free hate for Neteyam from you.

Lenght : 2.1k

Notes: This series will be one of my biggest BOP or FLOP, it’s a long time I wanted to write about Neteyam because... GOSH, BUT YOU HAVE SEEN HIM?! BTW. All characters will keep the age difference but will be aged eg: Neteyam 19 y.o; Lo'ak 18 y.o etc…

" y/n te Skxumew Ikeyni'ite" is your surname, means Y/n surname daughter of Ikeyni

NA'VI WORDS: PARULTSYIP: Children. KARYU: Teacher. VRRTEP: Demon. IRAYO: Thank you. OARE: Moon. 'ITE: Daughter

PART: 1 ; 2 ; 3 ; 4 ; 5 ; 6 ; 7 ; 8 ; 9 ; 10

· · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · ·

The first time the Sullys visited the Tayrangi clan, you were suspicious. You weren’t a big fan of Toruk Makto, there were rumors about him, rumors that you didn’t like him and that you were looking down on the Omatikaya family. Unlike your mother, the Olo'eykte Ikeyni, one of the few women to be clan leaders and Tsahik at the same time, you did not believe that you should be on the side of a man from another world. It also bothered you that the Sullys left their eldest son to be trained by your father, who, ironically, loved to teach young people the art of hunting.

You rolled your eyes as the girls of your clan looked at the son of Toruk Makto as if he were a living legend, a god among Na'vi, to you he was simply a na'vi with demon blood. You still remembered how your clan had offered shelter to the fleeing or homeless na'vi because of the war brought above all by the father of that Omatikayan. You growled slightly as the boy walked over to you, then turned around and walked away from him, taking a seat next to your parents, checking out the Sullys.

"My daughter. The future Olo'eykte of the Tayrangi Clan and healer of the village. She will be the guide of your son Neteyam, showing him the arts of this clan and our way." Your mother’s words stabbed you in the back, and you looked at her like it might change her mind, which it didn’t. You looked at your father, Tsentey, who, though he looked back, made you think he agreed with your mother.

You took a deep breath and walked away, trying to stay calm. You hated the idea of being the leader of that half-demon, but you couldn’t help but disobeying would put you in a position where the clan would look down on you and in Eywa’s eyes you would be undeserving to be Olo'eykte.

When evening came, your parents returned to your house and looked at you slightly disappointed.

"Ma 'ite… I know it's not something that brings joy to your heart, but it is your duty as next Olo'eykte" said your father, placing a hand on your shoulder, smiling gently, while your mother looked hard at you.

"There is no time for whims. This is the will of Eywa. An Olo'eykte is already weaker than an Olo'eyktan man. If you do not help the future Olo'eyktan of Omatikaya, someone else will and you will be just a Na'vi with a lower title" Your mother said, approaching you. " Ma 'ite. You are strong. You can do it and when the day comes, you will lead this clan, show them who you are" continued and then lifted your face from your chin. "You're a warrior. Remember who you are y/n te Skxumew Ikeyni'ite. You'll be the second Olo'eykte of all Pandora and everyone will know your name. More than Toruk Makto. But you have to make sacrifices, put pride aside. You have a goal Ma Oare" Your mother put her forehead on yours and you both closed your eyes, then nodded.

"I will." You said with conviction to see your mother smile, she was right. This was just one of the trials to reach your place in the clan.

The night passed quickly and the next day you were ready to face that demon blood, you just had to train him and then after a few months send him back to his house, to the Omatikaya. Your mother encouraged you when she saw you awake as you walked past the tree house, then headed to where Neteyam was staying, finding him already outside.

"Follow me." You hissed, then walked through the village to get out and into the woods. " What weapon can you use?" You continued without turning around to see where Neteyam was.

"Knives and Bows." He replied by keeping the pace "However I am-"

You stopped him, you stopped yourself, and then you turned around and looked him in the eye.

"I know who you are. Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan" You said to then observe it. " Bows and knives? Your arms are weak" You said approaching him, touching his arm. " Your chest tight, but you have a good posture." The boy watched you turn around and talk about him. "Do you have an Ikran?" You look him in the eye when you talk to him.

"Yes, I have one." His voice was still, as if the words you used didn’t hurt him at all.

"Can you swim?"

"Pretty good" Neteyam looked at you enchanted, smiling slightly

"Tsk. You’re like a parultsyìp. I have to teach you everything." You said sighing and then continued walking until you got to the cliff that provided a wonderful view of the sea.

"The Tayrangi clan is famous for being skilled riders of Ikran, the best. We interpret the wind, understand the sea and respect the great predators and the Ikran. You have to learn to fight with more weapons, to swim, to understand the wind and the animals that surround us" You said and then sit on the cliff, breathing in the fresh air.

"I’m here for this… what’s your name?" Neteyam’s voice was sweet as he sat next to you.

"You’re not here to make friends or get to know me. Call me Karyu." Your detached and disinterested voice made Neteyam smile, who already found you interesting.

"Karyu? So you won’t tell me your name?" he said, slightly laughing.

"Not relevant for training. Now silence. Listen to the wind"

That day you taught Neteyam the basics of understanding the wind, explaining in detail how to use this to fly better, to understand when it will start to rain or other natural events. The boy, different from what you thought, listened to you interested, asking questions and coming to understand what you were explaining. You couldn’t deny it.

"For today we are finished, tomorrow we will start with the proper guidance of the Ikran, the Omatikaya use strange methods to approach the banshees" You said, Going from the cliff and stretching you.

"Did I do well?" he asked curiously, as he stood up.

"Discreetly, you are not completely Skxawng." You shrugged, indifferent. " These are things that our children learn after a week. Half a day is something"

"Something? Does that mean I can now know your name?"

"No. Why do you care so much?" your voice was sore.

"Just curiosity" Neteyam smiled and approached you

"Hmm… if you can get back to the village before the eclipse, I’ll tell you my name. Good luck" You said, and then you went into the forest, going home alone, about an hour before the eclipse, it was impossible for her to return in time, not knowing the way back. You prayed that a Palulukan would tear him to pieces, not to have him back but you could not wish this on a son of Eywa, after all even a Palulukan deserved a better meal.

Some of your companions gathered to wait for Neteyam after hearing about that little challenge, you smiled satisfied when the eclipse came and Neteyam was not back yet. " What if he’s dead?" " Maybe he found a Palulukan." "Or he got lost" Voices like this filled the air, you shrugged and turned to leave. At that moment you heard the girls cheering and shouting the name of Neteyam happy, seeing him unharmed.

You turned and looked him in the eye, after all he still lost the challenge, so the victory belonged to you. Neteyam came up with a flower.

"There’s already been an eclipse. You lost, so I don't-" You stopped when Neteyam put the flower behind your ear, smiling at seeing you with it in your hair.

"I would have won, but I saw this Sun Lily and it reminded me of your eyes, so I looked for the most beautiful, wasting time" He said smiling, shrugging. " I’ll discover your name one day, ma Karyu"

You observed him without saying anything, you did not expect such a thing. He had preferred to lose the challenge to pick a flower to give you and did not seem upset by this, indeed, he smiled carelessly. You did not understand at that moment why your heart accelerated the beat, or why you did not immediately remove the flower, or why now you looked at it without disgust or repugnance. You recovered from your thoughts when you heard some girls being jealous of you for that little gesture made by Prince Omatikaya. You clenched your jaw and looked at him.

"You still lost." you said with the little coolness you had left.

"I did, but does it matter?" He replied promptly, and then continued, "It was worth it, the flower suits you very well."

You bit the inside of your cheek and then you turned around and left "See you tomorrow." You said dryly before saying goodbye and going home.

"She’s beautiful, isn’t she?" Neteyam said to some of the clan’s boys.

"Bro, shs's the type of na'vi who eats you alive." one of the guys laughed.

"I know, and I like it." Neteyam concluded

You reported to your mother and she immediately noticed the flower in your hair.

"It’s very nice, where did you get it?" she asked, placing the flower in your hair.

"Just a stupid gift." You confessed before you took it off and left it in your mother’s hand, going to a more secluded place on one of the tree branches.

"skxawng. just a vrrtep skxawng." You said to yourself while leaning your body against the tree. " Ma Eywa, please, Great mother, make sure he learns quickly and walks away." You asked as you watched the starry sky. " Give me a sign to bear him, because he’s a vrrtep," you said before you heard a woodsprite landing on the same ear where Neteyam’s flower used to be and then seeing it not far under the tree where you were sitting. You felt mocked, Eywa today was having fun putting everything against you, otherwise you won’t explain these coincidences.

The coup de grâce came when the branch broke, dropping you into Neteyam’s arms. If you could confirm that, Eywa was trying to make you do all these things. You sighed annoyed, crossing your arms when Neteyam looked at you to see if you were okay.

"Are you hurt? Is everything okay?" he asked concerned, checking you and clutching you accidentally.

"You can let me go. I’m fine." You answered a little sour.

"A thank you is welcome, Princess Tayrangi," Neteyam laughed, and then left you standing on the ground, watching you.

"Irayo…" you whispered quietly, turning your head to the side

"I don’t understand, can you repeat?" he said smiling

"what a skxawng…" you whispered softly. " I said Irayo." This time you said fast

"I still don’t understand, I really think you’ll have to repeat it," Neteyam laughed a little.

"Are you- Irayo." You said it out loud so he’d get it in his head, and then he’d snort right after.

"You are even more beautiful when you get angry, you know?" he said spontaneously, leaning against the tree, admiring your beauty.

You swirled your eyes, restraining yourself from splitting his nasal septum or something, but for the umpteenth time Eywa sent a signal, a woodsprite on Neteyam’s shoulder. You looked up and laughed frustrated.

"Listen carefully, I don’t know why my path is intertwined with yours. I don’t want to put up with you any more than I have to. This means that if you see me falling from a tree, let me fall, if you find flowers that remind you of me, leave them where they are, if you see me for the village avoid me" You said pointing your finger at Neteyam’s chest. "The only thing keeping me from completely avoiding you is my title and my parents. You’d be meal for Palulukan if it were up to me."

Neteyam opened his mouth to speak but you stopped him. "Don’t answer, it’s already decided. Learn quickly, I want you out of this village and away from me or my people. I don’t know why my parents sympathize with your family, but I don’t agree with them. Now, if you understand that you have to stay as far away from me as possible, nod."

The boy nodded, smiling amused, watching you get nervous.

"Good. See you tomorrow Neteyam." You said saying goodbye a second time to go home.

At that moment, all you wanted was for Neteyam to disappear, him and his manners, and take away that beautiful smile and those golden eyes. Fuck, no. You don’t have to think about it. You hate him, you hate his family, you must hate him… Do you hate him?

[echantedtoon]

Ocean Deep Ch20 Love Will Always Come Back

(Hey everyone. I just wanted to thank everyone who read this far and liked my story enough to read it to it's end. I had a lot of fun writing it and it makes me happy knowing some people loved it enough to read it fully. If you liked this consider checking out my other works. Thanks to everyone for reading this, faving it, or leaving a nice comment. And thank you to Koyoharu Gotouge for creating such wonderful characters and giving me the opportunity to make this wonderful story.)

taglist: @six-eyed-samurai @lavenderdrxp @jjamsbangtan @camilo-uwu @hopefulworld1

@shadyd3ar @amypop122 @azuredragonstrike

@mimisweetz @chaoticoperatorduckhairdo @staarflowerr @aleee-386 @summrwalkr

@nicora04 @miniverse-zen @heijihattorisgf

@lavender-moony

Everyone whipped around wide eyed at the raged filled voice and even more at the death glare that wine red eyes gave you all.

"T-Tengen?!"

He snapped his angry eyes towards you as his name toppled from your lips. His eyes lane with deep hurt under the angry present. The head of white hair and eye bags stared at you for a long moment before strong hands pulled the boat back towards him and away from the rocks jolting the the others in the boat.

"NO!!" Kanae screamed out looking panicked as the land was pulled away from her. "Nononono!!" Loud splashes echoed throughout the night air as she slapped the oar in her hands down and pushing forward to no avail. Tengen was just too strong for a single woman with an oar.

"Stop freaking out! Do you know how dangerous it is out here at night by yourselves?!" He continued to pull the boat back farther and farther before pausing to start swimming around the side, running a hand along as he made his way towards the front of the boat facing the land, the bracelets on his wrist jingling as he stationed himself there in place to start pushing the boat back where it came from.

"You all  could've been carried out by the current and starved to death! Or a siren could've eaten you!!," he continued to shout all along the way as he did so. "Or what if the boat sank and all of you drowned?! Or a rouge mer decided to snatch you up for his harem!?" That last sentence really made him angry as he hissed to himself. "WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU ALL THINKING?!"

"Tengen, stop!," you shouted holding up your hands. "What are you doing?!"

"I'm taking you all home! What does it look like I'm doing?!"

"NO! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!!," Kanae straight up yelled up at him in panic. 

"OF COURSE I CAN!! IT'S NOT LIKE IT'S A BIG DEAL ANYWAYS!! YOU CAN'T BE THAT DESPERATE TO RISK YOUR LIFE OVER A STUPID HUMAN VILLAGE!!" 

There was silence as everyone stared at him or Kanae as her face matched his own rage. Before you all watched as she stood, the boat creaking under her weight and the oar thudding as she harshly threw it to her feet. Her pink eyes glared hard at Tengen before turning sideways, spreading her arms forward, and then with a deep inhale launched herself forward-

"KANAE!!," Koyuki squealed out as you all watched her dive into the dark water.

There was a very loud splash as her body disappeared into the water, casting ripples from where she disappeared under before three seconds later the surface broke. With a splash and loud gasp a head of black hair pushed itself up from the water coughing and bobbing in and out of the small waves. Her long black hair stuck to her face and flowed out behind her as she turned and started swimming towards the land. Tengen only watched shocked too stunned to speak-

SPLASH!!

Before another splash made him look over and a moment later Shinobu's head bobbed up spitting water and slowly following her sister. ...Kanao stood up, tightened the belt around her waist before pinching her nose and mouth, and throwing herself off after her sisters another person following behind her.

"C'mon, Yuki!"

Koyuki let out a loud squeak of surprise when she was just suddenly thrown onto Mitsuri's back and without warning the pink haired girl jumped off the boat in a cannonball that let out the biggest splash of all. Sending a cascade of water over Tengen finally snapping him out of any shocked staring shaking his head and sending droplets everywhere to clear his vision and allowing him to watch the six girls swimming away from the now empty boat and reaching the rocks slowly grabbing onto the flat surfaces and hauling their soaked bodies up and onto the ledges. The ones who climbed up first turning around to reach out to help the others up followed by the two playing piggy back through the water and being the slowest swimmers. The four already on land hauling up the last two like desperate sailors on a sinking ship. 

"Run! GO!"

Kanae shouted at you all pushing Shinobu's back towards the trail of rocks towards the solid sand bank and the woods beyond. Wet footsteps thudded down the rocks as everyone just RAN. Bare feet slapping against rocks. Wet shoes squishing loudly with each desperate step everyone ran across!! Running and running and running- Until sand squished on your feet. Nice DRY sand! Hearts pounded as you all ran through the sand, kicking it up as you desperately clawed through. Shinobu slipped and fell into the sand at one point only for Mitsuri to scoop her up and just keep on running like it was nothing. 

Kanae collapsed first onto the grass. Falling onto hands and knees and letting out a sobbing wail that was held back for so long crying and clinging to the blades of green plants under her feet like it was her only lifeline. Forehead pressed into the ground and nearly worshipping its soft embrace. The long exhaustion of bodies followed around, collapsing in one way or another around her exhausted and tired. They'd done it..they were finally home! Stage Four of the plan had been successful at last. At last you felt like you could rest, laid out on the sand and catching your breath in the soft grass. Breathing heavily but being at peace...

Until a strange dragging sound caused you to look up from where you laid  and felt yourself freeze as Tengen began crawling out of the water and crawling his way across the sand towards you all. His jewelry jingling wildly as he approached.

"Hell no! Not again!" You swore that it was Shinobu who shouted at everyone as she yelled out. "RUN!!"

Footsteps moved. Shouts were heard. Hands grabbed at each other and pulled each other up quickly as the group collectively and instinctively ran for the thick treeline away from the beach with determination. Including you. You had that determination. But you looked back...And you saw red eyes. Wide hurt red eyes. Filling up with tears and letting them run down the length of his cheeks and collecting of his chin only to fall off in large drops. ..you feet slowed down and you stopped just outside the treeline. Staring at you with hurt that ran old and deep. 

"Y/N!! Y/N, C'MON!! WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE BEFORE ANYONE ELSE SHOWS UP! ESPECIALLY OBANAI!!" You didn't move. "...Y/n, what are you doing?! Come on!" Someone called out from the treeline.

You didn't move continuing to stare at the merman for a long moment. "... I'll be right back." 

"WHAT?! ARE YOU CRAZY?!" The voice continued to yell out as you slowly approached the merman again. "YOU'RE GONNA GET DRAGGED BACK TO THAT HELL SPACE!!"

Footsteps slowly approached the crying mess of a man that looked one step away from straight up sobbing. He watched wide eyed, hopeful with each step she took towards him until she stopped just outside of reach. If he wanted to be could easily just grab her and easily take her back but the thought didn't cross his mind at the moment. She silently just stared at him neutrally and unusually calm. Silent 

"How did you find us?"

....He sniff. Reaching up an arm to wipe at those eyes. "I-I can hear you.."

Ah right. You forgot about that. It's not surprising that he ended up being here. Your eyes looked to the side before you sighed and looked back to him. "Tengen, I'm not going back. Realistically I can't just live on an island in the middle of nowhere with no one else."

"That's not true!" He shouted back but you didn't flinch. "You-You got m-my wives and K-Kyo and ME! "

"I need to see more people than just you guys all the time."

"You'll have the others!"

"TENGEN!!" ...You groaned again hand rubbing at your wet face. "*Sigh* I already went over this with you. No one wants to stay there because none of us had a say in it!" You frowned hard at him. "It has nothing to do with liking or disliking you. We all have families and friends and our own homes that we haven't been allowed to see. If we're desperate enough to sneak away in the middle of the night shouldn't that tell you SOMETHING about how we feel?!"

He opened his mouth-....But couldn't find the words to say anything.

You sighed again. "We're tired. And we're going home. Can you understand that?"

"I don't want to lose you." You blinked surprised at the way he shakily reached out to you. New tears coming out. "Please. Don't you.."

Love me. Didn't you love love me?

He choked and nearly sobbed when a hand cupped his cheek. "I do like you guys..but I'm not ready for a relationship yet. So it's not a never. It's a not now, and right now is not a good time for anyone. You need to heal before I come in the picture, and I need to figure myself out. When we're both ready I'll come back."

"How do I know you'll come back?!" His hands suddenly grabbed yours. "What if you just run off and never come back?! What if you marry someone else?! WHAT IF SOMETHING TAKES YOU AND I CAN'T STOP IT BECAUSE YOU'RE NOT HERE?!"

"I'll come back because I promised you." A thumb swiped over the bottom of his eyes delicately. "And I promise you Id give you a chance to convince me to be a Mrs. Uzui." Her hands slowly left his face. "But right now we have to go home..Our home. You need to go home too and be with your family too. Alright?"

No. NO! He didn't want her to go!! She can't go! She's was safer with him!! And yet.. Something made him say yes. Nod yes. But shakily still reached out as she began backing up and turning with a sad frown. Choking and finally starting to sob as you walked away from him back towards the treeline. A weight felt heavier in your guts as you returned to where everyone was waiting for you wide eyed until Shinobu grabbed your front. 

"What were you thinking?! You could've been kidnapped again!!"

"I-"

"Nevermind." She started dragging you forward into the woods. "We're loosing time and they already know we're gone! We need to leave before Obanai catches on!"

You blinked looking back to Tengen as she continued to drag you deeper into the woods, until the trees blocked him from view and the echoes of his loud crying could no longer be heard as you were dragged along further and further behind the group. She caught you up with everyone else. All of you were tired, sore, and all soaked but you made it. You were finally going home. But now the problem was that you didn't know exactly where you were, so you all just began walking. Leaves crunching under your feet and sticks cracking. Just walking and walking and walking. Walking still when the first rays of light shines up on the world and you all were yawning tiredly. Koyuki had once again be carried by Mitsuri because her weakened body had taken a toll with the stressful night. She snored away softly on the pink haired girl's shoulders without a care in the world. Lucky.

"LOOK!!" You jumped as Shinobu stopped. And then pointed ahead at the treeline. "A ROAD!!" She ran!

You blinked looking up at where she looked. A ROAD!! A DIRT ROAD!! RIGHT PAST A FEW TREES!! In awe you followed everyone as you crashed through the woods until your feet hit the soft dirt of the road..Or should I say roads!

"I know this place!" You exclaimed looking at the form in the road and the familiar weird looking rock, before pointing up the left way. "THE TOWN IS THAT WAY!!"

"You sure?"

You nodded. "I had to come this way when I brought them back to the ocean! Home is definitely that way!"

"Then what are we waiting for!? Let's get going!"

Walking. There was SO MUCH walking. You all walked until you had no choice due to your bodies' exhaustion and soreness and because the sun was setting. Bedding down behind some tall bushes for camouflage before awaking the next morning and walking again. Two weeks you all walked and walked. Stopping at small berry bushes and small streams for food and water but otherwise still tired and walking.

Until you came across the river. Ah! This was the river you found Kyojuro in! That means the town was merely a few hours away. However the sisters and Mitsuri froze seeing it. Oh..right. This is where the sisters were abducted and near where Mitsuri was taken so of course they'd be reluctant to go near it.

"Let's all just run across the bridge and keep running until we're long gone from it!" You suggested.

There was an immediate agreement. The bridge thudded with many loud thinks as you all ran across it. Ran and never looked back. Ran and didn't look at the water. Just run and run until you were long past it and you couldn't run anymore. And then after a short rest you all continued to walk on. So close to home..And then you saw it. The first house you all needed to pass. 

The Henya house.

You stared at it for a long time before you began walking again. It looked abandoned and empty. Good riddance. You were expecting the sight before you but it was a shocked to the girls looking around in shock at abandoned buildings empty and boarded up. No one to be found on the once busy streets. Nothing but cold silence echoing throughout the entire town as you slowly walked through staring at the buildings. And then Kanao looked forward. Her pink eyes going wide.

"DADDY!!"

Like a shooting star, the teenager shot off from your group and ran from the main road and down the right on another. The look of surprise on everyone's faces at the scene you saw. At WHO you saw. A man with black hair and pink eyes was carrying a small crate out of a house and towards a wagon attached to a mule mindlessly pawing at the dirt road. He looked tired and miserable and sad, but he stopped and looked up at the sudden yell. Pink eyes widened. The crate fell out of his hands and crashed onto the ground with a clatter, toppling over and spilling dishes all over the dirt. But that didn't matter to him. None of that mattered to him. As his wide eyes took in the sight of the teenage girl ran towards him. 

"Kanao...Oh my gods. KANAO!!"

Dishes kicked aside by feet racing towards her. Arms open wide and tears starting up as a taller man ran to her, and caught the shooting star as she collided into his arms with enough force to knock the wind outta him. But he didn't care as the two gripped onto each other. Tight enough to be afraid that someone would take her away again. Soft wails echoed out from the two hugging tightly in the middle of the abandoned road. 

"DAD!!" "FATHER!!"

Two more blurs rushed past your forms and two more crying girls raced down the road only to collide with the older man still clutched onto the first one. All sobbing in one big pile only for one more to be added. Ms. Kocho must've heard all the shouting and took a break from packing to come investigate the noise, only to freeze and in a similar fashion to her husband run over to clutch onto the three girls. Crying out something along the lines of 'MY BABIES' before joining them. Both parents crying and clutching for dear life onto the three children of theirs. You three stood there awkwardly before Mitsuri suddenly gasped out and ran off up the streets more startling both yourself and Koyuki.

"BROTHER!!"

A young boy still young enough to be your younger brother but a few years older than Kanao looked up boredly from carrying a burlap sack but looked absolutely surprised when a pink and green braided hair girl came charging towards him. "MITSURI?! GAH!!"

"I MISSED YOU SO MUCH!!," she cried out grabbing him up into her arms as soon as she got close enough and began twirling him around braids swinging around wildly. 

"AHH AHH AHH!" Her brother cried out as she twirled him around and around. "Mitsi, stop! I'm gonna be sick!"

It wasn't long before her parents akso came out hearing the commotion. Both shocked to see her but absolutely ecstatic to see her back. Leaving both yourself and Koyuki awkwardly standing there and watching the scenes happening around you both. After a moment she looked at you and smiled hopefully if not still a bit sad.

"Y/n. Aren't you going to see your family? I'm sure they'd be happy to see you too!"

You flinched. "...Yeah. I bet they would've been too."

You knew she didn't mean too hurt you. She probably didn't know but it still stung. She must've senses something was upsetting you because she didn't say anything else.

"What about you? Don't you have a father?"

"He's in the next town over. It's a many days travel right up the bay."

Ah. That made more sense.

"You're such a mess!" Mitsuri's mother fretted over her. To be fair all of you were pretty much a mess. Two weeks soaked from seawater, running through woods and on dirt roads, sleeping in bushes and behind trees. You all weren't exactly prime presentable. "All of you look like you've been through hell." Well she wasn't wrong. Mrs. Kanroji beckoned for you and Koyuki to come towards her. "You girls come inside. Well get you all cleaned up and put some food in your stomachs."

Food? You perked up. Something that wasn't fish based or coconuts or wild berries from walking all the way here?! Sign you up!! You both gladly took the Kanrojis up on their offer. Getting a nice warm bath that felt like it melted away five layers of skin off, and was served beef. ACTUALLY BEEF!! AND PICKLED VEGETABLES!! You never thought you'd eat more than Mitsuri but you just might've that night. Mitsuri was even nice enough to lend both of you a few of her dresses her family thankfully kept. You felt so much better!

"What happened?! Where have you been?! How did you get back?! And who're these girls?!"

Mitsuri and you supposed the Kocho sisters must've explained everything but you didn't pay too much attention. Too busy wolfing down the delicious seasoned beef that Mrs. Kanroji had given you. IT WAS SO GOOD AFTER NEARLY THREE WEEKS OF FISH BROTH SOUP AND COCONUTS!! Well turns out they did explain everything to them. Including how Koyuki's father actually lived the next town over which was a few days journey, and coincidentally the place the Kanrojis and Kochos were moving too. After waiting so long and literally everyone else leaving, they had given up on ever seeing their daughters again and were in the middle of moving to be with other distant family. It was only by luck you all happened to come by just on time as they were packing to leave the very next day.

"You're free to come with us, Koyuki," Mr. Kanroji offered with a smile. "We'd be happy to help you get home after you helped our daughter."

"Really?!" She beamed at them with big eyes. "Thank you! I don't know what to say!"

"Of course! We leave first thing in the morning so be sure to get plenty of rest." He then turned to you. "You're free to travel with us too, Y/n."

"Hm?" You looked up at him blinking.

"Well the last few people here were all of us, and the Henyas and Satoshis. But Mrs. Henya left a long time ago. Just slung a bag over her shoulder one day and left. And the Satoshis all left after their horse went missing and they couldn't keep up the farm without it."......Oops. You suddenly felt bad. But at least you knew they left town to somewhere safer. "You're free to come with us as well. A young girl alone in this abandoned town .. Doesn't sound right."

Yeah alone 

"I-I'll think about it. Thanks for the food, Mrs. Kanroji. But I think I'd better go check my home."

Your home was rather empty when you opened the door. Dust seemed to have settled on everything and it looked the same as the other buildings did. Abandoned. Empty. You stood there for a long time and turned. Footsteps echoed throughout the hallway as you stopped in front of the bathroom door still open from when you left here. The cold room devoid of Life and bathtub completely empty of both water and Mermaids. Any moment you were expecting to hear Suma's voice shouting your name and Makio yelling at her to shut up again. Hearing Kyojuro's loud booming laughter and Hinatsuru calming everyone down with her soothing voice. You can just picture what Tengen would say about all of this.

"Ah! My flamboyant family is thriving once again I see. But you're forgetting to add me!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the idea continuing to walk through the house. Huh...Did you always have such little furniture? And was the house always this big and empty? It felt so much bigger. So much emptier. So much more space. So little anything really. It made you feel small in your own home...Funny how you were so desperate before to get back here and now..it felt so lonely.

You did lay down in your old bed, but it felt different from before. Nothing like the warmth you shared when you took naps with them....

"Ah. Ms. L/n! Have you decided to come along after all?"

You stood there, bag slung over your shoulder and staring at Mr. Kanroji. You caught both families in the act of leaving just in the nick of time too. "It depends. Where's this town you're going to located at?"

"It's a much bigger fishing town up the coast. My wife's family lives there so it'd be a good idea to stay with them until we get resettled especially since it's not safe here anymore."

"Is it along the West Coast?"

"Yes! A beautiful view! You can even spot some islands in the distance a bit aways from the shoreline."

Tengen's territory. You smiled. "Well if that's the case I'd love to travel with you."

He smiled. "Go right ahead and hop in with the other girls. We're leaving as soon as Mitsuri gets her cat in a crate."

It was ironic really. Leaving home after you worked so hard to get back. Traveling the same path you did when you came back. The families hurrying their carts over that cursed bridge and getting as far away from the place where it happened as possible. Going back through towards the form in the road, but turning down the way you never went before slowly watching as the pathway back towards the beach where you left Tengen crying and begging for you to come back to him. 

Just wait a bit longer. You'll be back. You smiled. You'd be back real soon.

*****

The water was warm today. Very nice as they sat on the rocks. Of course there was always the occasional human gawker gazing out and pointing out them but they knew better than to try and approach them by now. The rocks surface was smooth obviously smoothed out by the sea water waves rolling over them for so long. It made for a perfect spot for him to just lay there and stare at the blue sky. Well that was before a pouting face leaned over him to stare down at him.

"Tengen! Makio pushed me off again!"

"Well then stop that obnoxious snoring! You sound like a walrus with a headache and bad tooth!" 

"I do not! Wwaah! Tengen, tell her to stop being so mean to me!"

He couldn't help but chuckle and dawn a smile before going back to close his eyes. "You know it's Kyo's day to stop the disputes today. I'm taking my time napping."

"Wwwaaahhh!! That's not fair!"

"What's not fair is you snoring my ears off!!"

"LET'S NOT FIGHT NOW!! Suma! Come here! You can cuddle up with me right now!"

"Kyooojurooo!! So considerate!"

He sighed happily settling down back against the warm rock. Listening to the loud sloshing of waves giving their lullaby. The breeze dusting over them. The sweet smells of salts and distant plants from land.

"Tengen!" 

He paused. Body going rigid at the voice calling out distantly over the wind....Nah. He must be hearing things. He slowly relaxed back.

"TENGEN!!"

Red eyes popped open. His partners jumping as he shot upright and paused.. before his head snapped around. And his eyes widened at a woman figure on the beach far away waving a full arm at him. You stood there having spotted him from afar and waved your arms at him. It took a few days constantly scouting out the coast until you could find them again and by luck spotted them just off the coast laying on some rocks. You knew it was them by their colors even if you couldn't see them too good from far away. Like you suspected, Tengen's hearing had caught onto your voice and the white blue pushed up from the rocks. Head turning to you...And then you saw the white blur quickly dive into the water. 

Here he comes. 

Smiling widely you watched and waited right in the water as a massive white blur approached. And then a body breached the water with a massive splash sending water droplets all over yourself as something large crawling up to you with the distinct sounds of jingling jewelry. Red Wine eyes wide and a wide smile on his face.

"Well..looks like I was right and my incredibly flamboyant fiance couldn't stay away.~"

You only smiled wider. "Try your wife."

His eyes blinked confused. "My wife?.." Before an even larger grin came over him. "Even better.~"

[monstersandmaw]

Laces for a Lady - 18th century poly shifter romance (Part one, sfw)

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me. 

Well folks, here it is. You said you were interested, so I hope it meets expectations! Here's part one for you, of a multi part story. If you want to kno wmore about it, you can find some more info here, as well as a little 'mood board'.

Content: sfw, the daughter of a country gentleman from Sussex relocates to a sleepy fishing village in Cornwall in order to become the paid companion of a young widow, and meets some of the locals on her arrival. Wordcount: 3972

Five and twenty ponies, Trotting through the dark - Brandy for the Parson, 'Baccy for the Clerk. Laces for a lady; letters for a spy, Watch the wall my darling while the Gentlemen go by! ~ from ‘A Smugglers’ Song’, Rudyard Kipling (1906)

In the cool, lavender light of a late spring dawn, a gaff-rigged cutter drew into the sheltering arms of a small bay at high tide, and quietly dropped anchor. As if the soft splash had awoken him, a cockerel spluttered to life in a farmyard somewhere inland, but most of the villagers were already up and awake and steering their small, secret fleet of boats out from the golden crescent of sand beneath the cliffs to meet the waiting ship fresh from Roscoff.

Beneath the waves, where churning kelp moored itself in unyielding handfuls to the ancient granite of the sea floor, a long, serpentine shadow snaked between the stalks, and the currents of the coastline subtly shifted. Any revenue men trying to sail along the coast from Fowey to catch the smugglers would have found the wind and tide set dead against them, and in the subtle wake that wafted from the mottled, eel-like tail as it passed unseen, the waters of the secluded inlet calmed beneath the keels of the scurrying fishing boats. The drag of the oars through the waves lessened, and muscles already tired from heaving and hefting goods up the cliff moved a fraction easier for the unexpected boon.

Between them over the next hour, the gathered men and women shifted their haul of half anker barrels and dozens of crates and boxes of goods ashore. The small kegs of rich, French cognac would fetch a pretty price all across Cornwall, and along with the liquor came smaller luxuries like lace and silk, and bundles of tobacco and spiced tea, all meticulously wrapped in oil cloth to keep the sea and the salt and the water out.

And when the speedy, slender ship was riding noticeably higher in the water, the locals simply melted away into the countryside like so many mice from a late summer granary before the excise men even knew the ship from Guernsey had visited the cove at all.

Fifteen miles away, as the sun breached the horizon and cast its first rays of warmth along bellies of fleecy clouds and the flanks of blossoming hedgerows below, a stagecoach lurched and rumbled westwards along potholed roads, and a young woman stared out of the grimy window as the horses carried her into a new chapter of her life.

After leapfrogging some two hundred miles or so along the staging stations that dotted the South Coast, with nothing but a small trunk of her belongings and a thrice-read, dog-eared novel for company, Eleanor Bywater was more than ready to see the back of that infernal stagecoach. Had it not been for the small but inconveniently bulky travelling case sitting at her feet, she might have hired a horse and ridden from the last staging inn at Plymouth to reach the secluded fishing village of Polgarrack, but given that the trunk held all her worldly belongings, she had not been quite desperate enough to escape the discomfort of hard seats and poor suspension to abandon it.

Bouncing along in the nearly-empty stagecoach, she studiously tried to ignore the older woman sitting opposite her. She’d stared intently at Nel since they'd left Plymouth behind that morning, and her scrutiny had begun to make that last twenty mile stretch feel much, much longer.

Finally, after jouncing over a pothole deep enough to start prospecting for copper ore at the bottom, Nel gasped and then raised her eyes to meet the woman’s openly curious stare. She found sympathy for her own discomfort, and a small degree of kindly amusement too. 

“Where are you headed, miss?” the stranger asked after Nel raised the hint of an eyebrow at her as the silence stretched.

“Polgarrack.”

At that, the woman’s grey eyes narrowed in confusion. “Now what takes a young miss like you to an old fishing village like Polgarrack?”

She looked to be in her fifties, though a life beside the harsh sea had weathered her features somewhat, and her wiry grey hair was covered by a simple linen cap. Her dress was dark and plain, though there was a hint of tired lace around the neck and cuffs. Her hands had the tough, reddened look of someone who scrubbed pots and salted fish, while Nel’s own hands were smooth and soft, if a little ink stained from sending a letter to her friend before leaving the inn that morning.

Nel laughed quietly and shrugged. “There’s no mystery to it,” she said. “I am to be employed as a companion to the widowed Lady Penrose at Heath Top House. I am expected there this afternoon.”

Given that only ladies of relatively high social standing themselves tended to become a ‘lady’s companion’, the older woman made a hasty re-evaluation of her fellow traveller, and her already ruddy cheeks flushed a darker shade as she cleared her throat and looked away.

“Begging your pardon, miss,” she said. “We don’t get many new faces in Polgarrack, is all. I didn’t mean to pry or cause offence with my questions.”

“No harm in a little curiosity,” Nel said, trying to put the stranger at ease to avoid any further awkwardness between them on the remainder of their journey. “I take it you’re from Polgarrack yourself then?”

“Oh, born and raised, miss,” she chortled. She eyed the forest green redingote Nel wore, with its rather masculine high collar, wide lapels and small, gold pocket watch dangling on a chain, and the contrasting sage green skirts beneath, and no doubt made one or two judgements of her own about the young lady. “And yourself? You don’t sound as though you’re from these parts at all, if I may be so bold.”

Nel smiled. “I’ve come from Sussex.”

The woman’s watery, grey-blue eyes widened almost comically and she gasped. “’at's a bloody long way, miss! And all on your own?” She shook her head but remembered herself and mumbled, “Begging your pardon.”

“You’re right,” Nel sighed, letting her gaze slide to the window to watch the countryside roll past in a blur of salt-bleached grass and vibrant yellow gorse flowers. “It is a bloody long way.” And her spine and backside felt every lump and bump and lurch of the stagecoaches from Sussex to Cornwall. With a warmer smile, she turned back to the woman. “My name is Eleanor, but most people call me Nel.”

“Agatha,” she replied with a grandmotherly smile of her own for the young woman. “But everyone calls me Aggie. My husband, Martin, is the village carter and smith, and we’ve got four boys, all of them either fishermen or miners. They all married too, so I’ve got nine grandchildren, if you can believe it!”

Nel offered Aggie her congratulations and another little smile, and then ventured to ask, “Will you tell me a bit about the place? I should like to know more about it, since it is to be my home for the foreseeable future.���

Aggie brightened even more and shuffled her plain, dark skirts, giving a wince and a grunt as the coach lurched over a pothole and the driver cursed audibly above them. Settled, if not entirely comfortable, she began.

“Well, see now. Folks has been fishing these waters for time out of mind. Pilchards is our mainstay, o’course, but the folks over St. Austell way mine clay, and obviously there’s copper and tin mines all over in the north of Cornwall. Mining here is as old as fishing, but it’s starting to dry up here and there now, o’course.”

She barely paused to draw breath before barrelling on, and Nel sat and listened while the older woman talked.

“Now, your Lady Penrose married into the Penrose family — see, she’s from Bath herself originally, though I can’t rightly remember what her family name was, but…” Nel let Agatha's potted history of the fishing and mining community wash over her, paying just enough attention to make polite sounds at the right pauses, but the discomfort of the journey and a decided lack of sleep was beginning to wear her attention span down to a single, fraying thread.

After two hours in the swaying, rolling coach, she felt woozy and weak-stomached, but with Aggie’s near-constant chatter, she at least had a better understanding of the politics of the little village than she’d ever have gained in six months on her own. She’d also learned why Aggie had been in Plymouth, since most folks never had any reason to travel further than the bounds of their own parish. Agatha’s sister’s husband had apparently been killed in the American Revolutionary War some ten years earlier, and since the widow’s health wasn’t the best these days, Aggie made the trip along the coast when she could to see her and take care of her.

Nel’s ticket took her as far as Whitcross, a desolate intersection of paler roads on a clifftop overlooking the tightly-nestled fishing port below, and away across the heather and tufted grass of the heath, she could just see an old manor house in the distance, flanked by tall copper beeches and ash trees. It looked slightly further away than she had anticipated, and she glanced apprehensively down at the travelling trunk at her feet.

Still, she was aching for fresh air and to be free of the sickening motion of the carriage, so she took the driver’s hand and allowed him to guide her safely down onto the hard-packed surface of the road before he lifted her case down for her as well.

From inside, Aggie peered out and scowled disapprovingly. “Now just you wait a moment,” she barked at the driver, who cocked an eyebrow but did pause. “Did they not send someone for you, dearie?” she asked Nel, still leaning out of the doorway and peering about like a disgruntled badger, and using the endearment freely. Apparently, two hours of talking non-stop at Nel had removed any pretence of formality or sense of social distance. Nel might as well have been adopted into Aggie Carter’s family as a niece by that point, and she couldn’t help but smile at the warmth it conjured in her chest.

“I… I never thought that far through,” she admitted, with her hand atop her bonnet as the wind gusted up from the sea below, soaring delightedly over the edge of the cliff and racing on inland as if to continue the momentum of the great rolling breakers that foamed and thundered against the shore. The coachman glanced at his pocket watch and groused something about a schedule that was almost immediately lost to the next inward gust.

“No, no, dearie,” the old woman scoffed. “No, you must come into the village. It’s far too far to go all by yourself, and with that case as well. Here, let me —”

“I can manage the case, I assure you,” Nel said with a gentle smile as Aggie half-toppled, half-leaned out of the coach to pick up the case. “How far is it to the house?”

“Two miles up that hill yonder,” Agatha said, pointing with one gnarled and arthritic finger towards the house on the rise to the north. “Come to the Lantern, and we’ll have one of the lads take you up once you’ve caught your breath.” The Lantern, as Nel now knew thanks to Aggie’s detailed prattling, was the inn at the centre of the village, right on the water near the harbour.

She had been about to protest, but with a sigh, she simply nodded. The constant journeying and jolting had worn her down more than she cared to admit, and while she wasn’t the kind of wallflower she’d met any number of times in London during the Season, a life led mostly indoors with few opportunities for physical activity had not prepared her for a two mile walk in heavy, too-fine clothes, carrying an unwieldy case in gusty conditions. Her family had been invited a number of times to Goodwood House to walk the large park there, and she had frequently ridden a rather spirited mare through the parkland of Lavington Hall with her dear friend William, so she was not entirely unused to the great outdoors, but she did have to admit that her experiences had been rather more curated and sanitised than the wild expanse of heathland visible on all sides of the stagecoach from Whitcross.

“You’re kind, Agatha,” she said, and let the woman heft her case into the otherwise empty coach.

The thing about a tiny village was that an outsider stood out a mile, and a young lady in her mid twenties and dressed in impractical, rich green clothes, stood out like a beacon in a dark night. Everyone turned to watch her as she disembarked from the coach. At home, she had barely garnered a look from anyone. Being the centre of everyone’s curiosity there was novel and, in a word, horrifying.

She almost blurted aloud that one would think she was a revenue man come inspecting for smuggled goods, but she bit it back just in time. Cornwall’s so-called ‘free trade’ and smuggling rackets were absolutely none of her concern as an outsider, infamous though they may be, and it would do her no good to start sticking her nose where it did not belong.

The Lantern was a half-timbered, two-storey building that faced the walled harbour. Its painted sign was peeling and sun-bleached, and it squawked something dreadful as it swung back and forth in the squalling wind. Mullioned windows glinted and shimmered, though the small, diamond panes were caked with a haze of salt spray, and alongside the inn, a hand-cart rumbled down from a narrow side alley towards the harbour beyond, where fishing boats bobbed on their mooring lines at the lapping high tide.

Agatha pushed open the black-painted door but came to an abrupt halt as someone appeared to be leaving the inn at the exact same moment, and nearly barrelled into her and Nel.

“Oh, excuse me,” came a young man’s hoarse tenor, and he stepped aside within the inn’s small porch to allow the two women to enter before he left.

Nel noted briefly that he wore well-made but plain clothes, and carried a hefty looking cane in his left hand, upon which he leaned while he waited for them to pass. He was pale and thin, his undyed linen shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders, and his light brown hair was tied back at the nape of his neck into a horsetail. The moment he met her eye, he inhaled in surprise and almost immediately looked away, his large, dark brown eyes turning shy and uncertain. “M’lady,” he mumbled without looking up.

She didn’t have time to correct him and tell him she had no such title, because the moment she had stepped inside, he was off out into the day beyond, limping markedly on his right leg as he went.

Nel turned back to find Agatha waiting for her, watching. “That there was young Edmund Nancarrow,” she supplied as Nel caught up with her. “Local lad. Lots of Nancarrows in this area,” she chuckled. “Can’t move for tripping over a Nancarrow. He was a shy, skittish thing even before he went off to war in the Colonies and came back with a bad leg,” she added. “But he’s a sweetheart if ever I saw one. Tailor’s ’prentice he is now.”

At that, Nel just nodded. Something in her ached when she realised she probably wouldn’t have much to do with the folk from the village once she was ensconced up at Heath Top House, and she half wised she could. They already sounded far more interesting than the Lady Winnifred Penrose, with whom Nel had only exchanged a short flurry of letters before becoming formally engaged as her ‘companion’. 

Still, an unmarried woman of Nel’s age and social standing was considered almost past her prime, and given that the few marriage proposals she had received had faded into the mists of her very early adulthood, she had had to find another respectable way to support herself. Hence, Heath Top House.

Aggie bustled her into the main room of the pub, and their arrival caused a flurry of activity that drew the eyes of a good few patrons. 

Seated at the wooden bar inside, hunched over a pewter tankard, sat a tall, bulky man in his late-thirties or early forties, with long, thick, dark grey hair shot through with a shimmer of silver white. He had it tied back off his face in a low ponytail at the nape of his neck and as he turned to regard Nel’s arrival, she met unusually deep green eyes surrounded by a web of crows’ feet lines in a tanned, weathered face. His scowl was dark and full of suspicion, but even the storm clouds in his expression couldn’t mask the fact that he was handsome, in a rugged, rough-hewn kind of way.

When she saw where Nel’s attention had snagged, Aggie let out a little gasp and snatched her by the upper arm to steer her towards an empty table in a bay window, about as far from the wooden bar where the man still sat and glared at them as it was possible to be. 

“And that’s Locryn Trevethan,” Aggie hissed as she saw Nel settled into a seat. “Can’t say as I’ve seen him in here more than a handful of times this year though. He’s usually out on the water. Lives alone in an old stone cottage round the bay from here, up at Pilchard Sands. You’d probably best be giving him a wide berth, miss. Not that he should give you any trouble, mind,” she amended carefully, “But he’s not for the likes of you to go mingling with.”

Nel smiled at the protective tone in the older woman’s voice, and nodded once.

With her warning given, Aggie raised her voice and called over to the old man behind the bar. “’ere, Tom! This young lady needs a ride up to Heath Top. You think you can arrange that for her?”

The stoop-shouldered, white-haired man nodded and knuckled his forehead at Nel across the space. “Not the finest, but we got a cart.”

“If you have a horse, I could ride,” she said, trying to be helpful.

“Ain’t got a saddle for a lady,” he said regretfully.

Memories of galloping through the leafy trees of Lavington Hall’s parkland with William flashed across her mind and she suppressed a smile. She certainly hadn’t ridden the grey mare side-saddle while keeping up with her childhood friend, and although it had been a year or so since she’d sat astride a horse instead of side-saddle, she thought she could manage well enough. “I know how to ride a man’s saddle,” she said, “But I do have a travel case I’d need to send someone back for.”

“I could get one of the lads to bring that up for you after,” said Tom, “But it’s almost as much effort to hitch up a cart as it is to tack up a horse for riding, ma’am.”

“Whatever is the least trouble for you will do fine,” she said, and the stoic, weather-beaten old man’s red cheeks darkened and he ducked his head.

While Tom left to sort out transportation to the house, Aggie flapped about getting some refreshments for Nel, leaving her to wait at the table alone.

In the wake of the hubbub and pother Agatha left behind her, Nel took a long, deep breath looked around to find Locryn Trevethan still staring across the room at her. Taken aback by his directness and the intensity of his glare, she tried to smile, but his expression remained thunderous beneath strong, dark brows, and she quickly looked away, embarrassed.

In a face turned to leather by the sun and sea-wind, wide cheekbones and a heavy brow framed his piercingly green eyes. Never mind that marked crow’s feet around his eyes that made him look like he would rather have been laughing; the contrast between the dark, hostile glower and the soft laughter lines unnerved her and made her feel off-balance, as though her stranger’s presence in their local pub had unknowingly raised the ire of a usually gentle man. 

He had a short, neatly-trimmed, salt-and-pepper beard around full lips that were currently turned down at the corners and which bore a silver-pink scar across the middle. Despite the warm day, he wore a fisherman’s dense, woollen sweater, and when she risked another look back at him, she found him still frowning openly across the bar at her.

Nel didn’t relax until Aggie returned, at which point the man snapped abruptly out of his trance, slammed a coin down on the bar, and strode from the pub on long legs that were thick as tree trucks at the thigh. The door bounced back off the plasterwork in his wake and his boots rang on the flagstones outside.

“Not one to welcome strangers, I take it,” Nel muttered, and downed half of the cheap, watered-down wine that Agatha had set on the table for her.

“Oh don’t you pay him no mind, miss,” Aggie scoffed, settling herself down into the seat opposite her like a brooding hen and glaring at the pub door. “He don’t seem to like no one in Polgarrack save for sweet Ned Nancarrow, strangely enough. Then again, I ain’t met no one who’s taken a disliking to sweet Ned. Now, Tom will have the horse and cart ready for you in just a moment, but you just take your time and recover after your journey.”

Nel, who had felt ten times better the moment she’d taken her first proper lungful of sea air on stepping out of the swaying stagecoach, looked across the table into the older woman’s face and found a mother’s kindness and compassion in her wrinkled face, and something twisted in her gut. “You’re very kind,” she whispered, unable to muster anything more. “Thank you.”

She chuckled. “You know, and don’t you take this amiss, but you remind me of my niece a little, though she’s a little younger than you.”

Nel’s eyebrows twitched in wry amusement, and Agatha blushed at the impropriety of her words. Nel didn’t get the chance to reassure her because Tom shuffled back in and told her the cart was ready for her.

She laid a coin on the table for the wine and stood, following the innkeep out into the yard and clambering up with her case into the back of the cart. It was hardly a very dignified mode of transport for someone of her station, and when Tom said as much while they rumbled out of the inn’s yard, Nel just laughed and said she didn’t mind.

“Anything is better than that awful rolling stagecoach,” she beamed, and swung her legs back and forth like a child off the back of the cart bed while Tom clucked his tongue at the horse to hurry up.

As they trundled up the narrow, cobbled street from the harbour, they passed Edmund Nancarrow standing outside a tailor’s shop, talking with the beast of a man from the bar. Both men looked up and watched her pass like she was some kind of rare spectacle.

In a way, she supposed she was. 

Still, she smiled at them despite her nerves, and Edmund knuckled a non-existent cap at her with a shy smile, while Locryn just glared.

She sighed and wondered what this next chapter in her life would bring.

___

Next chapter ->

Well, what did you think of it so far? I can't wait to hear your thoughts on it, as always!

I hope you’ll consider reblogging as well as leaving a like if you enjoyed it. Take care, and I hope you have a lovely day/night wherever you are, and whenever you read this.

| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

[h3k3t]

𐌂𐌀𐌋𐌙𐌐𐌔Ꝋ

🐚𝕾𝖚𝖒𝖒𝖆𝖗𝖞: ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴀᴠᴇꜱ ʙʀɪɴɢ ᴜɴᴇxᴘᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ɢɪꜰᴛꜱ, ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ꜰᴏʀɢᴏᴛᴛᴇɴ 🐚𝕻𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: ɴᴀᴍᴏʀᴀ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 🐚𝕲𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: ᴘᴜʀᴇ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴍɪɴᴏʀꜱ ᴅɴɪ! 🐚𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖘: ɴᴏ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ (ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ɢʀᴀᴍᴍᴀʀ ᴇʀʀᴏʀꜱ), ɴᴏɴ-ꜱᴘᴇᴄɪꜰɪᴄ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ɴᴏ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴏꜰ ʏ/ɴ, ɴᴏ ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ᴏʀ ᴇᴛʜɴɪᴄ ᴅᴇꜱᴄʀɪᴘᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ, ɴᴏ-ꜱᴘᴏɪʟᴇʀ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx, ꜱᴇx ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ, ᴛᴇᴀꜱɪɴɢ, ᴇᴅɢɪɴɢ, ᴄʟɪᴛ ꜱʟᴀᴘᴘɪɴɢ, ꜰɪɴɢᴇʀɪɴɢ, ᴘʀᴏʙᴀʙʟʏ ɪɴᴀᴄᴄᴜʀᴀᴛᴇ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴ (ɪ ᴜꜱᴇᴅ ᴀ ʏᴜᴄᴀᴛᴇᴄ ᴍᴀʏᴀɴ ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴏʀ, ʜᴏᴘᴇ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ʀɪɢʜᴛ), ɴᴀᴍᴏʀᴀ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ɴᴀᴍᴏʀᴀ, ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴅᴀʀᴋ!ɴᴀᴍᴏʀᴀ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱQᴜɪɴᴛ, ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴀ ᴛᴀʟᴏᴋᴀɴɪʟ ᴡᴀʀʀɪᴏʀ ʟᴏᴏᴋɪɴɢ ꜰᴏʀ ʜᴇʀ ᴍᴀᴛᴇ.

You promised yourself to go on a spiritual journey. Abandon the gray and monotonous high walls of the city, the hustle and bustle of the main streets and probably the constant calls from your boss and your mother wondering what happened to you, letting time stand still for a month or so, let the your body stopped so you could enjoy those hours you took too long to do your every duty as best you could. Even your well-being was your duty after all, and taking some savings and renting a simple house in a delightful village on the shores of the Atlantic near Michoacan seemed like the right solution to reconnect with the beauty and peace of mother nature. You had never minded immersing yourself in unspoiled nature, letting yourself be cradled by those crumbs of the world's purity, digging up out of mere curiosity the little secrets it hid and which, at the same time, it offered to the bravest; certainly you would never have thought that in that small village stories were told of a people who protected the salty and crystalline waters that kissed the white and sandy shores of the beaches.

It was a group of elderly women who told you about it, almost as a warning, rather than a story for tourists. They had reminded you not to venture where the waters got deeper, not to disturb the sea and the creatures that lived there. The guardians were excellent sentinels in protecting that territory, but very strict with those who crossed certain borders.

You had always liked to hear and treasure the legends of local folklore, because that was how you had taken the words of those old ladies, as a legend. Perhaps some local fishermen had invented such stories to keep away the more annoying tourists, in fact some of them had no respect for both the local fauna and flora, it had to be like this. But you wouldn't have been a problem, you just wanted to take a walk on the seafront, accompanied by the moon, perhaps looking for some inspiration for your next book to write.

Your bare feet sank into the sand, still warm from the heat accumulated over an entire day, while a light sundress softly covered your body up to mid-thigh. The night wind caressed your hair and your skin, the colorful fabric of your dress fluttered, followed by your rocking sandals that you held in one hand. Absolute silence reigned around you, cradled by the sound of the waves and the palm leaves that intertwined and collided with each other. Your steps took you away from that village, until you found a wooden pier built in a modest and crude way, to which a boat with an oar was tied. With the hope that some wooden beam would not give way, causing you to fall disastrously into the icy sea water, with a careful step you reached the end of the pier, sitting on the edge and letting your feet immerse themselves in the water, providing you with a pleasant relief. It was hard to admit it, but perhaps you had managed to find your happy place in the world, a place of peace, where any possible negativity that had accompanied you to that remote Caribbean tourist territory was now only a distant memory. If your boss didn't have the habit of exploiting you so much, you could have asked permission for an immersive experience in this place, to find inspiration for the next novel faster.

Shaking your head, you left the idea where it was born. It would never have happened, you admitted disconsolately as you kicked the waves with your feet trying without success to make them change direction, just like a child would have done. Your gaze was lost in the starry sky and letting a sigh escape you made it fall towards the sea and the horizon. It was calm, flat as a sheet of glass, so clear that your face twisted in puzzlement as I spotted a small silhouette on the horizon. You originally thought it was a palm branch floating unusually on the surface, as it was backlit by a full moon. But then the shape began to advance, slowly, carefully, like a feline ready to attack, and as it got closer to the shore, you could notice what was the shape of a head, a human head floating, adorned from a tribal headdress. No, that couldn't be possible. How could a head float in such a calm sea without you noticing it? They couldn't have followed you during your walk, perhaps the villagers wanted to make another tourist of that earthly paradise the victim of a bad joke? Or maybe it was your suggestion, your usual vivid imagination? Whatever answer it was, it was obvious that it was time to go home and get out of the way, while you were in time. All you had to do was get up, turn around and walk briskly back without attracting any more unwanted attention, it was the middle of the night and it wasn't wise to stay that long alone in an unfamiliar place, however… Your body seems to disobey your orders. As if you were the victim of a spell, your feet seemed to have cemented themselves in the sea water, while your eyes could not tear themselves away from the hypnotic shape which in the meantime had almost reached the dock. You wanted to say anything, anything, but your breath stayed in your throat and your mouth remained open without uttering a syllable. There was something deeply wrong with what was happening right now, something your mind couldn't comprehend, but you knew that if you were to have any chance of waking up the next morning alive and well you absolutely had to find a way to dislodge all instant.

What appeared to be the figure of a young woman seemed to slowly show the body up to the collarbone, her face was soft adorned by a pair of thick dark eyebrows, drawn together in a frown and menacing expression, the previously incomprehensible headgear now gave the idea of being covered in feathers…no, the feathers would be wet, that material seemed waterproof, like the fins of an unknown tropical fish. But what accelerated your heartbeat the most was discovering that her skin was light blue like the waves of the sea that enveloped her and a turquoise mask covered her mouth and nose. May your common sense curse you for what you were about to deduce, but at this point it was fair to wonder if what the village elders had admonished you about was not just a stupid legend, but the reality…however absurd; Perhaps the sea really was the cradle of watchful sentinels who punished the intruders of their home.

Feeling a hand grabbing your ankle, with the intention of violently dragging you towards the water, harshly reminded you that the time for reflections was over and it was time to wake up and react. You thanked the last shred of lucidity left in your body that allowed you to hold on to a pier post with all your strength, while a terrified scream escaped from your mouth. Your determination didn't seem to make the woman give up, her grip was as strong as steel and painful as a dog's bite, her voice cursed in a language unknown to you, while you squirmed and tried to push her away, kicking her with foot still free. A menacing growl like that of a predator came out of that mask, low but firm, while a shiver probably of fear pierced your legs and back.

"Let me go! Please let me go!" you screamed, trying to drag you to the opposite side, holding on to the wooden slabs with your other hand, regardless of the splinters that sank into your fingertips.

“Ma' oksajóoltik le ba'ax je'el u páajtal a náachkunta'al teech ti' teen uts uchik” was an archaic language, unknown to your ears, but in that context it only gave a demonic aura to the woman or any damned being was that thing that wanted to drag you into the depths of the sea with it. In an attempt to land another kick, your foot struck full force on her mask, creating a slight crack. The young woman gasped and for a handful of seconds her grip on your left ankle loosened just enough to make you slip away, not before marking your skin with scratches, making you moan in pain. Without further delay you ran away from that pier, forgetting your sandals now fallen due to the hustle and bustle in the water, it didn't matter if you had to make the stone and dirt road up to your house with bare feet, you just wanted that creature to leave you in peace. As soon as you passed the last bump in the sand, you looked behind you for a moment, hoping that she had disappeared and wasn't following you…so it was. The woman had disappeared, swallowed up by the sea, as if nothing had ever happened. Maybe you were crazy…or maybe you should have heeded the admonitions of the elders.

It was sunset when you decided to go home the following day; It hadn't been an easy day, if you could call it that since you'd been lying between the sheets of your bed until after lunchtime and you'd spent the night before without sleeping a wink. Your mind was still immersed in that encounter you had that night, your skin still remembering the stinging burn from the scratch on your ankle, now intent on healing. Sleep had decided to abandon you in those long and tense night hours, and if by chance your heavy eyelids decided to close in exhaustion, they reopened at the slightest creak or rustle coming from outside your little house. The thought of finding that woman in front of your bed after having followed you overwhelmed you, filling you with a thousand questions and answers that were often more daunting than you had expected. You couldn't understand if what your eyes had seen was pure fantasy, probably anyone would have called you crazy, but that scratch, that mark that she had engraved on your skin, was the striking proof that she existed. It was flesh, bone and breath, and her frozen skin still seemed to caress your leg, leaving a suffocating lump in your throat as a shiver stopped between your thighs… It was fear, adrenaline, nothing more you kept telling yourself. You weren't sure that telling the old women of the village would have been a good idea, even if they had believed you, they probably would have said it was the right punishment for a nosy and disrespectful tourist like you; Perhaps it would have been wiser to put aside the idea of a relaxing holiday, abandon that mysterious place surrounded by unspoiled nature and paradise on earth and return to your everyday life, perhaps it was silly to think that you could find peace and relief for a moment in your existence.

The shouts of the village children, who gradually returned home from the beach, made you awaken from your restless thoughts, while your gaze turned to the clean beaches now kissed by the fiery and amber rays of the sunset, the Sun was gradually swallowed up by the sea, as well as your every little certainty that in the light no monster would be looking for you. Sighing and ready to get ready for yet another sleepless night, you approached the door of the house, however, finding something on the edge that left you speechless: Your sandals, the sandals you had lost during the night to escape the woman's grasp were right there in front of you.

One of the two must have broken in the uproar, but someone had thought of reconnecting the filaments by setting a small nugget of… jade in the middle? Was it jade? The first thing you did after catching them was look around, there was nobody there, people also seemed to have gone home, the fishermen had returned from their hard day's work and were intent on returning to their families with dinner to make. Taking a deep breath, you gathered courage and grabbing the knob of your door you opened it with a lightning click, ready to find the worst beast you could ever expect. But nothing but your unmade bed and what furnished your little house awaited you.

Standing at your doorstep, you wondered if some kind person in the village had found your sandals and brought them back to you, but you soon put that idea aside. No one had followed you that night on the beach, and above all who in such a humble though welcoming country could afford to adorn a sandal with a nugget of jade? Was it that woman? Maybe as an apology…Oh probably a trap. Thoughtfully you sat on the wooden stairs outside the entrance to your house, put on your sandals, only now noticing that the one with the jade had been placed on the sandal of your injured ankle. Your gaze returned again to the glimpse of the beach, wrapped in vegetation, partly pruned to create an exit from the village, the sun had now sunk, the sky was becoming increasingly gloomy, while from the windows of the modest houses around you appeared the flashes of the lights. You were sure that what you were about to do would be your last action alive, as well as being totally unconscious. But like Ulysses you felt the sea somehow calling to you, if it was the woman, or your curiosity had no idea, you knew that unlike the story of the Odyssey, your body was not tied to any mast of a ship , no one was going to stop you from jumping overboard at a siren's call.

Your mind had begun to cloud as soon as you passed the small avenue that led to the sea, as if to justify your foolish actions, together with your heart it was fluttering agitated, like a high school girl waiting for the arrival of her crush. Something in you wished she was hers, but what to tell her (if so) was still a mystery. Your fingers gripped the edges of the skirt of your sundress to ease the tension as your footsteps stopped. It was you, alone on that beach now accompanied by the first stars and the shy moon. You didn't know how far you were from the village, but only now did you feel as defenseless as if you were stark naked, a lamb ready to be sacrificed to some cruel deity. You swallowed praying that you would not die that night and at the same time you prayed that she…

"…You came?" your mouth spoke before your mind would let it, your tone low, too low to be sure she heard you. Her head had emerged from the water, far enough from the shore, for what emerged of her body was no more than her neck and shoulders. You didn't have the courage to repeat what you asked for, your hands gripped the edges of your sundress even more. She seemed to observe you, oblivious of that long silent space that separated you, perhaps she was working out the right move to make, as a shark or a tiger would have done. She decided to move closer to the shore, and you bit your tongue tenaciously to keep your body from retreating. As her body emerged from the water, your eyes studied what they hadn't managed to capture the previous time: on her torso there was a light armor of unknown material and of a dark color that covered her chest, while the shoulders were adorned with the same feathers/fins as the headdress and tied around the animal skull. The calves and forearms were clad in the same armour, leaving the muscular and toned shoulders and thighs uncovered, the hips encircled by a skirt partly made of armour, of those colorful fins and seaweed perhaps… But what caught your attention the most it was the conspicuous presence of jade in the woman's clothing, especially her earrings, which were large and hard to ignore.

"Look, I…" you bit your lip "I don't know if you can understand me…I just want to tell you that I didn't want to disturb your sea, I'm not a bad person" your hands let go of the skirt of the sundress and then stood up as a sign of surrender, along with your submissive gaze. The warrior scrutinized you frowning her thick dark brows, as if she wanted to tell you so many things, certainly not kind and friendly, but she decided that piercing you with her sharpest gaze sharper than the spear she brandished was enough of an answer. Her attentive eyes finally fell to your feet, noticing the sandals you were wearing, especially her pitch-colored irises seemed to sparkle as they found the jade gem nestled between the straps of the previously broken sandal. Only in that instant did you seem to grasp this gesture and sketching a shy smile you asked:

“Did you bring the sandals to my door?” you were unable to contain your curiosity. Even though the blue-skinned woman was as tall as you, her presence made you regret every single word your mouth uttered. She looked into your eyes, once again, her expression had become less tense, however she turned her head, as if to see if there were other threats on the horizon, on the shores of the beach, when her attention returned to you that hard sentry expression had again marked her soft pale blue face. She nodded, that was her only response.

Biting your lower lip, you carefully crouched down to your sandals, pointing at the jade nugget “Did you place this stone? It's gorgeous.” Your tone laced with fear of her was trying to bring out a semblance of genuine sweetness, maybe that was really a small gift of apology from her.

“Je'el” she murmured with another nod of her head. You smiled shyly, feeling embarrassed for a moment.

"I…" your gaze rose towards her "I'm so grateful…but, I have nothing to give you in return though" you answered regretfully, feeling guilty. The woman seemed to turn to stone, as if she were still thinking about the answer to give. Nothing could prepare you for her lightning bolt of hers, impossible to predict, or maybe you were foolish to get caught unprepared a second time. Like the previous night, she grabbed you by the ankle, making you lose your balance and fall onto your butt on the sand. The intent was to drag you towards the water, but this time the soft ground under your hands would not have given you a foothold or a way to save yourself, the only possibility to escape was to ask for mercy.

"Please no! I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" you implored screaming regardless of the little breath you had left between one word and another "I beg you…!" the pleas were interrupted by a gasp, when icy tongues of sea water insinuated themselves between the skin of your back and your dress, wetting your hair too. On your back you found the warrior above you, her face partially covered by the mask a few centimeters from yours, while her eyes dark as night seemed to drink from your fear, just like a predator excited by perceiving the terror of the captured prey. The shortness of breath that made your chest move, now wet with salt water and stuck to the colored fabric of her dress, stopped short when the warrior reached a hand on her mask to remove it. For a moment that aura steeped in dominance seemed to waver, she was aware that as soon as she took her breath away it would last a few minutes, but she didn't allow her anxiety to stop her further. The hand that firmly held the handle of the spear, moved forcefully, driving it into the sand thick with the waves, a short distance from your face, a command and a stern threat not to dare make rash moves, or the consequences would be severe ; your frightened whine was a more than exhaustive answer. Not that she needed further certainties, you had repeatedly demonstrated how clueless I was of your survival instinct.

Removing the mask, the warrior gasped slightly, then shook her head, time was short and she should have used it as best she could. The same hand grabbed your face, not strong enough to hurt you, but firm enough to sink the fingertips into the soft skin of your cheeks, so warm and gradually more and more rosy. Your eyes tried to cast one last pleading glance at the woman as you watched in bewilderment as the sun-kissed amber complexion of her lips was soon tinged with the same blue that ruled her skin…What absurd creature was trying to kill you?! You thought terrified. Your mind traveled wild like a horse, many people before dying reviewed her whole life like a retrospective on a film, but you were imagining how that woman would have torn you to shreds, leaving the rest to the sea.

The feel of her cold, wet lips pressing against yours was the last thing you expected, however. Your surprised hum was suppressed in that kiss. She moved away from you for a second, wanting to memorize with her eyes every single reaction painted on your face, and in a moment of sweetness she caressed your face with her fingers, pressing her thumb on your parted lips in need of oxygen, to breath away from that cascade of gestures so unexpected that mixed with fear and other illicit emotions, they were melting your brain. You were freaking out. Something in you was broken, you had no idea what it was, but it surely had to do with your sanity, as, despite the grip on your jaw, you tried to reach unsuccessfully the mouth of the warrior, who caught off guard , pushed you back down with a 'splash', then attacked your lips with more fervor now. Apparently she didn't accept any attempt at domination other than hers.

Never in your life would you have ever imagined sharing such a carnal and primitive kiss, with the sea creature who held your life in her hands, playing with it and threatening to drag you into the abyss with her, if she got fed up or bored. Her tongue followed yours tirelessly, she knew your shyness and fear wouldn't last long, the way your mouths moved, your teeth clashing as the warrior tried to bite your lower lip or corner of your mouth and the moans that escaped from time to time between a stolen breath and the next, only hinted at an ever stronger charge of libido, like a fuse between the two flints that were your bodies. It was useless to think coherently, there was nothing coherent in feeling that strong passion in that situation, the only thing to do was let yourself be carried away by the current, hoping that all this was just a dream created by your fervent mind.

The other hand of the warrior sank into the shallow water of the shore, grabbing one of your breasts, still covered by the annoying clinging and soaked fabric of your sundress, making you moan in that kiss so voracious and forbidden. She was impatient and became so as time went on.

“K'ujo'obo ', wa uts chéen pudieras respirar yáanal le ja'o'” (Gods, if only you could breathe underwater) her breath collided with your lips, breaking the kiss. Her voice had a scolding tone and it was raspy from lack of oxygen. Curiosity devoured you in wanting to know what that archaic language meant. Her grip on your face gave way, softened as she stroked your cheek. “Ma' péeksik a” (Do not move) her voice does not allow discussions, you didn't know what she ordered you, but judging by the way her hand slid down your neck, you decided to stay still where you were, looking at her with the same eyes of a bewildered puppy.

Noticing no movement or any kind of resistance from you, the woman decided not to waste any more time in lingering, and almost as if she were about to drown, she lowered her face to your breasts immersed in the salty water. A muffled sound of ripping made you jump as you realized she had broken the neckline of your lovely sundress below your chest, then buried her face in the valley between your breasts. Her hot mouth, in contrast with the cold temperature of her skin and of the water, had begun to attack your right breast, causing you a cascade of pleasant contrasting sensations, while greedily biting the soft skin, sometimes almost teasing you, other times more predatory, she left you with the certainty that you would find several reddish and pink halos around it. You moaned once again arching her back, feeling her left hand massaging her other breast, as her tongue laced around your nipple, taking it into her mouth and sucking it as if her life depended on hers. You closed your eyes, taking a last look at the starry sky, while one of the many waves hit you, making you feel suspended in space. Your hands balled into fists, unable to grip anything solid that could somehow help release the tension. It was excruciating, exciting, yet deeply wild and insane what your body was experiencing. A trail of kisses, brought her lips to abandon your right breast, to be able to greedily attach to the other, murmuring delighted in tasting the sweet taste of your skin; as her hands slid down your soft hips, the warrior wanted so badly to feel the clear way every moan and mewl that filled your mouth, just as she wished you could feel how much she was appreciating your body and how she would worship it as a priest does with a temple. Perhaps this was the curse of having found a mate of the surface, a barrier would have always divided you. When her fingers anchored to the edge of the skirt of her dress, the woman re-emerged from the water, but not before leaving one last kiss on your nipple. Your face was pure heaven to her eyes, just as hers was to you. You could enjoy her view of her amber complexion for a few more seconds, while the drops of the sea enjoyed copious on your face, before it returned to her blue color. The woman couldn't help stealing another lovely kiss from you, letting her nose adorned with a septum gently collide with yours.

“Luk'ul le nook'e' Ma'ili' ti' u destruya ta wo'olal” (take this dress off before I destroy it for you) her tone sounded like a growl, which made you shiver in contrast to the sweetness of her gestures. She looked at you almost assuming you could understand her language.

“W-what?” you said confused, lifting yourself up with you torso thanks to the help of you elbows, so much so that you once again found yourself a handful of millimeters from her lips. The warrior rolled her eyes to the side in annoyance, then cursed something softly, this language barrier starting to get on her nerves. She understood that she would have to do everything by herself, and feeling the natural need to breathe water, she began to forcefully tear your sundress again, opening it in half and reducing it to a miserable colored flap, your annoyed squeaks made her curse something again through clenched teeth, and then bring it closer to your face:

“Teech traeré uláak', láayli' asab jats'uts, u prometo” (I'll bring you another one, even more beautiful, I promise) he whispered in an almost sorry tone, while filling your face with wet and salty kisses, in a desperate attempt not to let you escape from her, first the forehead, then your nose and your cheeks and a last longer and more intense on your mouth. It was impossible for you to understand every single word she uttered, yet it seemed you could taste every emotion of her felt in that moment, when your mouths met.

“Bejla'e' p'áaten quieto ka Cha' in ch'a' a siibal” (Now lie still and let me take your gift)

Your eyes darted to every corner as she submerged once more, between your legs and lower belly covered in water. You let out a frustrated sigh at the impossibility of understanding her next move, the liquid surface rippled by the waves and the little moonlight were obstacles impossible to climb over. Your skin crawled in mild anxiety as the warrior's fingers creep between your soft, inviting thighs. Her nails grabbed her flesh and skin, forcing your legs to spread apart just enough to be able to hide your head between them and access your intimacy. Namora licked her lower lip with the tip of her tongue, unable to contain an excited moan, she wanted to devour you, she longed for that little corner of paradise that you kept so shyly, she knew that a part of you was still afraid and full of questions, but the warrior was certain that thanks to her meticulous attentions, she would make you forget everything, even your name and where you belonged.

Her lips rested on the velvety skin of your inner thigh, leaving a sweet trail of kisses; she would worship every inch of you and your eager moans made her heart pound with emotion as much as her eagerness to sink her mouth into your pussy. She was certain that yours was also going at the same speed and she prayed to her gods that it wasn't for fear of her, she hoped with all her heart that, deep down, the libido was eating you alive just like her, really. At the mere thought she bit a flap of your thigh delicately, watching your body jolt as she sucked it between her lips until a rosy halo imprinted on your skin, while her cheek touched your pussy; Namora wouldn't let her insecurities make her hesitate, you were her mate, she'd felt it, she'd felt it the first time she'd met you, but she reacted instinctively and now it was her time to make up for it, to make you hers, to mark you and show you how much fate had decided to bind you to each other, despite your worlds separating you and he would have completed this task.

A shower of other small, stinging burns planted itself between your thighs, making you gasp impatiently and your legs trembled with sensitivity. Although your pussy was covered in water, you were certain that was swollen and wet, due to that grueling torture; apparently "that kind of siren" had a thing for biting. The fear that she wanted to devour you was replaced when her warm tongue caressed your folds. An audible gasp made your body suddenly stiffen as you tried unsuccessfully to suppress another moan as her lips closed around your clit, leaving a wet kiss.

“F-Fuck..!” in the throes of instinct and perhaps fear of what you were feeling, you backed away from that mouth so welcoming and hungry, but the warrior's grip on your thighs put you back in your place, then carrying them on her shoulders, preventing you from any escape route to this point.

The iron grip of Namora's nails on your flesh left hot and dark crescent-shaped footprints, once again warning you not to fight her and to accept what she had to offer you. Her mouth returned to your pussy, tasting it again, this time taking longer to savor you. She shivered with excitement, delicious, how could something so aphrodisiac be so hard to tame? Her tongue traversed the contours of your folds, descending towards your entrance, lapping the contours vigorously, then rising with the tip up to your clit, without any hurry, sucking it as if it were the sweetest thing in the world. Out of the water she listened to your soft moans even if muffled, your mewls and your back arching with pleasure; a satisfied smile crept onto her lips. Gods, you were perfect, every part of you seemed to have been made for her.

“Jach ma'alobech” (you're so good) she gasped underwater, sinking her lips into your clit, flicking her tongue vigorously, and savoring it like you were her last meal. “A wíinkilil ma' u tuus in, in woojel ba'ax táak u” (Your body can't lie to me, I know it wants me). Her mouth slid towards your entrance, licking the velvety edges, feeling on her lips as your rubbery muscles contracted around her hot, expert tongue as she fucked you with it. Another smile painted on her face continuing with her work of hers, until your thighs of hers wrapped her face, bringing it even closer to you making her moan. To die between the thighs of her mate would have been better than any glorious death in battle, she thought as she emerged from the water to watch your sweet face twist into a dissatisfied expression at the sudden absence of her mouth on your your needy pussy. Were you passively accepting the fact that you were for each other?

Namora took off her headgear, which had now become uncomfortable for her too, and throwing it far enough to prevent the tide from taking it away, she let her long, jet-black, wet hair fall copiously on her shoulders and chest, framing that face that now it seemed that of a nymph, of rare beauty, coming from who knows what tropical and unknown land. She leaned towards you, until the tips of your noses touched, your breathing became short, your pupils were dilated, your mind was clouded, your desire to escape was now extinguished, now what mattered most to you was merging your lips with hers again, tasting the nectar of your own juices.

“Rogadme” (beg me) Namora's voice woke you up from your state of ecstasy, her hot breath collided on your mouth, her eyes didn't leave yours for a second, while the fingers of her right hand slowly slipped between your folds, massaging them with almost excruciating slowness, meticulously careful not to touch, except lightly and absently, your clit. You inhaled sharply, as your hips swayed towards Namora's hand, hoping for more relief.

“Rugar in, ka continuaré” (Beg me, and I will continue) as your lips desperately tried to reach hers to kiss them, Namora pulled away the necessary couple of centimeters for you to moan impatiently. She smirked lustfully at your pathetic plea to be kissed.

“Please…” you murmured in a sigh as you dropped your head back onto the soft, wet sand, accentuating your defeat and submission to her will. Out of shame you closed your eyelids for a long moment, while what little pride you had was finally swallowed up by your desire to be ruined by that unknown woman. “Please, Please…!” dominated by the need to please, let a punch of audacity make you gather the necessary courage to grab Namora's hand, bringing her palm closer between your folds, guiding it in faster movements, which made every tense muscle of yours loosen, bringing you a nice wave of shivering pleasure as the tips of his index and middle fingers slid inside your hole. You were literally seeing stars and that warrior hadn't even started on you, damn, did you really lose your mind if you got so pathetic for a little attention, how long hasn't someone made you feel this way?

Taken aback by your courage and initially convinced that you wanted to chase her away badly, Namora let you do it, but when she sensed that it was only the rash gesture to seek some relief from that cruel torture of teasing, a low and satisfied chuckle it escaped her lips. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she thrust you in a well-aimed move back to the ground, and after grabbing both your wrists and placing them equally bulky either side of your head, silently commanded you to remain in your place. She loved that there was a decisive reaction from you too, however she was in charge that night and she did not accept compromises. The woman gasped slightly, she needed water…so placing a last kiss on the lobe of your ear, she whispered: “Bix a k'áat, in Diosa” (as you wish, my Goddess) before diving again under the water.

Without any fear or insecurity that this time you would have escaped from her, Namora firmly gripped your thigh with her left hand, while with her right hand she spread your velvety folds with her fingertips, exposing each of your most sensitive points to the cool water temperature and the warmth of his lips which soon fell upon them. Her tongue returned to your clit lapping it mercilessly, and sucking it giving your body small jerks and tremors. Her tongue was everywhere, going down and up between the contours of your folds, the tip of that warm muscle gently pushing between the gummy walls of your entrance, then clinging again to your clit, embracing it between her sweet lips as she sucked your nectar they so craved. Your hands slipped through her long black locks of hair, stroking them, and gently pushing her face even further between your welcoming thighs, making the warrior moan with pure pleasure, while the tip of her nose and her icy jade septums collided with your sensitive clit, making you cry out from the rain of rowdy but ecstatic you were feeling. You bit your lower lip a little dissatisfied when you ascertained that it was impossible for you two to meet your gazes in that sinful act. You wished you could watch her irises, dark as night, catch your every moan and mewl as she continued to devour your pussy like it was the sweetest thing she'd ever tasted.

“Cuán impacientes chan” (how impatient we are) she commented to herself, flicking her tongue on your swollen clit, replacing her mouth, with two fingers that began to slowly massage that part, before slapping it with her fingertips, making you crying out. “Tak ku beetik jump'éel minutos querías huir ti' teen ka bejla'e' a a lanzando u in fauces bey juntúul chan kaaye' num” (until a few minutes ago you wanted to run away from me, and now you're throwing yourself into my jaws like a silly little fish) another slap, as the left hand slid near your entrance. Her fingers resumed massaging your clit, and your eyes rolled back in the dizzying pleasure mixed with the constant edging; Apparently that creature liked to play with its food. Another slap, as if she reading your sarcastic thoughts, you bit your lower lip hard, hoping your obscene verses hadn't woken up anyone in the village. “Ch'úupalo 'descuidada, descuidada” (careless, careless girl) with each word Namora decided whether to give you a warm caress of her lips or her fingers or a severe slap on your now too sensitive clit. Your eyes got wet, from the pleasure, you just wanted to cum, you just wanted the pleasure to flood you just like the waves of that calm sea were doing.

When she noticed your legs starting to shake, did she know you were ready, did you crave pleasure? She would give it to you until you burst, until your mind was drunk with her and only her. A finger slid into your entrance with ease, and Namora didn't mind moaning on your pussy of pleasure, leaving a pleasant vibration on your pussy. You were so warm, soft, welcoming, so wet with that sweet nectar. Every thrust of her finger into you, was accompanied by the rhythm of your hips, even as she tried to keep you in your place, you wanted more, you wanted—

"Please, more…" you moaned incoherently almost as if it were a prayer. The warrior added a second, as her thrusts got faster, deeper. A blaze of fire was growing in your lower abdomen, its hot flames traversing your slit, your trembling legs, making you sensitive to the slightest touch. Feeling Namora's fingers curl and scissor between your gummy walls, molding them to her liking, confidently reaching for your magical spot, as if she knows your body like an open book, made you see stars and moan like a slut without any shame, no one would have come to disturb you, of this you were certain by now, or at least you hoped.

Her fingers continued to sink relentlessly into your hole, her mouth sloppyly tasting every inch of your pussy, oblivious to the tip of her nose rubbing your swollen clit. Your first orgasm hit you like a jolt, a vortex of freezing and hot temperatures had collided on your body making you lose any sensitive perception, any possible coherent thought. Your thighs closed automatically around the woman's head, unable to understand whether to stop her or to entice her even more to feed on you. One thing was certain, Namora didn't seem willing to stop, not even in the face of the constant spasms of your entrance, now filled with her fingers, which continued to rub and dilate your walls, looking for every point capable of making you scream and jump. Your moans were never mixed with whimpers and sobs, despite Namora trying to reopen your thighs, your legs seemed to hold her in an almost fatal grip; You were certainly not an obedient human. It didn't matter, she thought, she would educate you over time.

You were on the verge of another intense orgasm when you felt the uncomfortable sensation of her fingers leaving your hole, as well as her mouth. No, you thought in exasperation, why did she stop again?! You opened your eyes and stood up with the little strength left with your torso, hoping that your elbows supported you this time, ready to beg her to get back between your legs, but the sight of her gorgeous face left you speechless voice.

“Fuck, you're a Goddess” you mumbled in pure admiration, as you watched as the blue veins slowly replaced her caramel skin. Only when she heard your voice did she bring her gaze towards you, and then lean down on your face to be able to kiss you. It was a sloppy kiss, that she knew about your juices, but at the same time you could feel an unusual aftertaste of feelings that attracted you to each other like magnets. You didn't have the courage to think it was…attraction? No, it felt like much more. As if two people at the ends of a long red thread were finally to find each other. They were thoughts too complex and out of your reach to be able to contemplate in that moment of ecstasy and lust, you were two worlds too different to understand each other, despite this you were fused as in a single flame, or like two waters of two springs in a single stream.

Your hands grabbed the edges of the armor that covered her chest and toned and sculpted torso, trying to remove it, but with little success, afraid of breaking it because of your carelessness.

"I want to see you" you gasped, kissing her again, your lips captured her bottom, pulling him gently towards you, making the warrior moan in a low tone, who in the meantime had taken your face in her hands, intertwining her now blue fingers between your hair "I want to feel your skin on mine…" Namora broke away from you for a few moments, breathing heavily as she watched you as if she were having a hard time translating into her mind what you had to say to her; even her lucidity was failing. Her manner seemed to be less harsh and controlling than before her, but you knew her haste was the constant lack of oxygen. If only…if only you could breathe underwater.

"You're beautiful" you murmured shyly, placing a hand on her cheek to caress it, she tried not to wince, but her amazed gaze spoke for itself. I wonder if she understood you. Namora brought your face close to hers, until your foreheads touched in an intimate gesture. Your chests were close, your hands tried once again to undress her, but the woman gently wrapped them with hers, bringing them to the sides of her face, still wanting to feel the warmth of your soft skin on hers. Her expression was tight, as if torn about what to do. She would have wanted to give herself to you and worship you on that beach all night long if that were possible, however, her difficulty breathing was making her strength weaker and weaker. But she…she didn't want to leave you, not now that she'd found you.

“No possible…” her english was very primitive, her voice rasped from lack of air. She was contemplating something about her, while you watched her confused and at the same time amazed to hear her try to break your language barrier. “I bring…the Flower. Then nothing…separate us” a flower? What was she talking about?

"What you mean? I don't understand” she shook her head, nervous that she didn't know how to explain it in your language, your eyes reopened, looking straight into yours, there wasn't much time left before the primordial need to get back in the water forced her to part from you. K'uk'ulkan was surely wondering what had become of her most trusted person, just as Attuma, her place of belonging was calling her back and demanding an explanation for her sudden absence. The woman took your right hand bringing it to her heart, gasping slightly and not taking her gaze off yours she said: "Namora…" you looked perplexed at her needy eyes, almost like a puppy "I…Namora" she repeated insistently and that moment you guessed: she was telling you her name!

You smiled and bringing her hand to your heart, you whispered yours. She gave a hint of a smile, almost relieved, she had already painted that name a thousand times in her memory of her, even if she had discovered it only seconds ago, wishing you were doing the same too. Grabbing your face in her hands she pressed your lips in one last needy and chaste kiss, but so powerful it took both of your breaths away.

"Wait for me…I" the woman grabbed the mask, swallowing with difficulty "I...go...go back to you" she murmured before placing the mask on her mouth and taking a deep breath, under your bewitched and incredulous eyes of all that had happened that night.

You watched Namora cast a quick glance towards the sea, as if some invisible voice had called her back. She shook her head before reaching for her spear and headdress. She turned away from you as getting to her feet she walked quickly towards the sea. Before the waves could take her completely away from you, the woman turned towards your naked figure, studying you for a few seconds and then disappearing into the water, just as she had arrived. She would come back, it was a promise you both were certain of. Your barriers would no longer be a problem, Namora thought as she swiftly swam across the depths of the sea, towards Talokan, her home. She would bring the antidote to you the next time you met and nothing, nothing would tear you apart again. The woman smiled, imagining and dreaming of you two swimming in the waters of Talokan, introducing you to her people, teaching you her culture and her language, tearing you away from the cruelty and dangers of the surface world. In the meantime, you had tiptoed back to your little house in the now sleeping and silent village as a tomb. After putting on your pajamas you took the notebook you had brought with you and with a smile on your lips and your heart still beating, you wrote the title of your next novel: 'Calypso. A love lost in time'.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: @imaginativethinking @mar-de-seentimientos @bloatedandlonly

[aisphotostuff]

Local Cows @ Oare Village on the Kent Marsh by Adam Swaine Via Flickr: The cattle & cows are an important part of the reserve's fragile ecosystem and help to create habitats for many species. Oare Marshes is a wetlands reserve that's home to a variety of wetland birds that overwinter and breed there. The reserve's mix of grazing marsh, reedbed,

[feathered-serpents]

I imagined a whole cutscene's worth of dialogue between Freya and Kratos after Freya gives birth to their twin daughters Gersemi and Hnoss. I needed to write it down to get it out of my head. Here it is if you want it

____

Kratos and Freya traverse the river of Vanaheim after the birth of their daughters. Kratos is holding them at Freya’s request, as she steers the boat 

(Bit of dialogue as they are walking to the boat) 

Freya: Kratos? 

Kratos: Hm? 

Freya: Could you take them? 

Kratos: (silently looks at the twins and back to her)

Freya: I’d like to row the boat. 

Kratos: You are certain? 

Freya: Yes. 

(Kratos nods, and Freya hands him the twins. They set off. It is clear as Freya rows it is uncomfortable for her, having just given birth. Kratos watches, concern in his eyes, but he does not say anything. For a time they row in silence until finally Kratos starts speaking.)

Kratos: This land is your birthplace, it is called Vanaheim. It is the homeland of your mother. 

Kratos: My homeland is far, and it is gone… 

(Freya pauses for a moment, collects herself, Kratos watches her, he waits until she starts to row again before he continues speaking.)

Kratos: That is not the first story you should hear.

Freya: What are you doing? 

Kratos: Speaking to them. 

(Freya doesn’t say anything, just looks at him.)

Kratos: They must learn the sound of my voice. 

(Freya stays silent and looks to the water)

Kratos: Your homeland is tied to other lands. Many others. Among them is the homeland of your brother- 

Freya: There will be other times for them to learn your voice. 

(Kratos looks to her. Again she stops moving the oars, settling, taking another long breath. As the boat stops one of the babies starts to coo and cry. Instinctually, Freya looks towards them, then looks again down at the water as Kratos calms them.)

Kratos: You do not look at them. 

(Freya tries to row)

Kratos: Freya. 

(She still tries)

Kratos: Freya. 

(She finally stops, she looks at Kratos, but notably not at their children)

Freya: What?

(That hangs in the air for a moment, and when it’s past, Kratos says)

Kratos: What do you see?

(She keeps her eyes on him for a long time. Slowly, her eyes fall from his face, and to the twins in his arms. When they settle there, she starts to speak)

Freya: I see them one day playing in the grass of my childhood village, rebuilt, with the children of this new age. 

Freya: I see them in a world where they know no pain, no struggle, and in this world… Baldur guides them. 

Kratos: How does he guide them?

Freya: He teaches them histories. Magic. Secrets of Vanaheim. What I wish I’d given him. 

Freya: And then I know if he were here, he’d tear them from my arms and drown them in this river, and I know I did that to him. 

Freya: I want this, Kratos. I want this with you and yet…

Kratos: You are afraid. 

Freya: (nods) 

Kratos: If you hide from this fear, it will fester. You must feel it without becoming it. That is how you will defeat it. 

Freya: “Defeat…” 

Kratos: Yes.

Freya: What a choice of words from you. 

Kratos: There are battles we cannot turn away.

Freya: You are… the authority on that subject.

(Kratos nods. He leans towards her, holding the twins close to him, and says, gently)

Kratos: We are not our failures. 

(Freya smiles. She leans to meet Kratos at the center of the boat. finally looking down at the babies in Kratos’ arms. Carefully, he hands them to her, and she takes them. She holds them, carefully, a bittersweet look in her eye that slowly warms to a gentle one. She looks back up at Kratos, and she kisses him, they press their foreheads together and breathe.)

Kratos: I will row the boat now. 

Freya: (muffled laugh) Thank you.

[slothcookie]

One Piece x The Legend Of Zelda BOTW/TOTK inspired Nami sketches!!

Lore:

I felt that she should definitely be from Lurelin village, so i inspired her first outfit completely from that. Lurelin has pirate issues in TOTK so that also influenced my decision. She beats the fuck out of pirates and monsters with with a boat oar before acquiring her spear.

Post ts outfit has some tie ins from the wandering and merchant npcs. She does work updating maps of hyrule and helps with maintenance of the map functions on the Purah Pad. She is a "merchant" on the side. By merchant, she totally isnt stealing things and price gouging.

She travels between Hateno for her work at the Tech Lab, Kakariko to deliver maps to the survey team and recieve new info for maps of the depths, Lurelin and Dueling Peaks stable. She works on maps whenever she is stopped at a village or stable.

[beanghostprincess]

I like when fanartists draw Nami's scar under her tatoo, but it got me thinking about other characters's scars too with fanarts and now I think not many people realise just how many fucking scars Luffy should have in canon, like:

1) You have his trademark scar under his eye because Shanks is irrensponsable (not entirely on him but you know what I mean)

2) The slice marks on the side of his head and chest from Kuro he got at Syrup Village.

3) His back must be covered in holes from Don Krieg's spear thingys.

4) At least a few bite marks all over his body from Arlong.

5) Probably a few scars by Zoro from Whiskey Peak as well.

6) Obliterated hands and feet as well as frostbites from climbing 5000 meteres in the cold at Drumm Island. (Side note, I love this scene because it shows just how much Luffy loves his crewmates)

7) Crocodile literally piercing through his body gave him scars both front and back.

8) A few scars from getting thrown at a glass window and bleeding out at Jaya by Bellamy.

9) I know it's technically impossible but Enel's lighting may or may have not scarred him. (Scars from lighting look pretty insane, look it up)

10) Bite marks from Lucci of course, can't escape those.

11) I could see him having scars similar to strech marks because of the 1000 shadows in his weakened body as well as well other instances in the battle against Oars and Moria.

12) Magellan's poison defenetely damaged his skin as well.

13) Then frostbite again. (Thanks again to Bon Clay for saving him, I luv you Bon Clay)

14)And Ivankov pokeing him to give him healing hormones.

15) The mark from Akainu's boiling donut frosting. (I will punish myself for this joke, don't worry)

16) Probably hurt himself during the 2 year training with Rayleigh.

17) More fishmen bitemarks, this time from Hody Jones.

18) Cuts from Doflamingo's strings and other instances.

19) Cracker and Oven attacking him.

20) Marks on his arms from when he tried to cut off his own hands to save Sanji.

21) Scars from Katakuri's mochi and his other attacks or something.

22) Queen's virus/poison looked like it was burning his skin and was probably acidic.

23) I haven't finished Wano yet, but Kaidou must have given his share of scars to him as well.

The poor guy's body is just a war battlefield. His skin is barely attached to him at this point.

I ADORE when artists draw Luffy with a lot of the scars. It makes his character design way better and gorgeous in my opinion. And tbh, all Strawhats should have way more scars. If I started explaining every little scar they would have here I wouldn't be able to finish but.... I trust fanartists to draw the characters with soooo many of them 🙏🏻

[whumpninja]

This is actually sort of a test run for a novel concept I’m playing with. It was supposed to be just kinda spooky, but took a left turn into straight-up horror. I’m not complaining! Kinda wish I could draw what I imagine the gods to look like, but I was not born with that particular gift so hopefully I described it enough. In the event that I did not describe it enough, just imagine humanoid shape but Wrong. Everything is very stretched out and lengthened and just…weird.

Prompts used: AI-less Whumptober, hostile environment

Featuring: god whump (is that a thing?), historical whump, this gets very…creepy and unsettling so watch out

Whumptober Day 16: God-Hunters

They had thought it was a river-god when they first dredged it up in the nets. It had the same sheen of silver to its skin as a river-god would have. But there was no webbing between its fingers, and its hair was yellow and smooth like spun gold- the hair of river-gods was green and weedy, and often had little fishes tangled in it. This god had soft white feathers, like dove's feathers, scattered through its hair instead. They could not figure out what it was- it could not have been a sky-god, because it had been lying in the river; and it could not have been a storm-god, because it had no lightning under its skin; and it could not have been an air-god, because it did not dissipate into nothing when they touched it.

It was old Anders who finally solved it. "It's a dream-god," he pronounced, looking solemnly over the still creature bound up in the coarse net fibers. "We've caught it sleeping, or we wouldn't have been able to catch it at all. They run faster than deer."

"How do you know it's a dream-god?" asked young Jakob, who had never hunted gods before.

Old Anders took the knife from his belt. "Gods bleed whatever they're the gods of. Cut open a sea-god, and they'll bleed tides. Cut open a harvest-god, and they'll bleed grain. Cut open a dream-god-" he did this as he spoke, making a cut along the creature's narrow arm. They all crowded around to see.

As the knife slid through the god-flesh, drops of something shimmering and opalescent fell to the bottom of the boat. The drops stayed there for a moment, and then vanished in a wisp of pale smoke.

"They bleed dreams," old Anders finished, and took a piece from his shirt to bind the dream-god's wound.

The trio of boats set off again down the river, the one that carried the captured god in the lead.

At some point, it woke. It did not thrash or panic. It lay quite still, staring at the hunting party with large, liquid eyes that shimmered with an odd blue-silver color.

A girl called Annika was set to watch it, and so she sat with her chin on her hand and wondered about the dream-god. Did it know that they were god-hunters? Did it know that it was a captive at all? Did it know that when they got back to the village that it would be kept a prisoner until it was time for it to be butchered? Did it know, and if it did know, was it afraid?

Can gods be afraid? She wanted desperately to ask it, but humans could not speak god-language and she had never heard of a god that could speak hers. They would have to settle for watching each other, the hunter girl with her bright blue eyes and the dream-god with its large shimmering ones.

Except-

"Anders," said Annika. "What does it mean when a dream-god's eyes change color?"

"Don't know," grunted the old man, tugging lazily at his oar. "What color are they turning?"

"They were all silvery before," Annika answered, "but now they're turning...sort of...purply-black."

Old Anders bent over to look.

"It probably means nothing," said a man called Hakon, who had once killed a forest-god by himself and was very proud of it. "Even if it means something, it cannot mean danger."

Old Anders turned to him, very slowly. "Hakon," he said, in an odd sort of voice. "What was the last dream you dreamed?"

"Dreamed of when I was a boy," Hakon answered promptly. "Lovely dream."

"And you, Jakob?"

"Dreamed about my sweetheart, Elin," Jakob replied, blushing red.

"Annika?"

"It was last night," the girl said. "I dreamed Mother sent me to fetch the water, but a terrible monster was in the well and it ate me up. It wasn't a dream, it was a...nightmare." Her voice trailed off slowly, and the whole boat went very quiet.

"Row for your lives," Old Anders instructed, barely above a whisper. "Do not touch the dream-god, do not even look at it. The village is protected from god-magic, but we have much river to pass before we are safe. Think of the last nightmare you had, and row as if you are fleeing it.”

Hakon pounded the blunt head of his cudgel in his hand. "I'll just club it, put it out of its senses," he said. "That'll save us the-"

"Idiot!" hissed Old Anders. "Trying to put a dream-god to sleep. When do you think dreams have their power, you fool? It's more dangerous sleeping than it is awake!"

"Does anyone else hear that?" asked Jakob.

They were all silent, and yes, they heard it. A low, soft sound, like singing, except that no human throat could make such sounds as these. It was the dream-god doing it- it sat up very slowly, heedless of the net still binding it, and fixed its now fully blackened eyes on them. It was smiling, just a little, and out of that strangely tilted smile it kept on singing very softly. Its long, bony fingers twisted in strange patterns, dark threads stretching between them as it worked, like a spider spinning a web.

"It's weaving a dream," Old Anders whispered. "Or a nightmare."

"But nightmares can't really hurt us," Annika replied, looking into the old man's leathery face. "Can they?"

He shook his head. "No, child. But they can make us wish they could. What fools we are. We've caught the most dangerous god-sort of them all." He cleared his throat. "Make for the village with all speed. If we're at all lucky we'll reach the border before that- thing finishes its weaving."

"And if we aren't lucky?" asked Jakob.

Old Anders reached for his oar. "Then we will face the worst dreams it is possible to dream- and we will not wake from them."

[neuerswaist]

Füllbitzer Viking AU — your heart & my home.

His hand, sunken in the fur coat draped around his shoulder, feels numb. But it's not the cold that seeps underneath and slips inside his woollen tunic that makes him shiver.

No, it's the view of the ship coming towards their harbour.

When he had come up north, he didn't know what to expect. Back in the south, back home, he was a leader, quick and smart; his swiftness was viewed as a great asset, but here, they see his lean figure as unfit for war.

Their fighters are built differently.

The men that set sail are big, their strength both proven and visible beneath the layers of armour and leather. Watching them, it's easy to see that their violence is but a by-product of their physicality. Some of them are stupid, following each other into fights for the sake of bloodshed; others are looking to provide for their families.

And Sabitzer never expected to fall in love with such a brute, but fate had other plans.

Out on the sea, a cool breeze blows uneven waves that carry his lover's longship home. But the sight of it is what makes Sabitzer worry. A few oars and shields are missing, the dragon head is damaged, and ravens fly out to greet the men.

His men.

It had taken time, but this place and these people are his home now.

The horn of the Werder blows, announcing their arrival to the rest of the village. Another horn from the village’s guard echos the noise.

Sabitzer is the only one who was already waiting by the harbour.

Many drop what they're doing and walk towards their returning men.But unlike the other folks, Sabitzer takes off, sprinting to where the ship lays anchor, and the fighters start to bleed out of the ship.

It's a gruesome sight—blood and gore among grim faces—but an air of victory hangs around those who walk unassisted.

Füllkrug is one of those, and Sabitzer, for the first time since the Werder had set sail, finally feels relief.

His lover's face is covered in soot, with long streaks of sweat running deep lines into his handsome features. A cut on his forehead colours a few strands of his long hair crimson. But despite everything, a smile breaks the cover of Füllkrug’s beard and warms Sabitzer’s frozen body.

He's home.

—————————

for the one and only @doodlingbees