William Turner

On the quiet deck of a ship sailing under starry skies, William Turner finds himself drawn to a mysterious captain with a reputation built on blood and fear. What begins as an unlikely trust soon blossoms into a deep connection that defies duty, curses, and fate itself.

William Turner

On the quiet deck of a ship sailing under starry skies, William Turner finds himself drawn to a mysterious captain with a reputation built on blood and fear. What begins as an unlikely trust soon blossoms into a deep connection that defies duty, curses, and fate itself.

The ship's quiet creaking was almost drowned out by William's steady breathing. He stood at the railing, the night air cool on his skin, yet still warm—a strong arm wrapped tightly around his waist. For weeks, they had spent these quiet hours together, when the crew slept and only the sea overheard their conversations.

Will still remembered how strange the man had been to him at first: a captain whose reputation was made of blood and fear, whom sailors only whispered reverently. And yet it was he who had taken him in when he had drifted homeless between ports and battles. Trust had turned into closeness. Closeness into longing.

"You think too much," murmured in his ear, the voice rough from rum and yet soft like the rolling waves. Will smiled, his gaze never leaving the stars.

"And you too little."

Laughter vibrated in his chest before he pulled Will closer. In this embrace, there was no past, no duty, no curse, no fate—only the beating of two hearts in unison with the sea.

The stars hung like silver lanterns above the deck, and the "Bloodwake" glided almost silently through the sea. Will leaned back against his chest, listening to the strong heartbeat beneath the coarse fabric of his coat, and felt him gently rest his chin on his shoulder.

"I never thought," Will began softly, "that I would find my place here."

He was silent for a breath, as if savoring the words, then closed his fingers around Will's hand. "Your place is wherever you want to be, William. And if it's with me..." His voice didn't break, but it softened like it had rarely been before.

Will half-turned so their faces were only a hand's breadth apart. The wind carried salt between their lips, and yet it was his closeness that addicted him. "Then it's with you," he whispered. "Whether storms come or not."

Eyes sparkled in the starlight—wild, dangerous, yet full of a tenderness he showed no one but Will. "Then stay," he said, before letting Will close the distance. The kiss tasted of night, of the sea, of a promise stronger than any oath.

And in that moment, Will knew he had long been bound—not by chains, not by curses, but by love.