#A powerful ocean wave crashing against the rocks

[mohashop123]

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[multi-fandom-imagine]

Bro I’ve been following you for—I kid you not—years. And I’ve always been more of a lurker, but now that you’re writing for the single greatest hyperfixation I’ve ever had, I just had to come in and request some Epic from one of my favorite drabble blogs lol. Could I kindly request something Poseidon related? Perhaps to the same prompt as your most recent Ares one? 👉🏽👈🏽

A/n: STOOOPP! This is the sweetest thing ever! Of course! I will be happy too.

Poseidon’s Favorite Places He and You His Wife Have Had Sex.

(Or: The God of the Sea and His Eternal Obsession with You)

Poseidon is a god of power, a force of nature itself. But when it comes to you, his wife, his divine equal, his greatest love.

He is insatiable.

The ocean is vast, endless, eternal.

And so is his hunger for you.

1. Beneath the Waves – Where No Mortal Can Breathe, But You Can

The first time Poseidon took you beneath the waves, it had been an act of trust.

You had been standing on the shore, your feet sinking into wet sand, waves curling around your ankles like an invitation.

Poseidon had appeared from the sea itself, rising from the water with effortless grace, his dark hair dripping, his storm-blue eyes burning with something possessive.

He had extended his hand. “Come with me.”

And you had trusted him because why wouldn't you, he was your world.

The water had wrapped around you, pulling you into the depths.

For a moment, there had been nothing but the crushing silence of the deep, the pressure of the ocean folding around you.

But then—you could breathe.

You could see the world of the sea, the glowing coral, the silver fish darting between ruins of lost civilizations.

And then—you felt him.

Poseidon had pinned you against a smooth rock formation, his body pressing into yours, the water swirling around you like a living thing.

“Here,” he had whispered, his lips trailing against your throat. “Where no mortal has ever touched.”

His hands explored every inch of you, slow, reverent, claiming you as the queen of his realm.

And when he finally thrust into you, filling you completely, the ocean itself trembled with his pleasure.

The waves above swelled and crashed violently against the shore, a reflection of the storm between you.

And in that moment—you became more than just his wife.

You became his sea, his tide, his storm.

2. On the Edge of a Storm, Where the Wind and Rain Bow to Him

Poseidon is the god of storms, of the untamed sea, of the power that churns beneath the surface.

And sometimes, when his desire for you is too overwhelming, too fierce, too all-consuming—

The world feels it.

The last time he had pulled you to him in the middle of a storm, you had been standing on the deck of a ship, watching the sky darken, the wind howling through the sails.

Poseidon had appeared from nowhere, materializing with the storm itself, his expression dark, ravenous.

“You tempt me,” he had murmured, pushing you against the mast, the rain soaking through your clothes.

You had shivered—not from cold, but from the heat in his eyes, the way his wet hands slid over your skin, rough and unyielding. Whimpers leaving your lips as lightning had cracked across the sky when he lifted you into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding against you until you were gasping his name.

The ship had rocked violently, caught in the force of his passion, the sea itself obeying the god that ruled it.

And when he finally thrust into you, deep and hard, claiming you as his own amidst the chaos—

The ocean had roared with him.

The crew had whispered stories of a goddess among them, of a storm conjured by love and desire.

And Poseidon had only grinned, brushing his lips over your ear, whispering, “Let them fear us.”

⸻

3. In His Temple, Where He Worships You Like a Goddess

Poseidon may be a god.But to him, so are you.

And he proves it every time he lays you down upon the marble altar in his temple, beneath the flickering torches, where the scent of salt and incense fills the air.

He does not rush, does not ravish you in hunger.

No.

Here, he takes his time.

Here, he kneels before you, his hands trailing over your thighs, parting them slowly as if he is preparing to make an offering.

And when his mouth finds you, when his tongue moves with practiced devotion—

You realize that he is the one who worships.

Poseidon, the god who commands the seas, who holds dominion over storms and earthquakes, kneels for you.

He devours you like you are the ocean itself, like he will drown in you, like he would rather die than stop.

And when you finally fall apart beneath him, crying his name, gripping his hair—

Only then does he rise, his eyes dark with reverence, with love, with obsession.

And he takes you slowly, deeply, endlessly—

Because you are not just his queen.You are his everything.

4. On the Shores of His Kingdom, Where the Tide Kisses Your Skin

There is something about the beach at dusk, when the tide is high and the world is quiet.

It is here that Poseidon finds you the most beautiful.

You had been standing in the shallow water, your dress wet, clinging to your curves, your eyes locked onto his with quiet defiance.

“Come to me,” he had commanded.

And you had refused, just to tease him.

So he had come to you instead.

The next thing you knew, you were on your back in the wet sand, Poseidon above you, his body pressing you down as the waves washed over you both.

“You are impossible,” he growled, but there was a grin in his voice, amusement in the way he kissed you—hard, claiming, relentless.

And then he pushed into you, deep and slow, the water swirling around your bodies, the tide rising in rhythm with his movements.

You had cried out, gripping his shoulders, gasping against his lips as he moved with the ocean, each thrust pushing you further into ecstasy.

The sea had witnessed your love, cradled your bodies, carried the sounds of your pleasure into the wind.

And when you finally collapsed against him, spent and breathless, he had only whispered—

“You are mine. And I will never let you go.”

You are his goddess and he will make it so, because no one will be brave enough to take you from him.

Poseidon is a god of many things.

But when it comes to you, his wife, his love, his greatest treasure—

There is only one truth.

He will have you anywhere, everywhere, in the ocean, in storms, in temples, in the sand.

Because you are his, he is yours.

And he will spend eternity proving it.

[inseobts]

Ok I’m dying to know what you think, if somehow law got to meet a superhero reader (idk like Ironman or Spider-Man kind of inspired superhero) from like, marvel universe that fell near his submarine, would he be amazed they are like sora the sea warrior? (I know very little about sora and why law likes him so much other than he like captain America but in one piece? Do we even know if sora has a rank in the marines??) would he think they cool with their cool super suit or strong morals?! Or would he only think sora is cool? (Seriously willing to get into an argument with law on whose cooler, sora or Ironman)

The Hero Beneath the Waves

Law × gn!Reader

a/n: I truly love nerdy Law sakjie so glad I could write this lmao

words count: 2.6k

tags: first meeting, superhero reader, humor, action, marvel-inspired

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

BANG! SPLASH!

A massive object crashes into the sea, sending waves slamming against the Polar Tang. The submarine rocks violently. The crew shouts in alarm.

“What the hell was that?!” Shachi yells, gripping a railing.

Law strides toward the monitor “Scan the area.”

The sonar pings rapidly. Penguin squints at the screen “Uh… Captain? There’s a person down there.”

“A person?” Law frowns.

Ikkaku zooms in with the external camera. A metallic figure floats in the water, faintly glowing. The person inside stirs.

“…They’re alive.” Bepo confirms.

Law sighs “Bring them in.”

Inside the Polar Tang, the unconscious figure lies on a stretcher. Their armor is sleek, futuristic, advanced tech. The faceplate slides open with a hiss, revealing you, blinking dazedly.

“…Ugh. That was not a smooth landing.” you mutter. Your eyes dart around “A submarine? Who—?”

You see Law “Oh. You look important. What’s with the hat?”

Law scowls “Who the hell are you?”

You smirk “Call me Iron Phantom.” You flex your fingers, testing your mobility “Mind if I sit up? Not really a fan of lying down in strange places.”

Law crosses his arms “That depends. Are you a threat?”

You chuckle “That depends... Do you consider saving people a threat?”

Law tenses. That kind of line… It’s too familiar.

Bepo, intrigued, leans closer “You’re a hero?”

You grin and give a two-fingered salute “At your service.”

There’s a heavy silence. The crew exchanges glances.

Law exhales sharply “Tch. You sound like someone... nevermind.”

You raise an eyebrow and Law’s eye twitches.

Shachi whispers “Captain’s thinking of Sora…”

Penguin nods “Definitely Sora.”

You tilt your head “Who’s Sora?”

Law scoffs “Just some fictional warrior of the sea.”

You smirk “So… a hero?”

Law glares.

Shachi nudges Penguin “He totally thinks they’re cool.”

Law growls “Shut up.”

You chuckle “I am pretty cool.”

Law pinches the bridge of his nose. This is going to be a long day.

The crew is staring at you. You take the opportunity to sit up, rolling your shoulders.

“Okay,” you say “I’ve woken up in worse places.”

Law narrows his eyes “Where did you come from?”

“Technically? The sky. More specifically? Got hit mid-flight, lost control, and, well…” You gesture vaguely “Gravity, I guess?”

Shachi gasps “That’s kinda badass.”

Law shoots him a glare. Shachi clears his throat and looks away.

You tilt your head at the submarine’s interior “This your ship?”

“Submarine” Law corrects.

You grin “A submarine? That’s sick. Not enough heroes operate underwater, you know. It’s all ‘soaring through the sky’ or ‘running at the speed of sound.’ But the ocean?” You nod approvingly “Respect.”

The crew looks between you and Law.

Penguin whispers “Captain is so weak to hero talk.”

Law ignores him “How does your suit work?”

You glance down at your armor “Oh, it’s powered by an advanced energy core. Flight, enhanced strength, force fields, the usual.”

“…Tch.” Law clicks his tongue, crossing his arms “A walking weapon.”

You smirk “A walking hero.”

The twitch in Law’s eye is noticeable.

Bepo, still curious, leans in “Why do you save people?”

You blink “Uh. Because it’s the right thing to—” you stop and gasps as soon as you focus on Bepo "Oh wow, you're so cuteeeee"

Shachi and Penguin grin at Law.

He exhales sharply “The right thing to do... Of course that’s the answer.”

You raise an eyebrow “Something wrong with that?”

Law rubs his temples “Nothing. It’s just...” He gestures vaguely at you “You sound exactly like...”

“Sora?” the crew chimes in.

Law glares “Shut up.”

You laugh “Oh, so I do remind you of someone.”

Law scowls “Not a compliment.”

“I dunno,” you tease “Sounds like a compliment from you.”

Law turns to his crew "Get them off my ship.”

“Aw, come on, Captain,” Penguin says “They’re kinda cool.”

Law’s eye twitches “We are not keeping a superhero.”

You smirk “You say that like I’m a pet.”

Shachi snickers “Captain’s just mad you’re like his childhood idol.”

You lean toward Law, grinning “You a fan of heroes, Captain?”

Law gives you the most unimpressed look possible “No.”

You nod sagely “Denial. The first stage.”

Law sighs. This is going to be an even longer day than he thought.

Law wants you off his submarine.

Your problem is that you got kinda injured from that fall.

Nothing life-threatening, but the moment you try to stand, your body wobbles like a newborn deer. The suit took the worst of the damage, but the impact rattled your brain enough to make the world spin.

“Great,” Law mutters “A half-broken superhero.”

You shoot him a weak grin “I prefer ‘slightly dented.’”

Bepo catches you before you tip over completely “Captain, we should let them rest.”

“No,” Law says “They’ll be fine.”

You blink “You must a doctor here, right?”

Bepo ears start to move “Captain is our doctor”

Law crosses his arms “So?”

“So, you’re supposed to help people when they need a doctor” you point out.

The crew watches, completely fascinated as their Captain is forced to process being out-moraled on his own ship.

Law pinches the bridge of his nose “I don’t treat reckless idiots.”

You smirk “Bet you’d treat that Sora.”

Silence.

Shachi and Penguin choke trying not to laugh.

Law inhales slowly through his nose “Fine.”

Later on, Law works efficiently, scanning for injuries while you sit on the examination table, feet swinging.

“You ever met a superhero before?” you ask.

“No.”

“You excited?”

“No.”

You grin “You sound excited.”

Law glares “I could throw you back into the ocean.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I got thrown out of somewhere.”

Law ignores you, eyes flicking to your suit’s exposed wiring “Your armor needs repairs.”

You sigh “Yeah, I don't know how to do it myself. I usually have a team for that. But seeing as I’m currently stranded on a submarine…”

Bepo perks up “Ikkaku’s good with machines!”

Ikkaku grins “I’d love to take a look at it.”

You brighten “See? Your crew likes me.”

Law doesn’t even glance up “My crew is full of idiots.”

Shachi grins “Idiots who think superheroes are cool.”

Law clenches his jaw.

You lean back, watching him “You ever wanted to be a hero?”

“No.”

“Not even as a kid?”

“No.”

You smirk “Liar.”

Law swears under his breath. This is officially his worst patient ever.

You’ve been on the Polar Tang for a grand total of three hours now, and you’re already Law’s biggest headache.

Not because you’re demanding. You actually sit still while he patches you up, which is more than he can say for his own crew.

No, the problem is that you’re clearly a walking Sora reference, and the crew will not shut up about it.

Law applies a bandage to your arm, muttering, “You heal fast.”

You grin “Perks of the suit. It boosts recovery.”

“Ridiculous,” he scoffs, but he doesn’t look away from your gear. He’s analyzing every detail, the material, the tech, the way it integrates with your body.

You catch him staring “You’re interested.”

“No.”

“You’re totally interested.”

“I’m analyzing flaws.”

“Oh? Find any?”

Law tugs the bandage a little tighter.

You hiss “Ow! That was petty.”

“No, that was medical precision.”

Shachi leans against the wall, grinning “Captain’s totally geeking out.”

Law glares “I do not ‘geek out.’”

Penguin nudges him “Then why’d you grab a notebook?”

Everyone looks.

Sure enough, Law’s holding his personal notebook, the one he uses for medical observations, or in this case, detailed notes on your suit’s tech.

He immediately closes it “You all need to shut up.”

You laugh “Busted.”

Bepo tilts his head “Captain, if you’re curious, why not just ask them?”

Law crosses his arms “I’m not curious.”

You smirk “If I told you how my flight system works, you wouldn’t be interested?”

“…No.”

“Not even if I explained the physics behind it?”

Silence.

Shachi grins “He wants to know.”

Law drags a hand down his face “I swear to—”

You stretch lazily “Well, I guess I won’t explain, then. Too bad.”

Law’s eye twitches. You can practically hear his inner self screaming for answers.

“…Tch.” He exhales sharply “Fine. How does it work?”

The crew erupts in laughter.

You grin “See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Law already regrets this conversation.

You swing your legs from the medical table, grinning like you just won a bet.

“I knew you were interested” you say.

Law rolls his eyes “It’s scientific curiosity, not admiration.”

You raise an eyebrow “Uh-huh. And if I asked you how your submarine works, that wouldn’t be admiration either?”

Law scoffs “Of course not.”

“You saying there’s a difference between admiration and respect?”

Law tenses.

The crew watches.

Penguin whispers “Oh, they got him.”

Law glares “Shut up.”

You smirk “Sooo, you respect my tech?”

“…It’s functional” Law admits, very grudgingly.

Shachi grins “That’s the closest thing to a praise that Captain has ever given to a stranger in years.”

Law snaps his notebook shut “I hate all of you.”

You chuckle “It’s fine, I get it. You’re a grumpy, cynical doctor who doesn’t believe in heroes—”

“I don’t.”

“—but deep down, you definitely wanted to be one as a kid.”

Law inhales sharply through his nose.

Silence.

You smirk “Called it.”

Shachi and Penguin high-five in the background.

Law grits his teeth “I am a pirate captain and a doctor, not a hero.”

“Sure, sure,” you say “And that Sora is just a propaganda story.”

“…Tch.”

You hop off the medical table, rolling your shoulder “Welp, I feel way better. Thanks, Doc.”

Law mutters “Unfortunately.”

You glance at the crew “So, when’s dinner? I’m starving.”

Ikkaku grins “I’ll make extra.”

Law glares “They are not staying.”

You smile “C’mon, Captain. You wouldn’t kick an injured guest out, would you?”

Law exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose.

This is officially his problem now.

Right as you were all sitting down for dinner, the Polar Tang shakes as explosions erupt outside.

“Captain!” Ikkaku yells from the control room “Enemy ship approaching, they're bounty hunters!”

Law grits his teeth “Of course it’s bounty hunters.”

You glance at him “Want me to handle it?”

“No.”

You ignore him and start walking.

“Oi,” he snaps “Did you hear me? I said no.”

You just shoot him a grin “Yeah, but you’re not my Captain... Captain.”

Law swears under his breath.

Outside the Polar Tang a massive bounty hunter ship looms overhead. The crew scrambles, manning the cannons. You step onto the deck and roll your shoulders.

Law follows, grumbling “I don’t know why I even bother.”

Then he watches you activate your suit.

Thrusters ignite at your back, launching you into the air. The ocean wind whips past as you twist midair, dodging cannon fire.

Law stops moving.

His crew doesn’t notice but he does.

His surgeon’s brain starts analyzing instantly.

Your suit doesn’t just grant flight, it adjusts to air resistance, correcting your trajectory with perfect precision. No wasted movement. Every boost of your thrusters is calculated.

"The reaction time...” Law mutters under his breath.

You spin between cannonballs, dodging like it’s nothing. Then you fire back. A pulse blast rips through the enemy’s mast.

Shachi and Penguin shout in awe. Bepo gasps “That’s incredible!”

Law tilts his head, completely fascinated.

Your targeting system, how does it calculate angles so instantly? Is it predictive tech? Some kind of AI support?

You land on the enemy ship with a metallic clang. The bounty hunters charge.

One swings a sword.

Your gauntlet snaps up, catching the blade.

Law’s eyes widen.

The armor absorbs the impact. No recoil. The distribution system must be flawless.

Then, in one fluid motion, you twist the sword away and deck the guy in the face.

The crew is freaking out.

Shachi grabs Penguin’s arm “Captain’s doing the thing.”

Penguin nods “He’s totally doing the thing.”

Law doesn’t even blink.

His gaze flickers from your footwork to your reaction time to the way your suit enhances your natural movements rather than restricting them.

“…They can still maneuver at that speed?” he mutters, barely realizing he’s speaking aloud “That shouldn’t be possible without—”

You dodge a bullet mid-air.

Law inhales sharply.

The bounty hunters rush again. You move like a blur.

You slam one into the ground so fast that Law’s brain lags. Another charges, you sidestep effortlessly, then launch a repulsor blast point-blank into their chest.

Law leans forward slightly.

His crew watches him instead of you now.

Ikkaku whispers, “He’s in full nerd mode.”

Bepo nods solemnly “He’s already started taking mental notes.”

You flip over another opponent, land gracefully, and turn back toward the Polar Tang “That’s the last of ‘em.”

Shachi and Penguin cheer.

Law is staring at your boots.

“That propulsion system...” he mutters, completely absorbed “The shift in weight distribution should’ve thrown off the landing, but—”

You smirk “You like what you see, Captain?”

Law snaps out of it.

His expression hardens instantly “Tch. You’re reckless.”

You laugh “So you said. But I did just save your ass.”

Law clicks his tongue “You’re a pain in mine.”

You step closer “Admit it. You think it was cool.”

Law crosses his arms “I think it’s impractical.”

Penguin grins “That’s what he says when he’s impressed.”

Law turns on his heel and walks away “We’re leaving. Get back on the ship.”

You watch him go, then glance at the crew “He’s totally geeking out, isn’t he?”

Shachi nods “Oh, 100%.”

You chuckle. This is way more fun than you expected.

Dinner on the Polar Tang is surprisingly cozy.

You sit at the long table, surrounded by a crew that definitely doesn’t see you as a stranger anymore. Ikkaku chats excitedly about possible modifications for your suit, while Shachi and Penguin keep pestering you with questions.

“Do you have a secret identity?”

“Do you have a superhero name?”

“Can you shoot lasers from your eyes?”

You laugh “I feel like answering would ruin the mystery.”

Across the table, Law eats in silence.

Or, well... he tries to.

Bepo keeps throwing glances his way.

Shachi and Penguin keep nudging each other.

Everyone is waiting for him to say something.

Finally, after finishing his food, Law sighs and sets his chopsticks down.

“You can stay” he says.

The crew erupts into cheers.

You blink “Just like that?”

Law glares “Until you figure out how to get back to wherever you came from. That’s it.”

Penguin grins “That’s basically an invitation to join the crew.”

“It is not.”

Bepo tilts his head “But Captain, if they’re stranded—”

“They’re not stranded,” Law insists “They have a high-tech flight system, which means they can leave any time they want.”

You smirk “But you’re letting me stay anyway.”

Law scowls “Only because it would be irresponsible to throw an injured person into the middle of the ocean.”

Ikkaku grins “And because you wanna study their suit more.”

Law’s eye twitches.

“I don’t care about their suit.”

Shachi leans back, arms crossed “Mmm, right. So that whole time you were staring during the fight—”

“I was analyzing a potential ally’s combat effectiveness.”

Penguin snorts “Nah, you were nerding out.”

The whole crew bursts into laughter.

You grin, propping your elbow on the table “It’s okay, Captain. You can admit it. You think I’m cool.”

Law exhales sharply.

Then, in the most neutral, deadpan tone possible, he says “You’re marginally less annoying than the rest of my crew.”

Everyone gasps dramatically.

“That’s basically love” Penguin whispers.

Law stands abruptly “Dinner’s over. We leave at dawn.”

You watch him go, chuckling “He likes me.”

Shachi nods “He totally does.”

Bepo smiles “Welcome aboard.”

You glance around at the crew, at the warmth, the laughter, the feeling of belonging, even if just for now.

You might not be a pirate.

But for now this isn’t a bad place to be.

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

I'm thinking of Merman!Gaz smut tonight, so... have a little drabble:

Breeding? || Merman!Gaz (for Mermay 2024)

cw: smut (cunnilingus), dubcon elements (reader is willing).

Merman!Gaz who's actually part sea horse so he has a dorsal fin, ears that are fin-shaped, and no caudal fin, but a straight, thin and curled tail instead.

Merman!Gaz who loves people watching and has learned plenty about humans... and even does it enough to have picked up on some Englsh.

Merman!Gaz who sees you at the beach, not one of those fine sand and great for sunbathing ones, but one that's mostly rocky gravel and a jagged coastal line.

Merman!Gaz who approaches the rocks you're sitting on and peaks his head over them to catch your eye, happy that the beach is mostly devoid of people due to how gloomy and cloudy the sky is.

Merman!Gaz who startles you and smiles when he notices you jumping, but then your eyes shine like the stars and you look at him with such curiosity as you carefully approach with a "Hi...?".

Merman!Gaz who's, unfortunately, more curious about the parts of your body hidden under your shorts than you as a human, and whose human-like hands start pawing at your thighs, webbed fingers massaging your exposed skin.

Merman!Gaz who wraps his muscular arms around your hip and drags you as close as he can get you to the edge of the rocks, your toes dangling over the water, and legs being sprinkled by the crashing waves.

Merman!Gaz who presses his face against your clothed cunt, burying his nose against the gusset of your denim shorts, taking a deep sniff of you thanks to his powerful nose, that sends excitement coursing through his body, and heat rising up to his face.

Merman!Gaz who realizes how beautiful you look with your eyes wide and your whole body stiffened in surprise... but notes how your hands don't push to fight him off.

Merman!Gaz who tries to rip your clothes off you, not knowing what "Careful!" means when you say it, which makes him look at you with knitted brows and the biggest, softest brown eyes, only for you to relent and help him.

Merman!Gaz who, as soon as he sets eyes on your exposed cunt, feels his heart racing in his chest and immediately buries his face back where it belongs.

Merman!Gaz who licks stripes up your cunt, savouring the taste and the warmth of your core, the wetness so different to the salty ocean, and revels on how your moans sound even more lovely than some of the mating songs he hears from whales and other mammals.

Merman!Gaz whose fins start brightening in color, turning bright orange rather than its muted shade of terracotta, and whose tail wraps around one of your feet, as he sucks on your clit and hears you mewl and moan.

Merman!Gaz who smiles when he feels a rush of liquid rush against his plump lips and down his chin, watching how you go limp and sigh fondly, having peaked against his mouth... and clicks his tongue and smacks his lips, pleased with himself.

Merman!Gaz who continues at it over and over, his tongue diving into your winking hole, and feels your heels dig into the expanse of his back as his arms keep holding his torso above the water so he can remain buried in your cunt.

Merman!Gaz who after you're overstimulated, uses his strong arms to pull himself up onto the rocks atop you and whose lips crash onto yours in a deep, languid kiss, like he's seen so many humans share, noticing your eyes rolling and the fucked out look on your face.

Merman!Gaz who vanishes under the water while you're struggling to catch your breath, catching the way as you jump up, startled, when you noticed he's gone, seemingly distraught that he'd just leave like that.

Merman!Gaz who, weeks later, is lowkey confused as to why his brood pouch didn't swell and he's not releasing any babies, he's pretty sure you two mated?

Part 2:

[iraot]

Inescapable Tide | LaDS | Rafayel x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,882 Warnings: Please mind and heed all warnings, I'm not responsible for the content you consume please read responsibly. Dark Rafayel, Cersion, forced bonding, entrapment?, merperson sex, power play?, blood, ritualistic sex, am I missing anything? Ao3 Link

It was in the hum of his voice that comforted her, like he knew all her secrets just by breathing. The sun warmed them during the day and kept her more than comfortable at night, and nothing in the world could ever take away the happiness she felt when his laugh echoed on the empty isles she had spent her life on. The day she had first spotted him, he’d been basking on a rock just off short, he was leaned back and his face towards the sun soaking up the rays. His usual personality was one that was carefree – with no worries besides what he would eat next, but there were some days he seemed to be far away.

Those days, she found herself often forgotten while he seemed to dream of something even she didn’t know.

Today was one of those days, he sat, eyes narrowed at seemingly nothing in the distance except for the waves that crashed upon the rocks, the tide was as frustrated as he was. The mist splashing his skin keeping his scales from drying out. It was times like these she mended her nets in silence knowing nothing she did would fix whatever storm was brewing in his mind.

“We met one year ago today,” he finally spoke, his melodic voice like a symphony in her ears.

Lifting her gaze away from her nets she offered a small smile, “has it been that long already? I guess, I lost track of time.” It was easy to do such a thing with him, to lose herself in his presence.

He looked at her, his eyes a hurricane of emotions as he watched her. There was something resolute in his gaze, and while he was a man of many words—there were times when his silence was near deafening. It felt unnatural, and the first few times he’d gotten like this she’d done everything she could to comfort him. Went out of her way to tear a smile from him, but she learned that sometimes she had to let him be.

Rafayel grabbed her wrists he pulled her close forcing a shocked gasp from her lips as she looked at him suddenly. His breath against her face, his eyes intense like the whipping current off the east side of the island. The dull needle with thread still in her hands as the net fell to the sand in front of him.

“Lets go for a swim,” he whispered his mouth close to her ear, “we haven’t been in a while.”

Like she had time, and time again—she agreed. Wanting only for the joy and happiness to come back into his face, wanting only for him to smile at her again.

And he did.

He swam them out where she could still touch swimming on his back with her resting against his chest his arms around her waist holding her tightly, near the blue hole in the ocean she’d only seen a few times always too scared to venture too close. The smile on his lips were soft, but it didn’t reach his eyes—almost like false comfort, but she trusted him—it wasn’t like he’d ever given her a reason not to.

As the sun dipped down she looked to the island. “I should head back, sharks come here at night.” The idea of being in the water where predators came to feed was not at all enticing, even if she were more than safe with Rafayel; there was a feeling she couldn’t shake that the predator she should be scared of his him.

He pouted at her.

His bottom lip puckered out forcing a smile of endearment to cover her face, she cupped his cheeks gently and the look fell off his face replaced with one of determination. The change in his face and body language was so sudden she didn’t really have time to process the fact that they were right in the middle of the blue pit. Her stomach lurched at the thought of nothing below her for hundreds of feet, his arms around her waist holding her close.

“Rafayel,” her voice broke, fear lacing every syllable of his name.

"Do you think I’d truly let anything happen to you?" he whispered, his voice as smooth as the sea at dawn, but there was no comfort in his gaze. "You’re mine. No one is allowed to hurt you... but me."

Her lungs burned as she thrashed against him, her fear swallowing reason. The saltwater stung her eyes, but it was nothing compared to the sharp, cold betrayal in her chest. She tried to break free, but his grip was unyielding, his strength a cruel reminder of her powerlessness. When their blood mixed, a searing warmth spread through her, and she realized with mounting horror that whatever he had done was irreversible.

Then with a swiftness not ever seen before he cut his hand on an obsidian blade and then hers as well pressing their palms together; when their blood merged her body felt warm, she couldn’t understand what was happening but the look in his eyes told her he’d been planning this for a while. He breathed more oxygen into her lungs then kissed her softly stroking her cheek – his eyes softening, worry filling them.

Her body betrayed her, reshaping itself under the ocean's will—or was it his? Her legs fused together, the warmth spreading through her veins like poison. Her lungs burned until the gills ripped through her neck, the pain sharp and unrelenting. She tried to scream, but the water swallowed her voice, leaving her only with the sound of Rafayel’s steady breathing as he held her close, unmoved by her struggle.

He stroked her cheek, his touch tender, almost reverent, as though he were bestowing a gift. But his gentleness was a mockery of the fear that gripped her. Her chest tightened as the warmth of the transformation overtook her, and the light above grew distant. His eyes, glowing faintly with bioluminescent light, were full of triumph.

"Finally," he murmured, "you’re mine."

The light crawls into her vision like a whisper, his voice soft, a hum that tethered her to reality. Weightless—floating, probably because she is. When her eyes finally open, she realizes she’s cradled in Rafayel’s arms, tucked into a bed of sea grass that keeps them from drifting. His face is serene in sleep, the ocean’s gentle currents teasing his dark hair, his chest rising and falling with a rhythm as steady as the tide.

For a moment, panic claws at her chest, sharp and unrelenting, as the question pounds in her mind: How am I breathing under water? Her hands rise to her throat instinctively, searching for answers.

Then, something glimmers at the edge of her vision. Turning, she sees it—her tail. A symphony of emerald greens wove through her scales, shimmering like sunlight filtering through a kelp forest. Specks of gold glistened throughout, radiant as sunlit beaches. Soft coral pinks bloomed at the edges, reminiscent of a sea anemone swaying in the current.

Her breath catches—or tries to—because how can she be breathing? Her chest feels different, as though the ocean itself has claimed it. She shifts, and Rafayel’s arms tighten around her immediately, his hands reflexively grasping her as his eyes snap open, luminous and intense.

“Rafayel,” she breathes, her voice carrying strangely, effortlessly, through the water.

“What did you do?”

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, his gaze roams her face, softening as he strokes her cheek with a tenderness that makes her stomach churn with unease. “I saved us,” he murmurs, his voice low, reverent.

“Now we are one—we can have the life we deserve.”

Her heart beats was was pounding through her chest, though the ocean felt calm around them. Uneasiness spreads through her, cold and creeping, like the shadows that lurked in the depths they now inhabited. She doesn’t look at him, not fully, afraid of the truth in his eyes—that this was no gift, no salvation.

It was something else entirely.

Shaking her head she closed her eyes, “No,” she whispered softly and he cupped her face in his hands giving her no choice but to look into his eyes. Determination set within them, swirling about with other conflicting emotions she couldn’t place, nor did she want to try.

“Yes,” he whispered, his lips descending upon hers gently. Not forceful—never, because he’d never truly hurt her even she knew that but this lack of choice ripped away from her was hard to come to terms with.

Her chest heaved as her breathing began to steady, the salt tinged water a strange balm against the terror still thrumming in her veins. Rafayel’s hands lingered, cradling her face with a tenderness that almost felt mocking after what he had done. His lips hovered closer to hers, not quite touching but warm enough that she could feel the heat off him.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he whispered, his tone languid and rich, laced with a sense of confidence and pride. “The connection, its inescapable.”

Her stomach churned. Something foreign, alive, throbbed in her chest where her heart should have been steady.

“What did you do to me?” she whimpered, her voice trembling and raw, though she already knew.”

He chuckled darkly, stroking the edge of her jaw forcing her eyes to look into his own. “You’ve always belonged to me,” his voice steady and possessive. “But the world above, your human fragility, was a barrier. Now, there’s nothing to keep us apart. No tide, no storm.. no time. We’re eternal.”

She wanted to argue, to rage, but his thumb pressed against her lower lip, silencing her effortlessly. The intimate gesture froze her protests, confusion mixing with the bitter taste of betrayal. His eyes softened a fraction, a predator offering a fleeting comfort to its prey before the killing blow.

“You’ll thank me someday,” he continued his voice dropping to a husky whisper, “I’ve given you a give, my love. The bond—it’s unbreakable. You’ll come to understand.”

“You didn’t ask,” she snapped, the defiance flickering despite the ache in her chest to submit to whatever bond he’d placed on her.

Tightening his grip, firm but never painful, as if he were sculpting her submission rather than forcing it. “Would you have agreed if I had?” he countered, his voice low, dangerous. “Humans cling to fear, they’re owned by it. I’ve stripped that away, what I’ve done—it’s for us. For our survival.”

Her vision blurred with tears, the weight of his conviction was crushing. Beneath her terror, beneath the anger, there was something worse—a whisper of longing. It told her he was right, and subconsciously she knew that too. She loved him, but hadn’t had a clue there was a way for them to actually have one another. She shook her head violently, as if the motion could banish the unwelcome thoughts.

“This isn’t love,” she spat, though her voice waved unconvincingly.

Rafayel’s lips curled into a smile—calm, assured, maddening. “Not yet, but it will be.”

Without warning, he leaned in, his lips taking hers in a kiss that was gentle and possessive. Letting her know he had no intentions of letting her go. It tasted of salt and finality, his mouth coaxing hers to open until resistance dissolved into raw involuntary desire. His hands slid down her waist, holding her steady as they floated uninhibited within the waters-- her body betraying her again. Responding to the magnetic pull of the bond coursing through her.

When he pulled back lips swollen and her eyes closed a smirk curving his lips as her lips chased his. “The ocean always claims whats hers,” he spoke softly his lips ghosting over her own,: “and now, so do I.”

The bed of sea grass beneath her shifted as Rafayel’s hands moved across the plains of her body. The water around them seemingly growing warmer, thicker with an electric charge that set her nerves off. His tail, shimmering iridescent blues and greens, brushed against hers as her circled her like a predator sizing up it’s catch. The scales glided over her new skin, their smoothness igniting sensations she didn’t she was capable of feeling.

She wanted to push him away, to demand answers, but her voice was caught in the current of his overwhelming presence. His glowing eyes never left hers as he leaned down, his hands finding her hips with a familiarity she didn’t understand, but it made her pulse quicken.

“You’re scared,” he murmured, his voice low and honeyed, threading through her resolve like a siren’s call. “I can feel it, love.. but I cane feel more too.”

Her cheeks burned despite the cold depth of the water. Her body had begun to respond in ways she didn’t understand, warmth coiling low in her belly, spreading outward like ripples on still water.

“Rafayel,” her voice managed, trembling and barely audible. “I—I’m not—”

“Not sure?” he interrupted, his hands gliding on her waist, his touch soft but insistent. His lips hovered close, brushing against hers as he spoke. “Let me show you, trust me...just this once.”

Before she could answer, his mouth claimed hers, a kiss that started slow and teasing but quickly deepened. His tongue danced with hers, tasting the salt and something primal, something that awakened that ache even further. Her hands that were meant to be used for pushing him away curled into his neck and gliding through his hair to pull him closer.

His tail wrapped around hers, the smooth scales rubbing against her own in a hypnotic pattern. The pressure in the right spots causing something to shift within her body. She gasped into his mouth as she felt an unfamiliar stirring, a heat radiating from where their tails intertwined.

“What’s happening?” she whispered breaking the kiss breathless and confused.

His lips formed into a knowing smile, his forehead pressed against hers, “you’re awakening,” he whispered, “Your body know what it needs, even if your mind resists.”

The sensation on her tail intensified and she realized with a mix of shock and curiosity that her scales had parted slight revealing something soft and sensitive. His tail tightened around hers, anchoring her as his own transformation began evident. His length emerged from a hidden slit in his tail, its color a deep shimmering match of his tail ridged with ledges and bumps.

Her eyes widened, torn between awe and apprehension. “Rafayel.. I don’t—”

“You will,” he promised, his voice a low growl that sent shivers down her spine. His hand slid lower, his fingers brushing against the newly exposed folds of her sex, eliciting as gasp from her. The touch was unlike anything she’d ever felt, it sent fire through her. Igniting something she’d never truly felt before, at least as long as she could remember.

“See? Your body knows,” he whispered as he trailed his fingers over her before pushing them insider her causing her back to arch involuntarily, pressing against him as his fingers plunged into her slick heat coaxing her open. “This is how it’s meant to be.”

Rafayel positioned her near his cock, the length of it brushing against her before he pushed slowly inside her. The sensation alone had a moan ripping from her throat as every ridge along his length stroked nerves within her that proved she was made for him. He moved slowly, giving her time to adjust before he pressed forward, she wondered if he’d ever end when his tail began flush with her own.

Rafayel groaned and his head falling to her chest. “Perfect, you’re perfect.” his voice thick with satisfaction at finally getting what he wanted.

He pressed her down into the sea grass his hips moving slow, mirroring the swaying of the water around them. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and uncertainty that blurred the lines of her resistance. His hands roamed her body caressing her breasts his lips leaving trails of fire along her neck and collarbone. Despite herself she found her hips moving to meet his, her body betraying her doubt as it responded to the primal rhythm he set. The tension coiling inside her grew unbearable, like the crest of a wave about to break.

“Let go,’ he whispered breathy another moan escaping him, grunts and pleas in her ear before he captured her mouth with his.

When her release came, it was like the ocean itself had claimed her, a tidal wave of pleasure that left her nearly unable to breathe. Trembling in his arms, his own release followed his grip tightening ash e groaned her name his cum seeping into her and spilling out.

“As the currents settled, and their breathing slowed, she found herself cradled against him once more. Her head on his chest, his hands stroking her back his touch soothing in the aftermath.

“You’re mine,” he murmured softly kissing her forehead. “Now, and always.”

She didn’t respond, her mind too clouded with exhaustion and lingering pleasure to form words. But, in the quiet depths of the ocean, with Rafayel’s arms wrapped around her, she felt the weight of his claim settle over her like an inescapable tide.­

[jjkssin]

Midnight whispers. [Part-II]

Pairing: Married jk x (fem) reader

Genre: Dark Romance|Angst|Tragedy

Character count: 5,624

Tropes: Forbidden love, toxic relationship, infidelity, suicide , funeral, heavy angst, power dynamics, emotional conflict, dominant jk.

Summary: Jeon , a ruthless man bound by duty, his heart claimed by a woman he can never make his own. He gives her everything but denies her the one thing she craves: commitment. When love turns into an ultimatum, fate delivers a devastating price.

The night air was thick with silence, an unnatural stillness that seemed to stretch endlessly. The dim glow of the chandelier barely touched the edges of Jeon’s penthouse, the very place where Y/N had once breathed life into his existence. Now, it felt empty. Hollow. Like something had been torn away, leaving behind only ghosts of the past.

He should’ve known. He should’ve seen it coming. The cracks in her voice, the haunted look in her eyes, the way she had clung to him in those last moments, whispering words that he hadn’t understood at the time. "Please. Don’t leave me, too."

Yet, he had walked away. He had left her.

The weight of responsibility had chained him down, his daughter’s innocent face a reminder of the world he had built not out of love, but out of duty. He had obligations, a name to uphold, a legacy to protect. He had thought Y/N would understand that she had always been more than a mistress to him, that she was the only thing in his life that had ever felt real. But he had been wrong.

His phone had rung.

A frantic voice. A name. A location. A body.

At first, his mind rejected it. Denied it. It was impossible. She was stubborn, fiery too full of rage and hurt to do something so final. But the moment he had stepped out, the weight of dread pressing against his ribs like a vice, he had felt it deep in his bones. Something was wrong.

The drive to the cliffside had been a blur. His driver barely kept up with the reckless way Jeon had ordered him to move but nothing mattered except getting there. His heart pounded against his ribcage, fingers curling into fists so tight his nails bit into his palms. He wouldn’t believe it.

The sky was a sickening shade of grey, the waves crashing violently against the jagged rocks below as if the ocean itself mourned her.

A body had been recovered.

Her body.

His chest constricted, something raw and unfamiliar coiling inside him, tightening around his throat. He had seen death before. He had sent men to their graves, watched the life drain from their eyes without so much as a blink. The weight of responsibility had forced him to be a man of steel, untouchable, unshaken.

But this..this was different.

Y/N.

The name alone made his entire being shudder.

The officers present had sealed off the area, but Jeon walked through them as if they were nothing, their voices drowned out by the pounding in his ears.

He saw her. He saw the spot where she had stood, the last place her feet had touched before she let go.

Let go.

She had been afraid of heights. He remembered how she would cling to him at high balconies, her fingers digging into his arm, her breath uneven. She hated the sensation of falling. And yet that was how she chose to leave this world.

He had loved her. He had loved her in ways words could never capture but he had never given her what she needed.

Jeon stumbled forward, breath hitching, heart slamming against his chest like it was trying to break free. His knees buckled the moment he saw the sheet covered stretcher, the unmistakable outline of the woman he had once held in his arms just the night before.

His hands trembled as he reached out, gripping the edge of the sheet with an almost painful gentleness as if he could rewrite this moment with nothing but sheer desperation.

But the moment he pulled the sheet down, the world around him shattered.

He had lost her

Not to another man. Not to fate. Not to time. But to his own fucking choices.

Her face was pale, eyes forever closed. The wind tangled in her long hair which he loved , strands falling across her lifeless skin.

She looked beautiful.

She looked like she was sleeping, like at any moment she’d wake up and roll her eyes at him, scream at him. But she wouldn’t. She never would.

His throat tightened as he turned away from the cliff, his body shaking with the force of what he was feeling. His car was waiting, his men silent as they watched their leader crumble before them.

The reality of it crashed over him like a tidal wave, suffocating him, drowning him in a grief so deep it was unbearable.

Jeon had built an empire. He had controlled men with a single word, had ruled with fear and power. And yet, none of it mattered now. None of it meant a damn thing when the one person who had truly seen him , the real him, beyond the cold exterior.

He had done this. His words. His choices. His failure to choose her.

His fingers traced the curve of her cheek, desperate, reverent, as if he could memorize her one last time before she slipped away completely. A tear fell, landing against her skin, but she didn’t flinch. Didn’t react.

The girl who had once screamed at him in frustration, who had kissed him with a love so consuming it made him forget everything else she was nothing more than a silent, lifeless echo now.

He clenched his jaw, trying to contain it, trying to bury the grief beneath the weight of everything else. But it was useless. The pain tore through him, raw and merciless, until he could no longer hold it back.

He had never deserved her.

Never deserved the love she had given him so freely, so recklessly. And now he would never get the chance to tell her that she had been everything. That no matter what he had said, no matter the choices he had made, she had been his greatest love, his greatest regret.

But it was too late.

By the time he reached his penthouse again, the weight of her absence had settled in fully. The air felt hollow, the space too quiet, too still. He walked through the room where she had once lived, his fingers brushing against the remnants of her presence, the silk of her nightgown draped over the chair, the scent of her perfume still lingering in the air. A picture of her that he took sit still at the bedside table.

__

The funeral was a quiet affair. No extravagant display, no headlines, just the silent mourning of a woman who had loved too much and received too little in return. She had loved roses, white ones, specifically. So, he buried her in his home's garden, surrounded by nothing but the purity of the flowers she had adored.

She should have been his wife. She should have been the mother of his child. She should have been standing beside him, not lying beneath the ground, cold and lifeless

The weight of finality settled over him like a suffocating shroud.

He didn’t cry. He couldn’t. His grief was something deeper, something corrosive that gnawed at his insides, a punishment he would bear for the rest of his life.

She had been the only person who had ever dared to love him, truly love him, beyond the man the world feared.

His phone rang but he didn’t answer it. He couldn’t. Because nothing in the world mattered anymore. Not the business. Not the status. Not the empire he had built with his own blood.

None of it mattered without her.

The last thing she had said to him kept replaying in his mind, over and over again like a cruel, unrelenting ghost.

As he stood there, drowning in his own grief,the rain continued whispering secrets to the night carrying with it a final aching thought the one that he would never be able to escape.

Maybe in another world he wouldn’t have been too late.

[End] 🤍

_____________________________________________

Part 1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/jjkssin/776364247534927872/midnight-whispers-part-i?source=share

[rafescherie]

Hii, I absolutely loved salt in the sugar bowl, I was wondering if you make a part 2 can it be like reader gets w Jj (or another pogue) and everyone’s like kinda fine with it and think they’re cute tg, and Rafe is just kinda sitting there watching like damn I really missed out..

idk but yeah I think it’d be interesting to see 🤍🤍

SALT IN THE SUGAR BOWL — RAFE CAMERON

only weeks after your break-up, you show up to pogue!rafe's automobile shop seeking his help — and old wounds, and old feelings are reignited.

salt in the sugar bowl miniseries | part one - you are currently on part two - part three |

cherie's note — thank u for the request, anon<3! already had the foundation for the follow-up, decided to throw in mentions of jj, hopefully you like it! thank you guys for all the support! will be writing a third part most likely. (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

rafe hated the pogues.

it wasn't about where they came from, or how they lived like life had already beaten them down. it was the way they wore it — like being at the bottom was something to be proud of. like struggling to make ends meet, living pay cheque to pay cheque, made them better than the ones who had never known hunger, or desperation, or what it felt like to have nothing left to lose.

they threw around words like family and loyalty, like it meant anything. like it would keep them from turning on each other the second shit hit the fan. it was a lie — a comforting facade they told themselves to make up for everything they'd never have.

but most of all, he hated that he was one of them now. fighting to survive, and wondering when he'd finally have his cut of fresh life.

it didn't matter that he hadn't changed — not really. he was still rafe cameron, still the same guy who had once walked through figure eight with his head high, his last name like a golden ticket. but none of that mattered anymore. not on this side of the island.

not since ward cut him off — when his entire world came crashing down, leaving him stranded on the cut with the same people he used to look down on. he'd lost the money, the power, the respect that came with being a cameron. and no matter how much he tried to pretend otherwise, it ate him alive. every single day.

and the worst part? the pogues saw it too.

they didn't say anything, but he could feel it in the way they looked at him — like he was some washed-up prince, stripped of his crown, reduced to nothing more than a lost cause. it made him sick.

nothing feels like rock bottom like being looked down on by the ones at the lowest — the same ones you had once looked over, never casted more than a bat of the eye towards. that, truly felt like rock fucking bottom for rafe, and there was no coming back from that.

he wasn't one of them, he never would be.

and yet, there he was, sitting on the back deck of a bar that reeked of beer and sea salt, nursing a drink he could barely afford, surrounded by the very people he despised.

rafe let his head fall back against the chair, exhaling slowly as he tried to drown out the noise around him — the sound of waves crashing in the distance, the low hum of conversation, and the occasional burst of drunken laughter. it all felt suffocating, especially when he had crashed from so high at the top.

then, he heard her laugh.

at first, he thought he imagined it. he wouldn't put it past himself — if his mind was idle, chances are, she suffocated every crevice of his brain. but when he turned his head, there she was.

and she wasn't alone.

the glass in his hand stilled as his fingers tightened around it. across the dock, against the illuminated ocean water, she stood with jj maybank, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

rafe felt his stomach twist.

it had only been a few weeks. a few fucking weeks. and yet, there she was — smiling, laughing, leaning into him like rafe had never even mattered.

like he hadn't shattered her heart, torturing his own in the process.

like he wasn't sitting there, watching it all unfold, feeling like the ground had been ripped out from beneath him.

the worst part wasn't that she was with someone else. it wasn't even that she was with jj — a pogue, and the last person rafe would ever want to see touching her.

no, the worst part was that she looked happy.

and rafe hated that almost as much as he hated the pogues.

────── ֺ ᪄ 𖹭 ၃ ִ ──────

you hadn't set foot in this shop since everything fell apart. the last time you had been here, your face was stained in salty tear streaks. the last time you were here, things were different — easier. back when rafe still looked at you like you were his, back when his touch was something warm instead of a ghost you tried not to miss. but that was months ago. now, the only thing left between you was silence.

and maybe, that was for the best.

you could have taken your car anywhere else — you probably should have. there were automobile shops scattered around the island, but deep down, you knew no one worked like rafe. he had a way with car, the same way he used to have a way with you — knowing exactly what to say, what to do, to keep things running smooth. until, suddenly, he didn't.

a part of you wondered if he ever felt the same hollow ache you did. if the silence was as loud for him as it was for you.

the thought lingers as you pull open the heavy shop door, the bell above it jingling a little too loud in the still air. the scent of oil, grease and gasoline wraps around you like something familiar, something that used to feel like home.

and then, you see him.

he's under the hood of a car, forearms tense as he works, grease smudged across his fingers and forearms. the sight of him knocks the breath from your lungs — not because he looks different, but because he looks the same. same sharp jaw, same furrowed brow, shame effortless pull he's always had on you.

you hear it before you see it — the slight hitch in his breath, the way his movements falter for half a second before he straightens. his eyes find yours through the dim light of the garage, and something flickers there. surprise. hesitation. maybe even something softer, something you shouldn't hope for.

you swallowed hard. yeah, this was a mistake.

but it was too late to turn back now.

"hi," you greet softly, timid. you throw your arms behind your back, a nervous gesture as you walk a few feet towards him. despite all the noise in the shop; the noise of the ceiling fans, the faint rock music on the stereo, everything zeroes in on him, like the world stopped for this moment alone. "sorry to bother... do you mind looking at my car quickly? my boyfriend's not answering his phone... so he's out of the picture when it comes to help."

of course, jj. as much as you had grown to like jj, his presence was fleeting — always in and out, never staying long enough to settle. everyone knew this wasn’t the right time for him to commit to a relationship, and deep down, you did too. but still, you had jumped in headfirst, ignoring the warning signs. you needed a distraction, and so did he.

his body automatically tensed at the sound of your voice. it was as soft as he remembered, though you sounded almost shy now. he could see the way you shifted on your feet, fidgeting with your fingers behind your back, the way you couldn't hold his gaze for long, and he hated it. h hated how nervous you seemed now that you were near him again. he hated that he was the cause of the change.

he cleared his throat, nodding as he took another step forward.

"sure... sure. let me have a look at it."

he knew he was a goner. the worst thing he could have done in this moment, was accept, but he couldn't help it. not after he'd realized how sad life gotten since he forced you out of his.

rafe walks over to the hood, lifting it open as the smoke puffs out once more. he coughs lightly, waving the grey tendrils away as he looks down at the engine before him. he sighs, his brows furrowing at the sight as his eyes rake over the mess of steam and metal.

"you're engine's overheating." he mutters, his eyes flickering towards you for a brief moment.

he notices the way you keep your eyes glued to the engine, finding any excuse not to meet his eyes.

it made sense — outerbanks had been under heatwave warning for the last week, reaching its peak a few days before the issue had first presented itself.

he nodded, his gaze returning to the engine. "when did it start overheating?" he asks, his voice a little gruff as he wipes his sleeve across his face, wiping the sweat away.

you hated to admit it, feeling the lecture come on before you had even spoken a word, "few days ago, figured it would go away on its own."

he hummed in response, his eyes rolling at your answer. of course, you would've fixed on it's own. he huffed, a chuckle escaping him as he shook his head.

"yeah, that's not how it works." he replies, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest at the sound of your voice once more. he tried to sound disinterested and nonchalant, but there was a part of him that was happy to hear you speak again.

after a moment of his examination, he finally spoke again. "seems like your radiator is leaking." he explained, leaning down towards the engine. "probably has a busted hose or something."

you groan — something of the sort sounded expensive. it wasn't that you couldn't afford it, all you had to do was ask your father for some cash, and he'd gladly give it your way.

he let out another sigh, glancing over at you. "it won't take me too long to fix..."

"oh," you reply, doe eye accentuated by your lashes, "it's alright. i can get somebody else to fix it, i just needed to know what the issue was, really. thank you, rafe."

his jaw clenched at your words, feeling the ache in his chest growing stronger. he didn't want you to go to another mechanic, or relying on your 'boyfriend' for such a simple fix. in actuality, the thought of you leaving the shop, and potentially never coming back hurt the most.

he was silent for a moment, his mind racing for something to say to keep you here for a little longer, until the words fell out of his mouth.

"why don't you just let me fix it?"

"i mean..." you start, looking back at the shop over your shoulder before meeting his blue eyes once more. "i don't want to bother... i know you're super busy in there so..."

he scoffed at that, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked at you. busy? yeah, he was swamped with jobs, but he could never be too busy for you.

"it's fine," he replied gruffly, trying not to sound eager, "it won't take me long anyways. just let me fix it."

with a shaky sigh, you nod and accept the offer. you knew rafe would take good care of your vehicle — but the idea of being stuck here with him alone until he was finished made you nervous.

he nodded in response, trying to hide the excitement that surged within him. he wasn't going t let you just walk out his door, not today. not yet.

"perfect," he said briskly, running his hand over his buzzcut. "come back inside. it'll only be a few minutes."

you follow behind rafe, like he had expected. it was cute, he thought, one of the first things he had noticed about you. you followed him around like a damn puppy, so eager to spend time with him that it didn't matter what you both were doing, as long as you were by his side.

he gestures for you to follow him to your vehicle, now parked inside as the large garage doors closing behind you both. he could feel your presence behind him, and could practically sense the tension radiating off of you.

for a moment, there was a silence as he began to work, his hands fiddling with different tools and parts. but then, he spoke, his gruff voice cutting through the air.

"so..." he began, his eyes never leaving the engine in front of him. "how've you been."

you weren't expecting conversation — not normal conversation, anyways. like nothing had happened between you two, like he hadn't been the one to break your heart only a couple of weeks ago.

"i've been... good." you reply, shoving your hands in your pockets. it wasn't the truth, yet wasn't entirely a lie either. things had been going good for you, but when the house fell silent, and the night took over, all the happiness seemed to dissipate once again.

he hummed in response, his eyes flickering to you for a moment. even he could hear how forced your answer sounded.

"saw you the other day," he said, closing the hood of your vehicle with a thud.

you frown, "yeah? where?"

"by the docks. with him."

your silence speaks volumes to the man. the girl who once spent hours perched on his workbench, yapping his ear off, now sat quiet. the shy demeanor felt odd. you should've known rafe wouldn’t bite his tongue — he never did. he was blunt, everyone knew that. and the moment you showed up here, you should’ve been ready for him to bring it up.

you blinked, trying to keep your expression neutral, "him?"

rafe let out a dry chuckle, wiping the grease onto an already dirty rag. he threw the cloth onto the hood of your car, "come on, don't do that. you know who i'm talking about."

looking down at the floor, you're suddenly aware of just how much coming here was a mistake.

"you don't get to do this, rafe."

"do what?" his tone is deceptively calm.

"this," you motion between you two, "you broke up with me, remember?"

his jaw tightened, "i know."

"so why does it matter?"

rafe was silent for a beat his tongue poking the soft skin of his cheek, like he was trying to find the right words. finally, he exhaled, shaking his head.

"it doesn't," he muttered. "forget i said anything."

and then he turns his back towards you, just like he had all those weeks ago. returning to his workbench, putting down the wrench within his palms down harshly. the frustration is clear, roaming through the air you share.

and he doesn't turn around until he hears you open your vehicle door, ready to find your leave without even saying goodbye, not that he was going to bother anyways.

"you still wear it," he said, voice quieter now.

your breath caught in your throat.

it took you a second to realize what he meant — until you followed his gaze, landing right where his eyes had lingered.

the bracelet.

worn. faded from the sun. still tied around your wrist.

the one he gave you. the one you never took off.

rafe's gaze flicked back to yours, something unreadable in his expression. something dangerous.

something hopeful. for the first time in weeks.

but before you could say anything, before you could defend yourself or rip the damn thing off your wrist, he shook his head, scoffing under his breath.

"see you around, then."

and with that, he slid back under the vehicle, ready to busy his mind with more work — a desperate attempt at a distraction after all of this.

leaving you standing there — heart pounding, mind spinning — knowing damn well this wasn't over.

[rafayelgod]

🔞WARNING 21+ ADULTS CONTENT!🔞

Rafayel God Of Sea

In the depths of the ocean, where sunlight shimmered through the waves, a tale of forbidden love began to unfold. In a hidden cove, Rafayel, the God of the Sea, had saved MC from drowning, pulling her from the dark abyss and into the light. The moment she gasped for air, her heart racing, she looked into his eyes, deep, captivating, and full of secrets. From that day on, their fates became intertwined.

Days passed in the sea castle, a magnificent structure made of coral and pearls, where the sounds of laughter and music echoed through the grand halls. However, beneath the surface, a tension brewed. MC, a mortal among the sea royalty, often felt the weight of her status. The highborn merfolk floated through life, their laughter ringing hollow to her ears. Their world felt stifling, suffocating, a gilded cage she longed to escape.

One evening, sitting together on the balcony overlooking the vast expanse of the ocean, MC sighed, her gaze distant. "You can't take this anymore, right? The endless parties, the hollow conversations... it’s all so boring." Rafayel asked.

Rafayel chuckled, his deep voice like the gentle roar of waves crashing against rocks. "You know, my dear, there is a world beyond these walls. A world filled with adventure and excitement. Would you like to see it?"

Her eyes widened with curiosity. "What do you mean?"

He leaned closer, the salty breeze tousling his dark purple hair. "We could sneak away, just the two of us. Leave behind the pomp of sea royalty and explore the hidden wonders of the ocean. What do you say?"

MC's heart raced at the thought. "Yes! Let’s do it!"

That night, as the moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the water, Rafayel led her through a secret passage in the castle, one known only to the gods. They swam through coral gardens, vibrant with life, and explored underwater caves that sparkled like diamonds. Laughter bubbled from her lips as they twirled and danced through schools of shimmering fish, free from the constraints of her royal life.

But their adventure led them to a forbidden part of the ocean, a realm where the sea royalty gathered to celebrate their power. Hidden behind a curtain of kelp, they watched as the elite merfolk feasted and danced, their laughter echoing through the water.

"This is where they think they reign supreme," Rafayel whispered, pulling MC closer. "But they are blind to the beauty of the world outside their bubble."

MC smirked, a rebellious glint in her eye. "Let’s give them something to remember."

With a mischievous grin, she and Rafayel slipped into the gathering, their presence drawing curious glances. The nobles paused, their laughter fading as they took in the sight of the God of the Sea with a mere mortal by his side. Whispers filled the water, rippling outward like waves.

"Who is she?" one of the royals sneered, his voice dripping with disdain.

Rafayel stepped forward, his aura radiating power. "She is my guest, and I will not have you speak of her in such a manner."

MC felt a thrill of exhilaration course through her. Surrounded by the elite, she felt empowered, the tension of her previous life melting away. She turned to Rafayel, her heart racing, and whispered, "Let’s dance."

He raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "As you wish."

They moved to the center of the gathering, their bodies swaying in perfect harmony. MC felt the weight of the sea royalty's eyes upon them, but instead of fear, she embraced the moment. The music pulsed around them, fueling her desire for freedom.

As they danced, the chemistry between them ignited like a flame. Rafayel's hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them wrapped in each other’s embrace.

"You're intoxicating," he murmured, his lips brushing against her ear. "Every moment with you feels like a treasure."

MC smiled, her heart racing. "And you, Rafayel, are everything I never knew I needed. Show me more of this world."

With a swift motion, Rafayel lifted her and swam away from the gathering, the water swirling around them. They broke the surface in a secluded lagoon, the moonlight shimmering on the water like diamonds. The air was thick with unspoken desires, and MC could feel the tension crackling between them.

"Rafayel.." she breathed, her voice laced with longing. "I want you. I want to feel everything."

His eyes darkened with desire, and he pulled her in for a searing kiss, their lips crashing together like waves against the shore. MC melted against him, her body responding instinctively to his touch. Rafayel's hands explored her curves, igniting flames of desire in places she never knew existed.

With a teasing glint in his eye, he lifted her effortlessly, pressing her against the smooth rock of the lagoon. "Are you sure you want this?" he asked, his breath hot against her skin.

"Yes," she gasped, her heart racing. "I want to be yours."

Without hesitation, Rafayel kissed her deeply, his hands roaming over her body, pulling her closer. MC’s breath hitched as he explored her curves, his fingers trailing down her sides, igniting sparks of pleasure wherever they touched.

The world around them faded until it was just the two of them, lost in the depths of their passion. With each kiss, MC felt herself surrendering completely, her body and soul entwined with Rafayel's.

He pulled back, gazing into her eyes, filled with a mix of adoration and hunger. "I want to show you... the pleasures of the sea, to make you feel more alive than ever."

MC's heart racing with anticipation as he began to undress her, revealing your skin to the cool night air. She felt exposed yet exhilarated, the thrill of their secret affair heightening her senses.

Rafayel kissed down her neck, his lips trailing fire along her collarbone before moving lower, his mouth worshipping her body. "Hah-" MC gasped, her back arching as he took one of her breasts into his mouth, teasing her with his tongue. She moaned, the sound mingling with the gentle lapping of the waves, the night air thick with the scent of salt and desire.

"Rafayel," she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as he lavished her with attention.

He responded by sliding down her body, his hands caressing her hips as he knelt before her. With a flick of his tongue, he teased her most sensitive spot, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her. MC cried out, her body trembling as he lavished her with attention, his mouth working magic as he brought her to the edge.

"Yes! Just like that!" she cried, her voice rising in pitch as the pleasure built to a crescendo.

Rafayel smiled against her skin, the vibrations of his laughter sending waves of pleasure through her. He continued his ministrations, drawing her closer to the brink before pulling away, leaving her gasping for more.

"Ah.. Rafayel, please," she panted, her body aching for him.

He rose, his powerful form looming over her, and kissed her deeply, allowing her to taste herself on his lips. "You have no idea how long I have desired this, how much I want to make you mine."

With a swift movement, he positioned himself at her entrance, his eyes locked with hers, a silent promise of ecstasy. She nodded, her breath hitching, and he entered her slowly, filling her completely. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain, as she adjusted to his size.

"Ah... Are you okay?" he asked, concern flickering in his eyes.

"Yes," she gasped, urging him on. "Please, don't stop."

"Mmh.." With that, Rafayel began to move, his thrusts slow and deliberate at first, then building in intensity. The rhythm of their bodies echoed in the night, a primal dance of passion and desire. MC clung to him, her nails digging into his skin as she surrendered to the waves of pleasure crashing over her.

"Hah..ahh.. you're so perfect," he groaned, his breath hot against her ear. "I never want this to end."

With each thrust, he drove deeper, his tentacle-like appendage curling around her, adding another layer of sensation that sent her spiraling into ecstasy. MC cried out, her body arching against him, every nerve ending ignited with pleasure.

"Harder.. ahh..hahh..." she begged, desperation lacing her voice.

Rafayel obliged, his movements becoming more frenzied, the sound of their bodies colliding filling the air. MC's moans grew louder, echoing against the rocks as pleasure washed over her in waves. The world around them faded, leaving only the two of them, lost in their own paradise.

"Yes .. oh.. Rafayel.." she cried, her climax building, tightening around him like a vice.

With a deep growl, Rafayel thrust into her one last time, "Ahh.." their bodies colliding as they reached the peak together. MC's vision blurred, her body quaking as waves of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her breathless. Rafayel followed suit, his release flooding her, a warmth that filled her completely.

They collapsed together in the lagoon, the cool water wrapping around them like a comforting embrace. MC lay in his arms, panting as the reality of their actions settled in.

"What have we done?" she murmured, a mix of joy and fear swirling in her chest.

Rafayel brushed a strand of hair from her face, his eyes filled with warmth. "We’ve embraced what we are together. And I would do it again in a heartbeat."

MC smiled, her heart swelling with affection. "I think I would too."

As they drifted in the calm waters of the lagoon, they held each other close, knowing the world above would never understand their love. But in that moment, it didn't matter. They had forged a connection deeper than the ocean itself—a bond that would challenge the tides of fate and defy the constraints of royal power.

And so, beneath the shimmering moonlight, they made a pact, a promise to explore not only the depths of the ocean but also the depths of their hearts, forever entwined in a secret that would bind them together against all odds.

- The End -🔞🌚💦

© Melody (Follow for more hot story) 🌚💦

[mitfloya]

𝐅𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒: 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐘 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄

pairings. Yandere Rafayel x gn!reader

wc. 2k

synopsis. You find yourself lost searching for answers that slip through your grasp. There is a mysterious force that lures you back to the vast depths of the sea, a pull that you can't quite comprehend, a strange connection. It haunts your thoughts, you wanted to find out why does your soul keeps guiding you to ocean.

Only to find the truth that you wish to never uncover.

warnings. The following content contains elements of obsessive behavior, yandere thoughts, stalking, possessive behavior, and may include poorly written narratives. Reader is referred to as 'you'. Proceed with caution, as this writing may be unsettling or uncomfortable for some individuals.

a/n. Hiii, I'm back from the dead, I hope it's good (be gentle with me this is my first fic I've created) or evoke some kind of emotions, whatever it may be. I may have gone a little overboard with everything. This will be a small series, maybe there will be 3 parts or up to 5 parts, depends on my mood. Also, this is my thank you gift for the celebration of hitting another milestone on my c.ai acc ♡

The waves, like gentle giants, rolled towards the shore, their white foamy crests crashing against the rocks with a resounding roar. The sound echoed in your ears. With each surge, the water created intricate patterns, as if painting an ever-changing masterpiece upon the canvas of the beach.

Some crashed against the rocks with a powerful force, while others gently caressed the sand, their touch as gentle as a lover's whisper. 

Standing there, your feet were gently lapped by the waves near the shore, your eyes fixated on the vast expanse of the sea, you felt an inexplicable pull, as if there was a profound bond between you and the ocean.

Yet, you couldn't quite comprehend why.

Lost in contemplation, you imagined how the cool waters of the sea would embrace you, enveloping you in their refreshing embrace. It was in these moments that you found solace and tranquility in the presence of nature.

The ebb and flow of the waves became a soothing rhythm that seemed to wash away any worries or troubles that burdened your mind.

Yet, amidst the serenity, there was a sense of familiarity, as if there were fragments of a forgotten memory lurking within your subconscious. Every time you found yourself by the sea or on a sandy beach, a whisper of a memory danced at the edge of your thoughts, just out of reach.

Lost in your thoughts, distant calls of your name went unheard as you drifted into a daze, completely captivated by the sea, you didn't noticed the water has gone up to your knees level. It was only when a familiar hand gripped your wrist, pulling you back from the water, that you snapped out of your daze.

"Hey, what do you think you're doing?" His voice rang out, a mix of concern and annoyance. "You were about to walk straight into the deep sea! Do you have any idea how dangerous that could have been?" he exclaimed, gently pulling you back to the safety of the shore.

Startled, your gaze locked with his eyes, a blend of deep purple with delicate speckles of pink. In that moment, you found yourself drowning in the vastness of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away.

His eyes held a mix of emotions, like a tumultuous sea that you couldn't quite decipher. You couldn't help but wonder if your encounter was more than just a coincidence, if there was a greater significance to the intertwining of your paths. The depths of his gaze seemed to hold the answers, yet they also posed more questions, leaving you both intrigued and captivated.

There was something undeniable about the connection you shared, a magnetic pull that transcended mere concern. In that moment, you realized that his eyes held more than just worry for your safety—they held a glimpse of a deeper connection, an unspoken understanding that seemed to bind you together.

The depth of his concern in the eyes are as clear as day, it momentarily puts you lost at words.

The situation slowly sank in, you realized that you had been so absorbed in your thoughts that you had unconsciously ventured into dangerous waters. The level of danger had escalated beyond what you initially thought, as the water had gradually risen without your awareness.

You blinked, your voice betraying a tinge of guilt as you stammered out. "I… I didn't even realize," you admitted, your words laden with a sense of remorse,. "The ocean… it just pulls me in. I can't explain it." Your eyes darted around, avoiding contact with Rafayel.

He sees the way you looked at the sea, sensing that you were searching for something, perhaps a connection or understanding.

In that fleeting moment, a glimmer of hope momentarily danced across Rafayel's face, as if he believed you had finally recollected something significant to him.

…But as he searched your eyes, that tiny glimmer faded, replaced by a mix of disappointment and frustration.

A deep sigh escaped Rafayel's lips, his eyes rolling with visible exasperation. "Oh, please," he scoffed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "As if the ocean has some deep, personal connection to you," he muttered dismissively.

The atmosphere grew heavy with an unspoken tension, as Rafayel's words hung in the air. It was clear that he felt let down, hoping for a shared understanding that seemed to elude him once again.

Rafayel's frustration grew evident as he let out an exasperated huff, pushing away his bangs with an irritated sweep of his hand. "Look, we've got enough problems trying to win this damn classroom competition. We don't need you drowning yourself in the process." His head shook slightly, a clear expression of annoyance etched upon his face.

You felt a pang of regret wash over you, seeing the frustration etched on Rafayel's face. "Thanks for being worried, I guess," you mumbled, your tone tinged with a touch of bitterness. He could've said it nicely at the very least, you thought.

Feeling a wave of embarrassment wash over you for nearly getting yourself drowned, you quickly shifted your gaze to the expanse of the ocean stretched out before you.

The colors of the sea danced before your eyes, shifting seamlessly from the vibrant hues of turquoise to the deeper shades of indigo, as if an artist's brush had painted a masterpiece on the water's surface.

You couldn't help but wonder if there was a hidden world beneath the surface. Little did you know, you had been conversing with one of those hidden beings all along.

You noticed Rafayel's hands waving in front of your face, interrupting your oceanic reverie.

"I've heard the locals said that there is a mythical creature who roamed around this water, can you guess what it is?" His voice took on an eerie cadence. His head tilted slightly, as if he was assessing your reaction.

"Legend has it that those who make a pact with this sea creature are granted a special favor," he weave the tale as his gaze were penetrating your skin. "However," he paused, his words dripping with anticipation. "If one were to forget or break their oath, the consequences would be nothing short of catastrophic."

Drawing near, he leaned in, his voice a mere whisper in your ear. "They would face a fate far more harrowing than their most dreadful nightmares could ever conjure." His breath made your skin crawl, leaving behind a trail of goosebumps in its wake.

The tale he spoke of leave you with an eerie sense that there was more to this tale than met the eye. It was as if the threads of the story resonated with a deeper part of your being, stirring emotions and images that had long been dormant.

Yet, you shook off the discomfort, determined not to let Rafayel's words unravel your sense of reality, even as they lingered in your mind, leaving behind a lingering sense of unease.

With a light-hearted push, you nudge him away with your elbow, mustering a witty retort to maintain the casual banter. "Nice try, but I'm not one to fall victim to the legends of mermaids."

Unfazed, Rafayel continues to weave his tale, his voice dripping with a seductive charm. "How so? Don't their enchanting melodies and mysterious allure at least pique your curiosity?"

The weight of his words settled upon you, causing a shiver to ripple through your body. Yet, you maintain your composure, "Well, Rafayel," you taunt, "if mermaids are truly as captivating as you claim, perhaps I should take my chances. Who knows? Maybe I'll be the one to befriend a mermaid."

Oh, you already did and it was more than that.

Your soul remembers him, resonating with a familiarity that defies logic, while your conscious mind grapples with the mystery of who he truly is and where your paths have crossed before.

It's like your souls hold a hidden story, a shared history that teases the edges of your awareness, just beyond your grasp. The unspoken bond that lingers between you cannot be denied, as if your paths are intricately woven together, waiting to be unraveled.

In his presence, you find yourself both anchored and adrift, caught between the intangible and the tangible. The ties that bind you are not of this physical realm, but of a deeper dimension where emotions and memories intertwine like the ebb and flow of the tide.

There is a profound bond between you that goes beyond mere attraction, as if you have shared lifetimes together before.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a golden hue over the water, you and Rafayel became entranced by the moment, surrendering to the breathtaking beauty of the sea.

The scenery sparked a creative fire within you, the gentle dance of the waves mirrored the rhythm of your thoughts, as if the ocean had bestowed upon you the ideal theme for the upcoming classroom decoration competition. It was as if the universe had handed you a vibrant palette, ready to bring your ideas to life.

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as an idea began to take shape in your mind. "Hey, what if we choose the ocean as our theme? We could create an underwater wonderland, wouldn't that be cool?" you suggested, your voice filled with enthusiasm.

Rafayel eyes widened with surprise, he took a moment to consider the suggestion. "That's actually not bad," he shrugged, his tone casual yet intrigued. "We could use blue and turquoise hues to mimic the ocean's colors, and hang paper jellyfish and other sea creatures from the ceiling. It'll be like stepping into an enchanting underwater realm."

The two of you continued to brainstorm all the way home, ideas flowing like a current, as you imagined transforming your classroom into a captivating oceanic paradise.

As the sounds of crashing waves slowly faded into the distance, replaced by the comforting rhythm of your footsteps, a familiar banter and laughter filled the air. The easy camaraderie between you and Rafayel created a warm and comfortable atmosphere, where the worries of the day seemed to melt away.

Minutes passed by, as if time had lost its grip on the endless conversations and moments of solace shared with Rafayel. He was like a soothing balm for your weary soul, a safe haven where your restless mind could find peace. His presence was like a sanctuary, where the weight of your worries seemed to dissipate into thin air.

Regrettably, the front gate of your house loomed before you, signaling the end of this cherished connection. With a warm smile, you waved goodbye to Rafayel, a bittersweet farewell that left an ache in your heart. "We'll talk more later, see you at school tomorrow!" you called out, hoping to preserve the thread of conversation that had woven its way into your shared journey.

He reciprocated with a smile and a wave, his eyes following you until you disappeared behind the closed door. As the facade he wore crumbled, a torrent of emotions flooded Rafayel's mind the moment you were safely inside. Frustration tightened its grip, as he struggled to understand how something so vital between the two of you could slip from your memory.

However, a twisted sense of satisfaction settled within him, as he relished in the knowledge of your home, a piece of your personal life that he now possessed, fueling a dangerous determination to claim you as his own.

This was never your home, and it would never be, for he had vowed to create a sanctuary where only he could offer you peace and happiness you deserved.

He knew that he had to do more, to make you realize the depth of his feelings. With unwavering resolve, Rafayel promised himself that he would build a world for you, free from any disturbances or distractions.

No one else would have access to this sacred space; it would be an intimate domain that existed solely for him and you.

"Wait for me, my love. I'll show you how much I adore you."

© mitfloya 2024. Kindly refrain from altering, translating, or reposting my works on any platform without obtaining my consent.

[twistedheartsclub]

Saltblood Bride Merman X Fem Reader

CW: noncon, dubcon, captivity, forced mating, psychological manipulation, obsession, emotional abuse, physical restraint, trauma, body autonomy violations, magical binding, power imbalance, grooming, transformation themes, dark ritual elements, illness, and loss of identity.

The coast always smelled like secrets.

Y/N had grown up in the cliffs above the sea, in a crumbling stone house wrapped in ivy and silence. Her days were simple: gathering herbs for her mother, helping in the market, reading by candlelight. But the nights… the nights were never quiet.

The waves whispered. The wind moaned. And sometimes, just past midnight, she swore she heard singing.

The townspeople avoided the shore after dusk. Fishermen tied iron around their nets. Children were taught never to look too long into the water, in case something looked back.

But Y/N never feared the sea.

She loved it.

She often walked alone, barefoot in the sand, skirts brushing against the foam. The cold didn’t bother her. There was a beauty in it—wild, ancient, unknowable. She thought the stories were just that: stories.

Until the day she saw him.

Below the surface, far beyond human reach, the sea boiled with hunger.

The village of Virellin lay hidden deep within a forest of black coral, guarded by currents that twisted like serpents. It was once a thriving kingdom—home to thousands of merfolk, their voices echoing through the trenches like lullabies and war songs alike.

Now, their numbers dwindled.

The mermaids—their lifeblood—were dying. A sickness, a curse, a vengeance from the gods… no one knew. Only the highborn males remained strong, desperate, and dangerous.

The council made a decision: take from the surface.

Seduce. Steal. Breed.

He had been chosen to lead the hunts.

Kaelen.

The oldest prince. Half-human, half-ancient god. His tail was black obsidian, longer than a ship’s mast. His claws could split bone. His voice could stop hearts—or start them. And his rage… that was legend.

He didn’t waste time with charm.

Other mermen tried to walk on water, to whisper into dreams, to coax girls with flowers and promises. Fools.

Kaelen took what he wanted.

But when he saw her—the girl on the cliffs with wind-tossed hair and eyes like stormlight—something stopped in him.

He watched from the waves, submerged and still, golden eyes tracking her every step.

She smiled at the sky. She sang softly to herself. She didn’t run from the ocean. She loved it.

He would take her. But not yet.

He would watch. Learn her. Lure her.

And then…

He would drag her down so far, she’d forget the sun had ever touched her skin

The wind danced along the coastline that afternoon, catching at skirts and tangled hair as the sun dipped low over the horizon. The sky was painted in strokes of rose and gold, the sea a glittering reflection of both.

Y/N walked carefully along the edge of the path, the cliffs towering beside her, the crashing waves far below. Her soft boots crunched on gravel, her hands wrapped loosely around a bundle of dried lavender—gathered earlier with her friend, Eleanor, who walked just ahead, already laughing about something neither of them would remember.

“Don’t go so close!” chided their chaperone, a stern woman known as Mrs. Weatherby, trailing behind with her heavy shawl wrapped around her arms.

But the girls didn’t listen.

They were eighteen and twenty, caught between obedience and curiosity. They had heard the warnings, yes—but that breeze felt too warm, the ocean too beautiful, the danger too far away to matter.

A gust of wind pulled Eleanor’s bonnet clean off her head.

She shrieked, laughing as her dark curls spun wildly, chasing the fabric as it danced through the air like a spirit set free.

Y/N ran after her, giggling, clutching her own bonnet before it could fly away too. Her cheeks were pink from the chill, her eyes bright with the thrill of it all.

That’s when he saw her again.

Kaelen, submerged just past the rocks, hidden beneath a tangle of kelp, watched.

His arms rested on the curve of a barnacled stone. His long, black tail curled behind him, glistening with sea-slick shadows. He didn’t blink. He didn’t breathe.

He watched.

Y/N’s voice carried over the wind, soft and sweet, and his pupils dilated with hunger.

Beside him, another shape shifted in the water—a younger merman, paler, leaner, with a wildness in his eyes. Aelric, his closest follower, his loyal shadow. Aelric’s gills fluttered as he rose slightly, peering toward the cliff path.

His gaze wasn’t on Y/N. It was on Eleanor.

“They smell like crushed fruit,” Aelric murmured in their tongue, low and guttural. “The little one laughs like a seal pup. But the tall one… she’s soft. Gentle.”

Kaelen didn’t answer.

He only tilted his head, golden eyes gleaming, nostrils flaring slightly as the wind shifted—bringing her scent to him.

Lavender. Salt. Warm skin.

He tasted her on the air.

Not just human.

Pure.

Rare.

Meant for him.

Aelric licked his lips, the tips of his sharp teeth visible for just a moment. “Shall I take the smaller one tonight?”

“Not yet,” Kaelen said.

“Why?”

“They’re still too loud. Still watched. Let them come again. Let them feel safe.” He stared at Y/N’s pale throat, her exposed ankle, her lips pink from the wind. “Let them believe we’re only stories.”

Aelric grinned. “Then next time?”

Kaelen’s voice was almost a growl. “Next time, she’s mine.”

Far beneath the tide, where no sunlight could reach, the sea did not shimmer.

It pulsed.

The kingdom of Virellin was carved from obsidian cliffs and glowing coral, a drowned cathedral lit by drifting lantern fish and swaying bioluminescent vines. Time moved differently there. The water was heavy with memory, sorrow, and silence.

There were no more songs.

Once, Virellin had been the heart of the ocean—ruled by the line of Kaelen’s father, a god-touched king whose voice could command storms. The mermaids had danced along the current trails, braiding seaweed through their silver hair, gifting their mates pearls and promise. The halls echoed with laughter, with children’s tails flicking through the sacred pools.

Now, it was fading.

The last mermaids—his sisters, his cousins—had withered, their scales falling away like petals, their eyes going glassy and empty. Some blamed the surface world, others the gods, still others the blood they had thinned by mixing with humans.

Kaelen did not blame. He endured.

He had lived over four centuries. His tail had darkened over time, his voice had deepened into something that made sharks flee. His chest was marked with ceremonial scars, and his claws were tipped with pearl from the bones of ancient kings. His people bowed when he passed, but none sang for him.

They waited—for his decision.

And so the council sent him to the cliffs.

To take a bride.

To bring new life.

To begin again.

Above, in the flickering candlelight of Eleanor’s home, Y/N sat cross-legged on the rug, brushing the mud from her worn boots. Rain tapped the windowpanes gently.

Eleanor sat nearby, combing out her curls. “You always bring in the weather when you come, Y/N. You’re cursed, I swear it.”

“I bring the excitement,” Y/N said with a smile, tugging the pins from her hair. “You’d be bored without me.”

“True.” Eleanor flopped back dramatically, her silk nightgown fanned out. “My brothers are dull, and my cousins are worse. But you—you are a poet. And a storm witch.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “Just because I like the rain—”

“You like the cliffs. You like the sea. And you look at it like it’s whispering only to you.”

Y/N’s fingers paused.

Was that true?

Maybe.

There was something about the sea. A voice in the waves she couldn’t quite name. Not frightening—but calling.

“I suppose I do,” she admitted softly.

“I’ll tell Mrs. Weatherby we want to walk again tomorrow,” Eleanor said, already plotting. “We’ll pretend we need more thyme. Or rosemary. You’ll wear that shawl I like—the dark one.”

Y/N smiled again, but her heart was suddenly heavy.

She wasn’t sure why.

The chamber was silent, save for the shifting of currents through the coral spires and the rasp of breathing—old breathing.

Kaelen hovered just above the smooth stone floor, his dark tail coiled loosely beneath him. Before him lay Virellin’s last living priestess, her silver-scaled body limp and nearly transparent with age. Her hair floated like strands of moonlight, and her eyes were pale and blind.

But she still heard.

“You are late,” she rasped.

Kaelen bowed his head. “I was watching the cliffs.”

“The one with lavender in her blood?”

He didn’t answer.

The priestess turned her fragile head toward the glowing pool at the center of the room. It shimmered with prophecy, memory, and loss.

“The gods are quiet,” she said. “The old songs have faded. But I see a thread, Prince. Thin. Fragile. Human.”

“Y/N.”

The priestess exhaled slowly. “If you want the bloodline to endure, she must be taken before the moon’s turn. Others will scent her. Claim her. But she will never survive them.”

Kaelen’s fists tightened.

“She will survive me.”

The cliffs again. Another morning. Brighter this time.

Y/N’s boots kicked through the grass as she and Eleanor made their way down the worn path, Mrs. Weatherby trailing behind with her basket.

The sea sparkled beneath a rare clear sky, the waves lazy and warm. Gulls cried overhead, and the breeze carried salt and blossoms.

Eleanor wore lilac ribbons in her hair today. Y/N had helped tie them.

They were giggling over nothing again, sun on their faces, cheeks flushed.

Then they saw him.

A young man on horseback, waiting near the edge of the path—tall, golden-haired, with a navy coat and polished boots. He dismounted as they approached, smiling first at Eleanor, then at Y/N in brief politeness.

Mr. Whitlow.

A local merchant’s son. Well-read, well-mannered, and very taken with Eleanor.

Y/N felt heat rise in her cheeks as she sensed the way he looked at Eleanor—gentle, wanting. The air around them shifted. Hormones. Emotion. Chemistry. Even she, inexperienced and modest, could feel it. It tickled her skin.

And far, far below—two predators reacted.

Kaelen’s eyes opened in the blackness.

Aelric bared his teeth.

“He’s showing his scent,�� Aelric growled. “The way a dog would.”

Kaelen’s jaw flexed. “He’s not for her.”

Aelric’s fins flared with agitation. “He looks at the soft one too. The one with the pale throat.”

“She’s mine,” Kaelen growled.

“She smells of want now,” Aelric hissed. “Of blooming heat.”

They surged upward, not close enough to breach—but close enough to taste the current.

Above, Y/N turned to Mrs. Weatherby and touched her arm.

“We forgot to check the rosemary patch,” she said, keeping her voice sweet and distracted. “It’s just around the bend. Should we gather some before the tide rises?”

Mrs. Weatherby hesitated, squinting at Eleanor and Mr. Whitlow deep in conversation, their heads bent close.

“Very well,” she said. “But stay within sight.”

Y/N nodded quickly, heart fluttering—not from fear, but from excitement. Romance made her soft. It wasn’t for her, not really. But watching Eleanor live inside it—even for a moment—felt like stepping into a dream.

She turned toward the patch of green just out of view, skirt brushing against thistles, unaware of the two shadows pacing silently just beneath the surf.

And watching.

Always watching.

The morning was gray again—low clouds crawling across the sky like whispers of something unsettled. The air held a chill, and the waves crashed harder than usual. But still, the girls begged to walk.

Mrs. Weatherby bundled herself in her heaviest shawl and relented, muttering about “wild blood and foolish hearts.”

Y/N and Eleanor ran ahead.

The wind tugged at their cloaks. Their cheeks were red with cold, their laughter softer today. A storm was coming—they could feel it in their bones.

Halfway along the cliffs, Y/N paused, staring down at the dark shore below.

“Wait here,” she said. “I think I dropped my scarf yesterday. I’m going to check near the rocks.”

Mrs. Weatherby opened her mouth to protest, but Eleanor just waved. “We’ll be right here!”

Y/N slipped down the lower path, boots skidding over stone, heart racing for reasons she couldn’t explain.

The tide had pulled back, revealing slick sand and jagged driftwood. Seaweed coiled in lazy knots. The air was thick with salt.

And then—she saw him.

He stood at the edge of the surf, barefoot, tall, and cloaked in a dark blue coat that shimmered like wet silk. His hair was black, shoulder-length, swept back from a face too beautiful to belong to any ordinary man.

His skin was pale with a hint of silver. His eyes—gold.

Not brown. Not amber.

Gold.

He didn’t look surprised to see her. Only… intrigued.

Y/N froze.

She wasn’t afraid.

She was entranced.

“I—I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

He tilted his head slightly, studying her like one might study a delicate creature washed ashore. “You’re not trespassing. This shore belongs to no one.”

His voice was deep. Velvet layered over stone.

She couldn’t stop staring. Her fingers curled around the edge of her cloak. “Are you… are you visiting someone in the village?”

“No.” He stepped forward, slow, smooth. “I’m passing through.”

Y/N swallowed. Her cheeks burned. “You’re not dressed for the wind.”

A smile ghosted over his mouth. “It doesn’t touch me.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. Her heart beat too fast.

“I’m Kael,” he said, offering a name—but not a full one.

“Y/N,” she whispered.

His gaze flicked down to her lips. She didn’t notice. He smelled of salt and something strange—ancient.

“You wandered far,” he said. “It’s easy to lose yourself here.”

“I—I was looking for my scarf.”

He stepped closer, and without asking, reached out. His fingers brushed lightly against her collarbone—too close to her throat. He pretended to inspect the clasp of her cloak.

“No scarf,” he murmured. “But I found something prettier.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

She knew she should move. Should step away. But he wasn’t threatening. He wasn’t leering. Just… there.

Looking at her like she was important.

She didn’t understand it.

“You should go back to your chaperone,” he said softly. “Before the tide rises again.”

“Will I see you again?”

The question slipped out before she could stop it.

Kael’s smile deepened. “Yes.”

She turned and hurried back up the path, heart in her throat, eyes wide.

He watched until she disappeared from view.

Then he let the illusion crack. His skin shimmered. The golden eyes burned brighter. His teeth sharpened beneath his smile.

She would never escape now.

Y/N twisted her hair in slow circles as she lay sprawled across Eleanor’s bed, cheeks still pink from the morning’s encounter. The room was bathed in the golden flicker of the hearth, soft shadows dancing across the ceiling. Rain tapped gently against the windowpanes.

“He wasn’t like anyone I’ve ever seen,” Y/N whispered.

Eleanor was curled beside her, chin propped on her hand. “Tell me again—was he truly barefoot?”

Y/N nodded, dreamy. “Barefoot. Tall. Dark hair. Eyes like… gold, Eleanor. Gold. Not like the boys here. He didn’t even seem cold. He just stood there like he belonged to the sea.”

Eleanor giggled, tossing a pillow at her. “You are cursed. You’ve gone and found a sea god.”

“Don’t tease.”

“I’m not! I think it’s terribly romantic.” Eleanor sat up and began braiding her damp curls. “You know, in the old stories, the sea would gift kings to lonely maidens. Maybe he’s yours.”

Y/N laughed softly, warmth curling in her belly. “It felt like a dream. He said he was passing through.”

“You didn’t ask where to?”

“No… I forgot how to speak, really.” She buried her face in the quilt. “He touched my cloak.”

Eleanor squealed. “A scandal!”

“I’ll never see him again.”

“You will. I’ll make Mrs. Weatherby walk us again tomorrow.”

But before they could descend deeper into their shared fantasy, a knock rapped sharply at the open door.

“Honestly.”

It was Clara, Eleanor’s older cousin—twenty-five, unmarried, and very tired of girlish nonsense. She entered the room with her sleeves rolled high and a book clutched to her chest.

“You two are like children still babbling over fairytales.”

Y/N sat up quickly, face burning.

“We were only talking,” Eleanor said coolly.

“About strangers on the beach?” Clara scoffed. “Next you’ll be kissing frogs and expecting diamonds.”

“You don’t believe in romance?” Y/N asked gently.

Clara’s lip curled. “I believe in duty. And knowing your place. Men don’t love—they use. Especially the beautiful ones.”

She turned on her heel and left without waiting for a reply.

The silence she left behind was sharp.

Y/N looked down at her hands. “Maybe she’s right.”

Eleanor leaned her head against Y/N’s shoulder. “Even if she is… I’d rather believe in the magic. Just for a while.”

Y/N smiled, faint but full of hope. “Me too.”

Below the waves, things were not so gentle.

Aelric paced along the spine of a sunken ship, tail flicking in agitation, barnacles crumbling beneath his claws.

“She’s seeing him again,” he hissed.

Kaelen floated above, watching a swirl of glowing shrimp scatter in the current. “You’re speaking of Eleanor?”

“She made plans with the human boy. The one who smells of flowers and sweat.” Aelric’s eyes flashed. “He wants to touch her.”

Kaelen said nothing.

“You let them walk free,” Aelric snapped. “You wait and watch while they giggle in the sun like sea birds. You forget who you are.”

Kaelen turned, slow and cold. “I forget nothing.”

“She is not like the others,” Aelric snarled. “She makes you weak.”

Kaelen swam forward, suddenly close, his teeth flashing in the dark. “Careful, Aelric.”

Aelric bared his own. “She should’ve been mine.”

Kaelen’s claws tapped once against the hull of the wreck, echoing.

“She will never be yours.”

The sky was a sheet of dull gray, the clouds low and silent. Fog clung to the rocks like breath on glass. It was the sort of day Mrs. Weatherby would normally forbid walking, but Eleanor had insisted—smiling too brightly, already dressed in her finest shawl.

Y/N had quietly agreed. If Eleanor was planning to meet Mr. Whitlow, she would need time alone… and Y/N didn’t mind the quiet. She liked walking near the sea. It made her feel alive.

They split paths early.

Mrs. Weatherby, distracted by Eleanor’s cheerful chatter, didn’t notice when Y/N veered toward the rocky edge, boots sinking into damp sand. Mist curled around her ankles. She moved slowly, watching the tide.

Then she saw him.

Kael.

He stood exactly where he had before—barefoot, dressed in strange, flowing layers of deep navy and slate-gray. Today, a silver chain hung from his wrist, and something dark glinted between his fingers.

“You,” she breathed, startled.

He smiled, soft and slow. “You came back.”

She stepped forward cautiously, heart stuttering. “I wasn’t sure I would see you again.”

“I knew you would.” He took a slow step toward her. “The sea doesn’t forget its own.”

She blinked. “I’m not of the sea.”

He said nothing.

She noticed how close he was now. She shifted her weight back a little—and flinched as his hand came up, brushing the side of her face. Not hard, not threatening—just fingertips grazing her cheek like wind.

She pulled back instinctively.

Kael didn’t react.

“I’m sorry,” Y/N whispered. “I didn’t mean to—”

“You’re kind to be cautious.” His voice was steady, unreadable. “But I’m not here to frighten you.”

She lowered her gaze. “You just… surprised me.”

There was silence between them—thick and humming.

Then he held out his hand.

Cradled in his palm was a thin, spiraled shell strung on a black silk cord. Iridescent, glowing faintly blue in the fog.

“For you.”

Y/N stared.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“It’s called a marelith shell,” he said. “Where I come from, it’s… personal.”

“What does it mean?”

He hesitated. “To give it is to choose. To wear it is to be chosen.”

She didn’t understand—but her fingers reached for it anyway. He tied it gently around her neck, his knuckles grazing her collarbone. The shell rested just above her heart.

“Thank you,” she said, voice soft and awed.

Then, on instinct, she leaned forward and hugged him.

His arms froze around her for a breathless second, then slowly, carefully, came to rest at her back. He held her like something breakable. Like something already his.

And then—

“Y/N!”

A distant shout. Eleanor’s voice, panicked, echoing through the fog.

Y/N pulled back quickly, eyes wide. “I have to go.”

Kael nodded slowly. “Of course.”

She ran, heart pounding. The shell bounced against her chest with every step.

He watched her go, fingers still tingling from the warmth of her body.

She didn’t know what she’d accepted.

But soon—she would.

Part Eight: Three Weeks

The shell still glowed faintly in the candlelight.

Y/N sat at the edge of her bed, fingers brushing the cool spiral where it rested over her heart. Eleanor watched her from across the room, wide-eyed and breathless.

“He gave that to you?” Eleanor whispered. “Like a gift?”

Y/N nodded slowly. “He said it was personal… but I don’t know what it really means.”

“It means he’s enchanted,” Eleanor said with a grin. “You have a secret admirer—mysterious, handsome, and strange. I’m terribly jealous.”

Y/N blushed. “He’s kind. I think. Gentle, even when he’s… intense.”

Eleanor twirled a strand of her hair. “You must wear it to the masquerade.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “I couldn’t.”

“You must. It would look beautiful with that pale blue gown my mother gave you. And who knows? Maybe he’ll appear again. Maybe he’ll dance with you.”

Y/N laughed shyly. “You think he goes to balls?”

“Everyone wants a dance,” Eleanor said softly, then her voice brightened. “Besides, I hope to dance with Mr. Whitlow. He said he’ll be there.”

Y/N’s smile was warm. “He’ll be lucky if he does.”

Their laughter carried into the night like little bells. But below, in the darkest trench of the sea, laughter had long since died.

Virellin’s Deep Sanctum

Kaelen knelt before the glowing pool again, the weight of the marelith shell still lingering in his hand even though it now hung around Y/N’s neck.

The priestess’s voice was sharper this time.

“You were warned.”

“She accepted it willingly,” he said. “She gave thanks. She touched me.”

The priestess’s sunken eyes opened. “She does not know what it means. To wear the shell is to be bound. In your world. By your laws.”

“She is not of our world,” Kaelen growled. “She will become so.”

The priestess stirred in her coral cradle. “You have three weeks. That is the cycle of the blood. The window of change. After that, the bond withers. She will fall ill. The sea will claim her mind, then her flesh.”

Kaelen’s golden eyes flared. “She will not die.”

“Then take her. Make her yours. Or remove the shell, and let her forget.”

He turned away, jaw tight.

He didn’t want to take her—not yet.

He wanted her to come willingly. To reach for him again. To whisper his name the way she had whispered “thank you.”

He had three weeks.

And a masquerade fast approaching.

The manor was alive with music.

Strings sang beneath the high-vaulted ceiling, golden chandeliers casting pools of warm light across marbled floors. The room glittered with candlelight, laughter, and silk. Everywhere, masks shimmered—some feathered, some jeweled, others dark and mysterious.

Y/N clutched her invitation with shaking fingers as she stepped through the great doors, heart hammering in her chest.

Eleanor had chosen the gown.

Soft blue, embroidered with silver thread, fitted at the waist and flowing like seafoam. Her mask was pale ivory, delicate lace curling like coral around her eyes. The marelith shell rested above her heart, warm against her skin.

“You look like a goddess,” Eleanor whispered beside her. Her own gown was deep violet, her dark curls pinned high. “If he doesn’t fall to his knees, he’s blind.”

Y/N smiled, nerves tangled with excitement. “Do you see Mr. Whitlow?”

“Not yet,” Eleanor murmured. “But I know he’ll come.”

She was right.

Moments later, Mr. Whitlow appeared near the orchestra—a navy mask over his sharp features, silver buttons glinting on his coat. He spotted Eleanor instantly, crossing the floor with a soft smile and a bow so perfect it made her blush.

They moved into the dance without a word.

Y/N stepped back, watching them with a warmth that pulsed like honey in her chest. For a moment, she believed in every story they’d told.

Until her breath caught.

He was here.

Not Mr. Whitlow.

Kael.

He wore black—no mask. None could look him in the eyes long enough to ask why.

He didn’t need a disguise. The crowd parted around him like smoke.

He walked slowly toward her, every step a ripple in the dream she’d built around herself.

“Y/N,” he said lowly.

She looked up. “You’re here.”

“I told you I would be.”

His eyes traveled over her form, lingering on the shell at her chest. “You wear it.”

She blushed. “I… didn’t know it meant something sacred. Not until later. But I couldn’t take it off.”

“You shouldn’t,” he said.

She didn’t know if he meant it as warning or promise.

He offered his hand.

Her fingers trembled as she placed them in his.

They began to dance.

His touch was cold at first—but he moved like water, smooth and commanding. He didn’t speak. He only watched her.

She felt swallowed whole.

Far below, Aelric seethed.

He swam in circles near the cavern where Kaelen’s mantle hung. The shell’s bond was sealed now. The girl had worn it to a human gathering. Let them all see it—let them all smell what she was becoming.

But she still laughed with humans. Still blushed for them.

Aelric watched Eleanor through the portal pool—a scrying current they used to observe the surface.

Her fingers lingered too long on the human boy’s shoulder.

“She should have been taken too,” he muttered. “We should have ripped them both from the cliffs and taught them to sing for us.”

He didn’t care about prophecy. Or patience.

He wanted to taste her breathless. To feel her bones against his claws.

But Kaelen had made his choice.

And Aelric was not done

The music inside swelled, couples spinning in spirals of silk and candlelight. But Y/N barely noticed.

Kaelen’s hand rested lightly against her back as he led her out through the ballroom doors and onto the balcony. The air was cool, salted from the distant waves. The sea was only a shimmer in the distance.

“Do you often attend masquerades?” she asked, voice shy.

“No,” he said softly, eyes fixed on her. “But you asked if we’d meet again.”

She blushed. “I didn’t think you heard me.”

“I heard everything.”

The night wrapped around them in silver mist.

He turned toward her, brushing a strand of hair away from her cheek. “The shell you wear—it’s not just a trinket. It binds you to my people.”

“I thought it was just a charm,” she said. “A token.”

“It’s more than that.” His voice dropped. “It marks you. Protects you. It means I’ve chosen you, Y/N.”

She trembled slightly, not from fear—but from something far more confusing. Need. Her body felt warmer. Her skin more aware.

“But I don’t even know what you are,” she whispered.

He leaned in, lips brushing the shell at her chest.

“You will.”

Her breath hitched.

He touched her face—slow, reverent. His fingers brushed her jaw, her throat, like he was memorizing her skin. Her eyes fluttered.

But before he could lean in further—

A laugh broke the spell.

A burst of applause. The orchestra struck up again—faster this time.

Y/N blinked, stepping back. “I—I should go find Eleanor.”

Kaelen’s eyes darkened, but he nodded once. “Soon,” he said. “We’ll speak again. When the mask comes off.”

She didn’t understand what he meant.

She ran inside.

Meanwhile, the ballroom had shifted.

Aelric had arrived.

And he was magnificent.

He wore a sleek black suit, tailored to perfection. No mask—but the glint of his silver eyes and the wild wave of his dark-blonde hair made people look away anyway. His beauty was too sharp, too unnatural, like staring into fire.

He found Eleanor before Mr. Whitlow could reach her again.

“May I?” Aelric asked, bowing low, his voice warm and edged with something… dangerous.

Eleanor blinked up at him, stunned. “Of course.”

Mr. Whitlow stepped forward to protest—but Aelric had already swept her into the center of the floor.

Their bodies moved like liquid shadow and moonlight. Eleanor’s gown flared as he spun her, one hand pressed too low on her back, the other gripping her wrist like a whisper of possession.

“You dance like it’s in your blood,” Eleanor said, breathless.

“I’ve been dancing far longer than you can imagine,” Aelric replied, smiling—teeth just a little too white.

She laughed, dazed, unaware how many women on the floor were staring at him.

He pulled her close—too close.

And whispered, “Careful who you let touch your heart. Not all of us are as gentle as we look.”

She shivered.

Across the room, Y/N stood frozen.

Kaelen. Aelric. Neither wore masks.

Both too perfect.

Something wasn’t right. Something ancient. Something coming.

And she was already marked.

The ride back from the masquerade was quiet, both girls curled beneath their cloaks in the carriage, the scent of candle wax and champagne still clinging to their hair.

Y/N clutched the marelith shell against her chest.

It was warm. Almost… pulsing.

She didn’t tell Eleanor.

Not yet.

“I’ve never danced like that before,” Eleanor whispered, staring out the window. “I’ve never felt like that before.”

“With Mr. Whitlow?”

Eleanor blinked. “No. With him. The stranger. The one who looked like he came from a painting.”

Y/N stayed silent.

Eleanor turned to her. “You felt it too, didn’t you? With yours.”

Y/N nodded slowly. “It’s like they weren’t real. Like we dreamed them.”

“Then let’s dream again,” Eleanor said. “Let’s go back to the cliffs tomorrow. Without Mrs. Weatherby. Just us.”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Because the shell had started to glow.

That night, she dreamed of water.

Dark, endless, velvet-blue water. Hands beneath her. Arms holding her as her body floated weightless. Her lungs didn’t burn. Her limbs didn’t fight.

She dreamed of a voice—Kaelen’s voice—saying her name like a prayer and a curse.

She woke gasping.

The shell burned against her skin.

Below the sea, war almost erupted.

In the ruins of an old palace drowned in coral, Kaelen and Aelric clashed.

Their tails whipped currents into violent spirals, teeth bared, claws flashing in short, vicious bursts.

“She’s not yours to touch!” Kaelen roared, his voice shaking the walls.

“You’ve claimed her but done nothing,” Aelric spat. “She walks free while her body ripens for the taking!”

“She is mine.”

“You had your chance.”

They circled each other, tails lashing, blood from shallow cuts drifting like ink.

But before the next strike could fall, a third voice echoed through the chamber.

The priestess.

“Enough,” she rasped, her voice carried by current and will. “You’ll tear what remains of this kingdom apart over your hunger.”

Both mermen froze.

She turned her pale eyes toward them, unblinking.

“The bond has begun. But it is weak. Your girl still dreams of air. Her spirit floats.”

“Then I will take her,” Kaelen growled.

“No. Not yet,” the priestess said. “You cannot both have the same one.”

She looked to Aelric. “There is another.”

A silence settled between them.

“A trade,” she said coldly. “Take the laughing one first. The rich one. The girl whose heart is soft, but whose blood is unbound.”

Aelric’s jaw tightened.

“Do what you will,” she continued. “Once she is gone, the other will follow.”

In the manor above, Eleanor slept peacefully.

Y/N stood at her window, heart heavy, the shell glowing faintly as the fog rolled in from the sea.

Something was coming.

She could feel it.

The sky was barely touched with light when the girls slipped out.

Y/N carried a woven basket full of bread, cheese, and early figs. Eleanor had packed it herself, smiling like a girl running off to meet a lover—which, in some ways, she was.

They wore simple dresses beneath shawls. No chaperone. No shoes.

The grass was still damp with dew, the fog low and clinging to the earth. Seagulls cried in the distance. The wind was gentle and gray.

“You’re sure he’ll be there?” Y/N whispered as they followed the narrow path down the cliffs.

Eleanor smirked. “He said to meet him before the world woke.”

She twirled once, barefoot in the grass, eyes dancing.

Y/N smiled, but her fingers curled tighter around the basket.

“I want to apologize,” Eleanor added more seriously. “For the other night. For letting that strange man hold me like that. It wasn’t proper.”

Y/N looked away, swallowing. “You didn’t know him.”

“No. But I saw Mr. Whitlow’s face after. And I want him to know I care.”

They reached the shore. The tide had pulled back, revealing a long stretch of smooth, wet sand and seaweed strewn like ribbons.

Eleanor turned to her.

“Walk ahead a while? Let me speak to him first.”

Y/N hesitated, then nodded. “Of course.”

Eleanor touched her hand gently, then turned and walked the opposite direction, toward the rocks where the mist was thickest.

Y/N moved slowly along the shoreline, humming softly to herself, looking for shells to fill the basket. The sun tried to rise beyond the fog.

She didn’t look back.

She never saw the man waiting in the mist.

Never saw the way Eleanor paused, surprised… and smiled.

“Not who I expected,” she said.

Aelric smiled with teeth far too white.

“But who you’ll remember.”

She didn’t scream.

Not once.

Y/N returned twenty minutes later, basket swinging lightly in her hand.

“Eleanor?” she called.

No answer.

She wandered toward the rocks, scanning the mist.

“Eleanor, are you playing? We should go before Mrs. Weatherby wakes—”

Silence.

Only the sea, the fog, and the faintest trace of something shining in the sand.

Y/N bent down and picked it up.

A lilac ribbon.

Still damp.

Still warm.

Her stomach dropped.

“Eleanor?”

And for the first time in her life, the sea felt like it was watching her.

“Eleanor!”

Y/N’s voice cracked as she shouted, stumbling across the rocks, skirts soaked with seawater.

“Eleanor, stop playing! This isn’t funny—”

But there was nothing. No giggle. No teasing voice. No footprints. No ribboned silhouette in the mist.

Only fog.

Only sea.

Only silence.

Y/N turned and ran.

Her breath caught in her throat as she climbed the slippery cliff path, legs burning, heart pounding. She didn’t stop. Not for breath, not for tears. Her fingers clutched the basket with trembling hands, its weight useless now.

By the time she reached the manor, her dress was clinging to her skin and her voice was raw from shouting.

“She’s gone.”

Mrs. Weatherby paled, her tea cup falling from her hand and shattering on the floor.

“What do you mean ‘gone?’” cried Eleanor’s mother, rushing into the parlor. “Where did you see her last? Did she fall? Did she—”

“No,” Y/N gasped, “she told me to walk ahead… just for a little… she was meeting someone. When I came back she wasn’t—she wasn’t there—”

“Which path? Which rocks? Was there blood? Footprints?”

“No. No, nothing. Just a ribbon. Just fog.”

The household exploded into panic—maids sent running, horses readied, the steward gathering searchers with torches and oilskin coats.

But Y/N didn’t wait to be questioned again.

She fled up the staircase, heart pounding, chest tight.

She reached her room, slammed the door, fell to her knees.

Her fingers flew to the shell at her chest.

The marelith shell.

The gift.

The chain burned.

“You gave her to them,” she whispered to herself. “You knew.”

She yanked it off.

The moment it broke free—

The air shifted.

The sky darkened.

A roll of thunder cracked through the clouds like the tear of a god’s throat.

Below, the sea rose—waves crashing against the cliffs, pounding the earth with a fury too sudden, too focused to be natural.

Windows rattled.

Wind screamed.

Somewhere beyond the horizon, in the deepest trench of Virellin, Kaelen roared.

He felt the break.

He felt the rejection.

The bond had been severed.

She had removed what bound her to him.

And now…

he would take her by force.

The manor had gone still.

After hours of searching—calling Eleanor’s name into the wind, combing the cliffs with lanterns and dogs—everyone had returned cold, soaked, and empty-handed. No footprints. No signs of struggle. No clues. No answers.

Only fog.

And a rising tide.

Y/N sat in Eleanor’s bed, clutching one of her ribbons, her eyes swollen from crying.

Mrs. Weatherby had tried to comfort her. So had the others.

But Y/N knew.

She knew something had taken Eleanor.

And she knew what it was.

She stared at the marelith shell lying cold and severed on the bedside table. A faint crack had formed in its spiral—hairline, but visible. Like it mourned its purpose.

Thunder shook the windowpanes.

Y/N curled beneath the blankets and cried until her throat ached. Then, finally, she slept.

She woke to wetness.

At first, she thought she was dreaming again.

But her feet were soaked.

The rug beneath her bed squished softly with seawater. A stream of brine crept in beneath the door.

The wind outside moaned like something dying.

She sat up. “Mrs. Weatherby?”

No answer.

She stepped to the floor—barefoot—and opened the door.

The hallway was dark. The candle sconces were out.

There were footprints in the water.

Large. Bare.

She backed away.

But it was too late.

He was there.

Standing in the middle of her room—Kaelen. Shirt soaked and clinging to his frame, dark hair hanging wet and wild around his face. His golden eyes no longer warm. No longer human.

They burned like the deepest parts of the sea.

“Where is she?” she whispered. “What did you do to her?”

He said nothing.

“You… you gave her to him.” Her lip trembled. “You took her.”

Kaelen’s jaw flexed. “You broke the bond.”

“You tricked me.”

“I chose you.” His voice cracked like thunder. “I marked you. Protected you. And you threw it away.”

She backed toward the wall, breath hitching. “You think this is love?”

His face twisted.

Then he moved.

Faster than she could scream.

His hand closed around her throat, lifting her to her toes, pinning her to the cold stone wall.

She choked, gasping, fingers clawing at his wrist.

His other hand gripped her waist—claws extended. She could feel the sharp curve of his nails through the fabric. A reminder that he was not a man.

He was the ocean.

And he was angry.

“You will never run again,” he hissed, voice low and inhuman. “You will wear the shell. You will sleep where I sleep. And when I claim you, you will beg the sea for mercy.”

Tears welled in her eyes.

She tried to scream—but his grip held tight.

Then he leaned close, lips brushing her ear.

“You belong to me now.”

Part Fifteen: The Drag Below

The rain fell sideways as Kaelen carried her through the storm.

Y/N kicked and clawed. Her fists beat against his chest, her nails scraping his skin—but he didn’t flinch. His eyes were locked on the cliffs. On the sea below. His grip bruised her arms, her waist. He walked as if she weighed nothing.

“No—please—” she tried to sob, but no sound came.

Her throat was raw from where he had choked her.

She dug her heels into the mud. Grasped at the grass. Reached for tree roots, stones, anything.

It didn’t matter.

He dragged her to the edge of the world.

The sea roared in fury below. Lightning split the sky above. Waves slammed against the rocks with thunderous hunger. Her dress was soaked, clinging to her like second skin, one sleeve torn completely, the hem shredded.

Her hair stuck to her face. Her tears mixed with rain.

He paused at the cliff’s edge.

She tried to crawl back—no voice, no scream, only the frantic shake of her head.

He leaned down, one clawed hand closing around her ankle.

“You should’ve stayed soft,” he whispered. “I would’ve let you dream a little longer.”

Then he pulled her over.

The ocean did not take her—it swallowed her.

The cold slammed into her body like a thousand knives. She thrashed, kicked, screamed into the water—but it moved around her, coiling like hands, pulling her deeper.

Her lungs burned.

Her vision blurred.

She saw Kaelen beneath her, swimming backward as he dragged her with him—his tail unfurled, vast and dark as night, his claws dug into her hips.

The surface disappeared.

Light faded.

Her strength slipped.

She reached for the surface one last time—arms stretching above her like a girl begging heaven—

And then everything went black.

Later…

She woke in a hollow chamber of coral and pearl. The ceiling above her glowed faintly blue. She was wrapped in sea silk—soft, but tight—binding her wrists and ankles to the smooth stone beneath her.

She couldn’t scream.

Her throat ached.

The shell she had once worn sat in a pool of starlit water beside her, whole again. Waiting.

She turned her face away and cried.

Elsewhere in the palace, Kaelen stood before the priestess.

His body still dripped with salt. Blood—hers and his—was rinsed from his skin.

“She fought me,” he said flatly.

“She will fight more,” the priestess rasped. “Until there’s nothing left to fight with.”

“She rejected the bond.”

“But she wore it once.” The priestess reached out, her frail fingers brushing his chest. “She opened the gate. Now it cannot be shut.”

Kaelen’s jaw clenched. “She looks at me with hate.”

“She will learn worship,” the priestess said softly. “Or she will drown in madness. Either way, she will stay.”

Kaelen said nothing.

But inside him, a storm gathered.

Because he didn’t just want her body.

He wanted her to want him.

Part Sixteen: The Weakening

Time had blurred.

Y/N didn’t know how many days had passed. She slept in short, frightened bursts. Ate when forced. Drifted in and out of pain and confusion.

The sea sang constantly.

The chamber—her prison—glowed softly with bioluminescent coral. Everything was beautiful in a sick, dreamlike way. The sea silk that bound her wrists had loosened, but she didn’t try to run. There was nowhere to go.

And sometimes—when the current shifted—she heard Eleanor’s voice.

“Y/N…”

She would jerk upright, heart pounding. “Eleanor?!”

Nothing. Just bubbles and silence.

Other times, she would see her. A glimpse through the coral archways. Standing still, her lilac ribbon tangled in her hair, arms wrapped around herself like a child.

“Why did you leave me?” Y/N whispered once.

But the figure faded like smoke.

Kaelen came often.

He brought strange food—soft pearls that melted in her mouth, strips of something warm and spiced. He would sit beside her, combing her hair with fingers and claws alike.

“You were born for the sea,” he said once. “You just didn’t know it.”

She didn’t speak.

But she didn’t pull away anymore.

That worried him more than her screams.

He returned to the priestess.

Her eyes were dimmer now. Her voice thinner. But she still sat on her throne of ancient coral like she ruled what remained.

“She weakens,” Kaelen said. “She no longer fights.”

The priestess nodded slowly. “Her strength is in her soul. It will serve your children well.”

Kaelen’s throat tightened. “She hates me.”

“She will give you what you want. The bond is nearly complete.”

“I want her… willing.”

The priestess let out a breath like steam.

“You have three days. After that, the bond collapses. Her body will begin to break. You must mate her before then.”

Kaelen’s hands curled into fists. “She will shatter.”

“Then make her pliant.” Her pale eyes gleamed. “Let her see the other one. The one she clings to in dreams.”

“Eleanor.”

“She is already broken. Her sadness will make your captive grateful for gentler chains.”

Later, in the dark glow of Y/N’s chamber…

The sea silk unwrapped.

Kaelen entered without speaking and held out a hand.

“Come.”

Y/N blinked slowly, sluggish from another strange meal. “Why?”

“You need comfort.”

She followed without knowing why.

Down corridors of glowing coral and slow-moving currents. Through archways carved from the bones of sea beasts. Into another chamber—

Where Eleanor sat hunched on a bed of kelp, her hair limp, her body curled small. Her ribbon was gone. Her eyes were dull.

Y/N’s breath broke in her throat.

“Eleanor?”

Her friend looked up.

And began to cry.

Part Seventeen: Soft Chains

Y/N crossed the glowing threshold like she was sleepwalking, unsure if what she saw was real.

But it was.

Eleanor.

Her friend—her sister in all but name—was curled on a bed of sea-kelp, pale and trembling, her eyes rimmed with salt-crusted red. Her once-vibrant curls hung limp. Her body was thinner. Her hands shook in her lap.

“Eleanor?” Y/N whispered.

Eleanor looked up—and her lips trembled into a smile that nearly destroyed Y/N.

They ran to each other.

There were no words—only arms tangled tight, cheeks pressed together, lips brushing each other’s tear-streaked faces in frantic affection.

Y/N clutched her. “I thought you were dead.”

“I wished I was,” Eleanor breathed. “But then I heard you were here.”

Their foreheads pressed. Their fingers clutched tightly. Every breath was shared, shallow and desperate.

“I’m so sorry,” Y/N whispered. “I should’ve stopped you. I should’ve—”

“No,” Eleanor said, shaking her head. “Nothing would’ve saved us.”

She pulled back slightly, eyes wide with grief. “Don’t fight them, Y/N. It only makes it worse.”

Y/N’s chest constricted. “What did he do to you?”

Eleanor didn’t answer. But her bruises said enough.

The shimmer of her skin. The hollow of her cheeks. The soft, empty way she spoke. Like a girl already halfway drowned.

They clung to each other tighter.

And then—

A slow clap echoed through the chamber.

Aelric.

Leaning against the coral archway, arms folded, shirt undone just enough to expose the cruel curve of his smile.

“Well,” he said lazily, “isn’t that sweet.”

Y/N turned sharply, shielding Eleanor behind her.

Aelric’s smirk widened. “Two doves in a gilded cage. You’ll keep each other company while the sea claims the rest of you.”

Y/N’s lip curled. “You’re proud of this?”

“I’m delighted.” He pushed off the wall and approached. “I told Kaelen she’d break beautifully. He wouldn’t listen. He’s sentimental, you see.”

He leaned in closer—too close.

“But I? I prefer them ruined.”

Eleanor flinched.

Y/N stood taller, even as her hands trembled.

Aelric’s grin never faltered.

“You’ll see,” he said softly, “it’s not so bad. Once you forget who you used to be.”

Then he vanished into the current.

The chamber was dim, lit only by the soft pulse of bioluminescent moss. The currents flowed slowly, carefully, as if the sea itself dared not disturb what lay inside.

Kaelen entered in silence.

And there they were.

Y/N and Eleanor, curled together on the bed of kelp, their arms still wrapped around each other. Their cheeks rested against one another’s shoulders. Like children. Like sisters.

Like survivors.

Y/N’s brows were furrowed even in sleep, her hand still gently gripping Eleanor’s.

Kaelen stood there for a long time.

Watching.

Feeling something shift in his chest—not pity, not guilt—but curiosity.

How could she still care for someone so broken?

How could she still protect, even in chains?

Her strength is good for your children, the priestess had said.

But this wasn’t the kind of strength he could command.

And he hated that.

Later, in a trench far deeper than any mortal had touched, Kaelen approached the black reef.

The coral here was sharp and dead. The water cold, even to him. And the light—there was none.

Only darkness.

And a voice.

“You seek what the priestess cannot give,” the sea witch said, rising from the shadows like smoke in water.

She was ancient—half stone, half kelp, eyes blind but all-seeing.

“I need her to choose me,” Kaelen said. “Willingly. I have three days left.”

“Then you must show her something deeper than fear.”

“She fears me. She resists.”

“And yet,” the sea witch hissed, “she clings to the girl. Even now. Even in sleep.”

“I’ve tried everything.”

“No,” she said. “You’ve tried to control. You haven’t tried to understand.”

Kaelen’s jaw clenched. “Tell me what to do.”

The sea witch smiled, and her teeth were jagged pearls.

“You must make her want to stay.”

“How?”

“Give her a choice… and make sure both lead back to you.”

Y/N was awake when Kaelen returned.

She sat cross-legged beside Eleanor, brushing soft strands of hair back from her friend’s face, humming something fragile and off-key.

She didn’t look up when he entered.

Only when his shadow fell over them did she turn—and her eyes were hollow but sharp.

“You’ve come to punish us?” she whispered. Her voice was hoarse, but steady. “Or just to watch?”

He crouched slowly, careful not to touch her yet.

“I’ve come to talk.”

Y/N laughed bitterly. “You don’t talk. You take.”

Kaelen’s eyes flicked to Eleanor, still asleep and curled like a child.

“You care for her,” he said.

“I love her,” Y/N snapped. “More than I could ever love you.”

He was silent a moment. Then:

“I believe you.”

That startled her. She flinched, wary.

He leaned in, voice calm. Almost… kind.

“I don’t want to break you, Y/N. I want you to choose to stay.”

“I’d rather drown.”

He ignored that. “So I’m giving you a choice.”

She stilled.

He let the silence stretch like a net before delivering the hook.

“You may remain here. With me. Willingly. I’ll give you more freedom. I’ll protect her. I’ll even begin to treat you like a mate.”

Her lip curled.

“Or,” he continued, “you can refuse. And I will give Eleanor to Aelric. Fully. As his own.”

Y/N’s breath caught.

Kaelen tilted his head, voice low. “She won’t survive him, you know that. You’ve seen what he does.”

“You’re a monster,” she whispered.

“I’m your future.”

She shook her head. “No… no, this is a game.”

“It’s a choice,” he said firmly. “Your first real one down here. But don’t take too long. The sea waits for no one. Least of all fragile little humans.”

He stood slowly.

“I’ll return when the tide turns. Make your decision by then.”

And then he was gone—vanishing into the current like a shadow that had never belonged to the light.

Eleanor stirred behind her.

Y/N broke.

She clutched her friend tightly and wept into her hair, knowing exactly what she would have to do.

Because cruelty disguised as mercy was the cruelest trap of all.

She said yes.

Not because she wanted to.

Because she had to.

Because Eleanor’s life—what little remained of it—hung in the balance. And Kaelen had made sure Y/N knew the weight of her refusal.

So when he returned, she didn’t look at him. She only whispered, “I’ll stay.”

Kaelen nodded, as if this were a solemn vow.

And without a word, he held out his hand.

She took it.

He led her through winding corridors lit with dim blue light, past quiet chambers and still pools, deeper than she’d ever been allowed before. The pressure grew heavier, the sea darker.

Until they reached his chamber.

It was carved into the stone of a drowned temple—walls etched with symbols that glowed faintly when she entered. The floor was smooth, covered in soft seagrass and folded layers of dark silk.

A bed waited in the center. Raised. Prepared.

Kaelen turned to face her.

“Remove your gown.”

She hesitated.

His eyes burned gold.

“You said yes, Y/N.”

So she obeyed.

The silk slipped from her shoulders, slow and trembling. Her skin glistened in the dim light—fragile, human, exposed.

Kaelen stepped forward.

He lifted the marelith shell—once severed, now whole.

Without asking, he fastened it around her throat again.

It pulsed warm.

Alive.

“You remember how it felt,” he said softly. “When you first wore it. Before you knew what it meant.”

She didn’t answer.

“Lie down.”

She moved stiffly toward the bed, each step echoing with dread.

“On your back.”

She obeyed.

“Bend your knees. Spread your thighs for me.”

She closed her eyes.

She did as he said.

Kaelen climbed over her, tail coiling beneath, his weight settling between her legs. His hand cupped her face, thumb brushing her lips.

“You’re mine now,” he whispered.

She nodded—because she had no voice left.

He entered her slowly.

It burned.

She bit her lip to keep from crying out—but the pain crawled through her body like fire through ice. Her hands fisted the silk. Her thighs trembled.

Kaelen groaned above her, pressing deeper, watching her with something close to reverence.

The shell at her throat began to glow.

Brighter.

Warmer.

Claimed.

She turned her face away, silent tears slipping into her hair.

When he finished, he held her close like a lover.

But Y/N didn’t feel loved.

She felt claimed. Branded. Gone.

Y/N woke in darkness.

Not silence.

Kaelen’s arms were wrapped around her, heavy and possessive, his breath stirring the hair at her neck. Her body ached—not just from what he’d done, but from what it meant. The shell still glowed faintly against her chest.

“Wife,” he murmured.

She didn’t answer.

But he kissed her shoulder anyway.

Later, they came for her.

Servants of the deep—silent merfolk women with soft, expressionless faces. They bathed her in a pool of perfumed seafoam, combed her hair with pearl-handled tools, dressed her in flowing ceremonial silk spun from kelp and light.

Her stomach churned.

When they were done, she was led—barefoot and pale—through a wide coral hall, where dozens of glowing eyes turned to watch her.

Kaelen’s court.

He stood at the center, radiant and terrible. His tail coiled like a throne beneath him. His hand reached out—expectant.

Y/N stepped forward.

The priestess stood beside him, ancient and unblinking. “The bond is sealed,” she announced, her voice echoing through the deep. “Her womb is quickening. The future begins.”

A soft cheer rippled through the court.

Y/N felt sick.

Later, she was summoned

The chamber was deep, still, and cold.

Y/N stood alone, her ceremonial silk clinging to her damp skin, the marelith shell still pulsing faintly against her chest. She was thinner now. Paler. But sharper, too.

The priestess watched her from the center of the grotto—frail, almost translucent, eyes milk-white but piercing. Her bones showed through her silver skin. She was breathing shallowly, her gills flickering slow.

“You summoned me,” Y/N said carefully.

“You are changed,” the priestess murmured. “But not lost.”

Y/N didn’t sit. She stepped forward.

“I’ve been watching. Listening. And I know what’s happening to your kind.”

The priestess tilted her head, amused. “Do you?”

Y/N’s voice strengthened. “The mermaid women. They’re dying. Not because of the surface. Not because of humans. Because of what you’ve done to your water.”

The priestess stilled.

“It’s the coral,” Y/N said. “The glowing kind that lines your sacred pools. It’s not meant to grow this deep. It’s leeching minerals from the water. Poisoning the wombs of the women who rest near it for healing.”

The priestess’s fingers trembled on her throne.

“I read it in a book back home—studies of reef behavior. Coral like yours becomes toxic when overgrown. And I’ve seen the symptoms in the women. In you.”

Silence.

Then—a breathless laugh.

“You speak of science,” the priestess rasped. “But your logic holds.”

Y/N stepped closer. “I can help you. I can stop the extinction. I know what to remove. What to filter. What to plant instead. I can bring your kind back from the brink.”

The priestess’s voice dropped. “And what will you want in return?”

Y/N’s eyes glinted. “Freedom. For me. For Eleanor. For any woman dragged down here again.”

The priestess watched her in silence.

And then—nodded.

“Then we will see,” she said softly. “If knowledge can do what power could not

The nights belonged to Kaelen.

He came to her chamber like clockwork, silent and cold-eyed. She’d lie still as he moved over her, kissed her with possessive reverence, and whispered things she forced herself not to hear.

Sometimes he was gentle.

Other times, rough.

But always, he called her “wife.”

She never cried aloud again. But her fingers clenched the kelp-woven bedding until her knuckles went white.

When he finally left each night, she’d curl away, skin raw, and whisper Eleanor’s name like a prayer.

The days, though—those were hers.

Quietly, Y/N worked beneath the court’s notice. With the priestess’s silent permission, she wandered through the sacred chambers and bathing pools. She directed servants—under the guise of Kaelen’s authority—to begin removing the glowing coral, replacing it with flora from higher reefs.

No one questioned her.

And the results were swift.

The sick mermaid women, once dim and fading, began to stir. Their eyes brightened. Their gills strengthened. The color returned to their scales.

Even the priestess, long resigned to death, stood taller.

“You’ve done it,” she murmured one evening. “You’ve saved them.”

Y/N didn’t smile. “Not all.”

Eleanor was the exception.

But Y/N refused to give up.

She demanded Eleanor be moved—away from Aelric, away from the darker chambers of the palace. The priestess granted it.

And slowly, Eleanor began to change.

She was placed in a quiet coral garden where sunlight touched the water through cracks above. There, surrounded by warmth and softness, she began to laugh again—lightly. Cautiously.

Her skin began to glow again.

She swam for the first time without trembling.

One day, Y/N watched from behind a veil of kelp as Eleanor turned her face toward the light, closed her eyes, and smiled.

She’s coming back, Y/N thought. We both are.

But that night, Kaelen came again.

Harder. Hungrier.

As if he could feel something slipping from his grip.

He kissed her neck where the shell pulsed. Whispered promises of children. Of kingdoms.

She bit her lip until it bled.

She let him take her.

But in her mind, she held onto the image of Eleanor in the garden, glowing.

Healing.

Because the tide was turning.

And soon… it would rise for her.

[n1ght0f-nyx]

Hihi!

I just read your rules, so I hope this request follows them:

Could I request an leviathan!merman x fem reader? I'm not super picky about the details of his appearance, so you can have fun with that.

I'm thinking, maybe, reader is prisoner on a pirate ship and leviathan!merman attacks and sinks the ship because it constantly disturbs the water of his territory. He finds reader, realizes he almost killed an innocent captive, and shenanigans ensue from there. He takes her home with him to take care of her while she recovers from the imprisionment/his attack since it's too far to safely take her back to shore, much less a shore she knows. His underwater cave has an airpocket/above-sea level entrance as well as the main entrance; how lucky and convenient, amirite?😅

Maybe he's slightly awkward and it makes him seem detached and scary...

I'm hoping for fluffy with a smidgen of spice or smut at the end?

Thank you in advance if you decide to write this!🫶

holy shit this was insane i love you

merman x fem! reader fluff and smut

warnings/tags- short smut peice at the end, fem reader, monster x human, mentions of imprisonment, i gave him a name at the end

word count- 3727 words (im tired)

The salt-laden air was suffocating. The relentless waves rocked the creaking pirate ship as it cut through the waters, a prison you couldn't escape. Days had passed since your capture, and you were bruised, sore, and tired from the confinement. The crew barely acknowledged your existence beyond the scraps of food they tossed your way. They were focused on something else, something beyond the horizon that kept them nervous and on edge.

One of the older pirates muttered about a sea demon—a creature that hunted ships around these waters. You thought it was nothing more than sailors’ superstition, but as the air turned heavy and the sea became unnaturally still, an eerie sensation crawled down your spine. The crew became frantic. Eyes darted toward the water, watching for something. You couldn’t tell what.

It happened fast. The once-still water erupted into chaos, and the ship shuddered violently as if something enormous had collided with it. Men screamed weapons were drawn, but none of it mattered. The sea itself had risen against them. Waves higher than any you'd ever seen crashed down, tearing the ship apart. You were thrown across the deck, striking the mast hard, the air rushing out of your lungs as darkness claimed you.

---

When you awoke, the world felt different. The coldness of the water had soaked through every part of you, the sensation both numbing and alarming. You blinked, trying to focus on your surroundings, but nothing made sense. The sea still roared, but you weren’t drowning.

You were… floating? Treading?

Something—or someone—had you in its grasp. Panic surged through you, and you tried to twist away, only for the grip around you to tighten, keeping you still. Then you felt it—scales. The slick, cool texture brushed against your skin as a powerful tail swam you through the water with ease. You struggled, coughing up saltwater, your limbs heavy and useless.

A voice, deep and foreign, hummed in the water. “Don’t… fight.” The words were broken but clearer than you expected. You tried to crane your neck, to see what held you, but before you could make sense of the situation, you were lifted above the water.

The night sky greeted you once more, stars shimmering against the black ocean. But it wasn’t the stars that took your breath away. As your vision focused, you were pulled into the shallow confines of a cavern. Rock formations loomed above, sharp and jagged, and the faint glow of bioluminescent algae clung to the cave walls, casting an ethereal light across the scene.

Then you saw him.

The creature holding you was enormous. His upper body was humanoid but covered in dewy scales, glistening under the faint light. His skin was a mix, inky gunmetal grey and Cerulean blue, blending with the shadows and the sea. The  scales grew rougher around his neck and joints, trailing down to the massive tail that curved behind him. His eyes, glowing with an eerie gold hue, met yours, unblinking and intense.

A sea-creature.

The pirate tales weren’t lies.

He moved carefully, setting you down on a small ledge that jutted out of the water inside the cave. You coughed again, your body shaking as the cold air hit your wet skin. For a moment, the creature just stared at you, his eyes scanning over your form with something you couldn’t place. Was it curiosity? Guilt? You weren’t sure, but it wasn’t the mindless aggression you'd expected from the stories.

"Pretty… girl," he whispered, the words hesitant as his voice echoed in the cavern.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear mixing with confusion. Why had he saved you? Had he been the one to destroy the ship? The silence between you stretched on, uncomfortable and thick. You opened your mouth to speak but hesitated, unsure if you wanted to know the answer to your questions.

He shifted awkwardly, his long tail curling into itself as if he wasn’t sure what to do next. The leviathan’s hands, large and clawed, flexed as he tried to mimic human gestures. He brought one to his chest as if trying to calm you. His voice was gruff and halting. “Hurt..?”

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. "I... I was a prisoner."

The leviathan frowned, his expression twisting as if he was processing your words. He pointed to himself. "I… destroy..Save you." he spoke blankly

Your mind reeled. He had attacked the ship. He had killed everyone on board—pirates, yes, but also human beings. And yet here he was, trying to help you. There was no malice in his expression, only an awkward uncertainty, like he wasn't used to interacting with anyone, let alone a human.

“I…” You stammered, feeling small under his gaze. “Why?”

His head tilted, brow furrowing. He seemed to struggle with the question, trying to find the words. "Innocent," he finally murmured. "No kill… innocent."

You wanted to believe him. But trust didn’t come easily when you’d just been ripped from one terrifying situation and thrown into another. “You killed them all,” you whispered, your voice shaking.

The leviathan’s eyes darkened, his tail thrashing slightly in the water, sending ripples across the surface. “They… disturbed…” His hand clenched into a fist before he loosened it again, trying to maintain his composure. “This… my home. They hurt… water. Hurt… sea.”

You blinked, processing his words. He was a protector of these waters, not a mindless monster. He had been defending his territory. The pirates had angered him and threatened his home. And in his attempt to drive them away, he had nearly taken you with them.

“I didn’t mean to be there,” you said, your voice softer now. “They captured me.”

He nodded slowly, his golden eyes never leaving yours. There was a strange kind of innocence to him despite his monstrous appearance, like he was trying to understand, trying to make sense of the situation as much as you were. “I… care for you. You are safe… here.”

You looked around the cave, the glow from the algae creating an otherworldly atmosphere. The air pocket allowed you to breathe, and while the water was cold, the rock beneath you was dry. For now, you were safe.

But how long would you be here? How far from the land were you? Your thoughts spiralled, and before you could stop yourself, tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You were stranded in an underwater cave with a creature who had just destroyed an entire ship, and you had no idea what would happen next.

Seeing your distress, the leviathan made a low sound, a soft chirping noise that seemed almost out of place for something his size. He inched closer, his movements slow and deliberate as if trying not to scare you. “Safe… now,” he repeated, his voice almost a whisper.

Your body trembled, a mix of cold and exhaustion taking over, and you felt yourself teetering on the edge of unconsciousness. You were too weak to respond, and as your vision blurred, you caught a final glimpse of the leviathan’s concerned gaze.

“Rest,” he murmured, his deep voice the last thing you heard before the darkness took you once more.

---

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you awoke again. The cave was still, the water lapping gently at the edges of the rocks. Your body ached, but the sharp pains from earlier had dulled to a manageable throb. As you stirred, you noticed the leviathan watching you from the water, his upper body resting on the edge of the ledge.

“You… awake,” he said, a hint of relief in his tone.

You pushed yourself up slowly, wincing as your muscles protested. “Yeah,” you muttered, rubbing your forehead. “I’m awake.”

The leviathan studied you for a moment before shifting his weight and submerging partway into the water again. “No go… back to land,” he said, his voice low but clearer than before. “Too far. Too… dangerous.”

You frowned. “Then what do I do? Just… stay here?”

He looked almost embarrassed, his golden eyes darting away from yours. “For now. I… help. You stay safe.”

It wasn’t an ideal solution, but what choice did you have? You were miles from land, and even if you could swim back, there was no guarantee you’d survive the journey.

As the days passed, the initial fear that had consumed you began to ebb away, replaced by something you couldn’t quite define. The leviathan, whom you had come to think of simply as "him," seemed to be doing everything in his power to make you feel safe. Every day, he brought you food from the sea—fish, clams, seaweed—arranging it in neat little piles on the dry ledge of the cave where you rested. It wasn’t long before you stopped seeing him as a monster. He had saved you, after all. And there was a gentleness in his awkwardness, an effort to communicate that made you feel like you weren’t just some stranded victim in a strange land. 

He never wandered too far, always returning with something new—a small collection of smooth stones, intricately shaped shells, and occasionally, bones that had been bleached by the ocean. He would lay them down carefully in front of you, watching for your reaction with bright, expectant eyes. At first, you didn’t think much of it. He was probably just offering you things he thought might interest a human, but you noticed that he always seemed delighted when you picked them up, inspecting each one closely. 

You had begun making a habit of it—admiring the shells, thanking him for the smooth, polished stones. His face would light up in a way you’d never seen before, his golden eyes flashing with that strange, bioluminescent glow that was becoming more familiar to you. 

And it wasn’t just his gifts. His body language had started to shift in subtle ways. When he emerged from the water, the faint freckles along his face and shoulders glowed softly, but when you spoke to him or even smiled in his direction, they would brighten, casting more light into the dim cave. At first, you assumed it was a natural response to his emotions—perhaps a way for his kind to communicate. But then came the sounds. He chirped. He hummed. He made these low, rumbling noises deep in his chest that reverberated through the cave walls. 

It was strange—almost endearing. 

One day, after he had brought you a particularly beautiful shell—spiralled and iridescent—you smiled at him, running your fingers over its smooth surface. “It’s beautiful,” you said softly. “Thank you.”

The leviathan’s face lit up, his freckles flaring into an almost blinding brightness as he chirped happily. You chuckled, placing the shell in the small pile of treasures you had started keeping at your side. 

“Do you have a name?” you asked him, curious if he could understand more complex language. “I mean… what should I call you?”

He blinked, his head tilting slightly. “Name…?” His voice was still halting, but he was getting better, and more confident with his words. “No… name.”

“Hmm.” You bit your lip, thinking. “Maybe I’ll give you one, then.”

His eyes widened slightly, glowing with interest.

You tapped a finger against your chin, trying to come up with something that suited him. Something powerful, but also kind. “How about... Kai? It means sea in a few languages.”

“Kai…” he repeated as if testing the word. Then, his face broke into a small smile, the glowing freckles on his cheeks pulsing rhythmically. “Kai… like.”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Good. Kai it is.”

The days continued like this, with him bringing you more gifts and making those strange chirping noises whenever you accepted them. Sometimes he would linger nearby, watching you with a strange intensity that should have been unnerving but wasn’t. It was almost… sweet. 

One evening, after he had brought you a particularly smooth stone—a dark, deep blue colour—you held it up to the faint light. “You have quite the eye for pretty things,” you said teasingly, glancing at him. His golden eyes glinted, and he made that low, rumbling hum again, the sound resonating in your chest.

You didn’t know when it started to happen, but somewhere along the way, you had stopped seeing him as just a creature of the deep. There was a tenderness in him, a genuine care for your well-being that warmed you in ways you hadn’t expected. He wasn’t just keeping you alive. He was trying to make you happy. And it was working. 

You caught yourself watching him more often—how his muscles shifted beneath his dark, glistening skin, how his tail curled and flicked in the water when he was excited, how his glowing freckles pulsed in response to your laughter. And when he brought you something new, when he chirped at you or hummed softly, it made your heart race in a way that had nothing to do with fear. 

---

Kai didn’t fully understand it at first, but something had changed between the two of you. He could feel it. Every time you smiled at him or touched the gifts he brought you, something warm and bright filled his chest. It was more than happiness. It was... connection.

He had been practising the small rituals of his kind for days now, bringing you things he knew you would like—rocks, shells, even bones from deep within the sea. He had hoped you would understand what he was doing, even if it wasn’t something humans were used to. And when you accepted his gifts, when you smiled at him and thanked him, he felt like he was glowing from within. You were accepting him.

The colours in his bioluminescent freckles had grown brighter each day, especially when you were near. He could feel his body reacting to you—flashing brighter, chirping louder, humming more frequently. He had started making these sounds almost unconsciously, his excitement and affection bubbling up every time he was near you.

And then there was the moment when you said his name. Kai. A human name, but it fits. You had given him something special, something to define himself beyond just a creature of the deep. He had felt it then—an overwhelming urge to be closer to you, to protect you, to make you his.

---

You hadn’t realised it until later, but you had unknowingly been accepting his courting rituals. The smooth rocks, the shells, the soft chirping sounds—all of it had been Kai’s way of showing affection, of trying to bond with you. And you had accepted it with open arms, without even realising the significance of what you were doing.

One night, as you sat by the water’s edge, Kai was closer than usual, his large body half-submerged in the water. His golden eyes were fixed on you, his freckles glowing softly. You noticed how close he was, and how his massive form took up most of the space in the cave. But instead of feeling intimidated, you felt… comforted.

He chirped softly, his tail flicking in the water. "You… like?” he asked, his English much clearer now.

You glanced down at the latest gift he had given you—a perfectly polished piece of coral—and smiled. “I do. Thank you, Kai.”

His glowing freckles flared again, and the rumbling sound in his chest grew louder, more persistent. He was... happy. You could feel it radiating from him.

Without thinking, you reached out, your fingers brushing against his arm where the scales were smoothest. His body tensed momentarily, his eyes widening as he looked at where your hand rested. But then, he relaxed, a soft, pleased chirp escaping him.

You weren’t sure when it happened, but you stopped seeing him as just a sea creature somewhere along the way. It was Kai. He was awkward and endearing, and despite your vast differences, he made you feel safe. 

And as you looked into his glowing eyes, your heart beat faster in your chest. You had grown fond of him—maybe even more than fond. 

Kai’s tail flicked in the water, and he shifted closer, his face just inches from yours. His freckles glowed brighter, casting the cave in a warm, ethereal light. “Pretty… girl,” he murmured, the words filled with a strange kind of awe.

You smiled, your hand still resting against his arm. "And you're not so bad yourself."

For a moment, the two of you just sat there, the sound of the ocean filling the space between you. But something had changed. There was a new understanding, a new bond. You weren’t just surviving together. You were connected.

And from the way Kai’s eyes shone, you could tell he felt it too.

As the soft light from Kai’s freckles pulsed gently around you, you felt his large form shift beside you. Before you could react, he lowered his head, nuzzling it under your chin with surprising tenderness. His skin was cool and smooth, and the sensation sent a shiver down your spine, though not from fear. You hesitated, then let your hand drift to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the strange but silky strands of his dark hair.

A low, content hum rumbled from him, vibrating against your chest. He was close—closer than he’d ever been before. The warmth of his presence, the gentle weight of his nuzzle, made your heart race, and yet... it felt right. 

“Have… pups,” Kai murmured, his voice halting but filled with sincerity. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as his words slowly registered. “My… pups.”

It was then that everything clicked into place. The gifts, the soft chirping, the glowing freckles, his constant presence. This wasn’t just him being kind. This was more. **He loved you.**

Your heart pounded in your chest as you pulled back slightly, looking down at him in stunned realization. His eyes, glowing softly, blinked up at you with that same innocence and intensity. He wasn’t just a protector—he saw you as his mate. 

And somewhere deep inside, you realized that you didn’t mind the thought.

You stared down at Kai, your fingers still resting gently on his head as he gazed up at you, unaware of the weight of his words. His eyes were wide and expectant, as if waiting for your reaction. The warmth that had been building in your chest bloomed fully, but it was accompanied by a nervous flutter in your stomach.

"Pups," you whispered softly, your voice barely audible. The idea, once foreign and unthinkable, now seemed… less strange. It wasn’t just the word—it was the meaning behind it. The way Kai had said it, with such sincerity and hope, like he couldn’t imagine anything more important. The realization that this ancient, powerful being cared for you in ways you hadn’t even understood until now.

Kai’s tail flicked in the water, splashing lightly as he nuzzled you again, this time more insistently. “Yes… pups,” he repeated softly, the low rumble of his voice vibrating through you. He shifted even closer, his large frame curling around yours protectively. “You… mine.”

Your breath hitched at his declaration. The weight of what he was saying—what he felt—was starting to sink in. Kai wasn’t just offering you protection or companionship. He wanted more. He wanted to build a life with you, in whatever form that took. To him, it seemed so simple. But to you, the complexity of the situation was dizzying.

Could you feel the same way about him? Could you be with someone so vastly different, someone from a world so far removed from your own?

But as you looked into his eyes, glowing softly with that bioluminescent warmth, you realized that you already had. The time spent together in the cave, the strange courtship rituals, the quiet moments of connection—they had already won you over. You had grown attached to him, maybe even fallen in love without realizing it. And now, faced with his earnest desire, it was impossible to ignore.

“Kai,” you murmured, brushing your thumb gently over the side of his face. “You really mean that, don’t you?”

His head tilted, eyes blinking as though he didn’t quite understand why you would question it. “Mean… yes. You mine. We… together. Have… pups.”

You think for a few seconds “how…how would we..?”

His hand pushes against your thigh, twitching hard, which has your eyebrows pulling tight. You go pale when you look down. What you assumed to be his hand was something else completely, moving around against your thigh with a sticky sheen being rubbed on the skin of you hip like he’s grinding his double dicks against you. His tail is heavy enough to keep you in place under him, and his crawled hand is slid along your side while he purrs pathetically, looking up at you with sweet begging eyes “Oh, fuck,” you mouth, “oh fuck.” Trying to slip out from under him makes him let out a soft growl, mouth corners lifting to show his canines.

“I-i dont think i can take them..both” you gulp.

He doesn't seem to notice, all he desires is your affection, Kai brings his fingers up interlacing around your chin. Under the night sky, his body lights up, the shimmering blue lights on his skin and tail accentuating your own vulnerability. He offers you a smile, his deep brown eyes sparkling with longing in the soft glow of the moon. Your lips meet. You trace your fingers along his chest and stomach. A glimpse of his form emerges from his opening, and you can't help but smile as you circle his protruding tip. He sighs your name into your mouth, the sensation akin to the gentle ebb and flow of the sea against the rocks. Gradually, he slips his entire cock into your hands grasp, and you caress his length with gentle strokes. He recoils slightly, his head resting back, his scales reflecting the moon's light. Firmly holding you, he rolls you onto your stomach. You grin up at him, extending your hand to gently sweep away a few droplets from his face. He returns the smile. Leaning back, you spread your legs and clasp onto his hips, taking a deep breath as he positions himself for an intimate moment. Your moans fill the night as he fucks you with a rhythm reminiscent of the ocean's waves.

[growthhyp]

I want to transform into a muscular jock with high confidence and attitude. As I am obese and not courageous. I want to acquire a new lifestyle and memories

The Hair Wax

As you stroll towards the inviting embrace of the beach, the warm sun kissing your skin, you notice a hulking figure standing by the shoreline. His beard is like a wild forest, untamed and thick, obscuring his face features. His hair, a dark mane, cascading down his muscular back. Intrigued, you decide to approach him despite the uncanny vibe he exudes.

"Hey little man," he says, his voice like gravel over velvet, "you look like you could use some help." You feel a twinge of annoyance at his observation. True, you're not the most muscular or tall, but who is he to judge?

"What do you want?" you reply, crossing your arms over your slightly chubby belly.

The mysterious man holds out a canister, "This is hair wax, my friend. It's not just any hair wax. It's special. Go ahead, try it."

You're skeptical but can't resist the urge to engage. "Why would I need hair wax at the beach?"

The man, who introduces himself as Viktor, laughs heartily, "Ah, you're a smart one. But trust me, this isn't your ordinary beach day. Try it, young man. It's like nothing you've ever felt before."

With a shrug, you take the canister, curious about the claim. You scoop out a dollop with your fingers and spread it through your hair. It's sticky but smells faintly of the ocean, a scent that's both calming and invigorating. "It's... different," you admit.

Viktor's grin widens, revealing a set of teeth as gleaming as the sun reflecting off the waves. "Good, good," he says, patting you on the shoulder, a gesture that feels surprisingly warm and firm. "Remember, this isn't for everyone. But for you, it's perfect."

You nod, not really understanding what he means, but eager to get to the beach. "Thanks, I guess," you murmur before turning away. As you walk towards the shore, you can't shake the feeling of his eyes on you, watching. You look back over your shoulder, but the spot where he stood is now empty. A slight shiver runs down your spine. Maybe he was just a weird beach vendor. You shake off the odd encounter and focus on the crashing waves ahead.

Setting up your towel and umbrella, you lay down to soak in some sun. You feel the sand warm beneath you and the gentle caress of the breeze. But then, something strange happens. Your head starts to itch, not just a little but an intense, overwhelming itch. You scratch vigorously, trying to ignore it. But it doesn't go away. It gets stronger.

Suddenly, you realize your belly is shrinking! Your skin tightens as the extra padding of fat vanishes. Your arms bulge as muscles grow beneath your skin. Your chest puffs up, pushing against your tank top. You see your biceps and triceps popping out, giving you a look that's both surprising and exhilarating. The neckline of your shirt stretches as your shoulders and traps balloon.

You stand up, feeling a strange power surging through you. Your legs, once average, are now thick pillars of power. Your calves bulge like rocks, making you feel like you could run for miles. And your feet... they're bigger! You look down to find them swelling in your flip flops, which now seem so tiny. You rip them off, feeling the sand under your now massive soles.

Panic sets in as you realize your shorts are getting tight, really tight. You try to pull them down, but they cling to your growing thighs like a second skin. And that bulge in the front... it's definitely not a disease. No, it's something else entirely. You look around, hoping nobody's noticed your sudden transformation. Your shoulders and lats bursting out from the sides, your back muscles rippling like waves under your skin.

You touch your jaw and feel it hardening, growing more defined. Your shoulders widen, making your posture more assertive. People are staring, but instead of feeling embarrassed, you're filled with a newfound confidence. You flex your arms and watch in awe as the veins pop out, your biceps and triceps swelling like they're fighting to escape their new, tightly wrapped home. You're not just a regular Joe anymore; you're becoming a beast!

You start to strut down the beach, feeling the power of an alpha male. Your voice drops to a commanding bass, making heads turn. You're no longer the shy guy hiding in the corner; you're the center of attention. You want to show off this new body, to make everyone see what you've become. The hair wax had done something to you, something incredible. You're not just stronger now; you're sexier, more dominant. You are an ALPHA.

___

Thank you @brains4brawn for providing the prompt for the video.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Scenario that's been plaguing me bc @aka-indulgence keeps ENCOURAGING the brainrot

Consider; you are married off to a mysterious lordly skeleton monster. Despite the crack in his skull and his difficulties with speech, he's very gentle with you, and his quiet charm eventually trumps your initial fear of him. His home is an old stone castle, situated on the highest point of a small isolated island. It's quite scenic, you see the waves from your window... but when the tide rises, the castle is entirely cut off from the mainland. On high tides and great swells there's no way to leave your new home. It is beautiful when the sun is shining, but equally, the small patch of land is often shrouded by a thick silencing fog... the sea around the island is deep and churning, and when clouds roll over, the cold water is black as ink. At night, the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks far below your window makes it difficult to sleep.

... Your husband is kind, clearly deeply smitten with you. He tries his best to make you happy on such an isolated isle. But each month, he often disappears to sea for several nights... you spend many dark evenings tucked against the window, hoping for his safe return.

You don't know where he goes. He tells you he goes 'out to sea'. He always comes back smelling of the long, dark kind of seaweed that wraps around sailors' legs and drowns them. He has no family- you never see him eat.

... He has only one rule. When the wind begins to pick up around the island, you must go inside, and remain safe within its thick stone walls until the storm is over. It's an easy rule to follow.

...

The truth, about your husband? He's a powerful kraken, deeply in love with you, who sacrifices his life in the ocean to take on a humanoid form and be with you. But once a month, he has no choice but to return to the sea in his true form, to feed.

He isn't frightened by the great storms- he is their cause. The reason he makes you stay inside is twofold. He doesn't want you to see his transformation...

... But also, his true form is massive, with a mind far wider and wilder than the consciousness he uses for his land form. He wants you safe behind those thick stone walls, where he can't reach...

... He doesn't trust himself around the most precious thing in his life.

[unfgvien]

finding strength in connection chapter three

pairing - wanda x reader x natasha

summary - Natasha, a skilled operative, finds solace in Big Sur's rugged coastline, overcoming emotional challenges with her Red Room training team. Her resilience and self-care, along with her fight against a clandestine organization, inspire her.

word count - 5.7k

masterlist | main masterlist

previous chapters

-> unexpected encounters

summary; Sophie, a college student, meets Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow, in a café. They share a cryptic message linking them to a clandestine world, Whispering Pines, a secluded estate with secrets and hidden histories.

-> the weight of choice

summary; Natasha, trapped in an abandoned warehouse, reflects on her past and the loss of Sophie, feeling isolated and hopeless, influenced by Yelena's phone calls.

The crisp autumn air bit at Natasha’s cheeks as she stood on the precipice of a sheer cliff overlooking the churning Pacific. The wind whipped her hair around her face, a familiar sensation that usually brought a thrill, a surge of adrenaline. Today, however, it felt different. It was a cleansing wind, carrying away the lingering remnants of sorrow, the echoes of a love lost. Below, the waves crashed against the rocks in a relentless rhythm, mirroring the turbulent emotions she had wrestled with since Sophie’s choice.

This wasn't a secluded cabin in the mountains; this was a different kind of sanctuary. The rugged coastline of Big Sur, with its dramatic cliffs and boundless ocean, offered a stark contrast to the quiet introspection of Sophie's retreat. Here, the vastness of nature dwarfed her personal struggles, reminding her of the insignificance of individual heartbreak within the grand scheme of things. It was a fitting backdrop for her own journey of healing and self-acceptance, a landscape that mirrored the turbulent yet ultimately cleansing power of the ocean.

The initial pain had been sharp, a visceral wound that refused to heal. The emptiness left by Sophie’s absence felt like a gaping hole in her life, a void that threatened to consume her. She had spent countless nights staring at the ceiling, replaying their shared memories, searching for clues, for answers, for some way to understand the unraveling of their connection. The memories, once vibrant and exhilarating, now carried a bittersweet ache. Yet, amidst the heartache, a quiet strength began to emerge.

The Red Room’s training had instilled in her an unwavering resilience, a capacity to withstand pain both physical and emotional. It was a resilience she hadn’t fully realized until now. The initial shock gave way to a resolve to overcome this emotional challenge, to navigate this heartbreak with the same focused determination she brought to every mission. She wouldn't let this one failure define her. This wasn't defeat; it was a redirection, a recalibration. Her work provided a crucial outlet. The Red Room's training, usually a reminder of her past trauma, became a source of strength.

She found solace in the precision of her movements, the lethal efficiency of her skills. She threw herself into her missions, embracing the challenge, the adrenaline rush, finding a temporary escape in the controlled chaos of her professional life. Each  successful mission, each threat neutralized, felt like a small victory, a step forward on the path to healing.

But it wasn't just the physical exertion that helped; it was the connection with her team. Clint's gruff support, Yelena’s dry wit, and even the quiet understanding of Black Widow operatives she rarely interacted with before, provided a crucial sense of camaraderie. They didn't pry, they didn't offer unsolicited advice; they simply understood the unspoken language of shared experience, the silent recognition of the burdens carried beneath the surface. This shared experience wasn't about romance; it was about an unspoken bond, a solidarity built on mutual respect and shared struggles.

One evening, perched on a windswept cliff overlooking the ocean, she received a call from Yelena. Yelena, never one for sentimental expressions, simply said, "You look like you've been wrestling a bear. Want to go out for something stronger than herbal tea?" The invitation, though understated, offered a sense of connection that she desperately needed. They ended up in a small, unassuming bar in a seaside town, sharing stories, laughter, and a bottle of something strong.

The conversation wasn't about Sophie. It was about shared missions, old grudges, and the absurdity of their lives. But in the quiet moments between laughter and sharp anecdotes, Natasha felt a sense of normalcy returning, a connection to the world beyond her heartbreak. It wasn't a replacement for Sophie; it was a validation of her own value, independent of any romantic relationship. The realization was gradual, a slow dawning that she was more than just a lover; she was a skilled operative, a loyal friend, a woman capable of fierce independence. She began to prioritize self-care, a concept she previously dismissed

as frivolous. She started running again, not as a means of escape, but as a way to connect with her body, to feel the strength in her muscles, the rhythm of her breath. She took up yoga, finding a surprising sense of peace in the slow, deliberate movements, a welcome contrast to the high-octane nature of her work. She  discovered a quiet joy in simply existing, in appreciating the beauty of the everyday.

This journey wasn't a linear progression from pain to happiness. There were setbacks, moments of doubt, times when the memories of Sophie threatened to overwhelm her. But each time, she found the strength to face her emotions, to acknowledge her pain without letting it define her. She learned to distinguish between healthy grieving and self-destructive wallowing, recognizing when to seek support and when to retreat into her own strength.

One day, while reviewing mission intel, she stumbled upon a file detailing a new, emerging threat, a clandestine organization with ties to HYDRA's remnants. The challenge sparked a renewed sense of purpose, a feeling of urgency that helped shift her focus from personal loss to a greater cause. The fight against this threat became a way to channel her energy, to redirect her focus from internal turmoil to something larger than herself.

This work wasn't just about apprehending criminals; it was about protecting the innocent, about fighting for a better world. It was a reaffirmation of her values, a reminder of her commitment to a life of purpose and service. She found a renewed sense of satisfaction in her abilities, a sense of accomplishment in using her skills to make a difference. It was a powerful antidote to the lingering pain of heartbreak. The mission became a testament to her resilience, her capacity to move forward, to embrace new challenges, to redefine her purpose beyond personal relationships.

In the end, Natasha's journey wasn't about forgetting Sophie; it was about accepting the past, learning from it, and moving forward with a renewed sense of self. The ocean, once a symbol of her turbulent emotions, now represented her boundless potential, her capacity for growth, and her unwavering resolve to forge her own path. She had emerged from the depths of sorrow, not unscathed, but stronger,

more resilient, and profoundly more herself. The scars she carried were a testament to her journey, a reminder of her strength, and a symbol of her enduring spirit. The heartbreak had shattered a part of her, but in the fragments, she had found a stronger, more authentic self, a self she could now embrace without reservation. The path ahead was uncertain, but she was ready to face it, armed with her skills, her resilience, and a newfound understanding of her own unwavering strength. The wind still whipped at her hair, but now it felt less like a tempest and more like a gentle push forward, urging her towards a future she was determined to create.

The scent of lavender and chamomile hung in the air, a calming balm against the lingering anxieties that still occasionally surfaced. The cottage nestled in the rolling hills of Tuscany offered a sanctuary, a place far removed from the high-stakes world of espionage and magic. It wasn't grand, or opulent; it was simply comfortable, a space where three very different women could find solace and, surprisingly, a semblance of family.

Sophie, nestled on a plush armchair by the fireplace, watched Wanda as she hummed softly, her fingers dancing across the keys of an old piano. Music poured from her fingertips, a melancholic melody that somehow felt both peaceful and powerful, a perfect reflection of the woman herself. The initial awkwardness had long since dissipated, replaced by a comfortable silence, punctuated by the occasional shared smile or knowing glance.

The rift between Wanda and Natasha hadn't healed overnight. The pain of Sophie's choice, the unspoken words, the lingering resentment – these were things that couldn't be erased with a flick of a wrist or a snap of fingers. But there was a willingness, a conscious effort, a shared desire to rebuild, to create something new from the ashes of their fractured past.

Natasha, surprisingly, found herself fitting surprisingly well into this unconventional family. The cottage’s rustic charm was a stark contrast to her usual surroundings, but the quiet tranquility offered a welcome respite. She spent hours tending to the small herb garden, her hands finding a strange comfort in the soil, the gentle act of nurturing something small and delicate a welcome change from the high-stakes world of international espionage. The precision required for her work translated surprisingly well to tending the delicate herbs, and she found a strange solace in the act of creation, of coaxing life from the earth.

One afternoon, as Sophie prepared a simple meal—fresh pasta with sun-dried tomatoes and basil from the garden—a quiet conversation unfolded. The tension that had once hung heavy in the air seemed to dissolve like smoke in the Tuscan breeze. They talked about mundane things—the weather, the local markets, the difficulties of growing tomatoes in unpredictable weather—and somehow, in those ordinary exchanges, a connection formed, a quiet understanding that transcended the extraordinary circumstances that had brought them together.

"I never thought I’d be making pasta with the Scarlet Witch and Black Widow," Sophie said, her voice light with a newfound ease. A shared laugh filled the cozy kitchen.

Wanda smiled, a genuine, warm smile that reached her eyes. "And I never thought I'd be enjoying it so much," she replied, her accent slightly softening with affection. She’d found a new kind of fulfillment in this unexpected life, a sense of peace that transcended her magical abilities. The constant struggle with her powers, the internal battles against chaos, seemed less overwhelming in the presence of these two women. In this quiet sanctuary, she allowed herself to be vulnerable, to be simply Wanda, without the weight of expectation or the burden of immense power.

Natasha, ever pragmatic, observed them both, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. The quiet contentment she witnessed surprised even her. She had expected more turmoil, more lingering bitterness. Instead, she found a strange sense of peace, a quiet acceptance of the situation. She had learned, through the crucible of heartbreak, the importance of connection, the profound strength that comes from genuine friendship. The connection she felt with these women, however unconventional, was real, and that was enough.

The following weeks and months unfolded in a similar rhythm: quiet mornings spent reading, tending the garden, or exploring the picturesque Tuscan countryside. Evenings were filled with storytelling, laughter, and the comforting crackling of the fireplace. They slowly, carefully built a new foundation, a foundation built not on romance, but on a shared respect for each other’s strengths, and a genuine affection for each other's company.

Wanda’s magic subtly infused their lives, weaving a comforting presence rather than a chaotic force. She created small enchantments – fresh flowers that bloomed perpetually, soft, warm light that danced around the cottage at dusk, music that flowed from unseen sources. It was a gentle magic, a nurturing magic, a reflection of the quiet peace she had finally found.

Natasha, in her own way, contributed her own brand of quiet strength. She ensured their safety and security, discreetly shielding them from the occasional unwanted attention, using her skills to create a cocoon of peace and quiet. Her innate sense of protection extended to both women, a testament to the unexpected bonds of affection she had formed.

Sophie, the initial catalyst of their unusual family, found her own place amidst their strength. She provided a steadying influence, a calming presence, her artistic temperament adding a vibrancy and warmth that complemented the intensity of Wanda’s magic and the quiet focus of Natasha’s discipline. She was the heart of this  unconventional family, binding them together with her warmth, her empathy, and her capacity for unconditional love.

Their journey wasn't always smooth. There were moments of tension, quiet disagreements, and occasional reminders of the pain that had come before. But they learned to navigate these challenges with a newfound understanding, a shared commitment to finding resolutions that honored each individual's needs and desires. The initial triangle had dissolved, replaced by a circle of support, a shared commitment to fostering a strong and enduring bond.

One evening, as they sat together under a canopy of stars, the three women shared a rare moment of profound connection. There were no grand pronouncements of love, no dramatic declarations of loyalty. Instead, there was a shared silence, punctuated by the occasional murmur of contentment, a quiet understanding that transcends words. They were a family, a peculiar, unexpected family, forged in the fires of love, loss, and the unexpected complexities of human connection.

The Tuscan cottage became more than just a home; it was a symbol of their resilience, their capacity for healing, and their collective strength. It was a testament to the unexpected power of unconventional families, the deep bonds that can form when individuals choose to embrace vulnerability, forgiveness, and the profound beauty of unexpected connections. They had chosen each other, not as lovers in a triangle, but as a family unit, supporting each other, creating their own peculiar brand of unconventional happiness.

The past still held weight, but the future stretched before them, filled with the promise of a life built on mutual respect, enduring friendship, and the comforting strength of an unconventional, yet deeply loving, family. The journey had been turbulent, but in the end, they had found something far more precious than any love triangle could ever provide. They had found home.

The months that followed saw a gradual shifting of landscapes, both literal and metaphorical. Wanda, ever drawn to places of quiet power, found herself drawn to the remote, snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas. She built a small, secluded retreat there, a sanctuary hidden amongst the ancient monasteries, where the thin air and the vast expanse of sky mirrored the expansiveness of her own magical abilities. It wasn't an escape, not exactly.

It was more a retreat, a place to reconnect with the source of her powers, a place where she could refine her control, channel her energy into creative acts of healing and restoration. She sent Sophie frequent photographs—breathtaking vistas of frosted mountains, swirling clouds, and sunrises that painted the snow-covered peaks in hues of rose and gold. Natasha, ever the pragmatist, chose a different path. She found herself gravitating towards the bustling, vibrant streets of Tokyo.

The anonymity of the city, the constant movement, offered a welcome camouflage, a chance to leave the shadow of her past behind. She took on a series of low-profile missions, small-scale interventions that allowed her to utilize her skills without drawing undue attention. The intricate web of information she wove, the subtle maneuvers she orchestrated, kept her sharp, kept her grounded, and provided a sense of purpose. She wasn’t fighting global threats, but she was still helping, still making a difference.

The quiet victories felt significant, more so than the high-stakes missions of her past. It was a quieter life, more deliberate.

Sophie, meanwhile, found solace in the heart of bustling New York City. The vibrant energy of the city, the constant hum of activity, provided a stark contrast to the quiet retreats of her companions.

She dedicated her time to her artwork, transforming her experiences and emotions into vibrant canvases. The paintings were powerful, capturing the raw emotions of loss and the slow blossoming of an unconventional family. They were a visual testament to the strength of the bonds she had forged, the unexpected connections that had reshaped her life. She was becoming an artist, not simply a painter. Her work expressed a depth, a power, and a maturity that had been largely unexplored before.

The distance didn't diminish their connection. Regular video calls became a lifeline, a way to share the details of their respective lives, to laugh over trivial matters, and to offer support when needed. The conversations were never forced; they flowed naturally, a testament to the deep bond that had formed between them. They shared moments of triumph—Wanda’s success in harnessing her powers for healing, Natasha’s quiet acts of heroism, Sophie’s growing acclaim as an artist—and also moments of vulnerability, anxieties about the future, and the lingering pangs of the past.

There were no grand gestures of reconciliation, no dramatic apologies. Instead, there was a quiet understanding, an unspoken acknowledgment of the shared pain and the strength it had forged within them. The heartbreak, the betrayal, the initial awkwardness– these had become stepping stones, not obstacles. They had transformed the pain into empathy, understanding, and a deeper appreciation for the value of their bond.

One evening, during a video call, Wanda recounted a story about a small village nestled high in the Himalayas. The villagers, she explained, had a tradition of weaving intricate tapestries, each thread representing a connection, a memory, a shared experience.

The tapestries were not simply decorative; they were living representations of the community's history, its strength, and its resilience. She likened their bond to such a tapestry, a complex weave of shared experiences, diverse threads that, despite their differences, created a vibrant, enduring whole.

Natasha, ever practical, pointed out the metaphor's limitations. "Tapestries can fray," she noted, "Threads can break. The strength of the tapestry depends on the care we take in maintaining it."

Sophie, the artist of the trio, added another dimension to the analogy. "But even frayed threads can be mended," she observed. "The imperfections, the scars, become part of the tapestry's story, adding depth and character." She described her latest painting, a vibrant piece depicting their three figures, each rendered in unique

colors and styles, yet connected by a vibrant, shared energy. The canvas reflected the power of their collective strength, the beauty of their resilience.

The conversation flowed smoothly, a comfortable interchange of perspectives, a quiet acknowledgment of their shared journey. They shared laughter and poignant moments of reflection, a testament to the deep understanding that had grown between them. It was a comforting routine, a reminder that their connection extended beyond physical proximity. It transcended the boundaries of  distance and the complexities of their shared past

The strength of their bond wasn't simply about avoiding conflict or pretending the past never happened; it was about acknowledging the complexities of their relationship, their individual journeys, and the unique challenges they faced, and navigating these challenges with grace, empathy, and a willingness to understand. The trust they had built was not a fragile thing easily broken; it was a resilient structure, able to withstand the tests of time and distance.

Their bond had evolved beyond a romantic triangle. It had deepened into a complex tapestry of sisterhood, a profound expression of female friendship. The strength of their bond lay in their shared vulnerability, their willingness to support each other through life's challenges, and their unwavering commitment to nurturing their unique and powerful connection. They had found a different kind of love, a love born from shared experience and mutual respect, a love that transcended the boundaries of romance and found its strength in the enduring power of female connection. They had chosen each other, not as lovers competing for attention, but as companions choosing to walk together, supporting each other on the path of life.

Their unconventional family, born from the ashes of a complicated past, had ultimately bloomed into something beautiful, enduring, and profoundly powerful, a testament to the enduring strength of female bonds. The future was unknown, but they faced it together, three strong women united by an unbreakable bond forged in the crucible of shared experiences and the steadfastness of their friendship. The strength of their bond was a testament to their resilience, a symbol of the enduring power of female connections, and a beacon of hope for all women facing life’s challenges.

The Tuscan sun warmed Sophie’s face as she leaned against Wanda, the scent of cypress and sun-baked earth filling her lungs. They stood on a hill overlooking a valley bursting with wildflowers, a riot of color against the rolling green hills. It was a scene painted with the vibrancy of a dream, a stark contrast to the shadowed corners of their past. This wasn't a remote Himalayan peak or the anonymous streets of Tokyo; this was a place of rebirth, a landscape mirroring the blossoming of their relationship. Wanda, radiant in a simple sundress, her eyes sparkling with a joy that reached deep within, gently squeezed Sophie's hand.

“It’s… beautiful,” Sophie whispered, her voice thick with emotion. The words felt inadequate, insufficient to capture the overwhelming sense of peace and contentment that washed over her. This wasn't just a pretty view; it was a symbol of their new beginning, a tangible representation of the hope that bloomed in the aftermath of their shared journey.

They had spent the last few weeks traveling, exploring hidden corners of Italy, immersing themselves in its rich history and breathtaking landscapes. It had been a deliberate choice, a conscious effort to build a new foundation for their relationship, a foundation built not on the ruins of the past but on the solid ground of the present. Each shared experience, from exploring ancient Roman ruins to indulging in leisurely lunches overlooking the Mediterranean, strengthened their bond, weaving new threads into the tapestry of their lives.

Wanda, ever attuned to the subtle energies of the world, sensed the shift in Sophie’s emotional landscape. She understood the unspoken question hanging in the air – the lingering shadow of Natasha, the weight of their past choices. With a gentle smile, she turned to Sophie, her hand still clasped warmly in Sophie’s.

“The past is a part of us, Sophie,” Wanda said softly, her voice carrying the warmth of the Italian sun. “But it doesn't define us. We have created something new, something beautiful. Something stronger.”

Sophie nodded, the unspoken words finally finding their voice. “I know,” she replied, the weight of her doubts finally lifting. She looked into Wanda's eyes, finding a depth of understanding, a love that transcended the complexities of their past. It was a love built on mutual respect, on shared experiences, on a deep appreciation for each other's strengths and vulnerabilities.

Their relationship wasn’t a fairytale; it wasn't devoid of challenges. They still faced moments of doubt, periods of introspection, and the lingering echoes of past hurts. But those moments were no longer insurmountable obstacles; they were opportunities for growth, for deeper understanding, for a strengthening of their bond. They had learned to navigate the complexities of their feelings, to  communicate openly and honestly, to support each other through life's inevitable ups and downs

The journey hadn't been easy. The memories of their shared past with Natasha still lingered – a bittersweet ache that sometimes surfaced unexpectedly. But the pain had mellowed, transformed into a quiet understanding of the paths not taken, the choices made, and the lessons learned. They held no resentment toward Natasha; instead, they understood that their journey was uniquely theirs. Natasha’s path, although different from their own, was equally valid.

They had built their future on a foundation of mutual respect and understanding. They had created a safe space for vulnerability, a haven where they could express their fears, their doubts, and their deepest desires without judgment.

Their connection was a testament to the power of love that transcends the traditional definitions, a love that embraces the complexities of human experience, and a testament to their shared resilience. It was a love that was born of hardship, but blossomed in the light of their shared commitment.

The weeks in Italy turned into months. They explored ancient cities, quaint villages, and stunning coastal landscapes. Wanda, ever drawn to the magical essence of the world, found inspiration in the ancient energy of the land, her powers subtly shaping their experiences, adding a touch of magic to their everyday lives.

Sophie, in turn, found new inspiration for her art. Her paintings reflected the richness of their travels, the beauty of the Italian landscape, and the depth of her love for Wanda. Her work now held a vibrancy and maturity that exceeded anything she'd achieved before.

The Italian countryside provided the perfect setting for their new beginning. The quiet mornings, spent sharing coffee overlooking rolling hills; the lively evenings, filled with laughter and shared dreams; the quiet moments of intimacy, shared whispers and stolen kisses – these were the threads that wove their new life together.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and purple, Wanda turned to Sophie, her eyes filled with a deep, abiding love.

"I never thought I'd find this kind of happiness," she said, her voice soft and tender. "A love so profound, so complete."

Sophie smiled, her heart overflowing with emotion. “Me neither,”she whispered, leaning into Wanda's embrace. “But I wouldn't trade it for the world.”

They spent the rest of the evening gazing at the sunset, their hands clasped tightly together. They didn't speak much; words felt unnecessary. Their silence was a comfortable intimacy, a shared understanding that transcended language. It was a testament to the deep connection they had forged, a connection that had weathered storms and emerged stronger, more beautiful, than ever before.

Their journey hadn’t been easy, but they had emerged stronger, more resilient, their love for each other a beacon of hope in a world that often felt dark and unpredictable. They had found strength in their connection, not just with each other, but with themselves. They understood that their individual journeys were as important as their shared path, that the complexities of their pasts could not diminish the brightness of their future.

Their love story was a testament to the power of unconventional love, a tale of resilience and growth, a reminder that even the most fractured paths can lead to unexpected beauty. It was a love that embraced the past, but celebrated the future, a testament to the enduring strength of female bonds, and a symbol of the unwavering power of love. They had chosen each other, not as rivals, but as partners, as allies, as equals, forging a bond that was both unique and unbreakable, stronger and brighter than anything they could have ever imagined.

As they looked towards the future, they felt no fear, only a sense of calm anticipation. They knew that challenges lay ahead, but they also knew that they would face them together, their love a guiding light, their connection a source of unwavering strength. Their journey had just begun, a new chapter filled with hope, love, and the unwavering promise of a future as bright and beautiful as the Tuscan sunset. Their love story was a testament to the enduring power of the human spirit and a celebration of the unexpected beauty that can blossom from the most challenging of circumstances.

The months that followed their Italian sojourn were a whirlwind of activity, yet strangely peaceful. Sophie, inspired by the vibrant hues of the Tuscan landscape and the quiet strength of Wanda's love, produced a breathtaking series of paintings. Her art, once hesitant and unsure, now possessed a captivating depth and emotional resonance, reflecting the transformative power of their relationship.

Her exhibitions were critically acclaimed, her work lauded for its bold colors, its emotional honesty, and its captivating portrayal of love in all its complexities. The success brought a new kind of validation, not just for her art, but for the life she had chosen, a life that was unconventional, yes, but undeniably hers.

Wanda, meanwhile, found solace and purpose in her work with the Avengers, albeit with a renewed sense of balance. The intense pressure of saving the world was still present, but it no longer overshadowed the quiet joy she found in her relationship with Sophie. She learned to compartmentalize, to separate the weight of her responsibilities from the intimacy of their shared life.

She channeled her energy creatively, using her powers not just for destruction, but for restoration, helping communities affected by natural disasters and quietly working behind the scenes to ensure the safety and wellbeing of those she cared for. She had found a new equilibrium, a harmony between her extraordinary abilities and her ordinary life with Sophie.

Their connection deepened, subtly transforming the fabric of their lives. They purchased a small cottage nestled amongst the rolling hills of the Scottish highlands, a stark contrast to the vibrant Italian countryside, yet equally beautiful in its own unique way. The rugged beauty of the landscape, the vast expanse of the sky, the quiet tranquility of the countryside – it was a place where they could escape the noise and chaos of the world, a refuge where their love could flourish without interruption.

The cottage was filled with the warmth of their combined memories. Pictures from their Italian travels adorned the walls, alongside Sophie's vibrant paintings, creating a tapestry of their shared journey. Wanda’s presence touched the very essence of their home, infusing the space with a subtle, comforting magic. It wasn't overt, not flashy, just a gentle warmth, a feeling of safety and belonging. The small garden surrounding the cottage became a haven, alive with Wanda’s subtle manipulations of nature; rare wildflowers bloomed in unexpected abundance, attracting a variety of vibrant birds and butterflies, a testament to the magic she wove into their daily lives.

One crisp autumn evening, as they sat by a crackling fireplace, sipping hot cocoa, Sophie broached a subject that had lingered between them for months.

“I’ve been thinking about Natasha,” Sophie said softly, the words tinged with a mix of sadness and understanding. “I… I wonder how she’s doing.”

Wanda nodded, her gaze softening. The memory of Natasha still held a weight, a bittersweet reminder of a complicated past. But the resentment and jealousy that once consumed them had faded, replaced by a more mature understanding of the circumstances.

“I’ve also thought about her,” Wanda admitted. “I… I hope she’s found peace.”

They spent the rest of the evening discussing Natasha, their conversation devoid of any bitterness or regret. They talked about Natasha’s strength, her unwavering resolve, and the sacrifices she made. They acknowledged the depth of their past connection, a bond forged in shared trauma and intense mutual respect, but emphasized that it didn't diminish the depth of their love. They concluded that Natasha's journey, though different, was equally valid and important. They even contacted Natasha.

To their surprise, Natasha agreed to meet them in Budapest, a city steeped in both happy and challenging memories for all three of them. The meeting wasn't easy, fraught with unspoken tensions and the lingering ghost of what could have been, but it was ultimately cathartic. Natasha, though initially reserved, revealed a newfound sense of peace and self-acceptance. She had embarked on a solo

mission, far from the spotlight and the intensity of the Avengers' life, and had rediscovered a sense of self that had been overshadowed by years of service and sacrifice. She expressed gratitude to Sophie and Wanda for the significant role they played in her personal growth, implicitly acknowledging the impact that her presence had on their relationship. There were no apologies, no recriminations, only mutual respect and the acceptance of the paths they had individually chosen.

The meeting signified a turning point in the lives of all three women. It was a testament to their growth, their resilience, and the enduring strength of their individual paths. It was a recognition that love, in all its forms, could exist without being mutually exclusive, that personal growth and self-acceptance often required navigating complex relationships and difficult choices.

The next few years saw Sophie and Wanda build a life filled with love, laughter, and mutual support. Sophie's art continued to flourish, her work gaining international recognition, while Wanda used her abilities to make the world a better place. They found joy in simple things, in shared moments of quiet intimacy, in the beauty of the Scottish landscape, in the warmth of their shared home.

Their love story wasn’t a fairy tale; it was a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, a reminder that love can bloom in unexpected places, in the most unconventional circumstances. It was a story of growth, of forgiveness, of the acceptance of oneself and others. It was a love that transcended labels, defied expectations, and celebrated the complexities of human connection.

It was a love that was uniquely theirs, a love that had weathered storms, embraced challenges, and emerged stronger and more beautiful than ever before.

Their relationship was not without its challenges. There were moments of doubt, moments of introspection, and times when the weight of their past would threaten to overshadow their present joy. But those were moments they faced together, their bond a source of strength and unwavering support. They learned to communicate, to be vulnerable, to accept each other's imperfections, to celebrate each other's triumphs, and to offer comfort during times of hardship.

Their story became a beacon of hope, a testament to the enduring power of love in all its forms. It was a story that showed that choosing a path, even one that may break hearts along the way, can lead to unexpected happiness, and that forgiveness, self acceptance, and the strength to create one's own destiny are essential ingredients in living a truly fulfilling life.

The story resonated deeply with others, offering solace and understanding in a world that often felt fractured and uncertain. It became a reminder that love could endure, could transform, and could lead to a future filled with beauty and resilience, stronger and brighter than anything they could have ever imagined. It was a reminder that even from the ashes of loss and heartbreak, something extraordinary and unexpected could emerge – a love forged in the fires of adversity and tempered by the strength of their shared journey.

Their story, shared discreetly but with the power of truth and honesty, showed that love's true strength doesn't lie in its absence of challenges, but in its ability to navigate them, to grow from them, and ultimately, to emerge victorious, stronger, and more vibrant than ever before. The unexpected resolutions were not simply conclusions; they were the seeds of a future filled with hope, resilience, and the enduring power of love.

do not translate, copy, publish or edit my works without permission. © bunnie 2024-25

[bussyyeukie]

Call of the Sea

(poly!141x siren!reader)

The seas were not evil; not rough and dark as the stories made it to be. Water crashing in a white mess against creaking hulls, dragging helpless souls and flailing arms. People say it’s dangerous, ugly, to not go out there. You’ll rarely come back if you don’t respect the power of the waves lapping up against the ship. The tide pulls at your knees until you’re suddenly to your hips, then your chest, and the cold sting sinks into you until your lips are blue and your lungs burn as the current pulls you.

The sea was beautiful, it was home to many creatures. Life giving creatures. Its waters reflected light, shining golden, shining blue, green, pink, orange. It’s lull carrying you on the surface, floating gently until it gifts you back to the shore. Many made their living from the sea. Many lived their whole lives dependent on the kindness it gifted to them.

You didn’t have a choice, not that you minded. All you could see was the beauty of the ocean. Even the beauty in the death it would bring, completing the cycle and inviting room for new life to start. Your home was the sea, and you’d never known any different.

Born from the frothy foam of the white wash, the crash of the ocean waves. Your lullaby, the sun that dried the drops on your face a forbidden fruit, the feel of warm earth and the absence of the waters cradle holding you a forgotten longing.

Your sister's songs resting on the water's surface. Your own song is a mix of the melody.

You remember laying on the rocks, with the moon's light basking over your skin, shining opalescent, hair fanning out across the rock, ends dipping back into the calm water. You remember laughing with your sisters, giggles bursting from throats and silly stories passed around as silken hands ran through damp hair. Placing bands of metal and shells into the braids littering your locks.

You remembered the first time you heard of the dangers of some humans.

The ones who were stronger than you, the ones who weren’t as swayed by the haunting songs rolling off your tongues. The ones who hurt, the ones who killed. Caught you up in nets and spears, committing horrific acts, chopping tails and hair, drying scales and collecting tears. As a child, it made you wary of approaching the surface, opting out of games and laying low in the darkness of the oceans depths. The older you got, the less afraid you became, being assured that you and your sisters were safe, too far from shore or populated ports to cause panic. It was rare to hear of a killing recently as well. Every once in a while someone would go missing, but there were never sights of ships, or rogue sailors to blame.

The older you got, the stronger you got. Teeth sharper, your tail gaining a more distinct pattern, the shine glowing brighter under the moon, your sound growing smoother and less banshee like.

With that came confidence. You’d approach the surface with your sisters, breaching water, wrapping your arms around the railings of small fishing boats, round luminescent eyes shining in the moon, hair sticking to wet skin. Voice soft and rolled over like fog into the ears of the sailors.

You no longer feared humans. Almost foolishly.

Growing reckless in your approach to stray boats.

Not realizing that, at times, those dangerous humans were trickier than yourself.

Floating in the water, the dawn barely creeping up on the horizon, you watched the dark shadow of the hull sit on the surface. It wasn’t necessarily a large boat, in fact, the closer you got you realized it was fit for about five people at most. It had been a minute since you’d eaten, stomach  rolling as you thought of the previous two weeks, dinnerless. It wasn’t that bad though, you really didn’t need to eat as often as a human, but the lack of substantial food didn’t help.

Your hair swayed around you, pushing it from your line of sight, you pursed your lips as you watched the shadow rock. Really you should’ve thought it through a little more, called someone over with you. Better yet, went along, swam by, left it be. But you didn’t. You were hungry.

Snapping your tail, you approached the underside of the boat, nose almost touching the wood. The water is warmer up there compared to the depths beneath you. Tail tucked under you, the water wasn’t clear, nowhere near it, but you didn’t want to risk it over something stupid.

Face turned, licking your plump lips, ear pressing against the underside of the hull. 

You heard some shifting, and a rock of the boat, footsteps, then the thunk of someone sitting. They sounded heavy. You felt a grin tug at your lips, muffled voices filling your ears. Sounded like three. Three was easy.

Flicking your tail, you rose, peeking up out of the water till your eyes blinked away droplets. It was foggy out, so thick you could just barely see five feet away. Catching a glimpse of the bearded man sitting in the boat, his voice thick as he spoke to the others in the boat. They hadn’t noticed you yet.

“Beautiful as the warm breeze,” the man laughed, mockingly, “As if waking up to a pile ‘a gold on ya’ pillow!”

Your hair stuck to your face as you emerged more, chin dipping in the water, hair fanned out around you. The hair on your face framing it, lips wet and cheeks flushed. Eyelashes clumped with water. Skin shiny and an almost hollowed look to your undereyes. You grinned.

“I’m tellin’ ya, it’s nonsense, the fact that he has our asses out here in the cold anyway it’s–”

You had peeked out a bit more, neck visible, pearlish pattering on your jaw and neck glinting in certain lights. Catching the man's eye. He jerked violently to the side, grasping wildly behind him.

“Bloody hell!’

The boat rocked and you sank down, acting spooked as you hid to your eyes again. Wide and gazing up at the man. Glancing over to the other two men in the boat. Who looked to you as well, snapping to attention as they moved as far back on their seats as possible.

The water rippled.

“What the fuck,” the bearded man’s jaw was agape, brows knit close together. He was older than the other two. Hard to tell by how much, his face was well sea worn.

��Get it!” One of the other men shouted, his hands trembling as he jolted for something on the bottom of the boat. Your eyes widened as you ducked down more, tail flicking under the boat.

A quick hand grabbed the man who reached. The older man was still in shock, trying to push himself as far back as possible, brows knit tightly together.

You looked to the side, a younger boy was sitting there, lips chapped and cracked, tanned face and hat wedged on his head. Curled hair sticking out of it.

“Wait! Wait…” he turned to you, eyes wide, he was thin, very lean, and not very tall. 

The other man, who had thin hair, and a potbelly, looked at the boy in shock.

“Boy, let go of me–!”

“Hold on a second!” he snapped, looking from you to the pot-bellied man, “Look at ‘er…”

The three looked to you, you breached the water again, to your chin.

“Hello,” you whispered, voice silken and carried across the water and into the boat. You watched the three men’s shoulders drop, eyes wide as they watched you.

“Hello…” the young man licked his lips, swallowing roughly, “What are you doing? O-out here?”

The bearded man grunted, “What the bloody hell do you think she’s doin’ out here! She’s a mermaid!”

You giggled.

The three men looked at you. Boat creaking as it rocked.

“Mermaids?” you preened, moving closer slowly, till your hands creeped up the sides of the hull, gripping it as you crossed your arms, leaning on it, the men moving back as you moved forward, “How silly, to believe in fairytales like that? Isn’t it?”

The younger man laughed nervously, “Y-yeah, very silly.”

You tilted your head, wet hair sticking to the smooth skin of your back and shoulders.

Seemingly glowing under the light, dawn still far off as it creeped. 

“Y-you,” the pot-bellied man gulped, “You’re tricking us, I know it! You are!”

“I am? That wouldn’t be very nice of me,” you giggled, tail swishing and flicking under the dark ripples.

“He, cap’n told us remember, he told us it would do this,” the pot-bellied man said again.

The young man smacking him in the arm, “Watch your tongue! She has a name!”

“Oh yeah? And what’s that then?” the bearded man spat, leaning forward to frown, then jolting back when he realized he’d gotten so close to you.

The young man stuttered, then turned to you. Your smiled broadening, sweetly, a subtle hum starting at the back of your throat, matching the tune of the lapping of the waves brought to the side of the little fishing boat. 

If you’d thought about it a little more, or at all really. You would have left at the mention of a captain, the three men in a fishing boat in the middle of the ocean. It was strange.

But you didn’t.

The three men turned to you. 

The young one leaning forward a bit, getting to a knee in front of you, you grinned at him.

“Yes?”

“D-do, do you have one?” he gulped, hands twitchy on his thighs, “A name I mean?”

“Of course I do,” the subtle note still ringing through the air as you spoke, carrying through your words, “My name is Y/N, why wouldn’t I have a name?”

The men seemed lost, the bearded one having relaxed into his seat. The young one mere inches from your face.

He chuckled, “I, I don’t know.”

“What’s your name?” you reached out, tender and slow, water droplets rolling off skin onto the fabric of his pants, he closed his eyes, leaning into your hand as you pushed it forward. Your fingers twitched.

Your cold fingertips brushed his cheek before a large hand grabbed your wrist, and the boy was flung back, eliciting a violent thrash of your tail and a screech from you. Brows furrowing and lips curled.

“Get the net now!”

You went to pull your arm back, if fate had been on your side, you would have pulled him under. Tipped the boat. But, fate seemed to be holding something over your head at the moment. As the pot bellied man jumped to his feet and grabbed a bundle of netting. You thrashed, the large man with the beard fighting you, pulling you up and you flailing and hissing.

Your teeth sharp as you barred them at him. Nails clawed and you dug into the cords of his forearm, scarlet blood dripping between your fingers, running down the slope of your forearm till it pooled and dripped at your elbow.

“Throw it! Now! Get her tail!”

Whipping your tail, trying to tip the boat the best you could, the man almost expertly threw the netting, the young man still sat flat on his ass.

The bearded man grabbed a handful of your hair, as if trying to rip it from your scalp.

Snarling as he shouted, “The knife! Spear! Anything!”

The young man looked between the large man standing and you, your tail thrashing violently and your screams and slitted eyes. Net getting tangled up on itself, and unfortunately wrapping around yourself.

“No!” you howled, teeth gnashing, clenching your fist, tearing flesh from the man holding you. Your back arching as he ripped at your hair, squeezing his hand tightly, your wrist aching and popping.

“Don’t mess it up! Cap’n wants a pretty one remember,” the pot-bellied man said, rather snarkily.

“For what?” the boy on the floor asked.

“Knife boy, now!”

The bearded man had spit flying from his lips as he shouted, the boat rocking. Your tail cramping, and shrill screams escaping your throat. The young man jumping to his feet and the sound of clanking drew your attention, watching him sift through a pile of spears and knives at the bottom of the boat. A cold chill running up the back of your spine, wrapping around your jaw and up your face.

“Enough! Stop!’ you cried, the pot-bellied man trying to yank the netting up your tail, scraping off a few scales, which flicked out and smacked his side, causing him to slam to his ass in the boat, a stream of curses falling from his lips.

You tried to shake the netting from yourself, but the young boy popped back up with a spear, sharp and chipped at the end. The handle two feet as he held it up.

You screamed, piercing as he brought it down, sinking into the meat of your tail, above the joint. White pain searing through you and your stomach cramped. Lips pulled over your teeth, the bearded man barking something, and the young boy ripped the spear out, a pouring of dark blood streaming from the deep wound. Throbbing and scalding with pain.

The pot-bellied man grabbed the side of the boat as he spat curses at you more, getting himself to his feet, jerking the rest of the netting back up your tail. Up over your hips. The bearded man pried your hand away from his arm, spitting at you as his blood coated your hand. 

“Stupid bitch, you’ll be in for it soon enough…”

The pot-bellied man reached for his hip, pulling a horn looking instrument, and blew on it, a low, sharp sound escaping it. Causing you to wince, flinching your tail, which erupted in pain. The young man looked at you, and jabbed at your tail again with some knife by his side, slicing it again. A cry escaping your throat.

“Enough of that, we need ‘er in one piece aye?”

“Yeah, right” the boy looked at you, the bearded man pulling the netting over your head as he slammed you into the boat, your arms curling into your chest, and protecting your face, hair splayed out messily, tail curled in. The bearded man's feet by your head. 

He leaned down over you, “One wrong move, and I stomp that pretty face in.”

You hissed at him, blinking wildly, clenching your fists.

The man tisked, “All that bark for what?”

You bit your tongue, holding off the slurry of insults you were about to throw at him, the threats, the promises of his demise. But, you were the one in the net, on the floor of a boat, injured.

The pot bellied man blew the horn again, and sat down next to your tail, which was over the bench, and over the side of the boat, just barely dipping into the water. The cold of it was inviting compared to the cold of the fog that covered the morning.

Your chest rose fast with breaths, sounding almost labored as the dark blood sank into the indents of your scales on your tail.

The balding man clapped the young man on the back, “wow what a sight! Knew they were real, christ, thing sure is less scary than the stories.”

The young man didn’t tear his eyes away from you, eyes frantic like a caged dog.

“What do you do with them again?”

The man shrugged, “Up to the cap’n, whoever can name the best price. Think he was plannin’ to keep this one in one piece this time, sell it whole.”

He elbowed the boy and laughed, snorting as he did. The sound grated at you.

How could you let this happen, be so foolish, so reckless. Thoughtless!

You felt the boat rock more, snapping your head around to see what was coming. The creaking sound of a big ship soaking into your ears. The feel of a hand grabbing your hair registered too late, not being able to fight it off before the meaty hand raised your head and slammed it back down against the boat's hull. Pain swarming your vision.

“You best keep quiet,” the bearded face made its way into your vision, before he stood, almost directly over you, wrapping some cloth around his forearm, which was near mangled.

You frowned, closing your eyes and flicking the tip of your tail, the water rippling under it, feeling the cold against you. Looking down, the young man had his head in his hands, gripping the knife tightly, your blood dripping off of it and onto his shoes. Almost mesmerized. The pot-bellied man was looking off in the distance, a wicked grin on his face, hooking the horn back onto his belt. Catching a glimpse of the insignia burned into the side of it, it was something you hadn’t seen before.

The bearded man said something to the pot-bellied man, who glanced down at you, sneering. You didn’t listen. Instead, you shot your hand through the netting, grabbing a death grip on the bearded man's waistband, and slapped your tail harder than you ever had in your life. Pulling the man down with you.

“Hey-rotted–!”

Before anyone could balance, you had flipped the boat. Sending all four of you crashing into the dark waters. Bubbles and irritated water rising around you all. Still wrapped in the netting, and bleeding from your tail, you looked around. The young man was struggling to grasp a hold of the flipped boat, weapons sinking slowly into the dark under you. The pot-bellied man sank. Struggling and large bubbles of air rising out of him as he got lower and lower. A silent scream etched onto his face.

The bearded man made one swipe at you, but you pushed yourself out of the way, crying shrilly, and snapping away. Watching him grasp at the overturned boat as well, as you dashed down.

Darker into the depths, the salt water stinging, and your head ringing. You rasped, as you swam, not sparing a look behind you as you fought with the netting, and failing. Getting it tangled more with yourself. The cold of the water surrounding you more than it ever had. It felt almost…uncomfortable. Not as cradling as it had been, but almost heavy, it felt like you were swimming through dense seaweed.

Your breath rang loud in the stillness of the water, the netting falling from you finally, sinking down. Your body cramping, as you spared one look behind, seeing the trail of blood left in your wake. Too much, it was too much blood. Unknowingly swimming sluggish, and sinking down.

word count: 3018

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

ECHOES OF THE FUTURE-PAUL ATREIDES

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 On Caladan’s shores, Paul Atreides and the reader share a quiet moment, where Paul opens up about his burdens and visions. They find comfort in each other’s company, expressing a shared hope for a future together despite the uncertainty ahead.

𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨𓆨

The sky above Caladan was painted with streaks of orange and gold as the sun began its descent toward the horizon. The air was crisp, and the salty scent of the ocean filled your lungs as you walked alongside Paul, your footsteps soft against the weather-worn rocks beneath you. The cliffs of Caladan loomed like silent sentinels, watching over the vast expanse of water that stretched endlessly to the edge of the world.

The ocean waves crashed rhythmically, their sound both soothing and powerful, echoing in the stillness of the early evening. The light was beginning to fade, casting the landscape in a soft, golden hue. You could feel the cool breeze tugging at your hair, the warmth of Paul’s presence beside you grounding you in this fleeting moment of peace.

Paul’s gaze was fixed on the horizon, his sharp features bathed in the last remnants of sunlight. His expression, usually so intense and calculating, seemed softer in this moment, as though the weight of his destiny had momentarily loosened its grip on him. The golden tint in his eyes, a sign of his prescient visions, glimmered faintly in the fading light.

You watched him, feeling an ache deep inside. There was so much he carried, so much he had to bear. The fate of his house, his people, the impossible burden of being the Kwisatz Haderach, it all rested on his shoulders. Yet in this quiet moment, walking along the shores of his childhood home, he seemed like any other young man, contemplating the future.

You glanced at him, wondering if he ever had time to simply, be.

"Is it always like this for you?" you asked softly, your voice barely rising above the sound of the waves. "This...knowing things before they happen?"

Paul slowed his pace, then stopped, turning to face you. His eyes met yours, searching, as though trying to measure the depth of your question. He shook his head slightly, a small, almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"It's not so simple," he murmured. "Sometimes I wish I didn't know. Sometimes I wish I could just...live without seeing everything that comes next." His voice faltered slightly, revealing a vulnerability that was rarely visible. "But then I see you, and I wonder if I should have seen this. If I was always meant to be here, with you."

You swallowed hard at the sincerity in his words, your heart skipping a beat. The connection between you both was undeniable, even in a moment as quiet as this one. You reached out, placing your hand gently on his arm, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. The touch was simple, yet it spoke volumes, a silent promise that no matter the uncertainty of the future, you would be there.

Paul looked down at your hand, his expression softening even further. His gaze lingered on yours for a long moment, as if he were memorizing the way the fading light caught the strands of your hair, the way your eyes shimmered with unspoken thoughts.

"You’re the one thing I didn’t see coming," he whispered, his voice almost a breath. His hand reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his touch lingering just a little longer than necessary. "And yet, now that I’ve found you...I can’t imagine my life without you."

The confession hung in the air between you, a fragile thing, but full of weight. You could see the vulnerability in his eyes now, the vulnerability he rarely allowed anyone to witness. Paul, the heir to House Atreides, the chosen one, the boy who would lead his people to greatness, was for once, just Paul. And he needed you, just as much as you needed him.

You smiled softly, your heart swelling with affection. "I can’t imagine it either," you said, your voice steady, even though you could feel your pulse racing in your chest. "I don’t know what the future holds, Paul. I can’t see it the way you do. But...when I look at you, I see someone who deserves peace. And love. And a future that isn’t filled with war."

Paul’s eyes softened at your words, and he stepped closer, closing the distance between you until there was barely any space left. The warmth of his body radiated against yours, and for a moment, all the noise of the world fell away, leaving only the sound of your breaths and the rhythm of the ocean.

"What do you see when you look at the future?" Paul asked, his voice low and intense, but there was a softness to it now, an earnestness that tugged at your heart.

You looked up at him, your chest tight with emotion. The future, for both of you, was uncertain. There were battles yet to be fought, decisions that would shape the galaxy, the very course of history. But in this moment, with him standing before you, the answer was simple.

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, your thumb gently brushing the edge of his jaw. "I see us," you said, your voice unwavering. "I see us standing together, no matter what comes." Your heart felt full, bursting with the weight of your words, but it felt right. It felt true.

Paul’s eyes searched yours, and for a long, breathless moment, neither of you spoke. The world seemed to pause, as if waiting for the right moment to continue. Finally, Paul’s lips parted in a slow, tender smile, and his hand found its way to your own, his fingers curling around yours.

"You’re the only certainty I have," he said softly, his voice filled with a quiet reverence. "And that’s enough for me."

You could feel your heart swell at his words, and without thinking, you leaned in, pressing your forehead gently to his. The warmth of his skin, the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm, it was enough. In this vast, uncertain world, this moment of connection, you found peace.

For once, the future didn’t matter. Not when you had this, this quiet, intimate piece of time with the one person who made everything else fade into the background. You stood together, in the fading light of Caladan’s shores, knowing that whatever the future held, you would face it side by side.

And for now, that was enough.