#Deep Sea Fishing Coast
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Deep Sea Fishing Goldcoast
There's nothing quite like the rush of reeling in a big catch while deep sea fishing GoldCoast. The thrill of battling the ocean's giants and experiencing nature in its rawest form is an adventure like no other. Book your trip today and let the sea set you free.
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Hammerhead sharks are so beautiful đ
#ocean aesthetic#sea#ocean#seacore#seascape#mermaidcore#water#siren#sirencore#waves#sharklove#shark#hammerhead#hammer head shark#sea creature#peace#oceania#deep ocean#diving#deep sea#blue#fish#coast#lovely#beautiful#animals#animal kingdom#ocean eyes#pets#blue aesthetic
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Very Rare âDoomsday Fishâ Found Dead off the Southern California Coast
A group of kayakers and snorkelers in Southern California encountered a rare deep-sea fish, which is drawing attention from marine scientists and conservationists.
The discovery of the oarfish was made Saturday in an area known as La Jolla Cove, just north of San Diego.
According to NOAA, oarfish are typically found in deep ocean waters, where they are rarely seen by humans.
Because they live at such depths, the species is known as filter feeders, primarily feeding on plankton and crustaceans found several hundred feet below the ocean surface.
The Scripps Institution of Oceanography reports that there have been only around 20 sightings of oarfish along Californiaâs coastline since 1901.
The species is known for its long, slender body, which can reach lengths of up to 36 feet, about the size of a school bus.
The most recent sighting in California involved a specimen measuring approximately 12 feet long.
The oarfish is now in the custody of researchers who are studying it to learn more about the species.




"With help from NOAA Fisheries Service and California Sea Grant team members, the group was able to coordinate with lifeguards to transport the fish to the NOAA facility. Scientists from NOAA Southwest Fisheries Science Center and Scripps Oceanography will perform a necropsy to see if they can determine a cause of death. After the necropsy, the specimen will find a home in the Scripps Marine Vertebrate Collection â one of the largest collections of deep-sea fish in the world â where scientists will be able to further study this mysterious species," experts at Scripps stated.
According to the Ocean Conservancy, the oarfish is commonly referred to as the "doomsday fish" because it is often sighted during times of disaster.
The fish has been observed around Japan during major earthquakes, but scientists report that they have yet to establish a link between its appearances and events such as quakes and subsequent tsunamis.
By Andrew Wulfeck.

#Very Rare âDoomsday Fishâ Found Dead off the Southern California Coast#La Jolla Cove#oarfish#filter feeders#deep sea fish#sea creatures#marine life#marine biology#The Scripps Institution of Oceanography
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#stained glass windows#leaded glass#sunburst#beach#sunset#deep sea fishing#seascape#coast#stained glass#internal doors#internal#window designs#Instagram
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Florida Game Fish in Panama City Beach
Florida is home to some of the most exciting game fish species, offering anglers the perfect opportunity for an unforgettable fishing experience. Whether youâre an experienced fisherman or just getting started, Floridaâs diverse waters are teeming with fish, from the mighty tarpon to the elusive bonefish. The stateâs unique climate and variety of habitats, including coastal estuaries, deep-sea waters, and freshwater lakes, create an ideal environment for these prized catches. With so many options to choose from, itâs no wonder Florida is known as the âFishing Capital of the World.â Whether youâre chasing trophy fish or simply enjoying the thrill of the chase, Floridaâs game fish provide a challenge and reward for every angler.
Charter Fishing Services from Hookâem Up Charters
Sport Fishing Adventures in Florida
Get ready for an exciting fishing adventure with our sport fishing charters. Whether youâre targeting sailfish, tarpon, or kingfish, our experienced guides ensure every trip is memorable. We provide top-quality Florida fishing equipment and tailored finishing charter experiences for both seasoned anglers and beginners, making sure you enjoy every moment on the water.
Deep Sea Fishing in Florida
Our deep sea fishing trips in Florida are perfect for those who crave the thrill of the open ocean. Head out far into the Gulf or Atlantic to catch marlin, grouper, and other prized game fish. With a skilled fishing crew dedicated to your success, your deep sea Florida adventure will be safe, enjoyable, and unforgettable.
Inshore Fishing in Florida
Explore Floridaâs inshore waters, where you can fish in serene, shallow areas perfect for catching snook, redfish, and trout. Our expert Florida fishing guides know the best spots and techniques to help you reel in your catch. Whether youâre a beginner or experienced angler, our inshore trips promise a fun and rewarding day.
Top Florida Game Fish Species Found in Floridaâs Waters
Florida is known for its incredible diversity of game fish, drawing anglers from all over the world. Species such as tarpon, snook, and redfish are among the most sought-after in the state, offering a challenging catch for both beginners and seasoned anglers. Tarpon, known for their acrobatic leaps, are often referred to as the âsilver kingâ of Floridaâs waters. Snooks, with their striking size and speed, make for an exhilarating fight, while redfish are prized for their powerful runs and tasty meat.
In addition to these popular species, anglers can also target species like grouper, amberjack, and cobia, which thrive in Floridaâs coastal and offshore waters. Each species offers a unique experience, from shallow-water fishing to deep-sea adventures, making Florida a top destination for anglers seeking both variety and challenge in their fishing excursions.
Best Fishing Spots in Florida for Trophy Game Fish
Florida offers a wide array of fishing spots perfect for landing trophy game fish. The Florida Keys, with its clear, deep waters, is a favorite among deep-sea fishermen looking for large species like marlin, sailfish, and grouper. Key West, specifically, is renowned for its world-class sportfishing charters. The Everglades, on the other hand, offers a more unique experience with its shallow waters, providing access to prized species like snook, tarpon, and redfish.
Another top destination is the Indian River Lagoon, which is home to some of the most abundant fishing grounds in the state. This estuary system is particularly famous for its redfish and speckled trout populations. Additionally, the Tampa Bay area, with its thriving ecosystem, provides exceptional fishing opportunities for anglers targeting snook, tarpon, and many others. Whether you prefer saltwater or freshwater fishing, Floridaâs diverse spots provide the perfect setting for an unforgettable fishing experience.
Essential Gear and Techniques for Florida Game Fishing
To ensure a successful Florida fishing trip, itâs essential to have the right gear. For game fish like tarpon and snook, strong, durable rods and reels are a must. A medium to heavy action rod, paired with a high-quality reel, will give you the control needed to reel in powerful fish. Using braided line is also recommended, as itâs strong and resistant to the wear and tear caused by saltwater.
In addition to the right tackle, fishing techniques are key to landing your catch. For tarpon, anglers often use live bait or large lures, while snook prefer smaller baitfish or soft plastics. Understanding the behavior of each species and adapting your technique accordingly is critical, as Floridaâs waters can be challenging. Local fishing guides can offer valuable insight into the best methods and spots, ensuring a successful adventure.
Seasonal Guide: When to Catch Floridaâs Game Fish
Fishing in Florida offers year-round opportunities, but the best time to catch specific game fish varies by season. For tarpon, the peak fishing season runs from April through July, especially along the Gulf Coast and in the Florida Keys. Snook, another prized catch, are most active in the warmer months, from late spring to early fall. The best time to target redfish is during the cooler months, particularly from October through February when they move closer to shore.
Offshore fishing for species like marlin, sailfish, and grouper is most productive in the winter and early spring months. Many anglers prefer the fall season as it offers less competition and great weather conditions for catching a variety of game fish. Being aware of these seasonal trends ensures a higher chance of success and allows you to plan your fishing trip around the species you wish to target.
Florida Game Fish: Conservation Efforts and Sustainable Practices
Florida has long been a leader in conservation efforts, working to ensure that its rich fish populations remain healthy and abundant for generations to come. The Florida Fish and Wildlife Conservation Commission (FWC) implements strict regulations on bag limits, size limits, and seasonal closures to protect game fish such as tarpon, snook, and redfish. These rules help prevent overfishing and ensure that fish populations remain sustainable.
Sustainable fishing practices are also encouraged through catch-and-release programs, which allow anglers to enjoy the thrill of fishing without depleting the population. Many charter services and local guides are dedicated to practicing and promoting responsible fishing techniques. By participating in conservation efforts, anglers help maintain Floridaâs fishing legacy and contribute to preserving these prized species for future generations.
Fishing Licenses and Regulations for Game Fish in Florida
Before embarking on a fishing adventure in Florida, itâs crucial to understand the stateâs fishing license requirements and regulations. Most anglers will need a fishing license, which can be easily obtained online or at local retailers. Licenses vary based on residency status, age, and whether youâre fishing in freshwater or saltwater. Itâs important to ensure your license is up to date to avoid fines and penalties.
 Florida has specific regulations regarding the types and sizes of game fish that can be legally harvested. For example, there are size and bag limits for species like snook and redfish, as well as seasonal closures for certain species to protect spawning populations. Understanding these regulations helps anglers stay compliant and ensures that Floridaâs game fish populations remain healthy and sustainable. On a Florida Charter Fishing Trip, you donât have to worry about licenses. Wahoo!
How to Plan the Ultimate Game Fishing Adventure in Florida with Hookâem Up Charter
Planning the perfect game fishing adventure in Florida requires a bit of research and preparation. Start by choosing the best time of year to target your desired species, as some fish are more abundant during certain seasons. Itâs also important to select the right fishing location based on your preferencesâwhether youâre looking for saltwater or freshwater, inshore or offshore.
Next, consider booking a fishing charter with an experienced guide who knows the local waters and can offer expert advice on techniques and bait. Researching local accommodations and ensuring that your lodging is close to your fishing destination will make your trip more convenient. By carefully planning your trip and working with local experts, youâll maximize your chances of landing a trophy fish while enjoying all that Florida has to offer.
Whether youâre casting from the shore or heading out on a deep-sea adventure, Floridaâs game fish offer endless excitement and challenges for anglers of all levels. From the thrilling fight of a tarpon to the delicious catch of a redfish, the variety and abundance of fish in Florida make it a top fishing destination. Understanding the best times to fish, the right gear to use, and the local regulations will ensure you have a successful trip while preserving the stateâs rich aquatic resources. Ready to experience it for yourself? Book a guided tour with Hookâem Up Charters an expert local fisherman, to maximize your chances of landing that perfect catch and enjoy all that Floridaâs waters have to offer.
Fishing Charters With HookâEm Up
Captain B.J Burkett
(850) 774-8333
5550 North Lagoon Drive, Slip
1E and Slip 3E, Panama City Beach,
FL 32408
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#best fishing spots Panama City#Deep Sea Fishing Panama City Beach#fishing charters Panama City Beach#Florida fishing charters#Florida game fish Panama City Beach#Gulf Coast fishing Panama City#inshore fishing Panama City#offshore fishing Panama City Beach#Panama City Beach fishing#sport fishing Panama City
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"Surely there was a better way to convey this information" probably! That may be why I'm no longer asked to contribute to our social media page at work!
But its that season again and i want to remind everyone that just because an object is vest-shaped and floats does not make it a lifejacket. Only a Coast Guard approved PFD is tested and rated to save your life. Here's an example of what I'm talking about:
This...thing pops up in searches for "child's inflatable lifejacket" and bills itself as such. But scroll down and we find an explanation:
In contrast to life vests meant to keep your head above water, our vest enables you to swim smoothly with your head in the water. It keeps you buoyant longer for a safe and enjoyable experience - without worry of surprise riptides or fatigue.
Catch that? This thing is not intended to and will not keep your head above water, the single most important thing a personal flotation device should do. What if you are in a riptide and fatigued while wearing this thing and not longer able to keep your breathing hole above the water's surface? You're shit out of luck. You drown.
Consumers may notice that there is a warning notice on the back, but the good people at Amazon have cleverly obscured it. We can still make out "does not protect [...] drowning". If your waterwings, floaties, or vest-shaped inflatable have a disclaimer like this then they are not rated to safe your life, your child's life, your dog's life, whatever!
By contrast, every Coast Guard approved PFD has labeling like this:

It will clearly say USGC approved and have an approval number. It will say WHO it is rated for (infant, child, youth, adult), the size (small, medium large), an upper weight limit, and generally what kind of recreation its approved for (near shore versus offshore etc). It will give you instructions for proper use and signs that your lifejacket is nearing the end of its utility and needs to be replaced.
Not all personal flotation devices are suited for all activities. Whitewater kayaking and deep-sea fishing need more specialized gear than a day at the lake. But you should have, at minimum, a correctly-sized, well-fitting, CG approved PFD in serviceable condition for any kind of activity on or near the water. Have it, but most importantly, wear it!!!!!
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Discover the thrill of offshore fishing with Cushy Fishing Charters! Our experienced captains and top-notch equipment guarantee an unforgettable adventure on the open seas. Book your charter today and reel in the excitement!
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According to NBC here in the US, the missing titanic sub has been found. As debris. Off the bow of the Titanic wreckage.
And it looks like the sub suffered what we all suspected, and what was undoubtedly the more merciful of the two options: a catastrophic implosion from the pressure.
Also, more info has come to light about the fishing trawler with the hundreds of migrants that sank cataclysmically off the coast of Greece, indicating that the greek coast guard knew about the vessel AND how much trouble the vessel was in, and were towing it at a speed that made it capsize, at which point they unhooked the tow line and watched the trawler sink without helping the passengers to safety. Despite a bunch of other ships trying to help as well throughout the whole ordeal.
So a lot of people are dead, all because of regulations (and the lack thereof) regarding sea-faring vessels and rescue protocols. People shouldnt be allowed to make a business charging a ton of money for a ride on an uncertified, unsafe, un-seaworthy ship going deep into the ocean with no distress beacon or tether to the mothership. People also shouldnt be allowed to enact laws that criminalize the ferrying of refugees, which then force the refugees to hitch rides on fishing trawlers, and which also prevent people from helping those fishing trawlers full of refugees due to fear of legal consequences.
Hopefully BOTH of these events spark changes on an international scale in terms of what is legally allowed to be sailed, who is legally allowed to be the passengers, and what the rescue protocols are in the event of disaster for any seafaring vessel, illegal or not. It shouldnt be just the global 1% who get 24/7 search parties and remote-operated submersibles helping rescue them.
#the question of 'what do we owe to each other' can be answered simply with 'the dignity of retrieving our remains when we die'#another answer is 'the dignity of thinking about each other fellow humans with similar motivations and feelings'#also 'stopping someones potentially self-destructive behaviors just because theyre rich and want to feel special'#also i feel like humans have been sailing the seas long enough that it should be guaranteed that people will survive sea voyages#im very mad about specifically mediterranean maritime disasters because we have ancient writing saying they made it safe#sailing from Egypt to Greece was so old hat and safe that people legit took the ancient equivalent of cruises back and forth#cleopatra habitually sailed from alexandria to rome with a ton of ships and was fine#Nero tried to have his mother drowned at sea by orchestrating a dramatic shipwreck while she was our sailing AND SHE SURVIVED#and then swam to shore got back to rome and whooped his ass#fuckin pliny the elder tried to evacuate people from pompeii and the surrounding coast villages when vesuvius erupted#and he actually WAS able to rescue people#but he himself had an asthma attack from the fumes which led to a heart attack and he died on the beach#there is legit no excuse for that trawler of migrant refugees to have wrecked#negligence all around#anyway#oceangate
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A/N: aaaaaand she's back (i had to get the hard thoughts out before i wrote a full length fic, i'm not sorry)
tw: 18+, smut (afab reader, fingering f recieving, piv sex, praise AND degrading ofc, angry sex, 1 spank, overstim, some dirty dirty talk icl, no protection oh dear), sometimes ken sato is a sad little meow meow but definitely not in this fic, they fuck in the basement but atp emi is on the island dw, tiniest weeniest bit of aftercare at the end
wc: 0.73k

kenji sato is seething.
tonight's game was one of the rare times when the giants had lost, and you can feel his frustration in the urgency with which he touches you, pushing you against the cool glass until your vision is filled with the sea outside, silver glimmers flashing in your eyes as fish dart by.
you can feel his frustration in the tension of his movements as he practically tears your clothes off you, and in the low grunt that sounds from behind you as he roughly yanks off his belt.
most of all, you feel his frustration in the way he runs his calloused hands over your skin, over your curves, grabbing handfuls as if to say this is still mine. i may have lost the game today, but i won this, i won her.
ken presses his hard chest to your back with the same fervor that he presses his mouth to the nape of your neck, tongue and teeth coasting over your skin. the glass is so frigid against your bare breasts that it's almost cutting, but you can't get away; he's right there behind you, raging, burning.
you'd be lying if you said you didn't like it.
there's something addictive in the harsh way he grips your hips, the way he sucks bruising hickeys onto your neck - a promise that he'll fuck you until the loss is no longer on his mind, until all he can think about is your sweet, sweet pussy.
you can't help the pitiful sound that leaves you when he kicks your legs apart, his long fingers giving you less than a second to regain your balance before he's shoving them knuckle deep into your cunt.
'so wet for me, huh?' he asks, and you can hear the lingering venom in his voice. 'such a dirty fucking slut, aren't you? turned on because i'm angry? want me to use you, hm?'
'y - yes, ah, yes i - '
the rest of whatever you were going to say dissolves into a moan, your eyes rolling back as ken pumps his fingers in and out of you fast. you scrabble against the glass for purchase, mouth agape, pleas on your lips. he's unrelenting, giving you so much all at once, giving you no time to adjust, but you know that's how he wants you: floundering, trembling, overwhelmed.
you can feel his fingers curling inside you, cataclysmically so. his thumb is bearing down on your clit, rubbing tight, agonising circles, over and over, and all at once it's enough to send you over and you're shattering into a million pieces, his name a broken cry on your lips.
'that's it,' he croons as you come. 'my good little slut.'
not even a moment later, you feel the nudge of the blunt head of his cock, and you whine, knees weak as you babble at him that you're not ready yet, knees weak as he sheathes himself inside your still spasming cunt. tears come to your eyes then, and his hand cracks down on your ass, your whole body jolting in reply.
'you take what i give you,' he growls in your ear.
'please,' you sob. 'take it out on me.'
at your words, ken groans, low and deep in your ear. you mewl at the drag of his cock against your walls, gasping when he presses your body harder against the icy cold glass, burying himself inside you again and again, his pace punishing.
taking a fistful of your hair, he yanks your head backwards, arching your back more for him as he pounds into you. tears slip down your face as the pleasure turns sharp, overstimulation rubbing your nerves raw as his deft fingers find your clit and set you on fire.
effortlessly, he brings you over the edge again, and you're screaming his name, pussy convulsing around his cock as you writhe in his arms. his thrusts become faster, until you're sure he might break you, and then suddenly he's spilling inside you.
you moan as his strokes finally peter out, resting your sweaty forehead against the glass and going limp. one hand on your waist, supporting you, ken pulls out and scoops you into his arms; you nuzzle into his chest, tucking your head under his chin, and he kisses your hair.
'feeling better now?' you ask.
he laughs. 'of course. you take me so well, baby.'
#ultraman rising#ken sato#kenji sato#ken sato x reader#ken sato x you#ken sato x y/n#kenji x you#kenji x reader#kenji x y/n#ken sato smut#kenji sato smut#kenji sato x reader#kenji sato x you#kenji sato x y/n#kenji sato fanfic#ken sato fanfic#ultraman rising fanfic
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Why Deep Sea Fishing Gold Coast Australia Should Be Your Next Big Adventure
If you're searching for an exhilarating way to experience the natural beauty and vibrant marine life of Australia, look no further than deep sea fishing Gold Coast. Renowned for its stunning beaches and exciting water activities, the Gold Coast offers a unique opportunity for both seasoned anglers and beginners alike. With a plethora of fish species in its waters and picturesque coastal views, deep sea fishing Gold Coast Australia is poised to be your next big adventure.
The Thrill of Deep Sea Fishing
Deep sea fishing is not just about catching fish; it's about the entire experience. Picture yourself miles away from the shore, surrounded by the vast blue ocean, with the sun shining down and a gentle sea breeze filling the air. As you cast your line into the water, anticipation builds. Will it be a powerful marlin, a tasty snapper, or perhaps a wily tuna that takes the bait? The adrenaline rush that accompanies the hunt for these magnificent fish is unlike anything else.
Abundant Marine Life
The waters off the Gold Coast are teeming with life. From colorful reef fish to majestic game fish, the diversity of marine species is astounding. Chartering deep sea fishing trips Gold Coast allows you to target some of the most sought-after fish in Australia. Imagine reeling in a giant mahi-mahi or experiencing the thrill of battling a ferocious yellowfin tuna. These experiences create unforgettable memories and stories that you'll cherish for a lifetime.
Guided Adventures for All Levels
Whether you're a novice angler or an experienced fisherman, deep sea fishing Gold Coast cater to everyone. Many local charter companies provide guided fishing experiences, supplying all the gear you need, along with expert knowledge to enhance your outing. These experienced guides are well-versed in the waters and know the best spots to catch fish, ensuring that your adventure is both successful and enjoyable.
Unique Ecological Insights
As you embark on your deep sea fishing journey, you will also gain unique insights into the local marine ecosystem. Many charter companies take the time to educate their guests about conservation practices, the importance of sustainable fishing, and the various species residing in these waters. This enriching component of your trip makes deep sea fishing Gold Coast not just a recreational activity, but also a valuable learning experience.
Beach Fishing Gold Coast: A Complementary Adventure
If deep sea fishing doesn't fully satisfy your fishing cravings, beach fishing Gold Coast provides an excellent alternative. With its miles of pristine coastline, beach fishing Gold Coast provides a chance to catch species such as whiting, bream, and flathead right from the shore. You can combine both experiencesâspend a day on the open water and follow it up with a calming evening of beach fishing. Each method offers its own unique thrill and challenges, ensuring you get the most out of your fishing adventure.
Spectacular Scenery
In addition to the exhilarating fishing experience, deep sea fishing charters allows you to indulge in some of Australia's most breathtaking scenery. As you glide across the water, take a moment to appreciate the stunning coastal landscapes, azure waters, and perhaps spot some dolphins or whales breaching in the distance. The beauty of the Gold Coast is as significant a catch as the fish you reel in.
Deep sea fishing Gold Coast Australia offers an unparalleled adventure waiting to unfold. With its rich marine life, guided fishing options for all levels, and incredible scenery, it's an activity that promises excitement and connection to nature. So grab your fishing gear, round up your friends or family, and prepare for an unforgettable experience that's sure to become your next big adventure. Whether you're after the thrill of the catch or simply wish to soak in the beauty of the Gold Coast, deep sea fishing is an opportunity you won't want to miss!
#deep sea fishing gold coast australia#beach fishing gold coast#deep sea fishing gold coast#fishing gold coast
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Sink
Rafayel x Reader
Content: You can't swim, unbeknownst to Rafayel
[2,132 words]
     You never learned how to swim. It wasnât like you didnât want to, you just⌠never did. Somehow, life had just happened, and the skill had never made it onto your list of priorities. Honestly, you were still surprised they let you pass the hunter's exam without it. In hindsight, maybe that shouldâve been a red flag.
     What you definitely never expected was to end up dating a Lemurian, whose entire thing was swimming.It had never been a problem before.
     Until now.
     Rafayel had asked you to come with him to one of the small islands off the coast to collect some protocores for his art. At first, you refused, because the last time you agreed to âhelpâ him, you almost died of a headahe caused by yours truly.
     But then he begged.
     And begged.
     And kept begging, his voice slipping into that smug-yet-somehow-irresistible drawl, all while he leaned in close, violet hair brushing against your skin, glowing eyes locked onto yours like he knew you were about to cave.
     And you did.
     Like an idiot.
     And now here you are.
     "Rafayel, is the boat supposed to be filling up with water?" You let out a nervous laugh, watching with growing horror as the canoe sloshed and rocked beneath you, an alarming amount of seawater sloshing in.
     Rafayel, lounging at the other end of the boat like he wasnât about to sink into the abyss, barely spared the situation a glance.
     "Hm?" He flicked his glowing gaze toward the rising water, then shrugged. "No."
     Your heart stopped.
     "What?" you screeched, gripping the sides of the canoe with white-knuckled panic. "Rafayel, we are literally sinking! Do something!"
     Before he could answer with some careless remark, a rough tide surged against the boat.
     And just like that, the ocean yeeted you both overboard.
     One moment, you were panicking about the water in the boat, and the next, there was no boat at all, just open sea and the horrifying realization that you were now in it.
     You hit the water with a spectacular splash, flailing like a terrified cat thrown into a bathtub. Saltwater rushed up your nose, your limbs twisted in every direction, and for a horrifying second, you had no idea which way was up.
     You never thought your life would end like this, kicking, screaming, and flailing like some sort of demented fish out of water. Except, in this case, you were very much in the water, and very much drowning. Meanwhile, your so-called boyfriend, the ever-unbothered Lemurian prince, stood just a few feet away, knee-deep in the surf, watching your impending demise with all the urgency of a man leisurely deciding what to order for dinner.
     "Rafayel!" you shrieked, voice cracking with desperation as you inhaled a mouthful of saltwater. You choked, sputtering, arms thrashing wildly against the relentless pull of the waves. âIâm dying!â
     Rafayel, in all his infuriating, otherworldly grace, simply tilted his head to the side. His lilac hair fluttered in the sea breeze, glowing bioluminescent markings pulsing faintly along his skin like he had all the time in the world. He regarded you with the same curiosity one might reserve for watching a particularly dumb bird fly into a glass window.
     âHuh,â he mused.
     Huh? The fuck he mean âhuhâ?
     You barely had time to process the sheer audacity of this man before another wave crashed over you, momentarily pulling you under. You surfaced with a spluttering gasp, panic sinking its claws into your chest as you flailed harder. Your limbs felt like dead weight, dragging you down with every second.
     "Help me!â you howled, arms slapping at the water in a way that probably made you look more like a malfunctioning wind-up toy than a person fighting for her life.
     A small, amused smile tugged at his lips, the only betrayal of whatever amusement he was clearly getting out of this. But did he move? No. No, he did not. Instead, he just let out a long, drawn-out sighâas if you were the inconvenience here. As if your very real, very valid fear of imminent death by drowning was nothing more than an overblown inconvenience to his otherwise peaceful day.
     âYouâre making this harder than it has to be, Y/N,â he drawled, finally, finally stepping forward with the air of someone being forced to deal with a particularly persistent child. Then, without even a hint of effort, he reached out, grabbed you by the waist, and lifted you clean out of the water.
     Like. A. Toddler.
     Your arms and legs dangled uselessly for a moment, saltwater dripping from your clothes as you gaped at him in pure, seething betrayal.
     "Oh, now you help," you snapped, regaining your senses enough to latch onto him like a drowning cat, your nails digging into his back with intent.
     âI could have died, Rafayel! Drowned! Gone forever! And what were you doing?â You narrowed your eyes, rage bubbling hotter than the embarrassment coursing through you. âWatching? Enjoying my suffering?â
     Rafayel blinked at you, expression unreadable as his glowing gaze met yours. Then, with the audacity of a man who has never once suffered the consequences of his own actions, he simply saidâ
     âYou shouldâve just swum.â
     You stared at him, dumbfounded.
     A moment of silence passed.
     Then, deadpan, voice flat as the calm sea beneath him, you spat, "I canât swim, you fish brained sea-rat."
     His lips quirked slightly, his expression almost, but not quite, apologetic.
     "That's unfortunate," he murmured, the words dripping with so much faux sympathy that you seriously considered just launching yourself back into the ocean to die out of sheer spite.
     Before you could fully unleash the absolute onslaught of rage simmering within you, the kind of rage only born from near-death experiences and insufferably attractive boyfriends, Rafayel did the most unfair thing imaginable.
     He kissed you.
     Your brain short-circuited.
     One moment, you were poised to yell, to fight, to maybe sink your teeth into his stupidly perfect flesh in revenge, and the next? His lips were on yours, warm and infuriatingly soft, pressing against yours with an ease that suggested heâd been planning this from the start.
     Your entire thought process derailed, skidding off the metaphorical road and crashing straight into the ocean floor.
     You were kissing a prince. A literal sea god. Your fingers twitched against his neck, your breath caught somewhere in your throat, your heart hammering so hard it felt like it was trying to swim away on its own. You barely had time to process the weight of the moment beforeâ
     Splash!
     You hit the water.
     Again.
     "RAFAâBLURBGLHâ" You barely got half his name out before you were swallowed whole by the ocean, sinking like an actual rock.
     The moment you resurfaced, coughing, sputtering, and gasping for air, your first thought was murder. You were going to kill him.
     You wereâ
     Wait.
     You furrowed your brows, blinking through the salty sting in your eyes but there was no salty sting. Something was⌠off.
     Why werenât you⌠drowning?
     Your lungs felt fine. No burning, no struggle, no desperate gasps for air. You instinctively sucked in a breath, expecting to choke, to cough, to die.
     But insteadâ
     Holy hell.
     You could breathe.
     Underwater.
     Before you could even begin to process the absolute insanity of what was happening, before you could come to terms with the fact that you were somehow breathing underwater, something cold and unfamiliar wrapped around your leg.
     Instant, unfiltered terror shot through you like a bolt of lightning.
     You shrieked, not that it did much good underwater, as bubbles exploded from your mouth in a frantic, garbled mess. Your limbs flailed wildly, your body twisting in every direction, every primal instinct screaming at you to fight before some monstrous sea creature dragged you into the abyss, never to be seen again.
     But then, through the chaos of your own panic, you saw him.
     Rafayel.
     Floating effortlessly below you, utterly unbothered, shoulders shaking as if he was holding back the world's most obnoxious laugh. His bioluminescent markings pulsed with a soft glow, casting eerie, shifting light through the water. His long, violet hair drifted around him like a silk curtain, shimmering in the dim ocean light. And there, wrapped around your leg was his stupid hand.
     This fish-brained, sadistic menace had deliberately scared you for fun.
     You narrowed your eyes so hard you were surprised the water pressure didnât crush your skull.
     Fury ignited in your chest as you kicked at him, your foot landing against his arm. Not hard enough to actually hurt, but definitely hard enough to make it very clear that you were out for blood.
     âI hate you!â you yelled, or at least, you tried to, but since you were underwater, it mostly just came out as a series of distorted bubbles and aggressive body language.
     Rafayel didnât even have the decency to look guilty.
     Instead, he grinned, sharp teeth flashing as he tugged you closer, effortlessly dragging you through the water like you weighed nothing.
     "You love me," he said, smug and self-assured, as if the fact was as unchangeable as the tides.
     Your glare burned with the force of a thousand dying stars.
     And yet, despite everything, despite the sheer audacity of this infuriating sea prince, despite the fact that he had literally let you think you were drowning, despite the overwhelming urge to slap him with a wet fish, you couldnât deny it.
     You did love him.
     Even if he was, without a doubt, the most insufferable, smug, irritatingly beautiful menace to ever exist.
     "Did you seriously think Iâd let you die?" Rafayel's voice was calm, but there was something else beneath it. Something ancient, certain. "I've been waiting over a century for you to return to me."
     You barely processed his words as you clung to him, hands fisting into the smooth, iridescent skin of his back. Your whole body was trembling, but whether it was from the cold, the fear, or the sheer insanity of this entire situation, you didnât know.
     "What?" Your voice trembled. He always said weird, cryptic things like that, but he never explained them. Normally, you wouldâve pressed him for answers, but right now, you had bigger concerns. Like, for example, the very real possibility of being crushed by the pressure of the deep sea.
     It was dark down here.
     Rafayel had told you before that life in the deepest depths of the sea had no light. Experiencing it was horrifying.
     You couldnât see anything.
     The darkness was suffocating, pressing in on all sides like a living thing. You had no sense of direction, no way of knowing what lurked just beyond your reach.
     "How am I able to breathe underwater?" You finally managed to ask.
     Rafayel chuckled, the sound low and amused. "Shouldnât you know the answer to that, Cutie? You bought that book on understanding Lemurians."
     Your mind raced. That stupid textbook. The one written by a human who had clearly never met an actual Lemurian in their life. Half of the book had been filled with biases and misinformation.
     You shook your head, frustrated. "That book was useless."
     Rafayel came to a stop in front of you. His glowing eyes studied you for a moment before he smiled.
     "Kissing a Lemurian allows you to breathe underwater for a bit," he admitted.
     You stared at him. "Oh."
     That was all you could say. Oh.
     Because what else was there to say? Rafayel had literally shoved you into the ocean with zero context and expected you to just figure it out. You had been drowning and his solution had been to just make out with you instead of, oh, you know, telling you beforehand.
     You opened your mouth, fully prepared to chew him out, but then another shiver wracked your body. "Iâm cold. I canât see."
     Rafayel hummed, and before you could react, he wrapped himself around your waist and pulled you close. You barely had time to gasp before warmth began to seep into your skin. His body heat flared, an obvious sign that he was using his Evol, and within seconds, the chill was melting away.
     Then, in one smooth motion, he raised his hand.
     A flame flickered to life in his palm, glowing a warm, golden-orange. It burned underwater, as if the ocean itself bent to his will. Now that you could see, it wasnât so bad. It looked kind of beautiful. The fire danced and crackled in defiance of the deep, illuminating his sharp features and casting flickering shadows against his violet hair.
     He looked otherworldly.
     Dangerous. Beautiful. Entirely not human.
     And yet, somehow, despite everything, despite the fact that you were in the darkest, deepest part of the ocean with a smug, possibly unhinged sea prince, you felt safe.
#rafayel#rafayel lnds#rafayel l&ds#rafayel love and deepspace#rafayel love and deep space#rafayel lads#lnds rafayel#l&ds rafayel#love and deepspace rafayel#love and deep space rafayel#lads rafayel#lnds#l&ds#love and deepspace#love and deep space#lads#Rafayel x reader#Rafayel x you#Rafayel x y/n#rafayel x mc#qi yu#qi yu love and deepspace#qi yu x reader#qi yu lads
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Dive In â Merman! Gojo x Scrientist! Reader | Kinktober Day 14
Summary:Â You were brought in to study a merman whom you heard was quite aggressive; however, heâs always been kind to you. You were able to get close. Maybe a bit too close.
Word Count:Â 3978
Tags: Merman!Gojo, afab!reader, vaginal penetration, scratch marks, porn with plot, cunnilingus, handjobs, experimental sex, mating, government facilities, the reader becomes a fugitive, mating rituals, creampie, breeding, transformations, wet dreams.
When you got a call from the federal government you didnât know what to expect. You were honestly a bit worried that you had done something you werenât supposed to and were going to be silenced. The last thing you expected to see however was a mermaid, or merman in this case.
You were a NOAA scientist and had seen so many strange sea creatures, so the possibility of mermaids being out there wasn't out of the realm of possibility. However, you didnât think that they would exist like this. The closest thing humanity has had to mermaids is manatees and dugongs. When thinking critically this is what most people assumed mermaids would look similarly to. That they would have rough skin and blubber and coarse hair or fur. However, this merman swimming before you looked like something right out of a fairy tale.
Based on the way it floated around his head, his hair looked to be the same texture as human hair. His whole upper half looked to be very human aside from the gills you could see on the sides of his neck, the fins on his arms, and the fin-like ears he had.Â
âAh Dr.L/N, Pleased to meet you,â An older man came up to you and extended his hand. He was in a fine pair of slacks and a pristine button-down with a black tie and white lab coat overtop.Â
You took his hand and gave it a firm shake. He introduced himself as the lead researcher for this top-secret project and gave you the rundown. A fisherman from a small town in Kauai, Hawaii called in about a wild animal of some sort stealing fish. Eventually, another fisherman got a strange âFishmanâ caught in his nets and called the Coast Guard, and from there, it became a bit more about coverup from the general public. The fisherman was compensated handsomely to keep hush and this merman was carted off to this government facility.
They began running tests and researching the merman however he attacked one of the researchers and they ended up losing an eye. So they had to pivot and decided to bring in someone with expertise in predatory marine life, that being you.
You looked back at the white-haired merman in the tank, he didnât look aggressive, but youâd have to be an idiot to think that he wasnât actually dangerous.
âIâll let you take over as lead researcher, come on and Iâll introduce you to the team.â You followed after him and met the other researchers. It was a small group, most likely for the sake of confidentiality. They were kind but you didnât want to waste any time chatting when you were eager to learn more about the merman.
The tank of the merman was that of a large shark, it was important to keep a new species as comfortable as possible to avoid any personal injuries. At the bottom it was made of the usually thick tempered glass of any high-grade aquarium, Is almost twenty feet deep of water, wide enough for the merman to swim freely without bumping into the walls, and filled to the brim with clean salt water filtering into the tank.Â
A cage was newly added on top of the tank after the first incident to ensure the workers' safety. So the only way to get up close and personal was up the flight of stairs and through the locked door to stand on the built-in ledge over the water/tank opening.Â
You walked back over to the tank where the merman swam around lethargically. You ripped off a paper from a nearby notepad and took the pen as you began writing basic facts about his appearance.
Long white hair, pale skin, silvery-blue scales covering the tail, and a few stray clusters of scales in the torso here and there, slightly forked caudal fin, fins are a translucent dark blue. About 12 ft long. You looked back up and were met with the merman in question staring back at you. His eyes were such a mesmerizing shade of blue, like the sky, or shining jewels.Â
You wondered if it was an evolutionary trait to aid hunting. His webbed hands were pressed up against the glass with his sharp nails on display.Â
Yeah, definitely dangerous. You thought, thinking back to the researcher who lost an eye.
One of the researchers called for you and when you turned back round the merman had swam to the back of the tank. You were looking forward to officially starting work.
-----------------------Â
The first few days you spent observing the mermanâs behaviors. It seemed like he could tell what fish had been the most recently caught because thatâs what he prefers.Â
You put in an order request for aquatic plants as you wanted to see if he was omnivorous however they hadnât come in yet. Based on his behavior you would say that heâs just as curious about you as you are to him. He had never displayed aggressive behavior when you were around and he wasnât exactly eating from your hand but you could hand the fish to him at feeding times instead of tossing it into the tank like the other researchers.
You were sitting by the tank, reviewing your notes and drawing diagrams of his outward physiology when you heard someone call your name.
âHello?â You called out, looking up from your work, however no one was there.
âY/NâŚâ They called out again. You looked towards the tank and saw the merman peering over the edge, his hands were gripping the metal bars and he was looking at you curiously.
âY/N,â He repeatedâŚ
âYou can talk?!â The merman cocked his head before diving back into the tank. You raced to the top and peered over the edge. He swam back to the top and looked at you.Â
âY/N.â He can really talk.
âYes, thatâs my name, Y/N.â You said, gesturing to yourself.âDo you have a name?â
âY/N,â he repeated once again. You sighed. Maybe he can only make parrot noises. It was impressive nonetheless.
âI am Y/N, you areâŚ?â
âSa..to..ru,â He said. âSatoru,â He said. His bright eyes stare back at you.
âOkay then, nice to meet you Satoru,â You smiled.
-----------------------Â
Satoru picked up speaking fairly quickly, he wasn't fluent and often flubbed his sentences but he had a good grasp of language. With that addition, it became much easier to observe his personality and mannerisms.Â
He had no concept of money but boy did he have expensive taste. Almost immediately after learning how to speak, he began voicing complaints and making requests. Apparently, the cod and red snapper heâs being fed arenât good enough, and after much back and forth on what exactly he was talking about he requested bluefin tuna, Alaskan salmon, and swordfish.Â
He was very playful, at least with you. He Loved to call your name⌠and to tell the other researchers to go away. Those were his favorite things to say.
You walked up the stairs with your lunch and lunch for Satoru, which was halibut today.Â
âHello, Y/N,â Satoru said, quickly swimming up to the surface and flashing you a sharp-tooth smile.
âHello Satoru,â You tossed him the fish and he began eating eagerly. You applied sanitizer then wiped your hands with a wet wipe before opening your lunch to begin eating.Â
âWhatâs that?â Satoru asked, looking back at you, he was somehow already done eating.
âThis is nigiri sushi, itâs thinly sliced raw fish over rice. Wanna try some?âÂ
âReally?â He said, with wide eyes. You nodded, taking a piece of salmon nigiri and offering it to him. Instead of taking it, he ate it straight out of your hand in one bite. His cold lips tickled and he licked the stray grains of rice from your hand.
âSo⌠what do you think?â
He was silent for a moment before smiling back at you. It made your heart flutter a bit but you pushed the feeling back.
âI Like it,â
âHere have some more,â you said, offering straight from the box this time.
When you went home and went to sleep that night you had a dream about Satoru, He was human. His white hair was short and fluffy, and he still had piercing blue eyes. You were lying on the beach together on the sand, and for some reason, he was kissing all over your legs, his plump lips softly made their way up your legs, and right as his face was inches away from your groin you woke up.
You woke up covered in sweat, your pajamas sticking to your skin as you stared up in the dark abyss. Your breath heaved⌠and it took a while before you could go back to sleep.
After that day, Satoru became even more attached to you and complained when you werenât by his side.Â
A while later the head researcher stopped by to see how things were going.
âSo I hear youâve gotten pretty close with the merman, even got him to talk,â
âSatoru, yes. Heâs very interesting, he has two pairs of lungs one for the air and the other for the dissolved oxygen in the water and..â You proceeded to ramble on about what youâve learned and his personality. âWhile he is a predator I havenât been able to observe any real aggressive behavior, heâs always so sweet and curious when Iâm around- oh Iâm sorry Iâm rambling,â
The head researcher laughed and waved his hand,â Youâre all good, almost sounds like love to me.â
Your face grew hot and you laughed off what he said.âWhat can I say, I really love my work,â
âThatâs amazing, youâve been doing wonderful work here.â He said looking at all the data youâve collected.
âIâm sensing a butâŚâ You said, wringing your hands together nervously.
âIâll get right to the point then, you donât have any data on how or if they reproduce,â
Oh⌠right. You were certainly curious about it since you learned he could talk, you had been putting it off, it felt less like research and more like an invasion of his privacy.
âIâll get on it, sir,â You nodded.
-----------------------Â
You headed over to the tank with papers to talk with Satoru. As usual, when you walked up, Satoru swam right over with his usual smile.
âHello Y/N,â
âHello Satoru,â You said with a sigh.âSo I had a few questions, but theyâre a bit more personal.â You blushed thinking about it, youâd start off with the normal stuff first.
âOkay,â
âSo are there others out there like you? Before you came here were you in a group?â
âA few. But I was not with a pod before being here.â He answered.
âWhy werenât you with your pod?â
âI was looking. Looking for a mate.â He said, his eyes meeting yours.
âOh, is that what you all do? Split off to find a mate?â You asked.
âNo, just me. A mate is an equal, in the pod I am the best. No equal, no mate. So I went off, to find another strong as me.â
âHow long have you been looking for a mate?â Pausing from what you were writing.
He paused for a moment before answering.âTwenty-Eight moon cycles,â
That was about two years! Must get lonely, all by himself, separated from his pod, you thought. Maybe you could help him escape, you could convince them that itâs better to observe the group rather than one mercreature on its own (I mean you werenât lying.)
âSo if you could, I guess you would go home huh?â you asked, already knowing the answer.
âOnly if you went.â You were surprised by that answer.
âWhy me?â
âItâs bad to leave mates behind,â he answered. At first, you thought he was joking but you remembered you hadnât explained the concept yet, he was completely serious.
âSatoru, what makes you think weâre mates?â You asked, your face growing a bit hot.
âYou share your nigiri with me; only mates share food, or parents and pups.â
OhâŚ
OhâŚ
OHâŚ
No wonder he was so surprised when you offered him the Nigiri, and why heâs been so clingy.
âI didnât know, Iâm sorry,â
âYou donât want to be my mate then?â He asked with a sad expression which made you feel like you were shot through the heart.
âItâs not exactly that, Iâm not a mermaid, I canât breathe underwater,â
âMates can be human, youâll change after the mate bond,â
âIâll grow a tail?â you asked bewildered.
âNo, gills, scales, fins, then tailâ
âIâm not nearly as physically strong as you either,â You replied.
âNo, but you know many things, knowing many things like fish, many things that will be good for the pod.â
While you were intrigued by the process it just seemed like too much. At least thatâs what you tried to tell yourself.
âItâs me then, you donât like me.â
âNo, no, no I do like you, I love you, Satoru, but ah-â You stopped when you caught what you said.
â...Love? Whatâs what?â
âItâs when others feel strongly about each other, when they really really like eachother or something. Like families or friends or a pet⌠or a mateâŚâ You said swallowing nervously.
âSo you love me?â He asked, his body basically pressed up against the edge of the platform.
â...yes,â
âDo you love me like family?â
â... No,â you said, shaking your head.
âLike a pet?â
âNo,â
âThen do you love me like a mate?â You looked back at him and as you looked into his eyes you knew the answer.
âYes, Satoru, I love you, Iâll be your mate.â As you said those words he had the biggest grin on his face and dived back into the water, swiftly swimming in circles and flipping out of the water. You laughed, you had never seen him this happy before.
He swam back over to where you sat and leaned over your lap, water dripping onto your legs.
âHow does mating work anyways?â
âItâs easier to show than to tell, but not here, in shallow water,â He explained.
âOkay, then I guess I definitely have to break you out of here then, It wouldnât be right to leave my mate locked up in some secret government facility.â
You waited until dark when everyone had gone aside from security here and there before you began your heist. You got one of the big carts they wheeled around all the fish they fed Satoru in and filled it with water. Then there was the painstaking process of getting him out of the tank and down the stairs. You knew you couldn't carry him when he weighed well over eight hundred pounds so you had to guide him and make sure he didnât hurt himself as he flopped down the metal stairs.
Then you wheeled him out and into your car, however the best you could do for him was plenty of tarps and an inflatable pool to turn the back seat of your minivan into a makeshift tank of some sort, You grabbed some things from home and then drove to where you hoped no one could find you, which just so happened to be a place that looked like a mermaid grotto.
It wasnât easy to get him from your car to the water but it was worth it to see the smile on his face.
âY/n, dive into the water,â Satoru called; you stripped from your clothes and cannonballed into the spring. Satoru swam in circles around you; his blue fins sparkled under the moonlight.Â
You laughed as he made small splashes around you. He swam closer to you and wrapped his wet arms around your waist.Â
âUhh SatoruâŚ?â
âDidnât you want to know how we mate?â Satoru said in a low voice, the seductive look in his eyes sent a chill down your spine. His cool fingers caressed your face, pushing your loose hair behind your ear.Â
âYeah,â you turn to fully look at him, wrapping your arms around him.Â
âGreat,â His lips pressed against yours, happily obliging to kiss him back. As you continued, the kiss became heated. His cold fingers slipped down your bare skin, and your back pressed against the edge of the grotto pool.Â
âI can't say I'll be fully gentle but I'll make sure you're fully taken care of,â he said as his nails scratched against your skin. You hissed, and he pressed soft kisses to your neck. The mating process was kinda rough, but you liked it as well.Â
âIf you donât mind me asking why is the scratching necessary?â you do your best to look at the marks on your skin.
âScratching is arousing, You are turned on, are you not?â he runs his sharp nail down your arm slightly.
âYes, but I can show you a better way,â You said, guiding his hand down to your cunt. His eyes widened a bit as he felt your folds with the pads of his fingers. As he pressed against your mound of flesh, you could feel the webbing between his fingers, between that and those nails of his, you were certain there wouldnât be any fingering for you today.Â
He pressed against your clit, and you took a sharp breath. He quirked his head to the side.Â
âDoes that feel good?â he whispered while staring up into your eyes.
You nodded and added more. His fingers began massaging your nub in small circles. You rested your head on his shoulder and let out a little moan.Â
âBite meâ Gojo whimpered and it took a second to process what he said. But you were already on his shoulder the least you could do was obliged him. You sink your teeth into his shoulder and with his thick skin was tough to mark into him. He lets out a pleased hiss as you effectively caused a small dent just off near his gills.Â
âNow it's your turn. Sorry, this may hurt a bit,â he said teasingly, her lips ghosting over your skin before he sunk his teeth into your shoulder. You winced with how deep his teeth were; you were sure that they had drawn blood.
Satoru wrapped his hands around your waist and lifted you out of the water onto the rocks. He gently parted your legs before leaning forward. He pressed soft, tender kisses to your inner thighs. His cold lips tickled and made your stomach do somersaults. His tongue took a precautionary lick to your pussy before lapping at your wet folds.Â
A small moan escaped your lips as his lips closed around your clit. His tongue circled, flicked, and sucked out your sensitive bud. You couldnât control the noises that were coming out of your mouth, and your legs were enclosing around Satoruâs head. He used his strong hands to hold them open, his wet palms gripping your thighs.Â
Just as you were about to release all over his face, Satoru pulled away. You whined and looked up at him.
âDonât you wanna get to the good part?â He gave you a smirk.
He slid up onto the rocks beside you and positioned himself in an off-able way. Your hand hovered in the air for a moment, and you werenât quite sure what you were supposed to be doing. You guessed that Satoru sensed your confusion because he grabbed your hand and guided it to where a slit was ah, yes, his mermanussy. Your fingers slipped around and stroked the area for a moment before his long, smooth length slipped out of it, springing out from its sheath and bobbing in the air.Â
Your hand warped around his member and stroked it up and down a few times. He was slightly slimy and slim-tipped, with it being more skin color. Your finger teased his tip, and his sticky precum followed in strong lines attached to your fingers. You twisted and turned your hands as you jerked him until he was amply hard.
Now that he was rock hard, you positioned yourself to be on top of him and slowly sunk down on his cock. You moaned, and Satoru hissed.Â
âThere's no going back now,â you said and slowly began to move your hips to meet him. He grabs your hips and moves up to suck in your skin.Â
âYou feel so good~â Satoru tightened his grip and started to fuck up into you. You pressed yourself on his chest to be upright in order to not be a mushed mess laying on top of him. You flattened your hands on his chest as you rode him gently, your hole clenched around him as you bounced on his long cock. Wet sounds and the lewd noise of skin slapping against skin bouncing around the grotto walls, along with the wanton moans coming from your mouth.Â
The rocking of his hips meets yours as you hold back the urge to wiggle and squirm. Your walls flutter around his length, and you take him in a kiss. It was messy, passionate, and pretty uncoordinated, but neither did you care because you were caught up in the moment.
Satoru tilts your body back a bit as he ruts into you with a new determined force. You felt like you had little control at this unbalanced angle. He licks your breast and kisses your neck, and you let out whines and moans. Satoru let out a few whimpers as he got closer to climax, and you were definitely right along with him.
âAhh, Iâm gonna cum, come inside me!â you panted out, feeling like the air was getting harder to breathe.
You couldn't come back anymore, and you let yourself experience a sweet release. The walls of your cunt clench around him as he comes, and your juices leak around the base of his cock. Around the same time, Satoru groaned, his grip on you growing tighter and his nails digging into your hips, and hot ropes of cum spilled inside your pussy. Your warm walls milked him of every last drop, the translucent milky liquid leaking from your hole.Â
You slowly remove him from inside you, feeling his fluid leaking out of you with a sticky slowness.Â
You smile fondly as you rest against his chest. You fell asleep on his strong chest. Not much later, you woke up to a strange sensation. You had a strong urge to jump in the water like it would be more enriching than the air. You slowly and carefully slipped out of Satoruâs arms and into the water. As your head ducks under you find yourself not needing to hold your breath. You reached up and felt delicate gills on the sides of your neck.
Then scales pushed their way through your skin, and fins sprouted out along with webbing between your fingers finally, and most uncomfortably, your legs stuck themself together and overtop grew flesh and scales. Your legs and back hurt so bad like your bones were breaking and reforming. However, the pain didnât last longer than a few moments, and when you flexed your new tail, it felt much more flexible than you imagined. It was almost like your body was a worm in a string with the way you could toggle around.Â
When satoru woke up he looked over at your new form with admiration. He slipped into the water to get a better view. You looked out at the surface world one last time before taking Satoruâs hand and diving into the world below.Â
âSo, are you excited to see your pod after such a long time?â
âIâm excited for you to pop out some guppies,â Satoru smirked as you both swam off to your new life.
#anime#manga#fanfiction#smut#fluff#jjk#jjk fanfiction#jjk fanfic#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen#jujustsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu gojo#jjk gojo x reader#gojo x reader#gojo smut#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo x you#merman gojo#merman smut#merman x reader
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âŞÂ   đşđŹđťđťđ°đľđŽ đˇđšđśđ´đˇđťđş , updated .   (  a collection of various  settings meant to inspire drabbles or be used as  prompts .  )
001.   the seaside , as the sun is setting .
002.   a cabin in the middle of the woods .
003.   a picket-fenced home in the suburbs .
004.   a dark bus stop lit only by street lights .
005.   a private jet miles high in the sky .
006.   a funhouseâs room of mirrors .
007.   an office building , bustling and busy .
008.  the back row of an empty movie theater .
009.  a run - down motel room .
010.  a loud house party on a suburban street .
011.   a university lecture hall during a class .
012.   the rooftop of a very tall building .
013.   a great ballroom during an elegant party .
014.   the back of a wailing ambulance .
015.   the wine cellar of a large mansion .
016.  behind the schoolâs gymnasium .
017.   a boisterous bonfire at the lakeside .
018.   an otherwise empty parking lot .
019.  the shady bar of a noisy , dark club .
020. the grounds of an empty summer camp .
021.   a large hedge maze , easy to get lost in .
022.   a neglected or derelict treehouse .
023.   a spacious , light-filled meadow .
024.   an underground illegal fighting club .
025.   an abandoned scrapyard .
026.  a large penthouse overlooking the city .
027.   an apple orchard in the middle of spring .
028.   an empty playground with squeaky swings .
029.   an extravagant greenhouse .
030.   the base of a large waterfall .
031.   a spacious walk - in closet full of lovely clothes .
032.   a solemnly quiet hospital room .
033.   the dark depths of an abandoned mine .
034.  the deck of a fishing boat at night .
035.  the thick crowd of an audience at a show .
036.  a long , winding road .
037.   the scene of a violent crime .
038.   a fork in a hiking trail deep in the wilderness .
039.  a cramped dressing room .
040.   a dusty antiques shop full of relics .
041.   the street of an unfamiliar city at night .
042.   between the tall shelves of a thrifted book shop .
043.  a building abandoned during construction .
044.   a house without power or running water .
045.  a mysterious trail found in the woods .
046.  the back of a taxi stuck in traffic .
047.  the inside of an elevator that wonât move .
048.   fairgrounds during a large event (or after hours) .
049.  a garden bountiful with flowers or produce .
050.  a childhood home or bedroom .
+  30 more setting prompts :  1 / 3 / 2024
051. the site of a horrible accident .
052. a closed pool , after everyone has left .
053. a home holding horrific memories .
054. by the side of a dangerously quick river .
055. a private hotel room .
056. a police station in the middle of the night .
057. a ferris wheel carriage under a sky of fireworks .
058. a lavish , invite - only party .
059. a public transit stop as rain is pouring down .
060. the back of a taxi going in the wrong direction .
061. the underworld .
062. a dusty , forgotten attic .
063. on the set of a television show or movie .
064. a lighthouse overlooking the raging sea .
065. in a post - apocalyptic bunker .
066. on a ship hundreds of miles from the nearest coast .
067. on the rooftop of a perilously tall building .
068. a tent pitched in the middle of the woods .
069. a crowded stadium during a football game .
070. the morgue during an identification .
071. an otherwise empty library during a late study session .
072. a place that feels familiar , yet you've never been here before .
073. a long hallway that seems to stretch on forever .
074. a signpost at the start of a hiking trail .
075. a bar or tavern bustling with life .
076. the dance floor of a masquerade ball .
077. inside of a car parked in a secluded area .
078. at the edge of a cliff overlooking a large lake .
079. inside a very old house with very old haunts .
080. the antiseptic interior of a space station .
#i'll add more eventually#just had to repost this time cos the old post wasn't in beta :/#inbox prompts#setting prompts#rp prompts#rp memes#inbox memes
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Love your blog so much, you've introduced me to so many creatures I've never heard of and I'm ready for more!
Got any cave/deep sea creatures that are out of this world or are your favs?
Thank you so much kumquat! Yeah I def have some favorite deep sea creatures. Here you go...

Pacific Hagfish (Eptatretus stoutii), family Myxinidae, order Myxiniformes, found on the ocean floor in deep parts of the Pacific Ocean
Jawless fish.
photograph by Linda Snook | NOAA

Sea Pig (Scotoplanes globosa), family Elpididae, specimens found in the deep sea off of the Pacific Coast of North America
The Sea Pig is a benthic deep-sea sea cucumber (class Holothuroidea) that walks using long tube-like limbs.
Like most sea cucumbers, they feed on detritus.
They have often been see congregating in groups of up to 30 individuals.
The 3 species of Scotoplanes are difficult to tell apart by sight.
photograph via:Â MBARI

Giant Isopod (Bathynomus giganteus), family , order Isopoda, found on the ocean floor in the deep sea of the Indian, Pacific, and West Atlantic Oceans
The largest species of isopod. The largest confirmed individual was measured at 50 cm in length, 36 is a more typical maximum length.
photograph via:Â Aquarium of the Pacific

Vampire Squid (Vampyroteuthis infernalis), family Vampyroteuthidae, photographed in the deep sea off the Pacific Coast of North America
Vampire Squids are not actually true squids, but are in their own distinct groups of Cephalopods (most closely related to the Octopuses).
They only grow to a total length of up to 30 cm (~ 1 ft).
They have many light producing photophores on various locations around their body.
They live at depths of 600 to 900 m (2,000 to 3,000Â ft) in oceans around the world.
photographs via:Â MBARI


Flapjack Octopus (Opisthoteuthis californiana), family Opisthoteuthidae, off the coast of Washington state, USA
photograph via:Â NOAA Ocean Exploration
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The Novel Norway Lobster
Nephrops norvegicus, better known as the Norway lobster, the Dublin Bay lobster, or in its culinary form as langoustine or scampi, is a small lobster found all along the European coast in the Atlantic ocean, from Norway and Iceland to Portugal, as well as the Adriatic Sea. They reside in muddy seabeds at up to 800 m (0.5 mi) below the surface.
Norway lobsters spend most of their time digging, maintaining, and hiding in their burrows, which are built about 20 to 30 cm (8 to 12 in) deep in the mud. When they do leave their burrows, it is only to forage or mate. Like many lobsters, N. norvegicus is an omnivore; they feed on anything they can find, including carrion, worms, fish, jellyfish, and other crustaceans. Predators include larger crustaceans, such as shore crabs, cod, stingrays, and small spotted catsharks.
The breeding period for Dublin Bay lobsters depends on the population's location and the temperature of the water, but generally takes place in late winter or spring. Females typically mate with 2-3 males, and carries 1000-5000 eggs under her tail for 8 to 9 months. After hatching, the planktonic larvae drift through the ocean for about two months, during which time they rise to the surface at night and descend to the ocean floor during the day. After settling on the bottom, juveniles undergo a molt before becoming fully mature. Afterwards, adults typically undergo 1-2 molts every year, and can live up to 10 years in the wild.
N. norvegicus is typically pink or orange in color, with a white underbelly and a darker stripe along the upper part of the claw. Adults can reach up to 20 cm (8 in) in length including the claws, which can comprise up to half that length. Its large eyes are exceptionally sensitive to light, and Norway lobsters are rarely seen during the daytime.
Conservation status: The Dublin Bay lobster is classified as Least Concern by the IUCN. It is commonly harvested for food, and populations are monitored closely.
Photos
Sue Scott
Institute of Marine Research
Hans Hillewaert
#norway lobster#dublin bay lobster#Decapoda#Nephropidae#lobsters#decapods#malacostracans#arthropods#marine fauna#marine arthropods#benthic fauna#benthic arthropods#deep sea fauna#deep sea arthropods#Atlantic ocean#Adriatic Sea#animal facts#biology#zoology#ecology
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FROM FAR DISTANT WATERS

PAIRING: Merman!John Price x F!Artist!Reader
SYNOPSIS: Thereâs something in the water - you're going to figure out what it is, and why it chose to save you.
WORDCOUNT: 16.8k
WARNINGS: Blood, murder, death/near death, assault, injury, gore, mystery, mentions of suicide, angst, protective!John, pining, sickness, etc.
*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

The little boat rocks as it slips through the expansive water, a thin hanging of mist in the air. The curtain-like film it leaves makes it nearly impossible to see the dark rocks of the shore a far distance away, and the dip and push of the oars through the chilled waves leaves splashing droplets connecting to your cheeks. You touch the flesh delicately, brushing away the spray as your eyes slide over dark, lapping waterâdeeper than anything.Â
In your lap, sitting below the high waist of your skirt, was your sketchbook; the tweed material was all the rage these days, though you never focused much on that. The thick item kept out the chill of the, very, early morning, and that was all you cared about, though, it seemed you lacked the foresight to pack a proper coat. A large woolen shawl sat over your shoulders, hiding the plain white blouse but not its cuffs; not the slight poof of the bottom part of the sleeves.Â
Your numb fingers fiddle with the pencil in your hands, your open sketchbook filled with page after page of images ranging from the common sea-bird to great ships and shorelines.Â
âI still have to ask why you feel the need to tag along,â is the voice that breaks the silence, and you blink away from the cloud of condensation from your exhalation. Your ear twitches, but only a small flick of a smile pulls your lips at the older manâs garbled words. âSo cold my damn hands are going to fall off. Why am I always the one bloody working the oars?â
Otto Whitworth was a man far into his later yearsâone who entertained your fascination with the raging waters and the need to immortalize them on paper; that draw to the sights and sounds. Graying, covered now in a large coat and his boots, with the long fishing rod knocking around by your feet, he grumbles more than he speaks sentences, content with only the pipe in his breast pocket and the promise of fresh fish for breakfast.Â
âOh, itâs not so bad,â you chuckle, glancing over at his wrinkled faceâthe glare of dark eyes set into a deep browline thatâs more for show of annoyance than genuine emotion. âGets the blood pumping harder, Mr. Whitworth.â Your vision slides to the shadows of the black rocks, and your pencil finds your palm before the sound of it meeting parchment echoes over the nothingness. âIsnât it lovely? Listen to the Gannets.â
âDonât need my blood pumpinâ harder,â the old man grinds out, scoffing. âGonna make my fuckinâ heart stop, GirlâŚâ Otto sighs, shaking his head as you chuckle. He growls under his breath. âAnd, no, Iâm not listening to the birdsâtheyâll be trying to steal my fish soon enough. Greedy bastards.â
Your eyes roll in their sockets, pencil shading in the rough shapes of misty rocks, your face cold but still eager for something. There was a type of magic to this placeâto Southern England and the small coast town you had settled in nearly a year ago: Redthorpe.Â
It seemed your talent for the arts was appreciated here, you had a shop to your name and friendly compliments from the locals every time the door was pulled open. People here liked the attention to detail in a place where they had most likely lived for a good ninety percent of their lives.
You tilt your head at the paper as Otto lets the oars drop back into the water, grasping for his fishing rod that you kindly move closer with your foot.Â
The man takes up the item and sets the line, whipping back the pole and snapping it forward with a wizz and a gruntâa cracking of old bones.Â
âNow hush,â Otto sighs, settling back.Â
You send a silent look upward, and at the same time as he does, you say out loud in a soft voice.
âYouâll scare away the fish with all that blabber.â
A heavy glare is leveled at you, but you raise a hand innocently and laugh under your breath.Â
âIâm as silent as the fish, Mr. Whitworth.â
âCheeky Bird,â Otto sighs loudly, shifting in his seat until he faces the water, eyes glinting. âYouâre too wild for this place, then, eh?â
âFor most places,â you breathe, smiling as you study the rocks again before going back to your work. Itâs only after there were the wiggling bodies of three fish set into a fisherâs basket that the oars are taken back up and the silent water is again forced back by ripples.Â
Pencil finding the middle of the spine, you close your sketchbook, the routine is as simple as it always is. Otto will complain about having you at his dock, heâll begrudgingly invite you in and cook three fish: one for him, the second for his cat, Harrietâolder than England itself and missing most teeth; as blind as a batâand then, finally, you. After that youâre back in your shop finishing up your piece of the misty shoreline, working until the candle burns through both ends and the oil paints are swirling colors as your eyes bug. Bed, and finally, repeat.Â
A splash of water makes you blink quickly, your head jerking over at the slide of movement from the corner of your vision. Eyes wide, you swear a fin had cut the surface of the water like a knife through butter.Â
Your body moves closer to the side of the boat immediately, leaning over eagerly.Â
âHey!â Otto barks, steadying himself as the vessel shakes back and forth. Your eyes shimmer, a smile overtaking your lips. âWatch yourselfâyouâll send me overboard!â
âDid you see that?â Your eyes dart over the water. âI think I saw a fin.âÂ
âYou got excited over a fish?â The older manâs voice is unimpressed, hissing in the crackling of age. âHell, I got three in the basket if youâre that bloody impressed.â
âShh,â you wave one of your hands, unblinking. âIt was bigger than a fish, Otto!âÂ
Your ears twitch to his scoff, his hands grasping the oars harder before he shoves the boat forward. Body looming, the intense pull of adventure dims the longer nothing happens, and after a minute or two of dead mist and water, you hum under your breath like a fool and sit back.
âLost it,â your numb lips murmur, breath puffing out softly. âDamn.â You shake your head as the wooden dock gets closer, more boats tied and shifting with the waves. âIt was strange,â you admit. âLike a deep navy colorâwith specs of silver along the spine.â
Otto pauses, his hands tight over the oars. He blinks over at you, face for the first time showing an emotion other than annoyance. You barely notice before the sheen of crafted blankness is back.Â
You smile down the length of the boat, curiosity plain to see. âDo you know of any animal like that around here?â
âNo,â Otto grunts out quickly, and your excitement dims sharply, blinking through shock.Â
Your brows furrow after the silence falls stifflyâthe boat had never been uncomfortable to you, the atmosphere quiet, of course, but always easy to charter. Now the air wasâŚmuddy. Something had changed as fast as a fish being yanked out of water.Â
Fingers twitching, you sit back slowly onto the plank, pulling your sketchbook the tiniest bit closer to your abdomen. Face open, Otto continues to row and the entire ride is silent until the boat is docked and tied to the pole by calloused hands. Your digits grasp your shawl and wrap the fabric harder, shifting down to hide your chin into the wool as you shiver.Â
â...Need help?â You ask, eyes still shifting back to the water like always.Â
Thereâs something now that makes your attention drift like the waves themselvesâand it wasnât only the shadows of the rise and fall, it was Ottoâs strange behavior. The man wasnât one to just say one word and nothing more. He could bounce off you like it was a game; you often thought he enjoyed your company just so he could insult someone. Jokingly, of course. It was the companionship he craved, it was why he always let you on his boat in the mornings.Â
Otto lived alone. You never asked about it.Â
âDonât need any help,â he grumbles out, tying off the last knot to the pole and stepping back with a smirk of satisfaction. âMânot in the grave yet, Girl. Been working the boats since I was out my mumâs womb.â
âFeel sorry for her.â Your mutter meets the air as light streaks through the mist. Breathing hot air into your free hand, you rub it over your arm repeatedly and sigh, fingers of the other limb tightening over your book. Absentmindedly, your head turns back to the open water one last time, for one last glimpse of anything you want to commit to memory while you paintâ
The fin is back.Â
âOtto!â Feet swiftly dart to the end of the dock, you stop only an inch away as your skirt whips over. âItâs back! Look!âÂ
A hand grasps your wrist and yanks you away.Â
Gasping sharply, you stumble until the harsh bark of, âGet back!â echoes across the dock just as it does through your ears.Â
âWhoa!â Youâre quickly let go of, a shadow shielding you from the view of the water as you scramble to make sure your sketchbook wonât slip from your hold. Head jerking to stare in shock at the middle of Ottoâs curved spine, your heart stutters in confusion and a bit of hesitation befitting one who was just manhandled. Standing up straight again, your tight face pulls in, the pound of your heart telling you something is wrong.Â
Glancing past a still frozen Otto, the water is utterly devoid of life againâonly ripples to show there had ever really been something there at all.Â
âYou go back to the ocean,â Otto yells, spittle flying from his mouth, fishing boots stomping against the wood as he moves forward a step, pointing. âGo back to the bloody hole you swam out of! Thereâs nothing for you here! Nothing!âÂ
You watch, struck dumb.Â
â...Mr. Whitworth?â Your lips mutter out, eyebrows shifting from the waves to the manâutterly confused down to your chilled bones. Who was he talking to?
Perhaps time had caught up to himâwas he mistakenly taking the rocks for people? The waves for whispers? All you had seen was a fishâs fin, nothing more, nothing less.
âOtto,â you call again, concerned. You should get the man inside; get him warm and let him cook his breakfast. âLetâs just go.â Your eyes blink lightly, fingers twitching over your book. âAlrightâŚ? My eyes must have been playing tricks on me, itâs nothing important.â
His form waddles past you, more in tune to his sea legs than the ones on land, and under his breath, you hear him snarl out a low, âYouâll not take her like you did Eleanor. Mark my words, Iâll be stringing you up by the tail first.âÂ
Withered hand connecting with your shawlâs edge, youâre dragged back with more force than youâd anticipate Otto still having, but you go with him nonetheless.Â
Looking at the water, thereâs nothing to see beyond the stretch of nothingness.
â
You dare to ask when youâre pushing the fish bones over to the side of your plate, slipping some mashed-up scraps to Harriet who lays in your lap purring. The rough scrape of a tongue licks your fingers, and deep gray fur caresses your palm.
âWho were you talking to back there?â Your voice carries over the small hut that Otto calls his own, the sounds of the water meeting the rocks plainly heard seeing as his property was as close to the cliffs as you could get without going over them. âI never took you for someone to believe in spirits.â The joke was a small jab, but even your own amusement was dim in the situation. Your hand puts down the fork and moves to rest along Harrietâs back, lightly petting the old cat as her half-missing tail flicks in satisfaction.
The manâs back over at the sink tightens.Â
âYou watch yourself near the waters, Girl,â Otto grunts, dark eyes glancing over his shoulder. âBy God, you watch yourself. Thereâs things out thereâterrible things.âÂ
âWhat kinds of âterrible things,â Otto?â Your head tilts, sketchbook resting still on the table, your gaze flickering to it. Terrible had a nice ring to it. But something else was swirling in your gut now, a hesitation of a special sort that only comes out with the unknown paths of life.Â
What could make a man born and bred on the waters so reserved when speaking about them? Your interest had been piquedâyour curiosity unsated until you were given a clear answer. Youâd only been here a year, that wasnât enough time to know the secrets of Redthorpe; to be let into those deeper circles.Â
Otto licks his cracked lips, the wrinkles of his face leaving behind something akin to a scrunched dogâs visageâworn by time and improper care from the damage of the sun. Heâd been at work on his boat for decades, and while you took his advice with a grain of salt usually, this time he carried himself differently: you wanted to know why.Â
He glares with no venom, taking out the scrubbed pan from the soapy water and barking, âWhatâs it with the younger generation and their bloody pushing? Listen to what Iâm telling you and take it as it is, Girl. You donât go on the water,â he blinks, face grim, âunless Iâm the one ferryinâ you through it, eh? Thatâs the end of it. Iâll say no more.âÂ
Frowning heavily, you sigh under your breath and shake your head. Letting your eyes slip down to Harriet, you scratch under her chin and stare into her milky eyes as she lets out a little chirp.
âSo much for answers,â your lips mutter.Â
But a fire had been lit in your breast nowâa low simmering pull like a rope had been tied to your wrist, drawing you closer and closer to the rocky shore, to a boat tied on the dock which you knew was steadily rocking to the deep, dark waves of this isolated place.Â
To a navy-colored fin in the water, and a shape far larger than any youâd seen before.Â
Blinking to look out the window of Ottoâs home, your eyes find the ocean, and the longing that youâd always had for it grows ten times larger as your sketchbook begs to be filled.
â
It was only fate, you guessed, that you had come to Redthorpeâa tiny, unimportant dot on the mapâwhen the way of life youâd chosen had led you astray. This place was a way to start over. Fix yourself. Youâd picked the least-known town in all of Europe, and that was exactly what you wanted.
One trait, though, that could never be squashed from your psyche was the lust for the unknown. It was an obsessive lover; a toxic hand on the back of your neck that dragged you back over and over, until there was only yourself to blame for the repetition of disappointment.Â
It was the reason you found yourself on the shore two days after you sighted the dark fin that cut the water.Â
Your lace-up boots were atop a large boulder, shifting as your body turned from left to right, eyes patiently dragging the expanse of nothing. Waves lap only inches below, spraying up to get absorbed into your skirt, shawl whipping with the wind. The breeze is stuck with the sounds of birds, the very beings darting above your head, playing their games with varying cries that sound like throaty groaning.Â
Bending, your arms wrap your waist, lips flickering. You were cold, limb-numbingly so, but even if you saw nothing today, or tomorrow, the push and pull of the ocean was enoughâthe call of the birds, the hypnotic sway of water. Calling to you, even if it had no lips to do so.Â
Taking down a lung-shaking inhale, you chuckle, sketchbook sitting in the small purse around your shoulder.Â
âWhat am I doing?â You ask yourself, shaking your head. âIt was just a big fishâthat old man was just being paranoid, anyways.â Eyes caressing the line where water meets the sky, your smile pulls your chilled cheeks. âThereâs nothing out here worth my time. I need to finish my work.âÂ
Leaning back, you rub your hands up and down your biceps, nonetheless enjoying your time despite the burning of something in the back of your head. A knowledge that the fin was nothing documented before? A hope of discovery? A need for adventure? Oh, who can really sayâwhat can be known are only three things:Â
One, the weather was getting worse, two, the water was getting wilder, and, three, you had forgotten the way the rock you were standing on had shifted when you stepped up to it. Shuffling, your boots connect to the right corner, and your hands extend to keep your balance as you hiss a low breath, purse beginning to slip.Â
Thereâs a gruff call from the water.
âCareful, then.â
Your head snaps up to the sound of a manâs voice, and you startle sharply, gasping as your foot slips. A quick cry is all you get out before youâre suddenly plummeting downwards headfirst into the frigid water.Â
The feeling of liquid is all-consuming as it seeps into your nostrils and ears, all sound muffled entirely beyond the roar of it leaving you so stupendouslyâa flare, and then nothing. Eyes bugging, limbs slashing through the waves, the chill hits you in the chest with the force of a stone, smashing through your ribs to weigh you down with concrete stuck in your lungs. It was entirely a bodily reaction to gasp.Â
Through the blue and the bubbles, you start to drown.Â
Fingers twitching, you claw at nothing as the darkness settles its hands over your panicked eyes, not for a moment thinking about who had called to you in the first placeâor who was poking a head out of the water before youâd gone over. Obviously, it was a trick of your senses; no one could survive being out in water like this.
You certainly werenât going to.Â
Legs slashing, something is darting in the corner of your eye before your vision fails, but the rapid fear in your heart masks the hand gripping at your shirtâs collar. It hides even the feeling of strong arms until the point where youâre yanked upwards with little effort as one curls your waist. It doesn't hide, however, the way you vomit up water as youâre heaved to the rocky shore moments later.
Choking, you hack up salt that burns your esophagus until your lunch quickly followsâall spilled with little care for your hands caught in the crossfire. Spine arching as if a cat, air canât come sweeter as it is drawn in rapidly; nearly hyperventilating on the ocean-smooth stones as your clothes are utterly ruined.Â
Panting, gasping, shivering violently, your head pulls itself weakly upward. It doesnât take long for your mind to scream at you, and your head snaps behind you in a panic.
But thereâs nothing but the raging water and the splash of a large navy-colored tail as big as your entire body disappearing back into the depths.Â
Your fear can only stay for so long before the threat of a frigid death becomes more and more probable. In your race back up the cliff face to your shop, your purse is completely forgotten, trapped on the top of that shaky rock where it had fallen from your shoulder before the great plunge.Â
Your shawl is seen floating out to the open water before itâs grasped from below and suddenly pluckedâvanishing without a single trace.
â
The fire rages with the inferno of a million suns, and itâs not nearly hot enough. Wrapped in every blanket, sheet, and warm item available, you still canât stop shivering hours later. A teacup was stuck in your hands, the liquid sloshing over the edges to slip over your quivering fingers and absorb into the cocoon of heat.Â
Breathing through your shaky lungs, you keep the rim of the cup to your lips, eyes wide and horrified. In the still moments after youâd stripped and tried to stop the onset of sickness that you could already feel coming, there was a flash of realization from your strange and fantastical ordeal.Â
There had been a man.Â
The sensation of hands around your waistâthe gruff voice that had spooked you so violently. A man. In the water. Every time you blink, you see a shadowed image, a tiny glimpse as youâd turned to the sound of human speech above the shriek of birds.Â
Short brown hair and narrowed blue eyes set into sockets of pale skin. A bearded face, mustacheâŚsquare jawâŚ
âWhat in Godâs name?â You stutter in question over your tea, shaking your head. âThat isnât possible.âÂ
Outside your shop, the wind screams, pushing against your exterior shutters as night sets in. A storm was coming; thereâd be no other adventures for you. Sipping your drink, you shiver again, curling in tighter to yourself as wood crackles. The light dances over your easels and side tables, piled high with jars of brushes and palletsâbottles of linseed oil and liquin, labeled with little pieces of hanging paper at the necks.Â
There are paintings in the tensâin the twentiesâhanging on the walls and set to the corners, all blue and gray; misty and clear. The water is a staple in all of them, and the cliffs as well. Perfect imitations of this place, as if you could reach a hand through the canvas and enter a mirrored world. Great ships are in some of them, or little fishing boats, with the birds overhead. Sometimes, itâs only the water itself, and to you, those were perhaps the best of your work.Â
There was a beauty in the nothingness. A mystery. Who knows whatâs under that thin surface? WellâŚapparently, it wasnât human.Â
You swallow down saliva and your lips thin.Â
The thing in the water wasnât⌠unattractive, you had to admit. Beyond the waterlogged hair and dripping beard, a large nose satâfull cheeks with an odd mole over them. The more you thought about the brief flash of a visage, the more you grew to hang onto it, strangely. And that navy tail? It had been incredibly unique.Â
Spiney, nearlyâfour thin bones going down on both sides, branching out from the tail starting with the shortest that was perhaps only as long as your hand until the final was as lengthy as your entire arm. There was webbing between each spine to help the thing through the water quickly, it spread to the end of the barb until it sunk back in a âUâ movement, before once more arching out again to connect with the next spine. Small gasps in the caudal fin calling to either battles or a natural state of beingâfor show in itâŚhis?...species.Â
Could you even assign it a human gender?Â
You close your eyes tightly in your shop, trying to will the image away from yourself. âWhat in the hell is going on?â Your voice is scratchy and low.Â
Yet, the undeniable truth was that the fish-man had saved you. It couldnât be overlooked. Not by you, who now can sit in front of this very fire because of it. Like a moth to the flame, the surge of cautious confusion is burning your wings.Â
Deep blue eyes like the ocean. A navy tail. A gruff, hard voice.
You open your eyes and glare into the fireplace.Â
âWhat has this place been hiding in the water? And why did it bloody save my life right after it nearly ended it?âÂ
More importantlyâŚyou had to think of a way to get your sketchbook back without getting on its bad side.
With a heavy chest, and more than a little fear in your heart, it was resolved to do something about all of this tomorrow. There was no use leaving the shop now. Glancing at the shaking window, you could hear the ocean rampaging over the cliffs; hear the slam of the rain hitting the roof like pounding feet.Â
But that voice played in your ears like a gramophone's bleated chorus.Â
You shiver again, not from the cold.
Careful, then.Â
â
There was no question if youâd gotten sick because of your impromptu bath in the oceanâthe evidence was in your salt-covered shirt and the stockings that were still drying on the hearth.Â
Pressing a handkerchief to your mouth as you cough haggardly. Youâre bundled in a nice fur dress coat, walking along the street with a skipping heart, a simple cloche hat over your head to protect you from the elements; dark blue in color.
The irony was not lost this morning when the hue had a striking familiarity to a fish-like tail, but it hadnât stayed in your hand. A small drizzle slapped the fabric, and you were thankful you had brought the hat and coat along with you on the move from the big city.Â
You weakly smile and nod to the locals you consider friendsâat the very least acquaintances. But before long, youâre at the place you feel you need to be to gain answers, too nervous to go back to the shore immediately.
The library.
Something Otto had said came back to you last night, in the throws of insomnia. The two sentences heâd called out on the docks that dayâYouâll not take her like you did Eleanor. Mark my words, Iâll be stringing you up by the tail first.
Eleanor? Who was that and how did it correlate to the beast in the water that wears a man's face? Maybe, the local records would tell you the answerâthere had to be something about this person, âEleanor,â in them, right?
If not, there was only one option left, and that was going down to the shore and getting the results first handâŚyouâd rather exhaust all of your resources on solid land first.Â
Slipping into the library with a deep breath and a cough in your throat, you sigh and nod slightly. Time to get to work.
âOh,â the librarian looks up from her desk, standing as you shuffle over. âHello, Dear,â she breathes through a chuckle, eyebrows pulling in softly. âMy, you look a bit under the weather, donât you? Would you like me to get some tea goingâŚ?â
âNo, thank you,â you wave an easy hand. âIâm here on a bit of an errand, actually, and I was wondering if you could help me with something? I need to ask about your records.â
âRecords?â The womanâs face shifts to confusion, her body slipping out to stand next to yours, you bring back up your handkerchief and sneeze into it, groaning. âWhat kind were you thinking, then?â
After you can push away the sheen of sickness to your eyes you take a breath and clear your throat of the stuffiness. âBirths and work records? Addresses?â You make a small noise in the back of your mouth. âI guess I donât knowâŚanything that might help me?â
The librarian chuckles a bit, amused. âHow about you tell me what it is youâre looking into, and Iâll try and grab any public knowledge that I can find. Weâll work together, then.âÂ
Weight is loosened from your shoulders and you nod appreciatively. âDeal.â
âGo on then,â she walks over to a shelf on the far side of the room, standing as her fingers run the spines. âOccupation I can start with, Dear?â
âWellâŚâ you pause, shuffling after as your head looks from one sizable book to another. âNo, unfortunately. Only a first name.â
âYouâre lucky Redthorpe is small,â the woman laughs. âOtherwise I would have told you youâre lacking your senses with only something like that to go off of.âÂ
âEleanor,â you comment, licking your lips and staring at a spine labeled â1890-1900 financial records - Redthorpeâ. âE-L-E-A-N-O-R, or at least thatâs the common spelling, I believe.âÂ
The librarianâs body is stone-still. Comparable to the immovable rocks of the shore as the waves bash against them; the raging of the wind. When you glance over, confused at the silence that infects the building, youâre reduced to a meek hesitation at the blank eyes that dig into your face.Â
â...OrâŚmaybe itâs N-O-R-E?âÂ
âIâm sorry, but I canât help you,â is the hurried answer, and then the woman moves past with fast feet, heels clicking over the hardwood rapidly. âThere hasnât been an Eleanor in Redthrope. Youâre mistaken.âÂ
âWait,â you follow, stuttering. âI donât understand, there has to have beenâOtto was talking about her not days ago!â
âYouâre mistaken,â is the repeated, firm answer, the librarianâs body swirling to face you again, pointing a finger at you. âGo back to your shop. Mr. Whitworth is old, he sees things that arenât there. Donât take what he says to heartââ
âI saw it!â You bark, fed up. Your mind was sick of these games being played, left out of the loop like you hadnât formed a relationship with the people of this town.Â
The womanâs mouth locked shut with a clack of teeth, something darting over her expressionâŚfear?
She backs up slowly. âIâŚI donât know what youâre talking about, Dear.â
Your lips twist, a threatening sneeze in the back of your nose. âIâm done with the word games! It dragged me out of the water like a sack of flour and tossed me to shore! It saved me!â Her hands are held in front of her as you stalk closer, trying to brush what youâre telling her aside as she struggles to string words.Â
âItâŚit wouldnât do thatâthatâs not how it acts. Youâre just imagining things; youâre under the weather!â
âWhoâs Eleanor?â You huff, stubborn as you cross your arms in front of you. âAnd what in the hell is a man with the tail of a fish doing living just below these cliffs?â
Wide eyes meet glaring ones, and the librarianâs lips move up and down in a panic.Â
âIâŚâ she begins, feet tapping the floor nervously as the rafters creak above the both of you. âI canât talk about it. Itâs not something to be said out loudâespecially so close to the water.âÂ
You bark incredulously, âThereâs a bloody monster that lives down inâ!â
A hand is snapped over your mouth and you startle, blinking through the twitch of your body.Â
âShh!â The librarian panics, shaking her head, with flaring eyes. âStop it or youâll end up being dragged down to the ocean floor like Eleanor was!â You tense behind the hold, shoulders pulled in. Itâs a quick spit of whispered words like a fast breeze. âDo you want your body showing up on the rocks?! Stay away from it!â
Your heart pounds in your chest, vision darting back and forth before she finally lets you go in a quick jerk of her body. The woman backs up, quivering as her eyes go to the window, nearly panting from fear.Â
She looks back at you, blinks, and mutters out a quiet, âIf youâve already seen it, it wants you. Donât go back to the water,â before she rushes into the back room and slams the door shut with the slipping of the lock.Â
Left standing in the open library, the shelves sit stationary as if sentinels to your raw distressâthis had only left you with more questions and a handful of jumbled answers.Â
âCareful, then.â
You shake your head harshly and pivot to leave the library in a stupor, shoving your chin back down into your coatâs collar as the wind slaps your face once more. The call of the ocean is like a knife to the back of your neck.
â
Call you whatever name in the book, but you wanted your sketchbook back.
No one in town was giving you anything that was of use, and Otto was tighter-lipped than a lockbox. There was only so much you could doâcould speculateâbefore the need for your belongings was too strong to ignore. It took two more days of pacing your shop before it was decided.Â
Taking up the heavy cast-iron pan above your fireplace, you slip the thing into your coat, shove on your hat with a defiant grunt, and force the front door open. Itâs a ten-minute walk to the shore, and all the way there, dread fills you up like soup until youâre bloated with it by the time your boots hit black rocks. Yet, thereâs a point where a womanâs courage outweighs the sense of caution, and today was currently that day.Â
Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you grab your skirt and hike it up, placing your boot carefully on the first of the larger stones leading out to where youâd been previously.Â
âDonât look at the water,â you mutter quietly as you move, not shuffling forward until you know the rock isnât going to topple this way or that. âDonât even think about it.â
But that tailâŚthat faceâŚ
With a growl under your breath, you grind your teeth and continue on.Â
The weather today was much more agreeable, but cold. It was always chilled in Redthorpeâdreary as if the clouds never left far above. You didnât mind, and in your coat pocket, the reassuring weight of your pan left you much warmer than youâd like to admit.Â
The heat of protection, so to speak.
âEven a fish-man can die, Iâd wager,â you utter, grunting as you ascend a larger rock, palm slapping the wet stone before you heavy upwards, slamming your boot to the top much like a schoolboy as your skirt bunches. âIf I hit him hard enough in the skull. I wonder though,â you sneeze, shuddering, âif he even bleeds? If I crack his head openâŚwill blood seep out, or salt water?âÂ
You shiver, and itâs not from the cold. âFucking hell, you do like making it harder on yourself, donât you.â
Lightly panting, you brush down your coat on the top of the rock and turn to look at the boulder where youâd fallen previously, blinking. Pausing, your eyes find not only your sketchbook sitting thereâŚbut also your shawl.Â
Struggling for a moment to try and justify your actions, you swiftly look over the surface of the water, seeing the gentle push and pull of waves. No fin. No tail.Â
You arenât sure if the feeling in your chest is joy or disappointment.
Licking your lips, you take a large breath before your face turns grim.
âGrab it and run,â your voice echoes in your own head, heart pounding with adrenaline the more steps you take to the boulder, water sloshing at the sides. You had thought perhaps that the rainâthe stormâwould render all of your lost belongings null, but as you bent and snatched your items to you, shawl hanging from your arm, you were pleasantly surprised. It was all dry; impossibly so.Â
Amid your shock, your slack jaw, and the weight of your pan in your coat, your shaky fingers open your book with bated breath.Â
Everything was in pristine condition, if not only slightly curled at the corners due toâŚyour eyebrows pull in, expression struggling to take on the emotion of anything other than pure awe.
âFingerprints?âÂ
Eyes slipping from one page to the next, flipping them only to see the press and pull of a long gone thumb, shiting the paper to gaze at the back, where a forefinger would have been. A hand laced in water had been turning the pages, just as you do nowâand, yet, there wasnât an inch that was damaged; nothing smeared.Â
Shoulders loosening from their tensed position, your wide stare is utterly transfixed as your digits rub the material softly, feet shifting.Â
Lowering your sketchbook, your small huff of amazed laughter, mind running.Â
Heâd been going through your drawingsâheâd somehow protected these items from the rain and salt. How? Why? But another question wrapped its hands in your skull.
Did he like them?
Shuffling the book into the crook of your arm, you carefully wrap your shawl over the material to further keep it safe, not able to find your purse, though the only thing it ever held was your sketchbook in the first place; it wasnât too important.Â
Rising your head again, you gaze openly outward, lips opening and closing in a small stutter. Was he out there, this strange creature with a strong face and those deep eyes? That navy tail, looking like a beautiful imitation of kelpâŚwas it just under where you now study the waves?
So many questions, so few answers.Â
You clear your throat, holding your items tighter. Thereâs magnetism in your blood, and it sits on your tongue like salt.
âThank you!â Your voice calls high, joining the chorus of birds far above on the cliffs. Eyes skating the rocks, the shore, the ocean, everything. Call you prideful, but perhaps the best way to gain your favor is to know that someone, whatever bit strange and fantastical, had enjoyed your work to the smallest degree.Â
The way your eyes spark is still embarrassing, though, but it comes naturally after the heat that simmers over your face.Â
âTruly,â you shout to the wind. âYou have no idea how much this means! If youâre listening, Iâd like to extend my gratitudeâŚâ Your face is beaming, and you can convince yourself that all of your fear over this is gone, even if that would just plainly be untrue. âMy artwork is everything to me, I do hope you enjoyed it!âÂ
A creature so easily curious about your skills wouldnât drag you to the bottom of the oceanâŚright?Â
Hell, heâd already had a chance to do thatâa perfect oneâand yet, here you are. What the Librarian had said had to be false, it made no sense otherwise.
Seeing nothing, and knowing that you were needed back at your shop, you chuckle under your breath and back up swiftly, walking the distance back to the surrounding rocks and slipping off softly. Grunting under your breath, your boots hit the stone, and you carefully begin back-tracking.Â
âYouâre good at it,â you halt in a fraction of a second. âThe images. Whereâd you learn to do that?â
Itâs a long moment before you turn with a cautious tilt to your head, and find the very same visage as you had a glimpse of days ago. You fight a fast inhale, but your straightening spine tells all the story it needs to. Like a fool, you lose the words in your mouth, as if trying to catch a bird of prey with a butterfly net.
A strong face is poking out of the water only a mere five feet away.
Your eyes slip to the soaked beard, the peak of bare shouldersâbroad, of courseâand the prying orbs that you feel will never leave; he wades there, arms under the dark water only a flash of pale skin before theyâre gone again.Â
âIâŚâ you lick your lips, blinking through the moment of animalistic panic. You were on land, there was nothing to fear. The sight was still something to be remembered, though. âI was self-taught, Sir.âÂ
Blue eyes blink, serious face only made more so by the twitching of his large nose, which water drips from periodically. Droplets stay stuck to his dark lashes, and youâre near bursting with questions.Â
But silence persists long after your sentence filters out to nothing.
âYou pulled me from the water,â you state slowly. âAnd I donât even know your name.â
The man looks you up and down, not arrogant, no, but in a way that is comparable to how you did the same to him. Studying you as if your body was strange to him. The realization almost made you laughâperhaps it was strange to him.
You want to see that tail of his again. Your fingers itch to sketch its likeness and commit it to muscle memory.Â
âI scared you,â he grumbles, sighing. âIt wasnât my intention to send you over.â Eyes still stay stuck. âMy own fault.â
âI wonât deny you there,â you huff, gaze shifting away for a moment before filtering back. A slash of amusement curls in the thingâs eyes, and he hums. âForgive me,â your breath wafts out over the air, face going what you can assume to be sheepish. It astounds you, though, that the conversation comes easily. âBut I havenât the faintest bloody clue as to what to call you.â
âJohn,â is the reply. Accent like gravel. He doesnât waste his breath, seems.Â
âJohn?â You lick your lips, legs shuffling over the stone. The name leaves you holding back a loud laugh. âWell, I suppose I could have guessed that, then. Iâve met more than enough âJohnsâ so far.â
âFunny, are you?â The response, however dry, is tinged with something you canât name.Â
âI try,â you nod jokingly, motioning with a hand. âJust didnât expect a man with a fishtail to act soâŚ.human. Certainly not be named like one, either.â
âHm,â John grunts, blinking slowly. A hand slips above the water, and you watch it flex and drag to itch at the back of his neck, hair over the arm slick to the flesh. Your face heats, and your eyes dip to see the small shadow under the water almost graze the surface, rippling the waves intimately, as if tail and liquid were of the same sound mind.Â
It wasnât out of the question to say you longed for a glimpse.Â
What would it feel like to touch it?
âYou live here?â Your voice is hoarse before you clear it quickly. âRight below the cliffs?âÂ
âYouâre the woman that goes out in the boat,â John firmly interjects, and you blink, taken aback.Â
âYes, thatâs me.â You explain, pulling at the lip of your hat to force it down further over your head. âOtto goes fishing in the morningsâI like to sketch the shore. He isnât the worst company, of course. Heâs kind enough to let me along with him.â
But you wonât be kept down. Thereâs magical curiosity in your chest now.
âYour tail,â you take a step forward, boots being licked by icy water. Johnâs eyes widen a smidge, not expecting you to actively move closer. His head tilts as if a bird, confusion brimming though he hides it expertly. You imagined he considered you a bit mad. âForgive me, Sir, but I must know,â your uttered rambles make his hidden lip twitch, a little twist to your expression that shows wonder. âIs it attached to you, or do you slip out of it like a pair of pants? O-or even like wearing a stage costume? Oh, itâs like nothing Iâve ever seen before.â
John canât find the words for a moment, only able to watch and assess as he always did in times like these. You wereâŚdifferent, he supposed. But he knew that the moment you had shifted your body over the side of that old manâs boatâlooking for a glimpse of something unknown. He could see it in your eyes.Â
The water calls to you. It lives in your veins already, waiting. More salt and seaweed than earth and grass. Sand, rock, gulls, they all cry in the back of your mind, and your fingers itch to catalog them into immortality in a way that John was fascinated overâthe skill of parchment and memorization. Mastery over detail.
He doesn't know why heâs speaking to you, truly. Heâd done his penance; saved your life. But he knows he doesnât dislike it, and that in and of itself needed to be understood. John couldnât leave his analytical brain lacking an answer to a question as big as thatâa woman of all things? A human one?Â
Blue eyes canât seem to slip from yours, as you await a gruff reply.
âNo.â You blink, pulling back a smidge when Johnâs voice is low and graited. âGo back to your home. Itâs late.â
âHey, waitâ!â
But heâs already gone under the waves, and youâre left with a waterlogged boot, a cast iron pan, and the two items that had survived because of a grizzly creature's compassion. Your lungs heave, and the cloud of condensation rises into a gray sky.
You stay there far longer than youâd like to admit.
â
You struggled, slipped, and climbed your way back to that point on the rocks every other day, and yet, there was nothing more to be seen of the man with the tail. You knew he was out there, felt it in your bones, and stillâŚyou were left here staring out at far-off boats and half-hopes. Wondering. Waiting.Â
In the days that passed, you would explore the shore further, going in nooks and deep bends that extended into the cliffs during low tide, cringing away from the slippery fingers of kelp stuck to the walls. Dead fish, mucus-lined snailsâyou had made the important decision of leaving your sketchbook at home, the pages already filled with the perfect reflection of a manâs face peeking above the water.Â
Taking off your hat, you huff on a similar day to those others, this time slipping inside a cave with a direct connection to the ocean. There wasnât any wind in hereâand you sigh in relief as your breeze-bitten cheeks can finally get a rest. You didnât know what you expected to find doing all this fruitless searching, but it didnât erase the fact that you enjoyed it; looking for a glimpse of something out of the ordinary.Â
Brushing your hat of sand and other such items, your head swivels softly, a delicate smile on your face as water drips from the rock ceiling, stalactites like broken fingers reaching for the ground. A pool of sorts takes up most of this place, the thing extending to the ocean through a medium-sized opening in the stone.
You turn in a half-circle.Â
âBeautiful,â your lips murmur, voice echoing.Â
Walking forward, every so often your body stoops to carefully grasp shells and smoothed shards of colored glass, beaten down by waves and reduced to harmless trinkets. Continuing, you care little about your boots or your coat, only for the pull in your chest that tells you to keep going until your legs are weak and wearyâshaking from a day long spent in selfish adventure.
When you find the pile of rings, sitting in soft kelp, you nearly walk right past them until the glint of metal takes you by surprise. Pausing, your pulse warms as your eyes slash to the side, getting sucked in as easily as cookies to a child.Â
Only hesitating a second, you slowly walk until youâre inches away, seeing different styles and gems like starlight sitting as if unaware of their raw beauty.Â
âWhat are you doing in hereâŚ?â You ask yourself, your own voice responding from the walls as it bounces.Â
Picking up one of pure gold, you shift the band to stare openly at an emerald nearly the size of your knuckle set into it. Lips parting, itâs as if your breath is stolen by a quiet thief. But the sudden arrival of splashing snaps you out of your stupor quite quickly.
Dropping the ring immediately back into the pile, your hand jerks to your chest as an increasingly common face shows itself once more from the water.Â
You clear your throat, face burning as John raises a slow brow, glancing at the stash of rings silently.Â
âOne day youâre going to make me keel over,â your voice berates, pointedly avoiding his blues. So the items were his.Â
âA thief as well as an artist?â John asks after a moment, tilting his skull as his body drifts closer to the rocky side of the pool. The next sentence is no question, only a statement. âYouâve been looking for me.â
You take a long breath, sighing, before you shove your hat into your coatâs pocket, glaring lightly. âYou left so abruptly, I never got to ask my questions. Quite rude of you to keep a lady waiting, John.â
As you say his name, he glances over, but not before his sizable hands slap to the side of the rock and he hoists himself up with a single push of his forearms. The man grunts, lips pulling, before youâre left breathless.Â
Eyes stuck on the upper half of his body, the water dripping down the hair-layered bulge of visible muscle, your wide vision skates from one point to another, flesh on fire the more you stay mute. But the tailâthat was something you could never describe.Â
The beginning was all you could see; scales of dark navy and a spread of muddled silver-like dots, nearly impossible to make out except at this distance. They began at the top of where hips should be, the scales, smaller and blending into the skin easily, only becoming larger the more the tail extended down; the appendage was far larger than legs would be, that you can tell easily. You canât see all of it, as perhaps a little less than half still sits swaying in the waterâŚbut even this was enough for now.
This moment would be stuck in your sketchbook for all of eternity.Â
Itâs only after your jaw is slackened that you realize John has been watching you the entire time.
Forcing it shut with a tiny clack of teeth, you try to regain any composure you can. The beingâs beard curls in a smirk, cheek pushing to show the lines near his eyes.Â
âIf someoneâs avoiding you, Sunshine,â he grunts out, voice low. From the corner of his eye, he watches as his hand rises to itch at his beard. âThey usually donât want to have a conversation.â
âI think itâs fair,â you huff. âYou canât just disappear when I have so many unanswered questions.â
John blinks, attention not moving for even a second. Your own is less than firm, fighting to not dart down to openly study every dip and bend of his bones. He was soâŚstoic. Gruff. But there were moments of amusementâeven annoyed interest.Â
âI donât have time to fuckinâ entertain others,â he thins his lips.Â
Your arms crossed, face dripping into seriousness. âAnd what else is so much more important, then?â You raise a brow. âScaring other women into the water?â
He huffs under his breath. âIt was an accidentâwouldnât have happened if you werenât so jumpy, eh?âÂ
âItâs not like I expect to see fishmen pop out of the water,â you defend.Â
âMer-man, Love,â he licks his lips, sighing, as his eyes shift to glance at the opening of the cave. Your face bleeds into a slight expression of satisfaction, arms over your chest tightening as your feet rock back on their heels.
âWell,â you chuckle. âNow weâre getting somewhere.âÂ
An emotionless glare is all you receive.Â
It was no surprise that you ended up blurting out inquiry after inquiryâwhat does having a tail feel like? How do you breathe underwater, or do you only hold your breath like a human? Do you have gills somewhere, or lungs? What other creatures are out there like you?
You have no idea what time it ends up being, and you have no intention of stopping soon. Itâs a pleasant surprise, then, that John answers all of your quick words with full answers; giving slow, but not condescending explanations.Â
A few times there had been tiny chuckles, and the little conversations amounted to you sitting on a rock right near the water, only feet away from where the tail drifts in the waves; Johnâs hands keeping his upper half straight as his palms meet slippery stone.Â
âAnd the rings?â You breathlessly wonder, attention darting to the pile. âDo you find them out there? Keep them?â
John tilts his head in an affirmation. âShipwrecks. Thereâll be hundreds of themâIâm not one to keep many belongings, but the bloody things were nicely made.â He sighs. âSeemed a waste to leave them down there.â
You huff a sound of amusement. âI see. Fascinating.â
In the small pause, your eyes once more study the cave, seeing little breaks in the walls where cubby-like indents are. In them, your focus drifts from one glimmering object to another, all previously missed by you when youâd first entered.Â
You blink. âYou live here?â
âAffirmative,â John stares. His body shifts, tail flickering as your focus snaps back to it, almost lost in the way the ends so nimbly slice the water. Like wispy fabric. Your eyes soften like molten metal. You look back at him and find his eyes already locked to yours.Â
Breath caught in your throat, you chuckle meekly to dispel your embarrassment. Johnâs face minutely relaxes, stern brow loosening.
âAndâŚâ you lick your lips, knowing it was time to leave. The sun no longer shines through the crack in the rock. âIf I were to come back, would I be able to find you here?âÂ
Thereâs a flash of that same indecipherable emotion as before over his bushy face.Â
The man was anything but smallâeverything to the swell of his tail; body hair for, what you assume, is to keep out the constant chill of the water. Youâd never imagined that youâd find it all so attractive down to the navy scales that shimmered above the push of his side. That healthy layer of meat was eliciting far more of a physical reaction than youâd care to admit to anyone, let alone a priest of any religion during a confession.
Perhaps that fall into the water really had killed you.
âIâll be here,â John responds lowly, gravel in his throat.
Swallowing down saliva, you push back the ravenous smile that threatens you.
â...Okay.â
â
And this affair became such a constant, that most of the people in town had begun asking about you as you snuck to the waters. Otto was largely concerned, but would not say anything more for some unseen fearânor the Librarian, who avoided your eyes any chance she got.Â
Dragged to the ocean floor. Body on the rocks.Â
The sheen of discovery could be a powerful vice, and for those first two months, you never asked John about the woman named Eleanor or who she might beâwhat correlation she had to beasts of the water. Then again, you didnât have to ask. He managed to get around to it himself.Â
Your eyes blankly stare at the page of your sketchbook, the mermanâs rough shape chicken-scratched with small lines into the parchment, and your pencil stays still to it, immobile. From across the cave, Johnâs face tightens as his eyelids narrow. Youâd been quiet today, he had noticed. Usually so bright with your words, the walls had barely echoed with the symphony of your speech, and, more importantly, Johnâs ears hadnât twitched to it.Â
He had become fond of your company, he admitted to himself. A strange human woman with her fur coat and hat, the little sketchbook that held such wonderful imitations of life. John was anything but dullâhe knew you drew him, and he entertained the activity. In fact, the thought at one point or another may have made the brute of a man blush a bit. So, when you were as still as the stone you sat on, he had concerns.Â
He liked it when you spoke, even if it was only a tease. And the tightness of his chest when you donât look his way is enough to leave his tail twitching in confusion as it sits in the water.
âYouâre quiet today,â he starts, frowning.Â
Your fingers jerk, sending a line over your paper as you blink, looking up as your heart skips a beat. Glancing at Johnâs face, the thoughts inside of your head slip until you can understand what he said.Â
âIâm sorry,â you sigh, and the manâs face pulls. âYou can speak if you want. I'm just a little distracted.â
âI didnât mean it like that, Love, yeah?â John grunts, hands shifting over the stone. He looks you up and down, tail sitting still below him. âWhat happened?â
âNothing happened,â your lips mumble, and you shake your head. âItâs one of my questions again.â You pause, closing your book. âA difficult one.â
Johnâs lips flicker. âWell, weâve been at this for ages. Canât see how this one is more difficult than the others.â He nods softly, voice a low and somewhat smooth mutter. âGo on.â
âI donât know if I can,â you huff, standing and placing your sketchbook in the driest part of the cave before walking closer. Bending right in front of John, your face is tight. The man likes it like thisâhaving you closer. He can feel the heat roll off you, and his eyes flutter even when nothing on his face gives away the pull he senses in his chest.Â
John hums and swallows stiffly.
âWhy not?â His head tilts, and he clears his throat to get rid of the raspy scrape of his vocals. âSomething going on up there?â
Up there.Â
The Merman had asked about Redthorpe, as well as the rest of the people who lived there. The atmosphere, the way of life. Your meetings were more of an exchange of information and stolen glances than anything else, the other none the wiser to this magnetic attraction. It was a delicate thing, knowing that there was something more and yet unable to fully express the way it makes you feel. Neither of you knows what to call it.
âMore so in here,â you smile tinily, pointing at your head as your cheeks grow hot.Â
âThen speak to me,â John frowns, trying a low smirk. âThink we both know Iâm a good listener then, Love. Thereâs time,â he glances at the entrance. âWonât be near dark for a few more hoursâdonât want you climbing at night.â
âAwe,â you breathe, beaming suddenly with that glint back in your eyes. John hides the sagging of his shoulders, only offering a hum under his breath as he looks over at you. His kelp-like fins twitch, and he wonders what it would feel like to have you touch them. It was obvious you wanted to.
Not yet.Â
âHurry up, Sunshine,â John grinds out, that accent all the more sandy.Â
Thereâs a small grunt and a shuffle, and, soon, a warm body is plotting itself next to his own, arm touching his, and a pair of bare feet slipping into the pool. Blue eyes widen in surprise, head darting to where your form rests so simplyâso near the crook of his shoulder that he could reach over and draw you to him if he so wanted.Â
Your feet shift as the hem of your skirt gets soggy with water, and John barks out a firm, âYouâre going to get cold.âÂ
âItâs not as cold here as it is out there,â you shrug to him, smiling with a side-eye. âBesides, Iâm right next to youâyouâll keep me warm, wonât you, John?â
âFucking hell,â he puffs out, shaking his head as he rips it forward once more, clenching his jaw. Your scent seeps into his nose, and when your leg slips along the side of his scales under the water, he all but goes a blank-faced scarlet.Â
You hide a chuckle, shivering at the chill but more so at the unimaginably smooth sensation of Johnâs tail over your flesh. Your legs move through the water to cross at the ankles, your right hand resting to directly touch Johnâs left. With every pump of your blood, his own mirrors.
Yet, your mood sobers, and the joy leaks.Â
âThereâs a woman that no one speaks about in Redthrope,â you begin, and John settles to listen, brows furrowing in concentration as your skin sits so well next to his own. âEleanor.âÂ
The man pauses abruptly, and you keep talking.
âAnd for some reason,â you sigh out a low breath, turning to look at John and his still face; emotionless. âEveryone seems to blame you for whatever happened to her. I donât know if sheâs missing, orâŚâ
Your words trail off, insinuation clear.
Not noticing any chance on Johnâs face, you lightly bump him with your elbow, expression going concerned. âHey, are you alright?â Your opposite hand raises, moving out between the two of you. âI didnât mean to insinuate anything, I would just really appreciate anything you might know about it.â Eyes imploring, your heart pours itself. âI donât think youâd do something like that.â
John blinks slowly, finally opening his mouth. âWhat makes you say that?â
âIf you were some murderous creature,â you shrug, âI donât think you would have tried to pull me out of the ocean in the first place.â Lashes caressing your cheeks, you smile. âAm I wrong?â
âNo,â the man huffs, quirking a brow. âNo, youâre not wrong.â
âKnew it,â you whisper, eyes crinkling as you side-eye him.
John chuckles, half rolling his eyes as he leans to your ear as he grumbles. âGettinâ cheeky, are you?âÂ
If you were a bird, youâd be preening your feathers, eyelids narrowed. âPerhaps, John.âÂ
It is a wonder, then, that the two of you donât lock lips that very instantâlong fins curling around legs and shoulders stuck together, pinkies unconsciously sitting atop the others as if pieces of parchment. Blue eyes shift smoothly to your lips, but before you can register that they have, Johnâs head is already moving back and his spine is straight.Â
The man flattens his lips, tilting his skull.Â
âI knew of a woman named Eleanorâshe would come down with her husband, Noah, and they would walk along the shore. Got close to this place a few times.â Dark brows tighten. âFound her body in the water after a storm about two years ago; brought it back to the rocks so someone could retrieve it.â Your face loosens as the information settles in. John makes a noise in his chest. âInteresting that Iâd be roped into it, but itâs understandable. Always someone to blame, eh?âÂ
âI donât blame you,â you whisper. âThat must have been horrible.â
Blue slips over to you silently, and itâs a long moment before John only hums under his breath, blinking away softly.Â
âScared me when you fell in.â Listening, your heart clenches in your ribs. To think about what must have been going through his head at that instant was sad to you, and even worse so when you know he would have blamed himself if you might have ended up seriously hurt.
âWell,â you lean into him, face on fire, âit was a good thing you were there to drag me out, then. A little water never hurt anyone, so long as a handsome merman is there to take them back to shore.âÂ
John huffs out a laugh. âHandsome?â
âOh, very,â you joke. âThe tail is a bonus.â Your expression lightens, eyes glinting. âSince when did you know that navy is my favorite color?â
The feeling of the cold water is only a back-drop to the way Johnâs fins twitch against your bare legs intimately, and you chuckle as the beard can only hide so much red skin.Â
âBugger off,â he grunts.Â
Youâve never heard a smile so clearly before in your life.
â
Your paintings were selling far better than they ever had, and you had to thank the new muse of them for that fact.Â
Johnâs appearance in your work had started smallâa glimpse of a fin, the presence of a shadow in the waterâand had steadily grown. Now, hidden like a present, there was the image of some fishtailed man somewhere in all of them, a steady injection of magic into the veins of cerulean blue and ivory black. It showed you that fewer people knew about John than you had previously thought.Â
Initially, you had imagined that everyone knew and the reason you didnât was because you were relatively new here, but no. Most had been enamored by your work when they found the âstrange fish-manâ in one, pointing and chucking to themselves, talking about how adorable it was. No one was shocked, no one sent looks.Â
By the end of the week, you had been convinced that it had been narrowed down to Otto and the Librarianâ
The bell of your shop dings.
Looking up from your easel, you smile and stand automatically, thinking about closing soon so you can go and see John. Nowadays, even the thought of him makes your blood pump heavy.Â
âHow can I help you today, Sir?â Your brushes find the side table you had set up, locking eyes with a tall, thin man in his late thirties. He wears a suit, and in his breast pocket, thereâs the gleam of a gold chain attached to a pocket watch.Â
âIâm here to ask about a detail in your paintings, Miss.â Heâs well-spoken as well, and youâre shocked to know you haven't met him yet if he lived in Redthorpeâhe doesnât seem familiar at all.
âOf course,â you nod, perplexed. âIâm sorry, I think I missed your name.â
âNoah Moore,â is the even response. Noah is already walking around, bending to look into some of your work which hangs on the wall. âMy neighbor brought home one of your pieces; I found I liked it very much. Had even considered commissioning.â
Noah? You blink slowly, watching. Wasnât that Eleanorâs husband?
âThank you,â your lips move, thinning. âThatâs very high praise, Mr. Moore.âÂ
âThis creature,â Noah stands, and dark eyes set on you. For some reason, the hair along your arms stands on end. âThe man with a fish tail. Have you seen him?â
Your instant reaction is to lie, and that in and of itself is a telltale sign that something is wrong. Noah makes the alarm in the back of your head go off for no reason other than the way heâs trying to pry with that unblinking gaze of his. The rich apparel; the attitude. He isnât right.
âSeen him?â Chuckles echo off the walls. âWho? The beast? No, Sir, thatâŚthingâŚis just something I made up.â You wave a hand, but back up a step, trying to create distance. Your hip lightly bumps the side table, and your materials jerk. Gasping under your breath, your head snaps down, catching your brush before it can fall. âOh my, clumsy me.â you laugh stiffly. âApologies, Sir, but thatâs the truth. I wanted to create something that all of Redthrope might enjoy; a local legend of sorts, see.â
Your eyes had siphoned back with a dread in your heart. The man mutely stares, a deep frown pulling his lips. As if the conversation had never happened, after a long stretch of tension, Noah smiles widely.Â
âAh,â he huffs, âof course. It was silly of me to ask.â Dark eyes are emotionless, and the pull of his eyelids is not there. Spine so tight it could snap in half, and your fingers curl around the brush before you place it down stiffly. âThough,â Mr. Moore clicks his tongue, taking one step closer.Â
Your eyes widen, but you say nothing. Your mind flashes to John, and thereâs a longing for the ocean so strong, it seems a good idea to you, to rush out the door right now and sprint for it; hurl yourself to the waves, if need be. Heâd find youâyou know he would.
âThough,â Noah continues, tilting his head. âThere is a striking resemblance to a creature I recall seeing from the cliffs, the day my wifeâs body was found at the rocks.âÂ
Backing up another step, your muscles ache with how you hold them like a shield to your organs.Â
âAs far as I know, only two others were searching at my side that day. And in it I am certain,â he hums, âyou werenât even here.â
Otto and the librarian, you think quickly, mind a mess of information and fear. Itâs why theyâre so spooked. They think John actually killed Eleanor and left herâthey saw him bring her body to shore.
Itâs a lack of foresight on your part, that the next bark is more of a reaction to the panic than proper knowledge, cracking under pressure.Â
âJohn would never kill an innocent woman!âÂ
Itâs as if a switch goes off, and, suddenly, thereâs a ruthless hand grabbing at your throat. Yelping, you stagger back and snap your fingers to Noahâs wrist, clawing until thereâs blood under your nails; air is sucked in with a wheeze. In the back of your head, thereâs wild screaming, and you canât tell if itâs the pounding of your blood or the internal sensation of primal fear.Â
Raging eyes shove themselves right in front of yours, faces so close you can feel Noahâs hot breath moving over your burning face. You try to cough but find you canât as one of your hands struggles to slap to the side tableâsearching fruitlessly.Â
âJohn?â Noah sneers, holding tighter. âThe thing has a name?â
Your easel clatters to the ground, back being shoved right into it. Mouth opening and closing, the cut of oxygen reduces your mind to acting purely off instinctâbreaking down like glass to fracture to only one thing: survival.
âIt was perfect,â Mr. Moore growls, eyes ablaze. âI had it all planned out, only to be ruined by a freak of nature at the last moment!âÂ
Your nails gouge the wood, dragging, searching, slapping. Anythingâanything at all to help as your boots scrape from under you. You canât even comprehend the words being said; all of it is a blur as blackness peels the side of your vision.Â
Tears splatter down your cheeks.
âTwo years, and then you had to come along and fucking speak to it! What did it tell you? Eh? What did it see that night?â
Your hand curls the glass bottle where you store your brushes and without another thought, you slam the side of it to Noahâs head.Â
Shouting, the man releases you in an instant, glass leaving long lines of blood splattering out to sprinkle your face as it shatters, collapsing into itself. Connecting to the ground, your hacking can only take place for under two seconds before your boots scramble for purchase, stumbling and flailing at least once; lungs gasping.Â
Shoulder connecting with the side of the door frame as you bang it open, an enraged scream follows you into the rainy afternoon, the rumble of deadly thunder far overhead.Â
Running, you donât know how to stop, and itâs even harder to catch your breath by the time youâre down to the rocks, looking over your shoulder as if Noah would be right behind you. He wasnâtâbut the fear was enough to keep you going until you were bathed in sweat and barely strong enough to fall into the entrance of Johnâs cave, fingers cut up and raw from grappling over stone.
Thereâs a quick call of your name from across the enclosed space, but your ears are ringing too loud to hearâwhipping around to stare at the entrance as you struggle back on your hands, legs shaking.Â
âLove!â
Your eyes slash to the side, and through the quivering of your lashes, through the blur of tears, you lock onto the desperate slash of grayish-blue thatâs a near-perfect reflection of the ocean itself. Painting, the realization comes a moment too late, as pale fingers touch your cheek and you flinch back with a deep pain in your neck.Â
Pulsing veins echo along your entire body, but there, at the point of where hands had wrapped your flesh, it burned with a horrible fire that made thin noise escape your lips.
âHey,â John breathes, having dragged himself at a momentâs notice across the floor of the cave. âHey,â he repeats slower, eyes slashing you up and down for any sign of injury.Â
His hand is outstretched, but he doesnât try to touch you again seeing how youâd jerked away. The manâs heart had stopped at thatâhis concern shooting up similar to how he felt when youâd raced through the entrance as if a fire was on your heels. A near panic at the fear on your face, leaving his body on high alert; eyes skating the surrounding quickly.
But the splatters of blood on your face were something to reduce him to an enraged beast.
âWhat is going on,â he tries to keep the rough anger from his tone, attempting to leave it soft and smooth. Thereâs only so much he can do, though, as you shake and pant.Â
Your body gradually slows itself, attention seeping back to allow you to take control of your limbs. The first thing you see clearly is Johnâs outstretched hand, and, then, the clench of his jawâthe eyes that follow every teardrop down the flesh of your cheek.
Openly gazing, when John sees youâre back, his blues slip to a softened caress.Â
âLove,â he mutters, face tight.Â
You shove yourself into his arms and let off a sob that echoes louder than any laughter could. Curling into his chest, water seeps into your shirt, but the all-expansive hand that keeps you close is worth every clothesline you would have to hang.Â
âShh,â John breathes, knowing that heâd get an explanation when he calmed you down, even if his mind was breaking itself to try and understand. âIâm right here, Sunshine. Breathe, thenâŚIâm right here, yeah?âÂ
His nose pushes itself into your scalp as your head hides away, quivering body curled like a cat around a fishâno air between the two of you, chests running across the others. So little space, and yet this breathlessness was one you could welcome time and time again.
John watches, eyes always open as he glares into your hair, grip tightening the longer you cry; a feeling so potent brimming in his chest, he would be a fool to ignore it.
You were more precious to him than any ring, than any trinket he could stash away and forget about. The way his heart bent to yours was stronger than any storm.Â
Breathing down your scent, John sighed, kissed the top of your head, and lightly rocked you back and forth.Â
Heâd wait as long as it took.
â
When it became apparent you couldnât speak beyond broken little coughs and wheezes, John was quick to bring you to the water of the pool. Â
Now, perhaps hours later, you sit with the burn and fatigue of crying eyes, sniffling as you shove away the stain of red on your cheeks.Â
âCareful,â John lightly comments, grasping your hand and pulling it away. His own replaces it, wet from the water he now wades in to help. âLet me get it, eh?â
Your eyes stay stuck to his nose as fingers push away the crimson of blood easily, firm but still utterly delicate.Â
âIâm not glass,â you croak, one hand near your throat.Â
Blue eyes blink at you. âNever said you were,â he grunts, frowning, and you see his Adamâs Apple bob. âDonât like seeing you with blood on your face, Love.â
Like it had never happened, the fingers return, and a moment later, he grumbles out, âAnd stop talkingâyouâll make it worse.âÂ
You hadnât explained, not yet, but by the utter rage you see John trying to hide from you, you know he understands how you might have gotten the swelling now present on your neck. His heart had been visibly pumping the entire time youâd been here; you could hear it when he was holding you, a relentless, thump-thump-bump, thump-thump-bump in your ear.
The brunette had been clenching his jaw more as well, grunting as if a boar after every sentence, a nervous habit, perhaps. He was trying to mask it for you, but you werenât blind.Â
John pauses his cleaning, glancing at your throat.Â
He studies your face after he hums under his breath, having to dart his gaze away for a moment.Â
â...Can I?â You pause, swallowing as the burn persists.Â
Nodding after a minute of slow contemplation, cold hands shift to press carefullyânot tightening, not holding you thereâresting to give relief. You only tense a little, but as the seconds draw, John watches you sag forward with a large sigh through your nose.Â
He lets a small sliver of calm enter him.
âEasy,â John whispers, blinking. He keeps the chill of his hands at your neck, fins shifting the water to keep him still. âWhen youâre ready, explain it to me, eh?â His head tilts, voice a low tease. âGlass or not.âÂ
Your lips twitch, and the way your eyes melt could only be compared to safety. You open your lips, and John mutters lowly as your fingers brush over his own, âQuietly, now. Can hear just fineâdonât push yourself.âÂ
Blue flickers to your touch, fingertips trailing his knuckles as the man grunts, attention fluttering back.Â
All you say is one name.Â
âNoah.âÂ
Thereâs a moment of confusion on Johnâs face, skin wrinkling, before the understanding settles swiftlyâhe wasnât a fool. From there, his expression changes ten times over; that rage, then fear for you, confusion, and stubbornness. Itâs of little surprise to you that a man so loyal was reduced to a dog.Â
A dog with scales, that is.
Your body is still running hotâyour heart still pumping, though the adrenaline has left with all of its stimulation. Youâre tired, yes, that much is obvious. But you want John to hold you again.Â
When you shift your body, the manâs eyes widen, and he blinks quickly in shock as your legs then slip into the waves inch by inch.
A noise exits the back of his throat, and Johnâs mouth moves in serious question. âWhat are you doing? Fucking hell, would you just stay still and let me have a look at youââ
Arms grapple around his waist, and a warm head burrows into his neck.Â
You rest against him, body suspended in the water of the deep pool, a mermanâs tail swishing to shove you the tiniest bit closer unconsciously. Johnâs chest bounces with every emotion, but all he does is stop you from sinking by holding you. Your eyes close at the dig of his hands, and, letting the water move the both of you, the smooth scales along your legs feel as if the finest silk. A thumb caressing up and down your spine; breath at the top of your head.
You both say nothing, and itâs a long while before either of you takes any action to leave.
â
When your words could be strung together and not broken every other sentence, you explained all of it, and the hunch youâd strung together in the meantime.
You fiddle with one of Johnâs ringsâthe emerald oneâas you glance up and speak softly, voice still delicate. The pain still blossomed, but some things needed to be explained.
âI think he killed his wife.âÂ
By the way John stops massaging the flesh of your neck, letting you rest your head in the crook of where his tail begins and skin ends, you knew he already pieced that together a while ago. Your clothes were still heavy with water, and a puddle had formed around the both of you on the rocks.
âHm,â is all John says, fixing the position of his lips as he looks away.
He shakes his head, growling out, âYouâre not going back up there. Not while heâs still walking the streets.â
You frown, but John glares without any venom. âIt wasnât a question, Love.â
âWhat will you do,â you whisper, voice hoarse. A brow quirks. âRun after me, John?â
The man stares, not taking it as lightly as you. âIf I have to.â
Your breath hitches, hands resting numbly over the ring as Johnâs fingers once again continue their touchingâas if he can rub away the swelling; the damage of the veins.Â
âYou donât have legs,â you utter, having to pause in the middle of the sentence to breathe deeply.Â
âIâll crawl,â he grunts.
âThe rocks are sharp.â
His face is immobile. âThen Iâll bleed.â
Your mind memorized the stubbornness of his expressionâthe pull of the crowâs feet beside his eyes. There wasnât an ounce of a joke in Johnâs eyes; no lie. Watching him, your face is loose with wonder, and water drips from your temple to connect with those dark navy scales, glinting with the light from the outside sun growing low.Â
The ring in your hands is frozen, stopping its turning as your pulse soars.
John licks the corner of his mouth, glancing at the item of gold and green.Â
âKeep it,â he mutters, tilting his head to the ring. âMore of a use to you.âÂ
Larger fingers capture yours, and in one deft motion, the elegant item is slipped onto your digit, sitting comfortably as if made just for you.Â
John shrugs. âThe rest of âem, too, if you want the damn things.â His blues card over the view of your hand, and imagines fingers filled with every bit of gold and silver obtainable to him, brought up from the ocean just to sit pretty atop your flesh. Necklaces, bracelets, belts, and accessories; the things heâd seen from far distant waters.Â
Oh, but theyâd pale in comparison to how you would wear them.Â
A muse to a song. A painter to a portrait.Â
A women to the water.
Heâd seen your latest sketchesâyouâd brought them down to him hereâand when you were exploring this cave, he had taken a peak. Unlike him, yes, but there was a pull to it, that parchment bound by leather. Heâd not seen anything like it, and as he had watched you work on occasion, he was entranced as heâd listened to you explain it. Youâd told him that you could even manipulate color, and that had left his eyes widening in awe.
You were incredible, and when he saw his own likeness littering page after page, John had been unable to take his eyes off of you. A silent appreciationâa voiceless devotion. Heâd never beenâŚcaptured like this, so to speak. A mirror image. Details he didnât even know himself, and yet there they were.Â
Beauty marks across his cheeks and nose, the scars that littered his flesh that heâd all but forgotten about, the list was endless.Â
But he looks at you now, and he can understand why thereâs a draw to immortalize the mortal.Â
His fingers stay at yours, and they brush skin as they dip along your hand, falling to your wrist. You stare up into his eyes, he stares down into yours. Thereâs little air to be taken in between the two of you.Â
âJohn,â you utter, blue gaze stuck to your lips.Â
He hums, tilting his head, his body looming over yours like a shadow. By the time his face is so near to yours, you donât want to fight it, you donât want to think about the strangeness of this predicament youâve found yourself inâa creature living in the cliffs, handsome and half-inhuman.
When smooth lips brush over yours, and your eyelashes begin to flutter, the shouts from outside break whatever spell had just started weaving itself.Â
Head snapping up, Johnâs body tenses as you push upward quickly. Attention slashing to the cave entrance, itâs not long before you realize whatâs going on with a sharp breath and a leap to your pulse.Â
The smash of something connecting to rocks echoes like a feral killing song. Yells. Yowls.Â
âJohn,â you say hurriedly, flinching from the pain in your throat. Your eyes dart to his tension-ridden form, his arms wrapping above your body. âYou need to run,â you choke out. âGo! Quickly!â
You only get a glance, and the clench of his jaw is as stubborn as it always is. Your brain already knows itâs fruitless. He wonât leave you here alone.
âTheyâll kill you!â Your hands push at his chest, finger grasping at the bristle of hair to try and shove at an iron will.Â
âStay under me,â John mutters, voice low and nothing more than a chilled order. Yet, even he knows thereâs little that heâd be able to do. His eyes flashed to every trinket and bauble he had collected, the new ones heâd yet to show to you, but there was few in the way of weapons. A dagger or two from a trench, a sword from under a shipâa spearhead. All too far away and rusted for it to even matter.Â
There was a sharp feeling in Johnâs chest. A need. An oath that he gave to himself the moment heâd seen the way your little stick could breathe his image onto a sheet made of fibers.Â
He was to watch over you whenever you were in his sights, and that had extended itself to gliding through the water as he watched you climb and grunt your way to his cave; a careful eye that he had no need to tell you about. That was just how he was.Â
âJohn!â You try to bark again, growing desperate.Â
Yet, it was already too late, and the merman hadnât shifted even an inch before Noah, Otto, and the Librarian burst through the entrance like bats from hell. They hold all manner of weapons, though the more you blink in a panic, the less afraid of them you seem, at the very least, the older man and the woman.
Otto held a cut-up and dented club, nothing more than something youâd keep for a home invasion beside the bedâthe Librarian, a heavy book that seemed to contain every bit of information available to the world, so large it strained in her hands. Noah, though, was a different story.Â
He had a sharp, long knife and eyes that could cut flesh by themselves.Â
Half of Mr. Mooreâs face was sliced up, cuts leaking blood to the groundâskin hanging and an eye completely poked with glass; shards in its gentle makeup.Â
You swallow saliva and stutter through a shaking breath, and Johnâs glare could burn cities as he feels it reverberating against him.Â
âThere!â Noah shouts, balking closer. âSee! I knew it was hereâseducing the next woman to take to the ocean!âÂ
Your wide eyes try to take it all in, hands slapping the ground sending droplets of collected water flying. Johnâs face hones in, digging in like how the glass from your brush container had into Noahâs visage, and, somehow, you think that dead stare can cause more damage. Grasping the mermanâs waist, you attempt and silently urge him to go.Â
âGirl!â Otto calls quickly, eyes darting from you to John and back. Even if you could yell, youâre not sure you would. You wouldnât even know what to say. âGet away from it!â
âIâd put that down,â John grunts to Noah, disregarding the old man and the librarian entirely. He clenches his jaw. ââFore you end up hurting yourself. Leave.â
âOtto,â you start, glancing at the woman beside your friend who looked like she was about to pass out when John had started to speak. The man in questionâs face pulls, wrinkles thinning. âYou have to listen to me, please, itâs not how Mr. Moore told youââ
âIt speaks!â Noah barks, pointing his knife harder at John. âFreak of nature, it already has its hold on her.â
âOh my,â the Librarian gasps. âNoah, itâs horribleâlook at the tail.â
Your eyes flare with rage as John doesnât react.
âHey!â You shout, but instantly slap your free hand to your throat, coughing raggedly until your spine hunches. The merman brings you closer, but youâre already pushing until youâre on your feet, stumbling for a moment as John gives you a sharp look.
âYou watch your bloody mouth,â you grid out, glaring, whipping your hands to get rid of the water droplets. Noah licks his lips as John grabs onto the back of your knee, fingers resting firmly. Sending a look down to him, your shoulders loosen at the expression he levels. You can almost hear the words.
 Steady. Keep your head on.
Though, a slash of silent pride made your heart stutter a small bit.
Your eyes glint. âDrop your weapons,â your sentence is crackling but nonetheless sharp. âLeave. John is innocentâhe told me all of it.â You turn to Otto. âMr. Moore attacked me in my shop, I smashed a glass container into his head so he would release me.â Otto tenses, club getting strangled by his fingers.Â
âNoah killed Eleanor,â you breathe, Johnâs grip pulling a bit tighter as if sensing something you have yet to see. Noah shifts quickly, boots squeaking along the rock as he growls.Â
âAbsurdâ!â
âHe pushed her over the rocks and blamed John when he saw him bringing back her body,â you interrupt as fast as you can, pain bouncing off your throat. âYou all saw it on the shore, the lie was simple enough for a man like him. Saying she drowned to a creature.â
It didnât surprise you that John was quiet, that he was studying more the stance of men instead of talking or trying to defend himself. While he could be hard-headed and stiff, he was never dullâhe never missed ques. So when Noah launched himself at you, Otto and the Librarian more confused and concerned than anything, there was only a heavy push on the back of your knee that left you buckling with a gasp, and then the explosion of water as John sent you both quickly to the water.
Hands whipping to snare around the mermanâs shoulders, youâre only able to get a quick breath in before youâre completely enveloped in water, with Johnâs hand setting itself over your mouth just in case. The sudden rush is comparable to a heavy wind, yet far more cold and nearly like a slap to the back of your spine.Â
You both disappear into the deep with a spray, Noahâs muffled yells of terror seen far above near the surface, arms captured by the Librarian and Ottoâheld at his sides. Thereâs a flash of those dark eyes, horrible things, and then Johnâs fins hide the rest as they slash through the water.Â
When you both resurface, retreating far back near the watery entrance of the cave, John keeps you firmly behind him, your arms around his waist as you gasp for air. He keeps his head slightly turned to the sideâalways having you in the corner of his vision. Above the spread of his shoulders, you peek softly, legs suspended below.Â
âLier!â Noah screams, face contorted. âSheâs lying!â
You look at Otto and see the grim way heâs already looking back, struggling to keep the younger individual from breaking free. He was sensical, but stubborn in his ways. Otto had a choice just as the librarian didâbelieve a woman whoâd been here a year or someone theyâd known nearly their entire lives.
âNoah,â Otto grunts, gritting his teeth. âBreathe, boy! Stop spitting, let her speakââ
The knife in Noahâs hands slashes the air, and suddenly thereâs a yell from the librarian and a spray of blood.Â
âOtto!â You scream, fingers flinching.Â
The old man stumbles, hoarsely crying out as he grasps at his neck. Your eyes widen, mouth ajar as John pushes his hand into your head, shoving it into the back of his hair as he watches blankly, eyes glinting with a deadly hate.Â
âDonât move,â he utters quickly, sternly, to you as your breath breaks, mouth slack to stare at nothing. Scales skate your legs, great kelp-like fins curling your ankle. âKeep still. Focus on my words, Love.â Under his breath is a tight, âFuck!â
John speaks above the garglingâthe spillage of blood to stone. He mutters through the screams of the Librarian as Noah slips trying to run to the entrance, scrambling with bulging eyes.Â
âDonât look,â John says to you lowly, shifting his body as he keeps your face hidden away and let him hold you like a corpse to the earth. The soundsâŚoh, the sounds were horrible.Â
But the man holding you tries very hard to hide them.
Your body quivers violently as the slam of a body hits the ground, the frantic calling of the woman still here with the both of you; the loud calls from the fleeing murder outside the walls.
âThatâs it,â Johnâs fast lips are on the top of your head, muttering and trying to make his voice as even as possible. âThatâs it, then. Doing good, donât move until I say so, alright?â
When you donât answer, only shoving your visage deeper into his neck, his spine-breaking-hold squeezes once, and his pounding heart bounces opposite yours. You donât have to say you know him to understand that heâs only holding onto a thread of good manners, and that was certainly only for our own sake.
Otto was dead.
John leads you out, the gold and emerald of your ring glinting in the moonlight as he holds your body to his, the powerful make of his tail doing the work as it shines in the water. He leaves you outside, where the still running form of Noah is visible, yet the only person noticing is John himself. Your hands are so shaky that it would be impossible to hold your sketchbook, let alone a pencil.Â
John takes one of them as Mr. Moore gets too close to the shoreline, slipping and getting his foot caught in between two stones. He panics, yelling loudly, as water is lapping up to his knee.
âHey, hey, you hear me?â John asks, uncaring to the man, as he sets you down softly on a flat rock shelf. Fingers move to sit at your chin, and, through tight sniffles, you make delicate eye contact. He blinks, trying a tight smileâa flash nothing more. âThere she is. Good...I need you to listen one last time, yeah? Just like before; donât look until I say so.â Your face creases lightly, blinking through a haze of senses and horror. Otto was dead.Â
The man that brought you out on his boatâthe man that cooked you fish and acted as if a guardian to you. His cat, who would take care of her? It seemed a silly thought given the circumstances, but you canât stop your mind from running. The house, the boat, the cat. The blood.Â
âThereâs nothing out here that can hurt you,â John grunts, grasping your hands and holding them, letting calluses and scars speak. âSo long as Iâm here, I wonât let it.âÂ
He nearly growls out the words. In one movement, he puts your hand to his heart, and your brain latches onto the rhythm as your own rampages in your ears.Â
Noah is still screaming, but now itâs for help.
Johnâs voice lowers as he utters, âHey,â the man licks his lips, eyes dancing to the side every once and a while. You stare, swallowing down bile. He says as fluidly as possible, keeping constant locked gazes.Â
âStay here. I wonât be long.â
Fingers glide down your neck again, feeling that swelling, and just as you register the kiss thatâs leveled to your hand, to that gifted ring, Johnâs already away; his tail slipping over your flesh, fins gripping, writhing with their film.Â
Yet, you have no trouble following his advice.Â
The rising screams from Mr. Moore are numb to you, and the following wave of water that swallows him is only accented by the hand that grapples for his neck.Â
John always seemed the one for revenge.
â
With the Librarian's newfound cooperation, the story became simple.Â
Mr. Moore, distraught over the death of his wife, had finally lost it all when down on the beach with Otto, yourself, and the local Librarianâattacking and killing the old man in response to being so near to where he and his wife always traveled to. Afterward, heâd walked into the sea and had taken his own life.Â
The authorities werenât going to dispute it.Â
You sold Otto's house a week after his death, seeing as heâd named you the sole inheritor of his estate and belongings. There was no need for two properties, and sitting in that small place was akin to torture. After all, heâd been doing what he thought was right, and dying for a lie is nothing short of cruel to those left behind who knew the truth.Â
Harriet stays in the shop with you, where sheâll probably live out the rest of her nine lives peacefully. Sheâs quite fond of the fireplace.Â
Most days, people find you near the water, and itâs something that wasnât going to change even after Noahâs body was found in the rocksâfreakishly close to where Eleanorâs had been. Some were calling it poetic and youâd have to agreeâŚbut for different reasons.
âYou shouldnât be giving me all of these,â you huff months later, sitting on the rock looking out over the water. A large collection of Johnâs trinkets is piled high in a wrapping of seaweed, shining bright as you mess with your pencil, leaning to stare at him.
Johnâs lips flicker into a smirk. He hums, content to watch you, from where he rests not an inch away. You lean into him, sighing, as the innumerable glinting rings on your fingers shimmer.Â
âWant to,â he grumbles.Â
Rolling your eyes, you look back down to your book, three of four replicas of the manâs scale pattern sitting, shaded and duplicatedâlifelike. His tail sways with the water, half of it lost below.Â
Your hands reach for them now, the scales closest to you, and you lightly poke and prod as John grunts above you, silent but willing in a way that speaks volumes. Heâd let no one else touch him like this for the rest of his lifeâthe softness of your fingers and the care on your face more precious than gold. You revered that tail of his; as if it gave over magic like a wishing well.Â
Shivering, Johnâs breath hitches as your exploring moves, pushing lightly at where the top of his hips would be.
Your talent was fascinating to him, just as you were. If you wanted to âpaintâ him, heâd allow you to do all the studies needed. Not only to give you a distractionâŚ.but because he canât bear to be away from you anymore. It makes him nervous, and that in itself is an incredible feat.
âWhere do you come from, John,â your question moves the air, and the man moves to pull your jacket higher up your body to stave off the chill. You glance at him, smiling, before your attention returns to your drawings. Sketching more, John resets his lips and tries not to stare at your face. It was getting harder to deny that pull.Â
That near kiss.
âNo answer, Love.â You stare as he quirks a lip, voice lowering. âI wonât be going back to distant waters anytime soon.â
John glances down at your sketchbook, seeing every scratch and bend of care. The both of you were strange creatures, perhaps. Uniqueâmade for one another despite the obvious.Â
He nods his head to it softly. The water laps at your boots from below, but you care little before John shifts your feet carefully further up with a push from his tail. You chuckle at him breathily, face heating.
âGetting water on you, Love,â he breathes. âNew painting soon?â John asks when the silence settles once more, with you shifting your legs to sit under you. He still isnât sure what painting entails, but you had told him that you would show him soon, so he knows to be patient. But yearning for anything regarding you is ingrained into his mind nowâinstinct.
âMhm,â you smile softly, sending a look at your paper and the images. A huff escapes your mouth. âI think Iâll make this one a portrait.â
John blinks, tilting his head slightly. âPortrait? Whyâs that?âÂ
Your lips find his, moving back up in an instant.Â
For a second, the manâs surprised eyes pull back; only lowering as he hums moments later, fingers curling up under your chin as he sags. Lids flutter closed, and his tail twitches lightly.
âI have a subject thatâs caught my eye.â You mutter into his flesh when you pull back, face burning as deep blues sear your mind, turning it into mush. Your skin tingles as chilled digits trail your chin, dripping water down your healed throat.
John watches, lips parted, as you continue on.Â
âAnd Iâd be a fool if I let him swim off.â
The both of you were going to be perfectly fine.

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