#The Jewel Keeper | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kingofbodyrolls · 1 month ago

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Moonglade (m) | kth

You’ve always been captivated by the sea—a love as deep and endless as the tides. But when tragedy strikes, that love turns bittersweet, and you find yourself drawn to the very thing that stole a part of your soul. Night after night, you pour your sorrows into the embrace of moonlight and whisper your pain to the stars. Then, one fateful evening, a merman surfaces from the depths—a being of myth and wonder. Will you dare to believe in fairytales and the magic of second chances? In hope, love, and the possibility of forever? Perhaps, he’s here to show you that even in the darkest corners, beauty and light can still thrive.

→ Pairing: taehyung x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff / smut / angst / romance / comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 15.4k → Warnings (general) + triggers: mention of an accident at sea (doesn’t happen to reader), technically Tae’s first time with a human, this is again somewhat of a crackfic. → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (stay safe!), breast play, fingering, multiple orgasms (yes, it’s very very vanilla). → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: this one takes place before Seokjin’s ‘When it Sinks In’. To be honest, I don’t know what I feel about this one… like I like it, but.. I’m so sorry that the smut turned rather short and ehh…Yeah, I don’t know. I might be too hard on myself. But here it is! And I hope you like it, please let me know 🪸

[s.masterlist] → this is part of a collection of series that are stand-alone one-shots, but all of them are set in the same universe. They are slightly connected though 🤭

Taehyung adores his underwater world—his home, the ancient and wondrous city of Naraeum, nestled deep in the sea beneath the waves. Though Naraeum stretches vast and magnificent, with coral spires and shadowed grottos echoing songs of old, his heart has always been tugged by a strange longing for the world above, the realm of humans. For Taehyung is a curious soul, drawn to the mysterious trinkets cast into the sea from distant shores. He loves nothing more than to seek out these treasures, to hold them in his hands, to wonder at their history, and to dream of what stories they might hold.

Today, he’s joined by Namjoon, his friend and fellow collector, whose fascination lies not in human relics but in the jeweled stones and sea-polished crystals that glimmer beneath the sands. Together, they comb the seabed, weaving through a forest of swaying kelp, their laughter rising like bubbles through the emerald currents. The seafloor is dense and rich with secrets, the sands thick with memories of shipwrecks and forgotten eras.

Suddenly, Taehyung catches a glint—a flash of something golden hidden beneath the silt. With a quick flick of his shimmering tail, he dives down, his fingers sifting eagerly through the cool, coarse sand until they find purchase on the small object. It’s a locket, tarnished and weathered by time, yet beautiful, its surface etched with delicate engravings that seem to whisper stories only the waves remember.

“What did you find?” Namjoon’s voice is soft with wonder as he swims close, his own satchel bulging with crystals and fragments of shells.

“A locket,” Taehyung murmurs, gazing at the relic in awe. Reverently, he loops it around his neck, letting it rest against his chest like a secret that has finally found its keeper.

“Are you just going to wear it like it’s yours? You don’t even know who it belongs to. What if someone’s searching for it?” Namjoon asks, crossing his arms, one brow lifted in mild reproach.

Taehyung huffs, clutching the locket as if it might vanish from his grasp. “I doubt any human misses it,” he mutters, voice carrying a soft defiance. “They’re the ones who cast it to the sea. Besides—finder’s keeper.”

Namjoon rolls his eyes but follows along, his own curiosity piqued, as they drift along the sandy seabed, sweeping their gaze over shells, stones, and hints of hidden treasure. Gradually, their winding path carries them back to the heart of Naraeum, their bustling city, where ancient, towering coral spires glow softly in the filtered light. They spot Seokjin waiting by the marketplace, chatting with a mermaid they don’t recognize.

“Hi, guys!” Seokjin waves as they approach, his face bright with a rare excitement.

Taehyung, always one for meeting new souls, looks curiously at the girl beside Seokjin, though he notices a flicker of uncertainty in her eyes, the way she clings to his friend as if his presence alone anchors her. “Who’s that?” he asks softly, nodding toward the mermaid, whose gaze flits away, half-hidden by a veil of long hair.

“This is Soo-ah,” Seokjin explains, voice gentle. “I found her wandering near the outer reefs. She seems to have lost her memory—she doesn’t know where she’s from or which Cove she belongs to. I thought it best to bring her here.”

Understanding fills Namjoon’s eyes, while Taehyung’s expression softens with sympathy. He stretches a hand toward her, a warm smile on his lips. “Welcome to Naraeum, Soo-ah. I hope you’ll feel at home here.”

Soo-ah returns his smile, faint but genuine, her fingers brushing his in a tentative greeting before Seokjin nudges her forward, eager to show her the city’s wonders. With a soft laugh, Taehyung watches them go, feeling a flicker of something unplaceable in his chest as they disappear into the crowd.

A few days pass, and Taehyung is thrilled to have roped his friend Jimin into joining him for another treasure hunt. They swim beyond the city’s edge, far into the open sea, until the distant shore is visible, a shadowed line against the water’s surface. Jimin grumbles, claiming they’ve been swimming forever, but Taehyung only grins, his heart thrumming with anticipation. In the depths, beneath the waves, he knows more secrets wait to be uncovered.

“Look! A tiny mirror!” Taehyung squeals with delight as he catches a glint of light reflecting from the seabed, his eyes wide with childlike wonder.

“Big deal. We have mirrors at home, you know,” Jimin replies with a dramatic sigh, rolling his eyes. But he can’t hide his curiosity as he follows Taehyung deeper into the water, pulled along by his friend’s infectious enthusiasm.

They glide past a sunken shipwreck, its wooden bones stretching toward them like the fingers of an ancient ghost. Diving down, they slip through broken windows, marveling at the corroded cannons and the shadowed halls, their hands skimming over fragments of a life lost long ago. In one darkened cabin, Taehyung spots gleaming jewels and slips them into his bag with reverence, like they’re not just trinkets but pieces of a forgotten story. They pass skeletal remains, likely crew members left here by the merciless pull of the sea, and Taehyung feels a pang in his chest, a whisper of sorrow for those whose journey ended here, swallowed by the depths. But he presses on, the mystery pulling him further, and Jimin trails behind, loyal and watchful.

Eventually, with their search exhausted, they swim back out, drifting toward the distant shoreline, reluctant to head home just yet. The water grows darker, the sun having long ago slipped below the horizon, casting the world in an indigo glow. The stars above are a faint shimmer, barely visible through the shifting waves, and Taehyung knows that night has fully settled over the land.

“Shouldn’t we head back? Aren’t you tired yet?” Jimin mutters, his tone laced with fatigue, though his eyes still follow Taehyung’s every move.

Taehyung turns to him with a grin as wide and bright as a rising moon, his boxy smile full of boundless energy. “Tired? Never,” he laughs, his voice a spark in the endless sea, as he dives toward a narrow, shallow path, leading them further on into the night.

“I’ve never been here before…,” Taehyung whispers as he glides along the narrow, winding path and finally breaches the surface. He blinks, momentarily stunned, as he takes in the world above: towering trees cloaked in emerald leaves, their branches reaching toward the darkening sky. Fireflies drift like tiny stars, casting a gentle glow over the small forest lake, as if the night itself were holding its breath. Everything about this place feels enchanted, suspended between dreams and reality, and he stares in wonder, feeling the stillness settle into his bones. Even the air tastes different here, crisp and earthy, laced with secrets of the forest.

Jimin surfaces behind him, equally mesmerized, his usual playful demeanor replaced by silent awe.

Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, to share his amazement, when a faint sound catches his attention—a low, quivering hum that drifts over the water like a ghostly echo. He tilts his head, straining to hear, and the sound grows clearer, shaping itself into soft, broken sniffling. Realization dawns, a pang of worry blooming in his chest. Someone is crying. The sadness in the sound pulls at him, mysterious and raw, urging him to go closer, to uncover the source of the sorrow.

But before he can move, Jimin’s hand clasps his shoulder firmly, a silent warning in his eyes. “It’s time to go back,” he says, his voice a low murmur that barely breaks the surface of the lake’s hushed silence.

“But… I think someone’s crying!” Taehyung protests, his voice urgent, almost pleading. A tug in his heart urges him forward; he’s certain it’s a human voice, fragile and alone in the shadows. What could a human be doing here, by a hidden lake in the depths of night?

Jimin doesn’t answer. Instead, his grip tightens, pulling Taehyung back toward the water, his gaze steady, unyielding. Though Jimin is shorter and smaller, he’s surprisingly strong when he’s determined, and Taehyung, reluctantly, lets himself be led away. They dive beneath the lake’s surface once more, leaving behind the strange, moonlit forest and the sound of that lonely, haunting cry echoing in Taehyung’s mind all the way home.

Even as the water wraps around him, soft and familiar, Taehyung can’t shake the image of that lake, of the fireflies and the trees like silent guardians. And most of all, he can’t shake the thought of the sad, unseen figure he left behind, and the mystery that still calls to him from above.

Resolute and drawn by a mystery he can’t shake, Taehyung returns to the hidden lake a few nights later, gliding through the darkened sea alone. The moon casts a silvery glow upon the water, guiding him back to the narrow path he discovered before, and he slips through the shadowy reeds, his curiosity mingling with an unspoken caution.

He lifts his head just above the surface, the cool night air prickling his skin as the faint sound of quiet, broken sobs fills his ears. The sound is unmistakable, stirring something deep within him—a sadness so raw it seems to seep into the very air around him. He swims closer, yet stays hidden in the veil of darkness, and then, he sees you.

You sit hunched over on a small island of grass, surrounded by the lake’s gentle embrace. The weeping willows arch overhead, their slender branches draping the earth like curtains drawn to guard this secret moment. Moonlight filters through the leaves, casting delicate patterns across your trembling form. From his hidden vantage, he watches as you bury your face in your hands, your shoulders shaking with each quiet sob. The ache in your cries is almost palpable, as if you are mourning something or someone lost to you, and Taehyung can feel the weight of your sorrow, heavy and consuming.

He longs to comfort you, to reach out and tell you you’re not alone beneath the stars. But he hesitates, recalling the whispered warnings of the elders: merfolk must never reveal themselves to humans. And yet, he can’t pull himself away; something in your sadness binds him here, helpless yet watchful. He stays, his heart aching with each tear that falls from your eyes, his gaze soft and steady as he remains a silent guardian under the moon’s gaze.

The hours pass in this suspended quiet, the lake holding its breath alongside him. He wonders if you might need help, if you’ll fall asleep there, alone and exposed beneath the vast, indifferent sky. It feels wrong, somehow, for you to be here in this vulnerable state, with no one but the stars to witness your sorrow.

Finally, you stir, lifting your sleeve to wipe away your tears, and he sees your face—tired, puffy-eyed, but beautiful in its fragility. With a sigh, you gather your bag and rise to your feet, sniffing softly, unaware of the silent figure who watches from the water. As you walk away, Taehyung sinks lower, letting only his eyes peek above the surface, mesmerized as you vanish into the night, your soft footsteps fading into the shadows.

Even after you’re gone, he lingers, the memory of your sorrow imprinted on his heart like a delicate bruise. He doesn’t yet understand why, but he knows he’ll be back—drawn to this secret, to this mysterious, solitary figure who has turned his world upside down with a single, silent night of tears.

The following night, as darkness settles over the world, Taehyung finds himself returning to the lake. It’s as if an invisible thread pulls him there, some magnetic force in the quiet forest that he can’t resist. He has to know if you’re alright, if you’ll be there again. And you are—still alone, still crying softly into the night, a solitary figure wrapped in sorrow.

He lingers, hidden within the water’s embrace, watching you through a screen of willow branches that sway like ghostly fingers. He wonders what sorrow could be so deep, so relentless, that it brings you back here each night, spilling your heart into the midnight air. Part of him aches, wishing he could understand, that he could share even a fragment of your pain to ease your burden. The night around you is hauntingly beautiful with fireflies drifting like fragments of stardust, casting soft glows, and delicate stars wink down through the sheltering branches. It’s a scene of quiet magic, but he can see that you are lost within yourself, too consumed by sadness to notice the wonder all around you.

Each night he returns, telling himself it’s only to ensure your safety, to make sure you’re not alone in your sorrow. Even though he knows nothing of your life—your name, your story—he feels drawn to you with an intensity he can’t explain, as if he were meant to watch over you, to shield you from some unseen hurt. Though he doesn’t know what shadows he’s protecting you from, he knows he cannot leave you to face them alone.

Night after night, he watches, until he’s lost count of the hours spent in silent vigil. In the quiet depths, he waits and watches, close enough now to see the details of your face, the way the moonlight catches on the tear-streaks, casting an ethereal glow over your delicate features. Even as you cry, he marvels at the beauty within your pain, the vulnerability that makes you shine like a rare treasure hidden in the night.

But his heart grows heavier each time he sees you, crouched and clutching your hands, lost in what seems an endless grief. He can feel the depth of your pain, a sadness that’s woven itself into the fabric of your being, yet he doesn’t know how to help or why you keep coming back to this hidden, enchanted lake.

Though he knows the risks of venturing so close, of revealing himself to a human, he can’t keep himself from returning. And as he watches you once more, he feels the quiet stirrings of a promise within him, a silent vow that he will stay, night after night, until he finds a way to bring you peace—or at least until he’s certain that you’re not alone beneath the stars.

You lift your gaze to the sky, eyes reflecting the silver glow of the moon and the scattered dust of stars. A single tear slips down your cheek, catching the light, and Taehyung aches to reach out, to brush it away with the soft edge of his finger, to bring you comfort, if only for a moment.

But before he can act on the impulse, he feels a stirring in the water beside him. Gently, he swishes his tail, trying to nudge the small creature away. The silence of the night is broken when, suddenly, a sharp nip jolts him from his reverie. He turns to find an irate crab, its claw clamped tightly onto his tail. Biting back a curse, he shakes the little creature free, muttering under his breath as he pulls it loose. But in his flurry of movement, he hears the soft murmur of silence fall over the lake.

The crying has stopped.

All around him, an eerie quiet settles, heavy and expectant.

And then, drifting on the night air, a soft whisper trembles through the silence. “Hello? Who’s there?”

The sound of your voice—fragile, uncertain, sweet with a hint of fear—strikes him still. His heart beats a little faster, and he pauses, debating with himself, caught between a desire to reveal himself and a need to stay hidden. He can sense your apprehension, see the way your form tenses as you look around, seeking the source of the noise in the shadows.

Before he can stop himself, he finds he’s already swimming closer, his curiosity overcoming his caution. His face breaks through the surface right in front of you, moonlight gleaming on his skin and you wide, startled eyes locking with his. The world holds its breath for a beat, until you release a piercing scream that echoes through the forest.

He flinches, shocked, and a nervous laugh bubbles up despite himself. Not quite the reaction he’d hoped for—but at least you’re not crying anymore, right? In that moment, he’s unsure if he’s brought wonder or fear to you, but he knows one thing for certain: the boundary between your worlds has shattered, and there’s no going back.

A scream rips from your lungs, raw and sharp, your hand flying to your heart as if to keep it from leaping out of your chest. But the sound dies in your throat as your eyes lock onto his, wide and brimming with disbelief. He stands there before you, framed by the moonlight, arms raised in a gesture of surrender, his gaze steady and soft, hoping to convey a harmlessness that transcends words.

You squint, brows furrowing as if he’s a puzzle to be solved, a creature from dreams suddenly come to life. In a quiet, almost reverent whisper, you ask, “Are you…a mermaid?”

“A merman,” he corrects with a gentle quip and a smile that flickers like sunlight on water. He slowly lowers his arms as he sees you relax, a tentative curiosity overtaking your fear.

A faint smirk tugs at the corner of your lips, though there’s still a trace of wariness in your stance. “You’re not here to…hypnotize me and drag me down to the bottom of the sea, are you?” you ask, arms crossing as you take a cautious step back.

He gasps, genuine alarm flashing across his face as he stumbles back a bit himself. “What? No!” he protests, voice pitching higher with surprise. “I’m a merman, not some Siren or Banshee!”

“What are you doing here, then?” you ask, voice edged with a fire he hadn’t expected, a fierceness that makes him certain you could hold your own if he meant any harm. But he doesn’t—and he aches to find the words that will ease the spark of worry in your eyes, to somehow convey that he’s here out of care, not threat.

“I…I’ve been watching you for a couple of weeks,” he begins, his words spilling out in a rambling rush, like a river suddenly freed of its banks. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright,” he adds, and too late, he realizes the impression his words might leave.

Your brow arches, your expression shifting to something between suspicion and shock. He feels his heart drop, an unwelcome warmth rising in his cheeks. “I—I mean, not watching you like that!” he stammers, lifting his hands in a flustered attempt to take back what he’s just said. “I just…saw you out here, and I was worried. You looked so…lost. I only wanted to make sure you were safe.”

A silence stretches between you, broken only by the soft rustle of willow branches and the distant call of a nightbird. He watches your chest rise and fall, sees the guardedness in your gaze slowly soften, the wary lines of your shoulders easing just a little, though you still hold yourself at the ready.

“Alright…” you say slowly, still scrutinizing him with cautious eyes. “Let’s say I believe you. If you were so worried, why didn’t you ever try to…to comfort me?”

The question hangs between you, quiet and unexpected. He blinks, taken aback by the vulnerability in your words. When he speaks, his voice is softer, laced with the sincerity that has been tugging at him all this time. “I didn’t want to frighten you,” he admits, almost whispering. “I thought if I came too close…you’d be scared.”

For a moment, you both stand in that enchanted hush, the forest lake around you holding its breath. You see something in his face then—a tenderness, a yearning as deep as the water itself. And as you meet his gaze, a flicker of understanding passes between you, a fragile connection that neither of you can name, but both can feel.

“But you just did,” you say, the faintest chuckle slipping from your lips—not quite laughter, but something softer, tinged with a warmth he’d only dared to hope for. The sound pulls a smile from him, a quiet thrill sparking in his chest.

“True enough,” he murmurs with a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “I really didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to be sure you were safe. I’m…so sorry for any fear I caused.”

You take a deep, steadying breath, letting the tension slip away as you exhale. “It’s okay,” you reply, your voice gentle as a breeze over the water.

Slowly, you sink back onto the cool, dewy grass, crossing your legs and glancing up at him with wide, searching eyes. “So…merfolk really exist?” The words come out with a hint of disbelief, your gaze taking in his green, shimmering tail with a sense of wonder barely concealed.

“We do,” he replies simply, watching your eyes rove over him, lingering in equal parts curiosity and awe. But as your gaze lands on the glint of gold against his bare chest, your expression shifts—your eyes widening, bright and incredulous, until he nearly laughs at the sight.

“That’s mine!” you gasp, pointing at the golden locket resting between his pectorals, your voice ringing with surprise. His hand moves instinctively to the locket, his fingers brushing its cool, familiar surface as he looks back at you, eyes widening in realization.

“This locket?” he asks, almost reverently, his fingertips grazing the delicate chain as if it were fragile, precious. In that moment, something stirs in him—a connection, a story he doesn’t yet know, that seems to flicker to life between you both.

“Yeah,” you breathe, your voice softening, as if the very air around you has shifted into something gentler. The tension in your shoulders melts away, and a sense of ease settles over you like a warm embrace.

You rise slowly, your movements graceful as you step closer, and without thinking, you stretch your hand toward the locket. But instead of touching the cool metal, your fingers brush the warm skin of his chest, sending a shiver through both of you. The touch is gentle, fleeting, but it lingers in the space between you, a silent understanding passing in the moment. Your skin is warm, and the contact, soft as a whisper, sends a soft flutter in his chest.

“If you open the locket,” you say, your voice almost a hush, “it’s engraved with a poem. It reads: ‘I am the moon; Queen of Night, a riddle wrapped in borrowed light, a silver spool where dreams unwind, an ancient orb as old as time’.” You recite the words with a quiet reverence, and when you finally realize your hand still rests on his chest, you jerk it back as if burned by fire, your cheeks flushing with sudden heat. “Sorry,” you murmur, your voice faltering in the slightest, a quiet apology hanging in the air.

Taehyung, his curiosity piqued, slowly opens the locket, his fingers tracing the delicate engraving you’d shared with him. As he reads the poem aloud in his mind, something stirs deep within him, an unspoken connection to the words. He looks at you with awe, as if the very essence of the poem were now tangled with the mystery of who you are. “A human... actually lost this?” he murmurs, a spark of wonder and disbelief in his eyes.

“How did you lose it?” he asks, his voice gentle but filled with the kind of curiosity that can only come from a heart that’s already begun to care. He carefully slips the locket from his neck and extends it toward you, offering it back with an open hand.

The moment your fingers close around the locket, you freeze, and for a fleeting second, the sadness he’d seen in you before resurfaces, washing over your face like a shadow. It pulls at something in him—something tender, something raw.

Your gaze drops to the grassy earth, and the air between you grows heavy with the silence of unanswered questions. You don’t speak, your lips pressed tight, but the weight of what’s left unsaid hangs in the air, thick and palpable. The sadness is back, clinging to you like a second skin, and Taehyung can’t help but wonder: what lies behind that silence? What is it that haunts you?

“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” Taehyung says softly, his voice a quiet balm to the growing tension between you. He runs a hand through his hair, trying to soften the weight of the moment. “I found it underwater. I didn’t think anyone would miss it.”

You offer a smile, fragile as the morning mist, barely lifting the corners of your lips. “It was a gift... from my grandmother,” you murmur, your voice dipping with the weight of time and loss. “She passed away many years ago. Thank you... for finding it.”

His heart tightens as he feels the atmosphere shift, like a delicate thread about to snap. The air feels heavier now, laden with unspoken sorrow, and he can’t help but sense the deep ache in your words, in the quiet sorrow that clings to you.

You settle back down onto the damp earth, and Taehyung sinks deeper into the water, the cool embrace of it helping to mask the vulnerability in his heart. He keeps his tail hidden, letting the water lap gently around his arms, his hands resting just at the edge of the shore, fingers brushing the cool grass as if grounding himself to the moment.

Then, your voice breaks the silence, soft but aching. “I lost it at sea…” The words fall from your lips like a whispered confession, each syllable heavy with grief, as though the sea itself had taken not just the locket, but a part of your soul.

Taehyung doesn’t speak right away. He only watches you, his eyes holding you with the quiet understanding of someone who knows that sometimes, silence is the only answer. In that silence, he feels the weight of your loss as if it’s now his to carry too.

“I was out on a yacht with my friends... one of them fell over, and she... she died,” you whisper, the words trembling in the air, and your breath catches, thick with the weight of grief. A sob escapes you, raw and unguarded, as the sorrow that has festered for so long finally surges, breaking free like a tide that’s impossible to hold back.

Taehyung’s heart lurches, and he leans in, his voice a soft, steady echo in the heavy silence. “I’m so sorry to hear that,” he says, his words wrapped in the deep sorrow he now shares with you, as if your pain has wound itself into his very soul. “You never found her?”

You shake your head, the motion slow, like each rejection of hope pulls you deeper into the abyss of loss. “We just assumed she drowned. But it was our fault... we didn’t even search for her... not long enough…” You pause, your gaze drifting out toward the water, your voice barely a whisper, yet so full of the weight of what’s unsaid. “That’s why I come out here…” The words falter as the tears begin anew. “I don’t know if I hope she’ll... magically appear, or if I just want to be closer to her—closer to the sea.”

The quiet understanding in Taehyung’s eyes deepens, and he nods, silently acknowledging the unspoken grief that binds you to the endless waves.

“But it’s funny,” you continue, a bitter chuckle escaping your lips as you rub your face, trying to quell the storm inside. “I’m afraid of the ocean now.”

His heart aches at the contradiction—how the sea, which once held the promise of freedom, now holds only the echoes of a life lost, a fear that cannot be soothed by the tides. He says nothing, but his gaze speaks volumes, as he shares the silence of your struggle—caught between love and fear, between longing and loss.

He blinks, trying to fathom it—how you, who braved this quiet patch of land in the middle of the lake, could be encircled by the waters that both call to you and haunt you. The vast, endless sea, once a place of freedom, has become something fraught with sorrow.

“I could help you fall in love with the ocean again,” he murmurs, the words slipping out as naturally as the currents beneath him. He doesn’t know why he’s offering, doesn’t fully understand this urge to soothe your fear and restore what’s been taken from you. But he feels it—a pull to guide you back to the sea that you once cherished, to help mend the bond between you and the water.

When he sees your eyes widen with apprehension, he raises his hands gently, adding, “Only if you want to.”

You ease a little, though the uncertainty remains, and in a barely audible whisper, you murmur, “I don’t know... I’m not sure I’m ready yet.”

He nods, understanding the weight of such a decision. “That’s okay,” he says softly. “Honestly, I just don’t want to see you cry anymore.” He offers a gentle smile, one that he hopes brings warmth and a touch of calm, like sunlight filtering through water.

You return the smile, albeit faintly, your expression softening. “Talking to you... it’s helped a lot,” you say, your voice filled with a quiet gratitude.

And in that shared moment, with only the stars and the whispering willows as witness, a fragile peace settles between you.

“But... I think I should get home now,” you murmur, pulling your phone from your bag. Its glow lights your face in the dimness. “It’s gotten really late.”

Taehyung nods, understanding, though a quiet pang tugs at his heart as he imagines this clearing falling silent again once you leave.

Then, to his surprise, you glance back at him, your gaze soft yet hopeful. “Will you be here tomorrow?”

The question catches him off guard; he stares at you, blinking, feeling for a moment like he’s been swept up by a wave. “If... you want me to?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper, unsure if he’s dared to hope too much.

A hint of color blooms on your cheeks, and you smile, gaze dipping shyly. “Yeah. I’d like that. I’d like to know more about you... and the merfolk. Maybe you could tell me some stories?”

His own grin spreads wide, an earnest promise shining in his eyes. “Absolutely. I’ll be here tomorrow—I promise.”

You rise, stepping lightly over a shallow stretch of water, your feet skimming the surface with a graceful leap. At the other side, you pause and turn, offering a small, lingering wave. He raises his hand in return, smiling as he watches you slip into the night, your figure fading into the shadows beneath the moonlit trees.

For a while, he simply remains, feeling as if the air is alive with all that was left unspoken, the night sky his only witness. And even as you vanish into the distance, Taehyung remains rooted, heart swelling with the promise of a tomorrow colored by your presence.

Thoughts of the brown-haired merman with the shimmering green tail have drifted through your mind since yesterday, haunting you like a half-remembered dream. It suddenly dawns on you that you don’t even know his name, and yet the memory of him fills your chest with a quiet, unshakable pull. Now, with night draping the town in deep blue shadows, you find yourself alone on the bus heading toward the outskirts, the only passenger riding out to the edge of the world.

The hum of your playlist whispers through your earphones, blending with the rhythmic pulse of the bus engine as scenes of darkened fields and silhouetted trees slip by in the windows. Each mile draws you closer, heightening the anticipation tingling beneath your skin, until finally, the bus slows to a stop, releasing you into the night.

You step onto the gravel path and feel a strange comfort in the solitude. The night is vast, the air tinged with the earthy scent of pine and soil, and there are no streetlights to guide your way—only the faint glimmer of starlight scattered across the heavens above. Yet you know this path by heart; your feet follow its familiar curves as though led by an invisible thread. It’s just a kilometer and a half from here to the lake, but each step feels like a journey through realms unknown.

As you approach the grove, you see the willows, their branches swaying gently in the breeze, graceful arms weaving an entryway to something almost sacred. Your heart begins to race as you brush aside the delicate, trailing branches, slipping into the secret world they protect. The lake opens before you, quiet and timeless, bathed in silvery moonlight that dances over the water’s surface. Here, beneath the ancient watch of the willows, you enter a place where magic feels like it lives in every ripple and breath.

With a deep breath, you step closer to the lake’s edge, wondering if he’ll be there, waiting in the shadows between the water and the sky.

In the soft darkness, you quickly realize you’re alone; the lake is still, the merman nowhere in sight. With a small leap, you cross the shallow strip of water, landing on the tiny isle in the center of the lake. You settle yourself down, hugging your knees, feeling the hum of fireflies flickering around you, their gentle glow brushing the air with a living, golden warmth.

Just as your mind begins to drift, a sudden ripple stirs the water before you, and then—there he is, his head emerging from the lake in a tumble of dripping, tousled brown hair. You flinch, nearly letting out a scream, your pulse skipping a beat at the surprise. But the alarm dissolves in a heartbeat as you recognize the familiar face smiling up at you, amusement twinkling in his dark eyes.

“Oh! I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, giggling as he smooths back his wet hair, his green tail flicking playfully above the water’s surface. The moonlight catches the emerald scales, each flicker a tiny flash of silver and jade. He uses his hands to wipe water from his face, looking all the while like he’s trying—and failing—to stifle a laugh.

“You didn’t scare me!” you insist, though the quick flush of heat in your cheeks tells otherwise, and you can tell from his grin that he sees right through it. You tilt your chin a little higher, hoping to hide your embarrassment, but he only chuckles, the sound warm and light as it drifts across the water.

“Well, I’ll believe you this time,” he says, smiling at you with a kind of open joy, as if the night was made for moments just like this. You smile back, feeling the tension melt away, replaced by a soft thrill in the air between you.

“Anyway,” you say with a playful glint in your eye, “I forgot to ask your name yesterday.”

He chuckles, low and warm, the sound rumbling like distant thunder. “I’m Taehyung,” he says, his voice rich as velvet.

“I’m Y/N,” you reply, offering a soft smile that he mirrors, a kind of light passing between you in the moonlit stillness.

“So… will you tell me stories about merfolk?” you ask, curiosity woven into every word.

“Of course,” he says, his gaze turning mischievous, “but first, I have something to show you.” With a grin, he lifts a soaked, weighty bag from beneath the water’s surface, droplets glistening like tiny jewels as they cascade off the bag. You blink, leaning forward in wonder, trying to guess at the strange, heavy contents.

He pats the bag with a pride that makes you smile. “This,” he says, with a dramatic flourish, “is some of my collection of things I’ve found from the depths. I think most of it is from your world—the things you humans let slip beneath the waves. I thought you might help me make sense of it all, tell me stories about these objects. And in return,” his eyes twinkle, “I’ll give you stories about the world of merfolk.”

You smile at the offer, enchanted by his plan. “Deal,” you say, nodding as you gesture to the bag. “Can I look inside?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” he says with a soft smile, his eyes glimmering as he watches you rummage through the bag. Your fingers curl around a heavy, ornate candelabra, its blackened metal arms twisting elegantly like frozen vines. You lift it out, chuckling as his gaze widens with childlike wonder.

“What’s that thing called?” he asks, his curiosity unguarded, like a boy discovering treasures in a world he’s only dreamed of.

You laugh again, unable to help yourself, quickly hiding it behind the back of your hand as if to stifle the sound. “It’s a candleholder,” you explain, tracing one of its three arms. “You put candles in it to light up the dark.”

He nods, a thoughtful look crossing his face, though you suspect he has no idea what a candle even is. Gently, you set the candelabra down and reach into the bag once more, this time pulling out a pair of glasses. Their frames are thick and black, chipped slightly at the corners—worn with use but still sturdy.

He leans closer, fingers brushing yours as he takes the glasses and slides them onto his nose. They sit awkwardly on his face, far too large, but somehow, they suit him in that effortless way that makes you pause. He blinks, looking around, and then bursts into laughter, a sound as warm as sunlight on water.

“Wow,” he chuckles, adjusting the frames that threaten to slide off. “I can’t see a thing.”

The sight of him—eyes crinkled in amusement, wearing something so distinctly human—makes your heart catch for a moment. A creature of the ocean trying on the world of men, and somehow making it his own.

You giggle softly, reaching forward to slip the glasses off his face, your fingers brushing the warm curve of his cheek. “That’s because they’re prescription glasses,” you explain, setting them down gently. “They’re made to match someone else’s eyes. Sad, really, that someone lost not just these, but maybe even the ability to see clearly.”

He nods, the curiosity in his eyes flickering like candlelight as he watches you tuck the glasses carefully back into the bag. Reaching in again, your fingers close around something sturdy and familiar. When you pull it out, your breath catches—a Nokia 3310.

The sight of it pulls a laugh from your chest, bright and unrestrained, spilling into the night air. It’s the kind of laugh that folds you in half, clutching your stomach, until tears prick the corners of your eyes. Taehyung stares at you in bewilderment, his head tilting like a puzzled bird, as though you’d just grown fins.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, his voice tinged with genuine concern, as if your laughter might be some kind of human affliction.

“It’s a phone,” you finally manage to say between giggles, holding up the clunky, ancient relic. “Though it’s… very old.” You run your thumb across the faded tactile buttons, memories bubbling to the surface like a tide returning to shore. “I used to have one just like this. It was one of my first phones, back when my parents finally trusted me to have one.”

His eyes widen, and he leans closer, curiosity sparkling like the fireflies around you. “What do you use it for?” he asks, reaching out to study it, his webbed fingers brushing yours as he takes the small, unassuming device into his hands.

“For talking to people,” you reply, a hint of nostalgia softening your voice. “Texting, calling… staying connected. Although, this one isn’t exactly great for anything more than snake games and indestructibility,” you add with a grin. “It’s like the dinosaur of phones.”

He turns it over in his hands, fascinated, his tail flicking gently under the water. “Humans carry pieces of their voices in these tiny boxes,” he muses, half to himself, marveling at the strange, forgotten artifact. “How peculiar. And yet… how precious.”

His words linger in the air between you, weaving something timeless into the quiet magic of the moment.

“Oh,” he muses, lifting the phone to his ear as if it holds some kind of magic. “Hello?” he says, his voice laced with playful curiosity, pretending to talk to you through the tiny relic.

Unable to resist, you pull out your own phone and press it to your ear, mirroring him just for the fun of it. “Like that,” you say, laughing, your voice light and airy as it drifts across the water.

Taehyung smiles, wide and genuine, the corners of his eyes crinkling with boyish joy. The way the moonlight catches the sparkle in his gaze makes your chest feel lighter, as if you’ve inhaled the cool night air too deeply.

He hands you the phone with a careful reverence, and you tuck it gently back into the bag, your fingers brushing against something new. With a slight tug, you pull it free—a lone shoe, scuffed and worn by time.

Taehyung’s brow furrows, his expression tilting toward amused confusion. “What’s that? Do you… put it on your hand?” he asks, and there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes, like he’s already imagining some ridiculous scenario.

The thought makes you laugh, the sound bubbling up like the ripples in the water. You picture him proudly sporting sneakers on his hands, his green tail swishing beneath him. “No,” you say through giggles, “it’s a shoe. Humans wear them on their feet—for walking.”

He hums, a deep, velvety sound that reverberates through the air, and the richness of it stirs something strange and unbidden in the pit of your stomach. You ignore the feeling, shaking your head as you examine the shoe more closely.

“Sad that there’s only one,” you muse, holding the sneaker in your palm like it’s a piece of some unsolved puzzle.

“Why is that sad?” he asks, his voice genuinely curious.

“Because we need two,” you explain, “one for each foot. Without its pair, it’s... incomplete.”

Your words hang in the air for a moment, heavy with meaning you didn’t intend, and you quickly place the shoe back in the bag. Yet, as you glance at Taehyung, you wonder if he heard something more in what you said—if he noticed the quiet ache that flickered through your voice, the unspoken longing for things to feel whole again.

Your hand brushes against something cold and metallic at the bottom of the bag, and it rattles faintly as you pull it out. The moment you register what it is, a flush of heat rushes to your cheeks.

Taehyung tilts his head, his curiosity immediate and innocent. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

It’s not his fault, you remind yourself. He doesn’t know. How could he possibly understand that a simple pair of handcuffs could mean so many different things—some harmless, others... not so innocent?

Your grip tightens around the cuffs as they dangle from your fingers, the faint clink of metal against metal feeling louder than it is. His wide, unguarded eyes search your expression for answers, his confusion palpable. “What?” he presses again, his gaze flickering between you and the offending object.

“They’re handcuffs,” you finally stammer, the words tumbling out as you desperately try to steer your thoughts away from the implications. You clear your throat, willing your heart to stop its frantic drumming.

His brows knit together as he studies them, and then he looks back at you. “What do you use them for?”

Your mouth goes dry. There’s no telling how much he knows about... well, things like that. And there’s no way you’re about to be the one to enlighten him. The blush spreads deeper across your cheeks, hot and unrelenting.

“The police use them,” you blurt out, seizing the first explanation that comes to mind. “They use them to, uh, catch bad guys.”

He blinks, processing this, then asks with genuine curiosity, “What’s a police?”

“They’re people who keep the world in order,” you explain hastily, hoping your answer satisfies him as you lower the handcuffs back into the bag like they’ve burned you.

Taehyung hums softly, his deep voice laced with thought. “Order…” he repeats, as if tasting the word. “I suppose merfolk don’t really have anything like that. The ocean tends to sort itself out.”

His answer is innocent, but something about it pulls at you. The idea of a world where chaos is natural and balance finds its own way feels... strange, almost liberating. You glance at him, and his green tail flicks gently beneath the surface of the water, shimmering faintly like a piece of living art.

“Well, up here, we’re a bit messier,” you say, smiling faintly, though your cheeks are still warm.

He chuckles, the sound rich and comforting, and you realize, despite your embarrassment, that you don’t entirely mind explaining things to him. His curiosity is sincere, untouched by judgment, and somehow that makes all the awkwardness easier to bear.

You sigh, the weight of your patience thinning, eager to get through this final item so the stories of the sea can take center stage.

“There’s only one thing left,” Taehyung says with a sly smile, a glint of mischief flickering in his eyes like sunlight on water.

Thank god, you think, nearly rolling your eyes as you reach into the bag. But the moment your fingers wrap around the last object, you freeze. The shape is unmistakable, and a flush creeps up your neck as realization sets in. Yanking it out, you take one horrified look before letting out a sharp shriek and dropping it as if it’s burned you.

“What? What is it?” Taehyung asks, wide-eyed and concerned as he scoops up the item you just cast away like cursed treasure. His fingers turn it over curiously, the innocent tilt of his head at complete odds with the very not innocent object in his hands.

Your mind races as you stare at him, slack-jawed, while he inspects the bright pink rabbit vibrator with the studious attention of an archaeologist uncovering an ancient relic.

Why would anyone throw that into the ocean? you manage to think, your inner voice barely louder than the pounding of your heart. The question burns in your mind: How the hell am I supposed to explain this to him?

He looks up at you with a grin that could melt glaciers, utterly oblivious, and the sparkle in his eyes seems almost too amused. The corners of his lips curve just a touch more, and for a fleeting second, a traitorous thought worms its way into your head: Does he know what it is?

“Do you know what that is?” you ask, your brow arching sharply as you try to mask your embarrassment with skepticism.

He blinks, shaking his head with a childlike earnestness that you don’t entirely trust. “No.”

But there’s something in his expression, a faint glimmer of mischief that makes you wonder. Could he possibly know what’s currently resting in his slender fingers, a bright pink beacon of mortification? Surely not. How could he?

“So… what is it?” he asks again, his deep voice smooth and unbothered as if he’s holding a piece of driftwood instead of—that.

You stammer, words failing you as you try to claw together an explanation. “It’s... it’s a—a toy,” you finally spit out, the word awkward and foreign on your tongue.

“A toy?” he repeats, his curiosity piqued even further. He looks at it again, squinting at the smooth curves and the dual protrusions like he’s deciphering an ancient riddle. “For children?”

“No!” you yelp, your voice far too loud as heat blooms across your cheeks. You clasp your hands over your face, groaning. “Not for children. Definitely not for children.”

He raises a brow, clearly unsatisfied with your vague response. “Then what kind of toy—?”

You gulp, your cheeks blazing a crimson so fierce they rival the setting sun. The word catches in your throat, but you force it out in a mortified whisper: “It’s... a vibrator.”

Taehyung tilts his head, his expression innocent, as if the word carries no weight. “Oh, like a massager?” he asks, his long fingers fumbling with the object. The moment it buzzes to life, a low, mischievous hum filling the air, you nearly leap out of your skin.

The sound seems impossibly loud, vibrating not just in your ears but in the marrow of your bones. He holds it up, studying it with an inquisitive squint. “Where do you use it? Your neck?” he muses, moving to press it behind his back like it’s some magical cure for tension.

“No!” you shriek, lunging forward in sheer panic. The idea of where it’s been—god, where it’s definitely been—makes your skin crawl. Sure, it’s been submerged in saltwater for who knows how long, but still, the thought is mortifying.

He pauses, blinking at your outburst, the vibrator buzzing innocently in his hand. His gaze settles on you, expectant, waiting for an explanation you’re loath to give.

You clear your throat, the heat in your cheeks now spreading to the tips of your ears. “It’s for women,” you mutter, your voice barely audible, “for their... vagina. Now, please, turn it off and put it away.”

To your immense relief, he does as you ask, clicking it off with a soft whir. But instead of letting it go, he looks at you with wide, curious eyes. “Oh,” he says simply. A beat of silence stretches between you before he tilts his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Have you used one before?”

Your stomach drops, and for a moment, you swear the earth could crack open beneath you and swallow you whole. Your fingers fidget nervously, and you refuse to meet his gaze. “I... have,” you mumble, your voice so quiet it’s almost swept away by the breeze.

“Was it good?” he asks, his tone so casual it borders on maddening.

Your heart pounds so hard it might shatter your ribcage. You feel the blush deepen, a fiery bloom spreading across your face as you croak, “Yeah.”

His curiosity, however, is relentless. “What do you know about sex anyway?” you huff, folding your arms and glaring at the lake to avoid his amused gaze.

He grins, that devilish sparkle dancing in his eyes. “Oh, I know plenty,” he says, his voice dipping just enough to send a shiver up your spine. “My friend Seokjin told me all about how humans have sex.”

He waggles his eyebrows in a way that’s both infuriating and utterly ridiculous, and you feel your mortification morph into fury.

“Wait a minute,” you fume, narrowing your eyes at him. “You knew what the handcuffs and vibrator were from the start, didn’t you?!”

His grin grows wider, unapologetically mischievous. “Maybe,” he admits, his voice lilting like a playful melody. “But watching you explain them was way more fun.”

You glare at him, seething, but there’s no denying the way his laughter dances across the air, warm and infectious. Against your better judgment, the corners of your lips twitch upward, because even in your mortification, there’s something oddly endearing about his teasing.

“You’re insufferable,” you mutter, shaking your head.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered,” he counters, his tail flicking in the water, sending ripples out to the edges of the lake.

And though you’re still burning with embarrassment, a small part of you can’t help but be grateful for the way he makes you laugh—even at your own expense.

Your chest rises and falls as you try to catch your breath, your face blazing like the setting sun, and he just throws his head back, laughter erupting from him in a way that feels alive. It’s full-bodied, unrestrained, his boxy smile lighting up his features as his hands clutch at his stomach, right where shimmering scales meld seamlessly into the emerald sweep of his tail.

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to fathom how he managed to fool you so effortlessly. But then, it’s impossible to hold onto your indignation when his laughter is so contagious, so you let it pour out of you too—a melody that dances through the night. The sound makes his laughter falter for just a moment, his eyes softening as he looks at you like he’s discovered something rare and wondrous.

If only you knew, Taehyung thinks, how your laughter could make even the coldest depths of the ocean feel warm.

The weeks that followed your first meeting have felt like a dream—magical. Night after night, you find yourself drawn to the lake, a place where the lines between your two worlds blur. Each time, Taehyung emerges with treasures gathered from the ocean floor, and you sit together, exchanging pieces of your lives—your world above the waves and his far below.

“And that’s how Jungkook and I pranked Yoongi,” he says, his laughter spilling into the quiet night as he recounts his mischievous escapades. “He was so pissed, he didn’t talk to us for a week.”

You laugh too, the image vivid in your mind—Taehyung and his friend causing an octopus to release its ink, staining this poor Yoongi guy’s skin entirely. The chaos, the yelling, the grumbling that followed—it all paints such a comical picture you can’t help but giggle.

“I mean,” he adds between gasps of laughter, wiping at the corners of his eyes, “Yoongi didn’t say much. He just grumbled a lot... after shouting every curse word he could think of.”

By now, he’s laughing so hard that tears threaten to spill, his cheeks flushed and his voice trembling with mirth.

“Oh, don’t cry,” you tease, grinning as you reach out instinctively, your hand brushing against his cheek. The touch surprises both of you, and his laughter fades, replaced by a gentler smile as he leans ever so slightly into your hand. His skin is warm beneath your fingertips, smooth and soft where it meets his scales.

“I’m not crying,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, the depth of it resonating like a gentle current. His dark eyes hold yours, reflecting the scattered stars above. “But I’m glad to see you laughing more.”

The words hang in the air between you, delicate and sincere, like the faint glow of the fireflies flitting around the lake. His smile doesn’t waver, but there’s something in the way he looks at you now, something tender and unspoken, that makes your heart race.

For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. The only sound is the soft rustling of the willow branches swaying in the breeze and the gentle lapping of the water against the shore. In his gaze, you see more than curiosity or mischief—you see wonder, connection, and something that feels achingly close to magic.

“Is there more I could do to cheer you up?” he asks, his smile boyish, eager, and filled with a kind of tenderness that seems to spill effortlessly from him. You’ve noticed how much he wants to see you happy—how his every word and action feels like a quiet offering meant to lift the weight you carry.

You hesitate, your mind swirling with possibilities, but one thought rises above the rest. It’s ridiculous, improbable, and utterly reckless, but it’s been there, simmering in the back of your mind since the night you first met him. He stirs something in you—something unspoken, electric, and undeniably human. Before you can stop yourself, the words tumble out, bold and wild, carried by the wind like a confession.

“Sex would totally cheer me up.”

For a moment, everything stops. His eyes widen, an ocean of surprise rippling in them, before a smirk curves his lips—a little hesitant, a little mischievous. Then, in a voice softer than you’ve ever heard from him, he says, “I’ve never had sex with a human before.”

The quiet sincerity of his response steals your breath. You were half-joking, throwing the words out as a way to tease him, to distract yourself from the fluttering chaos he always seems to spark in your chest. But his honesty hits you like a wave, and now you’re drowning in the thought—was he taking you seriously?

Was he considering it?

Your heart beats like a drum, your cheeks burning as you search his expression for some clue, some sign that this is all just a playful exchange. But there’s something about the way he looks at you, the way his gaze holds yours, curious and unflinching, that makes your pulse race even faster.

In a voice barely above a whisper, you ask, “Do you… want to have sex with me?” Your words hang in the air, delicate and trembling, but before he can respond, you falter, retreating into the impossibility of it all. “I mean—how would that even work? Can you even have sex with a human?”

His laughter comes then, rich and warm, breaking the tension like sunlight spilling over water. “I’d just have to turn human,” he says with an exaggerated wiggle of his brows, the teasing glint back in his eyes. “And don’t worry—Seokjin’s already told me everything I need to know.”

You blink, your mind struggling to process the words, the sheer audacity of them. Turn human? Was that even possible? And what on earth had Seokjin told him?

“Wait—are you serious?” you manage to say, your voice caught between disbelief and something else, something dangerously close to hope.

He leans in slightly, his face alight with a playful kind of mystery. “Why don’t you find out?” he murmurs, his voice a velvet thread that winds its way into your chest, tightening the knot of emotions there.

For a moment, you’re lost—in his eyes, in the tantalizing possibility of the unknown, in the way he makes the world feel both infinite and impossibly small. And beneath it all, you can’t help but wonder: could he really mean it? Or was he just as caught up in this strange, electric pull between you as you were?

“You really want to have sex with me? And you’ve never told me you could turn human?” you exclaim, your hand instinctively landing on his chest with a light slap. His skin is warm under your touch, the smooth planes of muscle glistening faintly in the moonlight.

He chuckles, a low, velvety sound that sends ripples through the night air. “Yeah, I want to,” he says without hesitation, his gaze steady and unwavering. “And if it’ll cheer you up, that’s all the more reason.”

Before you can fully process his words, he begins to rise from the water, his powerful arms pulling him closer to you. Each movement is deliberate, almost hypnotic, his biceps flexing effortlessly as he drags his weight onto the land. When he finally settles next to you, you’re keenly aware of the space—intimate and charged—between you.

Unable to resist, your fingers reach out to graze his tail. The scales are cool and slick beneath your touch, shimmering faintly with an otherworldly sheen, and you marvel at how something so strange can feel so natural to you now.

“By the way,” you murmur, suddenly self-conscious, “I was joking when I said it would cheer me up.” The words come out softer than you intend, as a realization settles over you like the whisper of a tide. What if this actually happens? What if he’s doing this only to make you happy? A knot twists in your stomach—you don’t want this just for you. You want him to want this, too.

But before you can say another word, he leans in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that steals your breath and floods your senses. He moves with a bold tenderness, his tail slipping between your legs, his fin brushing against your feet with a feathery caress.

And then, the air around you shifts.

A sudden burst of light swirls between you, glittering like a thousand stars spilling from the heavens. The world tilts as the sparks dance and cascade, wrapping you both in a cocoon of shimmering magic. It’s like something out of an anime—a transformation unfolding in real time, and you’re at the center of it all.

When the light fades, you blink, your breath hitching as you realize what’s happened.

He’s no longer a merman.

He’s human now, entirely, gloriously human, and he’s in your arms—warm skin pressed against yours, lean legs sprawled over yours, and oh god, utterly naked.

“Oh my god,” you gasp, your voice breaking into a startled shriek as your eyes dart over his form. He’s… breathtaking. Sculpted shoulders, a chest that looks like it was carved from marble, thighs thick and strong, and—

You gulp, your gaze snapping up to his face as heat floods your cheeks. “You’re completely naked,” you manage to stammer, though your eyes betray you, flickering downward for just a fraction of a second. His cock is thick and wide, making your pussy clench around nothing with need.

A mischievous grin spreads across his face, completely unbothered by his nudity. “You seem surprised,” he teases, his voice warm and teasing, yet carrying an edge of something deeper, something magnetic.

“Surprised?!” you exclaim, your hands flying up to cover your face, though it does nothing to erase the mental image seared into your brain. “You didn’t warn me there’d be sparkles—or that you’d be… be…”

“Naked?” he supplies, his grin widening as he shifts, sitting up fully now, his confidence evident in every movement.

“Yes, naked!” you blurt, peeking through your fingers before quickly looking away, though the heat pooling in your stomach betrays you.

He chuckles again, a sound so rich and unguarded it makes your heart flutter. “Well, you did say you wanted me human,” he says, leaning in closer, his voice dropping to a sultry whisper. “Didn’t think you’d mind the details.”

And as you sit there, utterly flustered and yet inexplicably drawn to him, you realize that everything about him—his laughter, his boldness, his very existence—is impossible and wonderful and so entirely him.

You can’t explain it, but he feels impossibly firm against your fully clothed body, his presence electric, igniting something deep inside you.

“Are you sure you want this?” you ask, your voice trembling with anticipation as he moves closer, his heat radiating like a flame that threatens to consume you.

He nods, his gaze unwavering, filled with earnest longing. “I’ve wanted you since the moment I first laid eyes on you.”

His words are a confession, each syllable laced with reverence, and the look in his eyes—adoring, worshipful—makes your heart stutter. It feels like magic, a spell binding you to him.

“Okay,” you whisper, the word a contradiction—both weighty and featherlight, heavy with unspoken desire yet liberating in its surrender. “Me too.”

And that’s all it takes. You move, pulling him into you, your lips colliding like the meeting of two storms. His kiss is both a promise and a claim, as though you’re the air he needs to live, and he the fire you’ve long craved.

Slowly, with a patience that speaks of devotion, he begins to undress you. Each garment falls away as if he’s unveiling a masterpiece, his hands reverent, his movements deliberate. When you’re bare before him, his gaze darkens, his eyes almost black with desire.

“Beautiful,” he breathes, the word half-hissed, as though the sight of you has stolen the air from his lungs.

His hand follows the curve of your body, his touch like a whisper of silk. He starts at your face, tracing your jawline with tender precision, down your neck to your collarbones, his fingers pausing there as though savoring their discovery.

When his hand reaches your breasts, he marvels, his eyes lit with something almost holy. He cups you gently, his thumb brushing over your nipple with deliberate care before giving the softest pinch. The sensation sends a jolt through you, and you can’t stifle the moan that escapes your lips.

Your breathing quickens, matching the rhythm of your racing heart, and for a moment, the world narrows to his touch, his gaze, the unspoken symphony of longing between you.

“Beautiful and soft,” he murmurs, his voice a low caress that seems to reverberate through your very soul. His hands move with reverence, each touch deliberate as he plays with the sensitive bud, his thumbs circling slowly, then firmly, coaxing pleasure to bloom within you like wildflowers in moonlight. Your back arches, surrendering to the heavens, the stars and moon bearing witness to your abandon.

A moan escapes you, unbidden, as a delicious heat prickles along your skin, pooling low in your core. Your body clenches with a desperate, aching need, the anticipation winding tighter, a tether you’re helpless to sever.

Leaning in, he captures one of your peaks with his tongue, the wet warmth making you gasp. He laps and sucks, teasing the sensitive bud, alternating between delicate flicks and firm pulls that make you shiver. His name tumbles from your lips like a prayer, your breathing fractured, chest heaving beneath his attentions.

The pleasure courses through you, each wave leaving you more undone. His hand glides downward, slow and purposeful, until his fingers find the slick heat between your thighs. When he touches your clit—softly, tenderly—you cry out, the sensation a spark igniting the kindling of your desire. He rubs in slow, steady circles, his movements measured, drawing your body taut like a bowstring.

You open yourself to him, your legs parting further, an invitation, a plea for more. He obliges, his touch deepening, pressing just enough to send your mind spiraling. Your lips part as his name falls again, broken yet fervent:

“Taeh—”

He releases your nipple with a wet pop, the sound somehow sinful and divine all at once. His mouth captures yours in a kiss that is both fierce and tender, his fingers never faltering as they continue their dance, coaxing you toward the edge of bliss.

“Oh, damn—I’m coming,” you gasp, the words barely coherent as the orgasm crashes into you like a tidal wave, sudden and overwhelming. Your body trembles, arching and writhing beneath him as he keeps his fingers pressed to your clit, guiding you through the storm.

The world dissolves, nothing remaining but the feel of him—the press of his hand, the warmth of his lips, and the intoxicating scent of crushed grass and wildflowers mingling with your release. You shatter, and he holds you there, steady and unyielding, until every last tremor has subsided, leaving you breathless, boneless, and utterly his.

You pant, lost in the haze of bliss, when his lips find yours again, deep and searching. He pulls back, his breath hot against your skin, and whispers, “Lay down.”

Everything seems to blur and quicken as you lower yourself to the cool, soft grass, your body now bare beneath the endless expanse of the night sky. You gaze up at him—his silhouette framed by a sea of stars, the moon casting a halo around him. He looks almost otherworldly, his form glowing with an ethereal radiance that makes your heart race. He is a creature of light and shadow, of dreams made flesh.

“Are you ready?” he asks, his voice a low rumble that makes your pulse quicken. His finger traces the delicate line of your most intimate place, circling your entrance slowly, gauging your arousal. You nod, biting your lip, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you.

“Yes,” you whisper, and the word feels like an offering, a surrender.

“Okay,” he breathes, his own desire evident in the strained sound of his voice. He grabs his cock, guiding it toward your trembling pussy, his eyes dark with longing.

He enters you in one slow, deliberate thrust, filling you completely. The stretch is delicious, his thickness causing you to gasp, your body trembling with the sensation. It’s a sweet burn, a delicate ache that soon blooms into pleasure so intense you can hardly contain it.

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his voice rough with pleasure, as he buries himself fully inside you. His breath hitches in your ear, and you smile up at him, your fingers lightly brushing his face. “You can move,” you murmur, your voice laced with both permission and longing.

And move he does. He snaps his hips into you, a rhythm fast and unforgiving, each thrust driving deeper, harder, until it feels like the world is collapsing around you. You arch into him, your back lifting off the ground, the fire of his touch igniting every inch of your body. His gaze is fixed on you, unblinking, as though he’s memorizing each beautiful movement you make. You feel like you’re the only thing that matters in this moment, like you belong to him, body and soul.

Above you, fireflies weave a dance of light, their tiny bodies glowing like stars that have fallen to earth, illuminating the scene with an otherworldly magic. Everything feels heightened, suspended in a perfect, timeless moment.

His thrusts become faster, more urgent, and he grunts, the sound of it raw and desperate. “Does it feel good?” he asks, his voice hoarse, as if the question alone is a prayer.

You can only nod, your words lost in the haze of desire, the world around you fading until it’s just him, just this—his body moving against yours, his love, his devotion, filling every corner of your being. The stars burn brighter, the moon shines sharper, and the night is alive with the pulse of your passion.

“Yeah, fuck, keep going,” you gasp, your voice strained with pleasure as one hand drifts between your legs, your fingers pressing against your clit, adding to the fire building within you.

“If you hadn’t told me this was your first time, I never would have believed it,” you moan, a light laugh escaping your lips at the irony, the sound breathless and full of delight.

“I’m a quick study,” he replies, his voice thick with desire, the words almost lost in the rhythm of his thrusts, which grow faster and harder, filling you with a sweet, burning ache.

“I can tell,” you chuckle, the sound laced with arousal as your body tightens around him, waves of pleasure building relentlessly. You feel your pussy pulse, clenching around him, your mind spiraling deeper into lust. You know it's coming—the release.

And then it hits, a wave of ecstasy so powerful it consumes you, making you tremble beneath him. Your body contracts around him, pulling him deeper, and you can’t help but watch the way his face contorts in bliss, as he too is undone by the intensity of it. His own release is mirrored in the expression he wears, raw and breathtaking.

His breath catches, a strained groan slipping past his lips as he pants your name. “Shit... I think I’m coming too.”

With a few more desperate thrusts, he pushes into you, then pauses, his body tense, his warmth flooding you as his release spills deep inside. He falters, his chest heaving as he gathers his breath, his hands resting on your body, feeling the heat of the moment linger between you.

“Holy shit, that was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice ragged, as he gently pulls away, a mixture of your essences slipping from you. You lie there, still breathless, feeling the aftershocks of your climax.

“Yeah,” you chuckle softly, your voice light, your mind floating in a haze of pleasure. The world around you feels like a distant echo, the only reality is the sensation of your skin against his and the shared stillness between you.

He falls beside you, pulling you close, his arm draped over you as the two of you gaze up at the sky. The moon casts a gentle glow over you both, and the stars seem to shimmer with a quiet promise, as if the universe itself is watching over this moment—a perfect, fleeting connection.

Together, you breathe in the night air, wrapped in the softness of each other, lost in the beauty of the silence and the stars above.

“Okay,” you whisper, the tremor in your voice barely audible over the soft rustle of the night. “I’m only doing this because you’re a great swimmer.” You pause, searching his eyes for reassurance, then add with a nervous smile, “And in return, I’ll take you into town and show you the human world, yeah?”

Taehyung nods, his boxy grin softening into something earnest, something that feels like a promise. His hand is warm in yours, grounding you as your feet hover over the edge of the water. The lake stretches before you, dark and endless, the moonlight spilling across its surface in molten silver. It looks almost too serene, as if the stillness is holding its breath just for you.

His words from before echo in your mind: “Let me help you. Let me bring you back to the sea you loved so much.” And though fear thrums in your chest, louder than the cicadas singing in the trees, you want this—you need this.

Steeling yourself, you take a step forward. The water laps at your toes, cold and sharp, sending a cascade of goosebumps along your arms. You grip Taehyung’s hand tighter, his skin smooth and cool beneath your fingers, and he squeezes back, a silent gesture of encouragement.

The moon seems to follow your every movement, its light dancing on the rippling water as you wade further in. Your breath quickens as the chill seeps into your skin, prickling and biting, but you push through. Each step feels monumental, each shift of your weight a battle between fear and the yearning to reclaim what you’ve lost.

“That’s good,” he murmurs, his voice like a lullaby in the quiet night. His tail flicks softly beneath the surface, the faint ripple of green scales catching the moon’s glow.

The lake deepens around you until the water clings to your shoulders, wrapping you in its cool embrace. And then, almost unexpectedly, the fear begins to ebb away. The weight of it dissolves into the lake as you exhale, replaced by a gentle calm that fills the spaces where terror once lived.

You look up at Taehyung and meet his eyes, wide and filled with wonder. He’s smiling again, that signature grin of his lighting up the night in a way the moon could never replicate. You can’t help but smile back.

“Do you want to go further out?” he asks, his voice impossibly soft. The question hangs between you, fragile yet full of promise. “Into the ocean?”

You bite your lip, your heart pounding—not from fear this time, but from the exhilaration of possibility. Slowly, you nod.

Without a word, he tugs you gently, his hand guiding yours, his tail slicing through the water with an effortless grace. Your legs begin to move, kicking hesitantly at first, but then with growing confidence. He keeps you close, his touch steady and protective, and together, you leave the lake behind.

The lake falls away into the vastness of the open water, the air thick with salt and magic. The stars scatter above you, a million glimmering diamonds against the velvet sky. The water, now alive with bioluminescent trails from Taehyung’s tail, shimmers with an ethereal glow.

You’re weightless here, suspended between the heavens and the depths, and it feels like stepping into a storybook. The world is no longer fractured or frightening—it’s whole, alive, and breathtaking.

And beside you, Taehyung glides effortlessly, his presence a soothing balm to your once-shattered heart. In this moment, with the ocean opening up before you and the stars watching over, you know one thing for certain: you’re exactly where you’re meant to be.

“You’re doing really good,” Taehyung says, his voice warm and soothing. “Try kicking more with your legs.”

You follow his advice, your legs cutting through the water with newfound confidence, and before long, you’re pulling him along behind you, laughing as the cool waves ripple against your skin. You knew from the start he couldn’t truly teach you how to swim—his tail was no match for human legs—but Taehyung doesn’t need to. His presence is grounding, steadying, a quiet assurance that you’re safe.

You realize now what he meant by helping you: not instruction, but support. The kind of unwavering belief that holds you together, even when you feel like falling apart.

As you let go of his hand and strike out on your own, a rush of elation courses through you. You’re not just swimming—you’re reclaiming a part of yourself you thought was lost. The ocean, once a source of dread, now feels like an old friend. The fear that gripped you for so long begins to dissolve as you glide through the water, your laughter mingling with the soft lapping of the waves.

Memories rise, bittersweet and unbidden, of why you were scared to return to this vast expanse. The sea had taken something from you, something precious—the storm that swept in like an uninvited guest, the yacht pitching, and the moment your friend was lost over the railing. For so long, you blamed the ocean for that night, as if its depths had swallowed your joy. But now, floating under the gentle gaze of the moon, you see it differently.

The sea is not cruel, you think. It’s wild and untamed, yes, but not malicious. The storm wasn’t its doing—it was just a fleeting chaos in a vast, timeless rhythm. And in this moment, it feels too grand, too beautiful to carry hatred for.

“Look at you!” Taehyung giggles behind you, his voice buoyant and bright. “You’re a natural!”

You beam, the cool water cradling your body as you bask in your rediscovered love for swimming. “I’ve always loved this,” you admit, your voice soft with wonder.

He swims alongside you, his tail carving shimmering paths through the water like brushstrokes on a dark canvas. The stars overhead seem to dance in approval, their reflections glittering on the surface around you. This—this moment—is everything. Swimming beneath the moon, the world hushed save for the symphony of waves and distant cicadas, feels like stepping into a dream you’d never dared to live.

“Thank you,” you say suddenly, your voice carrying all the weight of your gratitude. You swim closer, throwing your arms around him in a hug that’s both wet and warm, your lips brushing his cheek in a soft kiss. “Thank you so much, Tae.”

He smiles, his boxy grin full of affection, and he pulls you close in return. “You’re welcome,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead that feels as soothing as the water surrounding you.

And then you’re off again, splashing and twirling, laughter spilling from your lips like a melody carried by the wind. Taehyung follows, his laughter joining yours, the two of you creating ripples in the starlit expanse. For the first time in what feels like forever, you feel free—weightless, unburdened, as if the sea has forgiven you, just as you’ve forgiven it.

It’s the middle of the afternoon, the sun casting dappled light through the willow trees as you make your way to the lake. The air hums with the sound of cicadas, and the gentle rustle of leaves parts like a curtain as you step through, revealing him waiting on the shore. Taehyung’s gaze snaps to you, and for a moment, he forgets the world around him.

You’re dressed simply—skin-tight jeans that cling to your curves and a silky blouse that catches the light, its neckline teasing just enough to leave him utterly captivated. The way the sunlight dances off your skin makes his chest tighten, though he’s not entirely sure why.

“I brought you clothes,” you say with a bright smile, lifting the bag in your hand. The way your voice lilts makes him feel as if you’ve given him a gift far more precious than mere fabric.

He slides up to the shore with effortless grace, his tail shimmering as it transitions from water to grass. For a few moments, he lies there, waiting for the transformation. And then it happens. Sparkles swirl around him, catching the afternoon sun like scattered diamonds, and when the magic fades, he’s there—human, bare, vulnerable, and utterly breathtaking.

You feel your cheeks heat but quickly hand him the bag to spare yourself further fluster. He takes the clothes with a sheepish grin, his fingers brushing yours as he does.

The trousers hang loose on his lean frame, and the dark shirt pools around his shoulders, but there’s something charming about the way he wears them, as though he’s stepped from another world into yours. The sneakers are slightly too big, but he doesn’t seem to care. With each article of clothing, he seems more human, yet no less ethereal.

As you both set off, walking hand in hand toward the bus stop, the silence between you isn’t awkward—it’s a companionable quiet that speaks of trust, of connection. His thumb brushes yours absentmindedly, and though neither of you says a word, the unspoken is enough.

When the bus arrives, its brakes hissing like a sleepy beast, Taehyung’s eyes widen with curiosity. He steps on cautiously, his hand tightening around yours as if the bus might lurch away without him. Once seated, he leans into the window, his breath fogging the glass as he watches the world rush past.

The hum of the engine vibrates through the seats, and the tires drum a rhythm against the dirt road. His wide eyes follow the transformation outside—fields giving way to neat suburban houses, their gardens dotted with children’s toys and bicycles. As the bus turns toward the city, his wonder grows.

Apartment buildings rise like mountains on the horizon, their windows glittering in the sunlight. Storefronts flash by, their signs alive with color and light. People crowd the sidewalks, their lives a blur of motion and chatter.

He glances at you, his lips parting as if to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he smiles, a soft, awestruck curve of his lips that warms your chest. You squeeze his hand gently, grounding him in this moment, reminding him that he’s not alone in this strange, thrilling world.

For Taehyung, the city is a symphony of sights and sounds, but nothing captivates him more than the simple fact that you’re here, guiding him through it all. And for you, watching him discover this part of your world feels like seeing it anew—through his eyes, it’s not ordinary; it’s magic.

You start your evening simply, leading him to a quaint little restaurant tucked away on a quiet street. The atmosphere is warm and intimate, a soft hum of conversation filling the air as the golden glow of hanging lights dances off the walls. Taehyung sits across from you, marveling at the human ritual of shared meals. He takes his first bite, his eyes widening at the burst of flavor, and you can’t help but smile at his boyish delight.

But it’s not just the food he’s savoring—it’s you. The way your eyes glimmer with an unspoken invitation, calling to him like the moon calls the tides. He feels it then, that pull he’s been ignoring, the one that started the moment he first saw you by the lake.

When the meal is over, you step out into the cool night air, walking side by side under the glow of streetlights. Laughter spills from nearby pubs, and Taehyung watches as groups of drunk revelers weave their way through the streets, their joy unrestrained and contagious. He chuckles when his gaze falls on couples pressed into shadowy corners, stealing kisses like they’re the only two people in the world.

“You humans are so bold,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with amusement.

You laugh softly, tugging his arm.

You pass by the flashing neon signs of different clubs, their thumping music spilling into the streets like siren songs. Taehyung tilts his head, his curiosity piqued, and asks if you should step into one. You shake your head, a knowing smile tugging at your lips. “Not yet. Trust me, you’ll love where we’re going.”

When you finally arrive, the club you’ve chosen feels different from the others. It’s darker, sultrier, with low lighting that shimmers like moonlight on water. The music is a steady, hypnotic rhythm that seems to pulse in time with your heartbeat. You guide him to the bar, ordering drinks for the both of you. Taehyung sips hesitantly at first, but the sweet taste lights up his face, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Good?” you ask, and he nods, licking his lips.

The tension melts from your body as the alcohol warms your veins, and soon, the music pulls you both to the dance floor. The crowd is a sea of movement, bodies swaying and turning in time with the beat. You guide Taehyung, his hands finding your hips as you press yourself closer to him.

You move together, your body a tide and his a willing wave. The space between you disappears, and for a moment, it feels like the rest of the world falls away—just the two of you, lost in the rhythm, the charged air between you humming with something electric.

He feels it too, a spark that ignites into a slow-burning fire. His hands tighten on your waist, his breath hitching as his thoughts spiral into places they shouldn’t in the middle of a crowded club. You sense it, the shift in his energy, and it sends a thrill down your spine.

Leaning close, your lips brush his ear, your voice a whisper that cuts through the music. “Let’s go back to my place.”

His gaze meets yours, smoldering and intent, and without a word, he lets you lead him through the crowd, out into the cool night once more. The street feels quieter now, the distant sound of music fading as the two of you walk side by side, the tension between you a palpable thread pulling tighter with every step.

And for Taehyung, the city lights and human rituals fade into the background, because tonight, the only thing he wants to discover is you.

He lets you guide him through the labyrinth of streets, his footsteps light as if tethered to the ground only by your hand in his. When you reach your apartment, the city lights framing you in a warm glow, you turn with sudden intensity, capturing his lips in a kiss so fierce it steals the breath from his lungs. It’s a kiss that feels like a promise, like a storm breaking against the shoreline, and he is helpless to do anything but let himself be swept away.

Inside, the air crackles with something electric as you push him onto the bed, a playful glint in your eyes as you reveal the purpose of the handcuffs he had once puzzled over. The hours blur into each other, a symphony of shared laughter, whispered secrets, and the exploration of one another until the world outside feels like a distant dream. When it’s well past midnight and the city sleeps, you slip your hand into his and insist on walking him home, your care wrapping around him like a warm tide.

As you wait at the bus stop, the quiet hum of the night settling over you both, your fingers entwine with his in a silent gesture of connection. He glances at you, your profile softened by the faint glow of streetlights, and feels his heart swell with gratitude. You are extraordinary, he thinks, and he’s unsure what he’s done to deserve this moment, this person.

The bus arrives, a gentle roar breaking the stillness, and carries you both back to the edge of the city. As the wheels roll closer to the lake, the stars above seem to multiply, glinting like scattered diamonds on velvet. When you disembark, the familiar scent of earth and water greets you, and he feels an ache deep inside, not wanting this night to end.

The willow trees part for you like curtains drawn back on a stage, revealing the magical lake shimmering under the fireflies’ dance. Their golden lights swirl in the darkness, casting soft halos around the two of you. Your hands remain clasped, neither of you willing to break the fragile spell.

He notices you biting your lip, nervous, as though searching for the right words. When you look up at him, your eyes glimmer with something unspoken, and your voice comes, hushed and thick with emotion. “Today’s been really amazing,” you confess, the sincerity in your tone wrapping around him like a warm embrace. “I love spending time with you. And everything you’ve done to help me…” Your voice catches, and you squeeze his hands, grounding yourself in him. “I’m so grateful.”

Your words hang in the air like a soft melody, resonating deep within him. He holds your gaze, his chest tightening, knowing he feels the same but unsure how to say it without stumbling over the weight of what he feels. The night wraps around you both like a shared secret, and in this moment, the lake, the stars, and the world beyond seem to exist only for you two.

“The pleasure is all mine,” he says, his voice warm and steady, laced with genuine appreciation. “I’ve cherished every moment with you and all you’ve shared of the human world.” His gaze lingers on yours, the weight of his sincerity weaving a soft glow between you.

“Will I see you again?” The words escape your lips like a breath of wind, fragile and light, as though you fear his answer might shatter you. But the gentle smile that touches his face erases your doubt.

“Always,” he murmurs, his thumb tracing soothing circles into your hand, grounding you in his presence. He leans forward, capturing your lips in a kiss so tender it feels like a promise written in starlight. When he pulls away, his eyes linger on yours, sparkling like the lake behind him. “This will always be our secret little spot,” he whispers, his voice carrying the weight of eternity, before sealing his vow with another kiss.

The cool night air brushes against your skin as he begins to disrobe, handing the clothes back to you with a playful smirk. You fold them carefully, tucking them into the bag, which you place against the base of a willow tree. His movements are unhurried, deliberate, as though savoring these final moments of shared stillness. Then, with a fluid leap, he disappears into the water, and the transformation begins.

Your breath catches as his form shimmers under the moonlight, the emerald-green of his tail emerging from the surface like a dream come to life. The water glints where it cascades from his body, the lake embracing him like it’s welcoming its own. He turns to you, the playful glint in his eyes softened by something deeper, something unspoken.

You crouch at the edge of the lake, leaning forward to press one last kiss to his lips, the coolness of the water mingling with his warmth. When he pulls away, a radiant smile graces his face, and you feel your chest flutter, as though your heart has been kissed by the night itself.

As he swims away, his tail slicing gracefully through the water, you watch with awe, unable to look away from the way the moonlight dances across the ripples he leaves behind. A quiet smile settles on your lips, and as the willow branches sway gently overhead, you feel it—the deep and unshakable knowledge that this is not an ending but the start of something wondrous, something infinite.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle → Series taglist: @allie-in-the-moon @bangtannie7 @suker4angst → Author’s endnote: hiii! What did you think? I’m working on the last 3 mermaid stories as well, though I feel unsure about the plot, but, I’ll try to make them good for you. I hope you liked this one, and thank you so much for reading ✨

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targaryenluvs · 1 year ago

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Can you make a fic with a dark coriolanus x reader

Post Lucy running away where he stays a peace keeper for some time and he helped reader avoid being picked for the games and he abuses his power as peace keeper against reader whom he helped and holds it over her head (she has no family but her friends are like family) and he does all types of fucked up stuff to her sexually and he fetishizes her for being a woc (reader is a woman of color) and he fetishizes her skin or something and he keeps saying all creepy stuff and he then marries her (after convincing her no one would want her after him) and parades her around and shows off to capitol ppl who also fetishize her and she becomes basically his property with a creepy nickname and you pick the ending

BROWN JEWEL

pairing: dark!coriolanus snow x fem!poc!reader

summary: he was a lifeline and you’d grabbed on in hopes to avoid the reaping, but you were coriolanus’ obsession and he was not going to let you go.

warnings: obsession, abuse of power, nc touching, threats, forced marriage, fetishisation of skin color?? non-con (p in v), public sex, pregnancy, forced marriage, jealousy of infants? kisses, kinda stockholm/reader gives in

wordcount: 3.1k

a/n: audibly gasped reading this rq (i did change it around a bit since some of it i was unsure of how to write and if i felt comfy doing it) i went off track for sure

this was your last year for being involved with the reaping.

just tomorrow then you'd be in the clear for the rest of your life.

you had friends who relied on you, and their families which were practically your own. you’d been raised with them after your parents passed and you owed them your life. you were an amazing hunter and your game kept them going. you were skilled with hunting, medicine, literate because of your best friends mother. you helped them all in so many ways and you knew they needed you.

through your older years, you began to realise you weren’t exactly the same as your friends. their light skin and light eyes in contrast to your darker tones were always a reminder of your unshared bloodline. yet they never treated you any differently.

you had to live for them.

so it was how you ended up in the tree line by the peacekeepers barracks. hoping to bribe one into pulling your name from the bowl before it was placed infront of the justice building. what you didn’t expect was for a soldier to find you first.

“what’re you doing here?” he spoke from behind you as you stumbled to get up. “i... i wanted to talk to someone, to try and uhm, get them to do something for me.” he exuded confidence with his chin in the air and his grip on his gun. he obviously thought he was better than you. “what do you want me to do for you?” you sighed, “i was hoping, to get my name taken out of the reaping bowl.” he tilted his head, a smirk on his face and you wanted to peel your skin off with the way he was looking at you.

“come closer.” and you did, stepping into the moonlight. he found you to be gorgeous, glowing. “i’ll do it.” your eyes widened as you smiled, “thank you!” and he took a step closer to you, “but what will i get in return?”

and that’s when you should’ve run for the hills.

at the reaping ceremony, he coincidentally placed himself right next to your row. his stares were harsh on your back. your hands were sweating and you couldn’t think straight until that name was called, and it wasn’t yours.

“we’re safe.” your friend whispered into your ear as you smiled at her, “yeah, we are.” but for some reason you weren’t convinced. the peacekeeper was on you like a shadow ever since the day before. on the walk home he was following you and you knew it, but if you confronted him you had no clue what he’d do to you. so you felt it best to keep your head down, and get home. you didn’t expect for him to barge his way in.

“what’re you doing?” your voice was shaky and you could feel the perspiration on you, for someone reason this man made your body go haywire and you wanted to leave. “why? can’t i come see the pretty girl i saved?” your head was facing downwards as you began to mumble, “my names only in eight times, my odds were low anyways. a lot of people took tessera.” you heard him click his tongue, tutting and shaking his head in disagreement, “seven.”

he was right infront of you now, and as he bent down to whisper in your ear, you froze up, “i don’t do things for free y/n. when i want something from you, and i do, i will come to collect.” he held your face in his hand as you asked, “what’s your name?” he smiled, “coriolanus, but you can call me corio.” and he held you to it.

every time you saw him he’d be unbelievably smug.

even your friends noticed, “he keeps staring at you, that peacekeeper.” you were having a night out, your senses flooded with music and laughter. but not too far away was coriolanus, downing his beer. you shifted around before slyly looking his way. “it’s probably nothing. you know how these peacekeepers are. i think i’m going to head home.” you kissed her cheek before making your way out and to your home.

you were only a few minutes away when you took notice of the shadow behind you, lurking. “y/n.” you stopped in your tracks and turned his way. “corio.” he grinned at the nickname you used. his expression should've warned you, his words rung through your mind.

an intoxicated man was a dangerous one.

"when i want something from you, and i do, i will come to collect."

corio held you against the shabby wall as his hands held you in place. your pants swamped at your ankles as he rutted into you harshly. “stay quiet for me yeah?” your hands shoved at his chest but it seemed to be pointless.

“please, please corio not here.” coriolanus couldn’t bring himself to listen to you, and he sure as hell didn’t care if someone saw. what were they going to do? you were his, you needed to realise that. the quicker you did the easier it would be for you. your cries and protests went in one ear and out the other, “shh, i’ve got you. don’t worry.” he cooed, ignoring your pleas.

you felt humiliated, treated like trash. taken in an alleyway like a whore, as coriolanus continued on. your legs felt like jelly and your weight rested on the wall behind. his hands came up to lower your shirt, your breasts spilling out. “fuck, you’re made for me. all mine.” he groaned as he felt your walls tighten around his cock.

“come for me baby. come on.” you didn’t want to, you wanted to run away from him but your breath was laboured as your head lolled back. but even with that he wasn’t done with you. he wanted more. he wanted all of you and he wouldn’t stop until he’d had enough. you weren’t sure if he’d ever get his fill.

your cheeks burned as you walked back to your home, cum-stained panties and shame filling you to the brim. acquaintances walked past, you smiled and waved with fake kindness. your feet dragged along, your legs shaky and hands trembling. you wanted to drag the walk out as long as possible.

coriolanus could tell, but he couldn’t do anything yet. so he grit his teeth and walked with determination.

he’d punish you later.

and it was all you knew. almost every night corio crawled into your home, took you all over the house till dawn. and in return you were able to provide your family with everything they could want.

dana has a cold?

the medicine was at the front door hours later.

peter hurt himself at the mines?

a first aid kit was ready to be picked up by noon.

not a single person around you was hungry, sick or uncared for. all thanks to coriolanus. your friends were able to infer where all your resources came from, but you’d never asked for their aid.

you just wanted to help them, in any way you could.

what you didn’t anticipate was coriolanus in your home, tossing your nicest clothes into a suitcase. the jewellery he’d bought, shoes etc. “what’s going on? why are you packing my things?” he didn’t respond, he just kept packing, moving around the room and throwing in things he deemed important.

“we’re leaving, back to the capitol. you’re coming with me, now help me pack.” you grabbed his wrist in a moment of anger, forgetting your place. “let. go. now.” he demanded as you retracted your hand, “i’m sorry. but, you need to talk to me. i’m not going to the capitol corio, this is my home.” you should’ve known he was going to hate your words.

he grabbed your wrists, fingers digging in as you cried out in pain. “you are coming with me, otherwise i am more than happy to hurt you. all the supplies for your friends? gone. you know i won’t hesitate to hurt them. so if you want them to be taken care of, you’ll listen to me. now pack your things and shut up.” he spit out as you pulled away from him.

you didn’t even get to say goodbye.

the capitol scared you to no extent. the prying eyes, the excessive, almost wasteful, wealth and resources. you felt uncomfortable in your own skin. the people of panem viewed you to be a rare phenomenon. as if darker skin was unattainable. it was nothing like district 12, and you knew you’d never fully fit in. but corio wouldn’t let that be.

coriolanus thrived under dr gaul. overtime he’d been provided with an apartment and inheritance courtesy of the plinths and he was happy to indulge his sweet girl with whatever she could wish for.

the most expensive silks, finest jewels. you felt like a little porcelain doll, with multiple faces. you were bound to crack.

by the time coriolanus snow rose to be the president of panem, all the fight in your body was a distant memory, a shell of your former self. "you have everything you could ever wish for," according to your husband, "but you still think of them." his words were filled with disdain but held an ounce of truth.

your heart yearned for home. for peters terrible cooking. for dana’s flower crowns. nights out with your friends singing your heart out before sneaking out to the lake a certain covey had let slip on. a simple life.

but it all felt to be out of your grasp, far in the back of your mind.

presidential campaigns, parties, shopping, and super rich kids with nothing but fake friends. it was all your new normal. the residents of panem tolerated you for being the first lady of panem, admired you for your looks, and despised you for your background.

you’d never felt more alone.

you found solace in your children. ciron, your baby boy. only five years old but undeniably bright. he was ahead of most children his age in studies, able to remember so much in such a small mind. he was the spitting image of coriolanus. the old coriolanus. curly blonde hair, striking blue eyes. but his kindness, his care for others? that was all his mother. he was the perfect mix, and a huge mommy’s boy. the second he learned something knew he rambled on about it, only to you. he loved to play with your hair, curling it around his fingers.

“now we match mommy!” he smiled as you picked him up, resting him on your hip. “now i’m almost as pretty as you baby.” you teased as you attacked him with kisses on his face. he squirmed in your arms, small hands coming to cover his face. the noise seemed to wake caroline, her squeals and cries echoing through the home.

“shh, we have to be quiet okay?” ciron nodded as the two of you made your way to her nursery. it was caroline’s first birthday today, and coriolanus had spared no expense on your account. the celebration was to be held at your home, filled with people who couldn’t care less. but you just wanted to give her what you never had. a party at the presidents house was rare, and a lot of the hadn’t seen you in a while.

caroline was all you. darker skin than ciron, olive like. brown eyes and dark hair.

during your pregnancy with ciron, coriolanus showed you off to the people. you were regularly seen out and about, at parties, shopping, walking etc. coriolanus took any opportunity to parade you about to the people of panem. something out of their reach but so sweet, so beautiful. you despised it, being seen as nothing more than his property.

“she’s a fine girl you have coriolanus.” grandma’am spoke as she pinched your cheeks, “just have to take the district out of her.” as if you were an animal to be dissected.

“are there any more of her type?” the man joked as coriolanus’s hand tightened on your waist.

you’d always loved yourself, your hair, your skin color, your body. but it all seemed to be under coriolanus’s ownership the second you’d allowed him to take you to the captiol. no one cared about you. no one bothered to help. they just admired and touched when they could.

so you’d plead with him, begging him to let you rest for the remainder of your pregnancy. he surprisingly agreed, letting you confine yourself to your shared room.

and with cirons birth, you felt hope. his wide eyes, consuming all he could with his sight, his tiny fingers wrapping around your finger. your heart swelled with joy at his face, your saving grace.

coriolanus wanted to pry him from your fingers. for the next few weeks your attention was purely on the boy and coriolanus began to feel neglected. he was already traumatised from his own mothers passing, his sister taking her life. with the announcement of your own pregnancy the thoughts poured in.

would the baby take you too?

would he be forced to listen to your screams?

would he have to raise the baby he despised?

he hadn’t even met your child yet and he'd already made his mind up. the baby was no good, an heir was needed of course but at the cost of his wife? would he pay the price?

your screams of agony and pain clawed at his throat. he felt sick, bile rising as he forced it down. coriolanus would not be seen as weak. but he couldn’t help himself, your hands clutched onto his as a lifeline. your pleas for aid, and coriolanus could do nothing. helpless.

the finest doctors in panem, machinery and medicine yet it all seemed useless.

to you it was worth it, the second you held him in your arms. all the pain in the world if it meant you’d have him as the outcome. one of the nurses placed a pair of scissors in his hands, urging him to cut the cord as coriolanus masked his disgust.

snip!

tigris cooed over the baby as lethargy hung over you like a cloud. “isn’t he the sweetest coriolanus?” all he managed was a nod, his focus on you.

his strong wife, who’d given way to new life. your eyes were fluttering close as you murmured, “ciron.” the doctors and nurses gleefully agreed, “what a fine name!” the head doctor announced as he held him in his arms, a nurse taking him away to be cleaned.

and after all that, you were pregnant once more. another child for the happy family but another nuisance in his eyes between yourself and him.

all you ever cared about was the kids.

“has caroline eaten?”

“is ciron awake?”

“is his teacher here yet?”

“coriolanus, i think we need to take ciron shopping again. he’s growing so quickly!” he knew he should’ve been happy. but all he wanted was for you to be his again. you were always too tired for him, already asleep with ciron by your side, taking his place.

or you were breastfeeding caroline, meaning that he was sure he wasn’t going to get to feel you up that night. too sore, too tired, not in the mood. he couldn’t catch a break.

you’d decided to have caroline and ciron match. baby blue, how sweet!

it’d only been about an hour in and you’d had enough. these people never really moved on. the same comments about how special you were, how lucky you were. compliments stuffed down your throat you were sure you’d gag.

you grounded yourself with caroline, clutching onto her as coriolanus made the rounds. “anna!” you shouted out to one of your servers. “yes, mrs snow?” you refrained from rolling your eyes at the last name, “bring the cake out, now please.” she wasn’t sure, “mr snow said-” you smiled at her, “caroline’s getting fussy, better if we blow the candles out now so i can feed her and get her to bed.” she scurried away to get everything in order as coriolanus found you.

“sweetheart. you can’t hide the birthday girl at her party.” you chuckled, “i know, i know. she’s getting tired, we’re going to have to get the candles out early. cirons already sleepy too, he worked really hard today. i’m so proud of him.” you beamed as coriolanus took a sip from his glass, “oh did he?” he sneered. you were about to reply but the cake being carried out took your attention. “look sweetie! it’s your cake!” caroline lifted her head from your shoulder as you pointed at it.

“come on corio.” he downed his drink before following along. maybe if he was nice you’d fuck him tonight.

the four of you were a picture perfect family, cameras shuttered as everyone sang for caroline. she rested on your side as ciron stood in front of coriolanus, his hands resting on his sons shoulders. a smile plastered on his face. “happy birthday to you!” you bent down with caroline to blow the candles out as everyone cheered.

for once, you felt happy.

you sat infront of caroline’s crib, rocking it side to side. it was around 12 now, the party packed up, ciron in bed sleeping soundly, and coriolanus in his study. it’d been a while since you and coriolanus had been together. your pregnancy with caroline was risky according to doctors and you were told to take it easy. it’d been at least two months since his last time with you, and god he needed release.

once you figured she was asleep you made your way to corios study. “corio? you busy?” you peaked your head through the door to find corio writing away. “come in.” you closed the door behind you as he rolled back in his seat, patting his lap as you plopped down.

“you want something?” you rested your head in the crook of neck, roses infiltrating your senses. “m’ tired, wanna sleep with you.” coriolanus was taken aback for once, in his eyes you’d deprived him of your presence for so long and here you were wanting for him. coriolanus would have to settle for now. he caressed your cheek, “alright, come on.” his arm lifted your legs and you interlaced your fingers behind his neck.

over your time with coriolanus you’d learned to like things about him, since there was no point in you hating him anymore. his voice in the night, whispering to you. his soft hands washing your hair. when he was relaxed, the two of you would bask in eachothers presence, reading silently. baths together, his hands raking through your hair, trailing over your body with care. and as the two of you slept together, in a tight embrace, coriolanus felt at ease.

his brown jewel, all to himself.

#hunger games x reader #coriolanus snow x reader #dark!coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus snow x fem!reader #yandere coriolanus snow

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arabellasleopardcoat · 1 year ago

Note

Hi! For the bingo: Daemon Targaryen & courting?

Mirror (Daemon Targaryen x Reader)

Warnings: Targaryen reader. Mature situations. Mature language. A bit of angst, incest, and innocence kink.

Summary: Courting. Daemon’s version.

A/N: Everyone who writes Daemon fics has tackled this trope. I missed oneshots so bad.

There was little King Viserys wouldn’t do for his lovely daughters. During your childhood, there were two of everything. Two Septas, two dolls, two play daggers. For as long as you have been alive, there have been efforts made to make things fair.

No doubt, it was the legacy of your mother. Your father was nice enough, but you doubted he had the foresight to try to avoid sibling rivalry. Queen Aemma’s influence had been greatly missed after her passing.

It had been then when the problems between you and Rhaenyra had started. Your relationship had gotten even more rocky when she was named heir. The situation had turned so bad, even your father had noticed. And just as if it were one of his models, he had demanded perfect symmetry in all aspects.

The same rooms. Same number of servants. Same number of dresses you were allowed to own. An even split of your mother’s jewels.

Unfortunately, there were things not even King Viserys could fix. This was one of them, you thought, as you sat on one of the rails of the dragon pit.

Daemon and Rhaenyra race on their dragons in the open sky right above you. They shriek in laughter and shout things in High Valyrian. You are not sure which you resent more. Rhaenyra, for dragging you along with the promise of tending to Syrax or Daemon for interrupting your time with your sister.

It seemed as if all you did was fight now. The occasion where you did not was rare, and so, intrusion on it was not welcome. But at the same time, you can’t help but wonder if Rhaenyra is playing a cruel trick on you, dragging you here so you can see what you are missing.

Despite your best attempts at keeping yourself calm, you can’t help but feel rage bubble up in your throat. Rage, and a deep sense of failure. You had heard even Laena Velaryon, younger than you, had managed to claim a dragon. Was this why your father had chosen Rhaenyra to be heir and not you?

It felt cruel, and hurtful. Not only did your uncle always pay more attention to Rhaenyra, but now you had to watch them do things you couldn’t do. Go where you couldn’t follow, and made you watch them go.

They dismount a few feet away from you. With them, comes all the hassle and fretting of the dragon keepers. Caraxes always takes a long time to settle after going flying, and so, you relax in your seat. You hope enough time might go by, they forget about your existence and you can slip out unnoticed. It would save you the embarrassment of having to hear them flirt and tell you everything as if you were a child.

No luck for you today, though. You smell it before you see it. Sweat, leather and the unmistakable stink of dragon. Your nose scrunches up, and you jump off the railing just in time to avoid your uncle’s ruffling of your hair.

Rhaenyra snickers a little. Despite the dragon ride, she looks as royal and regal as ever. It’s a feat you admire and despise greatly.

“Trying to sneak up on me?” You frown. You don’t need any further embarrassing. Being startled and falling into the mud would have been just the cherry on top.

Daemon ignores you, tugging on your braid.

“No dragon yet?”

“No.” Your answer it’s harsh, and perhaps a bit rude, but this feels as if they are targedly mocking you. Daemon raises his eyebrows, looking on the edge of apologizing, if such a thing it’s even possible for him. Rhaenyra, more used to your moods, just rolls her eyes.

“Let her be, Kepa.” She whispers, as if you are not there. “She is always like this.”

“Pouty?” Daemon tilts your chin up with two fingers. You jerk your head away, glaring daggers at him.

“Bitter.” Rhaenyra speaks, and you glare at her instead. You do not understand why she is so mean, lately. Her being named heir has not done anything good for your relationship, but you had tried your best to play nice. She didn’t seem to care.

“I can hear both of you.” You complain, but they just laugh. Angrily, you stomp off.

You feel too jittery to go back to your chambers. It would make you more angry, if you were to go inside the castle so soon. It’s too pleasant of a day to be spent cooped up at the Red Keep. Too preoccupied with your thoughts, you don’t notice someone is following you.

Your feet lead you to the training yard. It makes sense, in a way. This is where you have been coming the past few months when the castle got too small to house both you and Rhaenyra.

Early in the morning as it is, the yard is empty. Save for your sworn shield, of course. While Rhaenyra had gotten Ser Criston Cole, handsome and dornish, you had gotten Ser Harwin Strong. Riverlander, just as handsome and with a clear infatuation with your sister.

But kind. Unbearably so.

“I figured your meeting with the Princess would not go as planned.” He explains, as he helps you out of your cloak and jewelry. Ser Harwin helps you put on some protective gear before handing you a wooden sword.

He has been teaching you swordplay for the past few months. Not so much for self-defense, but as a way to curb your more violent impulses. When you feel like you might throttle Rhaenyra or perhaps smother her with a pillow, you come to him.

It's good. You have not learned a lot, but there is something utterly satisfying about hitting someone as hard as you can. With wooden swords and against Ser Harwin, you know there is no real possibility of hurting him. He is much taller and stronger than you.

There is also something satisfying about blocking his blows, too. In the smacking sound, in the effort it takes. You understand why men enjoy battle so much, finally. When you walk away, you are always sore and bruised, but your mind is finally quiet.

“I have just resigned myself to an arranged marriage.” You say to Ser Harwin, as you block his sword with great effort. “All the men in the court are panting after her, it’s no use.”

And you do think you are on the right, this time. Too often, you feel overshadowed by her, and seeing your uncle and Ser Harwin on the same day just confirms it. You have no chance at finding true love, not when every man here only has eyes for her.

You didn’t necessarily were a romantic person, but a bit of attention would be nice. Feeling desired and admired in the way Rhaenyra was. They even called her the Realm’s delight, for Gods’s sake.

“Are they after her? Or her tittle?” Ser Harwin tries to disarm you. You hit harder, a low blow aimed to his ribs that he avoids with little effort.

“You tell me.” You pant, a little out of breath. It was something you frequently wondered yourself, but never about him. Ser Harwin clearly wasn’t hoping to be King. What he wanted was something much more carnal. You had seen the way his eyes trailed Rhaenyra’s figure when they were together in a room. He appreciated her personality, perhaps, but he clearly wanted to bed her.

You loved teasing him about it. For such a big man, he could sure get sheepish.

“Fair.” Ser Harwin chuckled, raising his wooden sword again. You liked that he was very good-humored. He didn't mind your teasing. “But think of the bright side. If someone is after you, they are really after you.”

You frowned. He had a point, you supposed. If a man were about to pursue you, it might be because you are a Targaryen, or because of your valyrian looks. But never because of the Iron Throne. With baby Aegon existence, you are certain that whatever your place in the succession line is, plenty of people would have to die for you to even have a weak claim to it.

“Wise words for one so young.” The voice startles both of you. As if you were children caught with their hands in the cookie jar, you freeze. Ser Harwin even drops his wooden sword. “You should heed your knight, niece.”

“Uncle.” You answer, casually. You know Daemon. If he senses weakness, he is going to pounce. While Ser Harwin has given away already that you are not exactly doing something your father approves off, you are not going to have your Uncle thinking he has something to blackmail you with.

Daemon ignores you, choosing to attack the weak link. He tuts at Harwin.

“Poor form. And a poor trainer. Leave us.”

Harwin hesitates. He is not supposed to leave you alone and unprotected. Much less, with your uncle. Daemon it’s not known for his trustworthiness.

“With all due respect, Prince Daemon, I am not allowed…”

“Leave us, boy.” Daemon’s tone turns harsher. Channeling all the authority he has as a Prince. Now, your sworn shield can’t refuse. It’s an order, not a suggestion. But Harwin remains where he is, looking to you for approval.

Your uncle’s eyes flash dangerously at the defiance. You look at Harwin and nod. He leaves.

You twirl your wooden sword. Daemon smirks.

“Commendable.” He gives a slow clap. “Very loyal guard dog, you have there.”

“You could learn a thing or two.” You answer, vicious. The human equivalent of an animal biting down and refusing to release its jaws. By the brief look of hurt on his face, you have touched a nerve.

But soon, his expression smooths down into a vicious little smile, to match yours.

“So this is where you have been disappearing to.”

“So?” You ask, all nonchalance.

“Feisty.” Your uncle kicks Harwin’s discarded wooden sword away and unsheathes his. Whatever this is, it’s long overdone, you realize. You are bouncing with pent-up anger and frustration.

Daemon strikes at you, hard. The flat side of his sword hits your ribs. It hurts even with the protections Harwin makes you wear, a dull sting on your torso.

“If this was a real fight, you would be dead.” His tone is smug. You cannot take it, and so, bang your wooden sword against his hip.

“And you would be unable to walk.”

Your uncle laughs, coldly. He is angry too, you realize. In that messy way he gets, sometimes. Teeth bared in a cocky grin, still high on the thrill of riding Caraxes and chasing Rhaenyra.

Despite your best attempts, you are no match for him. He is a seasoned warrior. He has been at war for the last couple of years. No amount of anger can match his technique. Soon, he has you disarmed and cornered, Dark Sister at your throat.

“Not bad. I might even bruise.” His tone drips condescension, but there is something odd going on in his face. His pupils are blown, his chest is heaving, and there is no way it’s with exertion. While you were panting and begging for a respite, Daemon hadn’t even worked up a sweat. “You need a real sword.”

“Perhaps. But then Rhaenyra gets one, and this is only mine.” It’s more honest than you would like, but you are still trying to decipherate what exactly he is feeling. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes glassy. You feel confused.

“Is that why you want a husband? To have someone only yours?” Daemon suddenly is much closer, twirling the end of your braid between his fingers.

You scoff, and push him away.

“That’s none of your concern.”

You storm inside the Red Keep, scowling. Finally, it seemed, Daemon and Rhaenyra had managed to run you off the castle’s grounds.

The encounter is barely given a second thought. You decide to keep yourself busy for the rest of Daemon’s visit to King’s Landing. Knowing him, he is due to get exiled soon. There is no point in worrying about it.

You fill up your days with activities, be it harassing some tutors, your Septa, or even visiting orphaned children in King’s Landing. That activity is one you and Ser Harwin particularly enjoy. It fills you with joy when you get to run around and play in the mud with your stern guard having no choice but to tag along. You have even caught him smiling when little girls ask to braid his hair.

Things are surprisingly calm. You would have expected your uncle to be involved in a scandal by now. Yet, there are no rumors of him bedding three whores in one sitting, nor there is an irate Otto Hightower asking your father to send him away.

Until one night, you find a jeweled sword resting on your bed. It’s small, but you can tell from the sharpness of the blade that it is made from Valyrian steel. You start training with it the next day, getting used to its weight. If Ser Harwin thinks anything of your sudden interest in doing more than hitting him, he doesn’t show it.

You are not surprised to find your Uncle waiting for you after your morning practice. At first glance, the courtyard is as empty as when you began your training. Despite it, you can’t shake the feeling that someone is watching.

Just as you are entering the Red Keep, sweaty and ready for a bath, Daemon steps out from the shadows.

“You look so grown up in riding attire.” He says, from beneath some trees. “Almost didn’t recognize you.”

“Almost didn’t recognize you, either. No scandal in nearly a month?” You start to loosen your braid, accelerating the process of getting into your bath as you walk. There is nothing you want more than to just soak in hot water and let the warmth wash away your soreness. “You must be getting old.”

“Youthfulness is in the spirit.” Daemons hurries to reach you, falling into step right beside you. You resist the urge to walk faster if only to see him struggle. Power play. Always. Push, and pull, and don’t let anyone else get the upper hand.

“Ah, that makes sense.” You slow down your steps because while you enjoy angering your uncle, you would rather not anger him too much. “You have the spirit of a child.”

“I’ll take that as the highest of compliments.” Daemon ruffles your hair, uncaring that’s matted in sweat. You make a face. “Did you like your gift?”

“Depends.” You give him a feral little grin. Your uncle looks at you, as if deciding whether he wants to bite or not. Knowing him as you do, you know he can’t stand the intrigue.

“On what?”

“How many of Rhaenyra’s necklaces you had to melt to get the sword.”

“That blade is worth at least five of her necklaces.” Daemon boasts. You give him an unimpressed look.

“Huh. Then I like it.”

“Not love it?”

“It wasn’t ten.” And with a cheeky grin, you are off towards your chambers.

You don’t see Daemon for a few days. You hear him, unfortunately. He is everywhere at once, yet never wherever you are. You know of him in the shape of rumors and hearsay.

When you go fetch yourself a tea tray in the kitchen, your uncle is in the middle of the servants. “I heard last night he was with four whores!” As you ask a maid about your sister’s whereabouts, he is her chosen companion. “Princess Rhaenyra went out to race your uncle, Princess.” And of course, when your father complains, Daemon is in the midst of it. “He insulted Otto and then walked out of the council meeting.”

Despite your wishes, your uncle starts to occupy more of your mind’s space than you would like. You keep wondering what he is up to, each rumor more outrageous than the last. You cannot help but wonder if it’s you who was prompted him to wreak such havoc. The idea of having such power over him, that an offhanded comment can cause such a reaction, makes something tingle in your stomach.

You find him next in the gardens. Alicent and Rhaenyra are fighting again, a nasty thing that soon turns into a screaming match. That's a dynamic you have stayed out of, since you had memory. While Alicent and Rhaenyra were friends, you never felt anything towards Alicent besides a slight sympathy. She seemed nice enough, but she was not your friend.

Rhaenyra and you loved in the same way, you see. Possessive, harsh. As Princesses, you never learned to share. You wanted your person to be only yours. Alicent was Rhenyra’s, and so, you stepped aside.

When she married your father, you weren’t exactly pleased. But you had the emotional detachment Rhenyra lacked, being too close to the situation. In time, you had come to understand that it wasn’t like she had a choice, either.

So, it wasn’t like you were going to break with tradition now. To avoid their screams, you had decided to pace the gardens. Daemon seemed to have the same idea because you find him sitting on a bench with a book in his hands.

“Came to join me?” He asks, voice smooth like honey.

“Rather to escape the screeching.” You sit by his side, curiously peering at the book he holds.

“A Cautionary Tale For Young Girls.” Daemon’s smirk is the only thing that gives him away, that, and the fact that the book is written in High Valyrian. “Most illuminating read. You should try it.”

You laugh, despite yourself. His lips twitch into a more genuine smile, less full of smugness and bravado.

“I was getting lonely.” You say, softly. The admission surprises even you. “You are with Rhaenyra all the time.”

Don’t go where I can’t follow, you wish to say. Don’t take her from me. My other half. But you don’t speak the words aloud, from fear of him repeating your confession. You don’t want to beg Rhaenyra for affection, not when you have been competing with her all your life.

Daemon makes a face, as if pained of what he will say next. He seems wary of hurting you. You wonder if that means he cares for you, in his own twisted way. It’s not often he worries about what others think.

“She has a dragon.” No matter how gentle the tone, it hurts anyway.

“I miss her. Not you.” But it’s a lie. You know it’s a bad pattern, and you shouldn’t miss him, but you are so used to competing for affection that Daemon has become both your rival and the one you crave. The weeks without him have been lonely and taxing. No matter if it was you who pushed him away and didn’t care to reach out after.

“I remember you two were close.” Something must change in your face because your uncle reaches toward you, gently squeezing your arm.

“We used to be. She is just… So angry, all the time. And has all these new people. Admires, prospects…” You feel like a fool. There is a deep sense of unfulfillment and being wronged yet at the same time, you know you are being unreasonable. This was always going to happen. You can’t share the Iron Throne, and she has always been your father’s favorite. Rhaenyra was always going to be the heir.

“Which one am I?”

You shrug.

“It's not like I care.” But you do. You do care, despite your best sense. Because you want to be his favorite. You have always wanted to be someone’s favorite, but Daemon has a special brand of devotion for those he cares about. You wish you could be counted on that list, lately. By the smile on his face, Daemon can probably tell. “And it's not like before she didn't have things that were only hers.”

"I thought you shared everything.” Your uncle tucks a loose piece of your hair behind your ear. You lean into the touch, closing your eyes.

“She has Alicent. Had. Still does.” You know when the time comes, Alicent will be there for Rhaenyra. They are tied together by destiny in ways Rhaenyra and you are not.

“The curse of the younger brother.” With your eyes still closed, his hand gently brushing your hair back, the words do not feel as if they are being spoken aloud. The gardens around you feel muffled, distant. Perhaps it’s the soothing touch, or the deep pang of sadness in your chest, but you do not understand what Daemon means.

“I beg your pardon?” You open your eyes, giving him a confused expression. Not only is he muttering nonsense, your uncle is much closer to you than he was before. Daemon’s forehead is nearly pressed into yours, his thumb now gently rubbing across your jawline.

“Viserys and Rhaenyra are the same.” He explains, tracing your cheekbone next. As if he is keen to learn your face from touch alone, carve it on his mind. It makes you smile slightly. The pain from mourning your innocence is very much still there, but it doesn’t feel like it’s tearing you apart. “Just as you and I are the same.”

“I…” You are not sure of what to answer. Naturally, it makes sense. You can feel it in your bones, but you can’t quite articulate the thought.

Daemon’s thumb presses against your lips in a downward motion, closing them.

“We could fly off tonight. Go to the Free cities, marry. No one would care.” His tone is fervent, urgent. Pleading with you. You keep quiet, and so does he. The silence stretches between the two of you. Your mind races.

Just as your lips flutter behind his thumb to answer the proposal, your uncle speaks again.

“We are free, you and I. But the Iron Throne chains them.”

It’s then you realize it was not a proposition, but rather an explanation of the thoughts you were unable to articulate. And perhaps it’s the sting of rejection or the deep sadness that has taken root on you since the death of your mother, but you cannot keep the words in. They come flowing, tumbling, rushing out of your mouth.

“I want to be a girl forever.” You say to him, starting to tear up. “I am not ready to be a woman.”

You are scared, you realize. No longer are you a girl playing to be a woman, dressing up in your mother’s jewels and dresses. Five years down the line, you will be married. Ten, it will be you who is a mother.

Your uncle gathers you into his arms, painfully soft. You would have never believed Daemon capable of such a tender touch.

“You can’t be innocent forever.”

“Everything is so complicated now. I just… I don’t want anything to change.”

You whisper against his neck. It’s a doomed wish. You know already it’s too late for it. No longer are you an innocent, no longer anything is the same. It will never be.

“Not all changes are bad. There can be pleasure in losing one’s innocence.” Daemon kisses your temple. “And I intend to show it to you.”

That night, the two of you sneak out of the Red Keep.

“I wanted to give you something only yours.” Your uncle says, as he leads you down the Street of Silk. Both of you are wearing rough cloaks, for discretion. You cling to his arm, afraid of getting lost in between the strange sights and smells.

There is so much to see and so much to hear. People laughing in the streets, singing, drunkards and patrons from the brothels mixing. While you are familiar with the streets of King’s Landing, you have never seen them at night. It’s both frightening and exhilarating, watching the city come to life in ways new to you.

There are no children in sight, only adults. The message that Daemon hoped to convey by bringing you here is loud and clear. You are no longer a girl, you are a woman. And so, instead of sleeping soundly in your bed as you have done all your childhood, you get to enjoy the wonders of the night.

The crowd gets even more rowdy as you pass the bigger pleasure houses and walk towards the ones that are at the end of the street. Secluded as they are, they spark your curiosity.

“Where are we going?” You ask your uncle, tugging at his arm. “Inside one of those? Why?”

“They cater to tastes that the rest do not.” Daemon comes to a stop in front of one, and takes off his hood. The woman at the doors takes one look at his hair and quickly ushers you both inside a room.

The room is bare except for a couple of chairs and a bed. You examine everything closely, noting the inferior quality of the furniture. These are not the kinds of chairs you are used to, at the Red Keep. After a while, and only when you notice no one else is hiding inside, you lower your hood. Being overly cautious never hurt anyone, after all.

“What tastes?” You squeeze Daemon’s hand. He gives you a puzzled look. “You said they cater to tastes…”

“You will see.” You are saved from the wait to know what he means by the door opening. Two servants, dressed in little clothing, step inside. Men, near your age. They are completely unique, yet similar. You get the feeling they are not simple servants, even though they serve you and Daemon goblets of wine.

You stare. You do not understand why they are not leaving.

Your uncle steps behind you, to whisper in your ear. His arms circle around your waist.

“Look at them.” He presses a chaste kiss just behind your ear. “Really look.”

So you do. One of the men is tall and strong. Almost wide. All bulging muscles. He has dark hair and light colored eyes. The other man is slightly slender, yet strong either way. He has lighter hair and a much sweeter face. They are both handsome, yet you do not understand what game Daemon could be playing.

“You wanted something only yours.” He mutters, kissing the crown of your head. He perches his chin on top of it. “Most girls, they don’t get to choose whom they lose their innocence to.”

It dawns on you then. He wants you to choose one of the men to… Well. It’s a nice thing to do, but so undeniably Daemon it hurts.

Feeling mischievous, you turn around in his grip.

“And I can choose any of the men in this room?” You smirk. Your uncle’s brows draw together, in disbelief.

“That’s the point, yes.” Daemon speaks slowly, as if explaining to someone particularly daft. Or innocent. “I’ll pay for it, don’t worry.”

“Good.” You smirk, and kiss him. You feel him smirk right back against your mouth.

#daemon x reader #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon x you #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x female reader #daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen x y/n #daemon x oc #daemon x y/n #daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon smut #daemon fanfic #daemon fluff #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen fluff

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yandere-daydreams · 1 year ago

Text

Title: The Housepet.

Continuation of The Houseguest.

Written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

Pairing: Yandere!Kaveh x Reader x Yandere!Alhaitham (Genshin).

Word Count: 2.0k.

TW: Implied/Referenced Non-Con, Prolonged Imprisonment, Mind Break, Physical Abuse, Dehumization, Obsessive Behavior, and Delusional Thoughts.

You’d been shaking for the past two hours.

Violently enough for the tremor to be visible in your shoulders, in the jerkiness of your rare movements, but not so aggressively as to disrupt the path of the tears Kaveh would occasionally catch running down your cheeks. It’d started halfway through your tryst, while his head was still buried between the thighs he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about for weeks, and the warm bath he’d run hadn’t comforted you the way he’d hoped it would. He thought that getting you out of Alhaitham’s clothes, Alhaitham’s colors might help, but even dressed in one of his shirts, your hair pulled out of your face by one of his jewel-studded clips, you shook like a leaf caught in the morning gale. When he tried taking your collar away, hoping that it’s absence would let you (however momentarily) forget Alhaitham, you broke your silence to beg him not to, and his bleeding heart won over his better judgement. You got to keep your collar, even if the sight of it around your throat sent a bolt of discomfort straight to the pit of his stomach.

Currently, he had you on his bed, curled up in a nest of his sheets and wrapped in his arms as he tried to tempt your permanently downcast gaze back onto him. It hurt him to see you in such obvious distress, as little as you seemed to care what he thought. He could only imagine what you were like when Alhaitham had his way with you, that brute. At least Kaveh had made an effort to be gentle with you. He was sure that, behind closed doors, Alhaitham wouldn’t so much as—

Speak of the archons and they will appear. As he rubbed shallow circles into your bruised hip, Kaveh heard the door to Alhaitham’s flat creak open, a series of familiar footsteps following shortly after. There was no pretense of a search – Kaveh could’ve counted the seconds it took Alhaitham to arrive at his door, to let himself into Kaveh’s room with the same irritatingly neutral, ‘I already know this will be a waste of my time’ expression he always seemed to wear. He didn’t even attempt to knock, but Kaveh supposed that was just karma. He supposed he wouldn’t be in this mess at all if he just tread a little more carefully around Alhaitham, around you.

Despite his brazenness, Alhaitham chose to linger in the doorway, his gaze flickering from Kaveh to you to the love bites littered down the length of your neck. Kaveh was the one to break the silence, eventually. “You’re supposed to be working.”

“And you’re supposed to be paying rent.” Then, resting his shoulder against the doorframe, “I left early. I wanted to see how you two were faring.”

Kaveh scoffed. “Don’t pretend you’re clairvoyant.” Alhaitham paid him a look, and he threw his head to the side, pulling you closer. “I’m only trying to some love to someone you’ve been neglecting for months. The poor thing’s so traumatized by your company, a little affection’s rendered them nearly catatonic.”

Alhaitham let out a dry laugh, his expression remaining completely unchanged. “That is not what they look like when they’re catatonic.”

Kaveh moved to spit out something accusatory and defensive, but Alhaitham only held up a hand. When Kaveh begrudgingly went quiet, Alhaitham took a step closer, positioning himself at the foot of Kaveh’s bed. He clicked his tongue and, with only the slightest amount of hesitation, you broke away from Kaveh and crawled to your keeper, head bowed and hands pawed. You came to kneel in front of him, your gaze never rising higher than Kaveh’s sheets. “I’m sorry, I tried to…” You trailed off, clenched your eyes shut. A flower, so meek and so delicate, it couldn’t help but close its petals for fear of being burnt by the sun. “I’m sorry.”

Alhaitham took on a look of pleased exasperation. “That won’t be necessary. You remember what I told you before I left, right?”

You nodded. “That it wouldn’t be my fault.”

“Close, but not quite.” He smiled, resting his hand on top of your head. You melted into his palm, although the sigh that slipped past your lips betrayed more relief than solace. “I said he wouldn’t be able to control himself. That’s the thing about Kaveh – no matter what I put in front of him, he’d be able to justify taking it for himself.”

Again, Kaveh tried to protest, to reiterate that he hadn’t ‘taken’ anything, but Alhaitham already going on, his hand drifting to your cheek, then your chin, tilting your head back to better take in the hickey bruised into the corner of your jaw, the evidence of Kaveh’s teeth still embedded in your shoulder. “You should’ve seen what I had to deal with a few months ago. Fighting, scratching, and such a mouth – I’m glad we found a better use for it.” A pause, a glance toward Kaveh. “I’m sure even you can admit that this is an improvement. A little training goes a far way, when you’ve got the right handler.”

He felt something sharp and heavy fall into the pit of his stomach. “It sounds like you’re talking about an animal.”

Kaveh didn’t want to be strict with you. He didn’t want to be like Alhaitham; endlessly cruel, endlessly demanding, a void where all emotions more sentimental than lukewarm indifference were eradicated with the utmost efficiency. He wanted to be soft with you, a reprieve you could run to when Alhaitham proved unyielding. He wanted to love you, if only because of how much it hurt him to see Alhaitham failing to do the same.

“It’s not completely different. Give a subject the right incentive, and it doesn’t matter whether you’re trying to tame a student or a sumpter beast. This subject just happens to do well with direct instruction. I found that out early on, after a softer approach proved ineffective.” He snapped his fingers, and as if guided by a string, you straightened your back, your formerly divided attention now focused solely on Alhaitham. “I could teach you a few of their commands, if you think you could be strict enough not to undo all of my hard work.”

But, seeing you kneel in front of Alhaitham, staring up at him like he’d hung the stars in the sky – he couldn’t help but feel his heart ache at the memory of the state you’d been in only a few minutes ago, of the trembling doll who needed to be posed by hand. At least, under the weight of Alhaitham’s commands, you were more of a house pet than a toy, more of a flower than a block of crumbling stone.

The thought alone should’ve made him feel sick.

Should’ve.

He straightened, swung his legs over the side of his mattress. He looked at you as he spoke, only letting Alhaitham take up a fraction of his peripheral. “What do you mean by ‘commands’?”

Kaveh wasn’t looking at him, but he didn’t have to be.

He could hear Alhaitham’s grin in his voice. “Come here.”

He took long seconds to push himself onto his feet, to find his way to Alhaitham’s side. With a soft hum, Alhaitham stepped back and brought a hand to Kaveh’s waist, another to his shoulder, drawing him forward until he was standing in front of you. He could see something spark in your eyes – not quite distress, but confusion. There’d been a change in the routine that you and Alhaitham had perfected, and you clearly weren’t sure how to react. To his credit, he wasn’t either.

“You already saw how to get their attention,” Alhaitham started, his hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “Names haven’t had much affect since our time with the cellar, but most verbal commands are fairly straightforward. Kneel, sit, and stand all do exactly what you’d assume, and while they usually ask for approval to speak, they’re good at responding to direct questions. Aren’t you, love?”

Kaveh watched you perk up, looking towards Alhaitham for approval. He offered a curt nod, and with a few seconds of deliberation, you managed a small “…I am.”

“See? There’s still a brain in there after all.” Alhaitham flashed that awful smile toward Kaveh. Kaveh didn’t return the gesture. “We’re making progress, but due to prior incidents—” Alhaitham’s tone didn’t change, but you flinched. “—our outdoor privileges are still restricted. Kitchen access is limited, too, until someone proves that they know how to handle knives responsibly.”

You bowed your head, a scolded dog who knew better than to pretend it hadn’t learned its lesson. Kaveh interjected before Alhaitham could forget the point of his lecture. “That’s not what I care about.”

He could practically taste the smugness radiating off of Alhaitham. “And what do you care about, Kaveh?”

“I can’t believe you’d hold this over my—”

“Answer the question,” Alhaitham cut in. “If you want to use something that belongs to me, you’re going to have to tell me what you plan to do with it.”

It felt like something was attempting to crawl up his throat, one spiny leg at a time. It felt like his chest was about to split open. “I want to be…”

His eyes met yours. For a moment, he thought he saw something other than the dull acknowledgment of an unpleasant reality, other than the fear of punishment and the anticipation of reward. Something more visceral, more conscious than what could be ingrained into you by someone else’s hands.

“I’d like to be loving with them.” He saw it for a moment and then, that visceral something fell apart and disappeared. “I’d like for them to love me. Or, to act like they do, at least.”

Alhaitham let out a breath of a laugh. It sounded like nails against porcelain. You seemed to think so too. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Your voice sounded so painstakingly delicate. If he had a little less self-control, he might’ve taken you in his arms and whisked you away, taken you somewhere Alhaitham couldn’t follow. If he was a little less selfish, he would’ve. “It wasn’t.”

If Alhaitham heard you speak out of turn, he was willing to overlook the infraction. “Use the collar. Just make sure not to pull too hard – you won’t like what that means.”

It was Kaveh’s turn to shake, now. He tried to keep his hands steady, to touch you as carefully as he had when you were alone together, but his limbs felt disconnected from his body, his mind buzzing numbly with a static haze. The material was softer than he thought it would – not quite the silk he’d taken it for, but rather, a fine velvet, soft to the touch and bound by a small, metallic ring that rested over your throat. Two fingers slipped under the thin fabric, and as if you’d only just noticed what was happening, you looked toward Alhaitham, your lips parting and—

There was a blur of movement in the corner of his eye, a resounding crack that seemed to ring in Kaveh’s ears for seconds. It took him a moment to piece together what had happened, to associate your reddened cheek with Alhaitham’s raised hand, and another to realize Alhaitham was talking, to hear something other than the sound of his own heart racing in his chest. “Do not question the orders you’re given,” he said, his tone flat, unaffected. “If you act out again, there will be consequences. Do you understand?”

There was no hesitation, no trepidation. Just a deep breath, a new slackness to your posture, and a smile terrible enough to match Alhaitham’s own. “I do. Thank you for correcting me.”

Kaveh couldn’t take it. He didn’t think, didn’t wait, didn’t give himself time to think better of being so rough with you – just took your collar in his fist and dragged you upward, forcing his mouth against yours. It was messy, clumsy, near violent. His teeth cut into your lips, your blood spreading over his tongue, but you didn’t pull away. Rather, you leaned into him, resting hands on his chest and doing your best not to jolt when he hauled you closer. He’d be gentle with you later on. He’d treat you like the delicate, precious thing you were later on.

For now, he just wanted to pretend he was telling himself the truth, when he said that.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin imagines #alhaitham x reader #yandere alhaitham #yandere kaveh #kaveh x reader #yanderecore #yancore

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 10 months ago

Text

New Fish | Yandere Platonic Azul Ashengrotto

There was something off with your step-father-your mother’s new husband. He has a small gleaming smile, eyes a darkened gray, a finely cut set of silver curls that always wave over his left shoulder, and a suit full of purple details to match. He has white gloves that are always folded together and a cane with a nautilus shell on the top. It always hung nearby on the chair, against the wall, in the J-brother’s hands.

“(Y/n), you better not be thinking of playing with that cane.”

Your mother scolded you through her handheld mirror, another gift from her husband. You tore your eyes and hands away from the metal stick deciding to fiddle with the various drawers that remained locked. Hearing her lips smack, spreading the new color, she speaks in tone that screams distracted—like usual.

“Why don’t you go look at the fish? I hear they got a new angelfish or something.”

You huff, trudging to the office door. Pulling at the octopus-shaped handles you stop. Turning your head to look at your mother, you wonder if she'd give you the courtesy of waving you off. She did not. She was on her hair now, fluffing her fringe and playing with the parts that fell on her exposed shoulders.

She looks beautiful.

But she already was before she had that ring on her finger.

Without looking at you she urged you on.

“Go on. I could use the extra time alone.”

With that, you pushed open the door to find the empty fine-dining restaurant untouched and pristine as it was at the start of every afternoon. Making sure not to touch anything, you stood at the bottom of the giant fish tank at the center of the room. The round tank was wider than anything you’d seen before with the top supposedly continuing through the ceiling. When you sent it a passing glance on your last visit the J-brother had told you that on the upper floor was the top of the tank where they fed and put in ‘newcomers.’

But you’ve been to the second floor and that’s nothing but another dining hall with a matching fish tank. If it wasn’t a lie then the real top of the tank was a floor higher. You’ve never been to the third floor let alone offered to join the dinner parties that led up there. Supposedly it was because they had ‘adult desserts.’ You guessed if they had their drinks there’d be desserts too but why they had no problem drinking the former in front of you and not the other baffled you.

Putting your forehead against the glass, you replayed a scolding not to put your fingers on the glass. Watching the fish and crabs on the inside as they swam and scurried by looking so close their patterns blurred and blended. You let your attention dim to the entrancing colors of the tank and its lively inhabitants.

The fish living their lives adorned in the glittering jewels of their scales brought back memories. Memories that consisted of you doing the same thing with a much much smaller tank. A much dirtier tank. Staring woefully at the tanks of the pet shop on your old street. Seeing the new cycles of golden glitters huddle against one another in the cramped and dingy tanks.

It was elementary. After your trip on the bus, you go straight home. Straight home and three squares to the right was the pet shop. Mother couldn’t afford to get anything there, not even the smallest dying fish that seemed to reappear every two weeks.

“Why do you look over there? We don’t need anything that way! Keep your eyes straight!”

It was meant not to hurt you or the fish. It was a reminder of what was needed. To eat. To breath. To sleep. Only what was necessary. What was required so that you didn’t die.

The fish were fed. Every day when the sun first began to shine behind the buildings the man would come with a bin of indiscernible flakes. The frantic swimming became even quicker as they crowded the top of the tank. Some would fall to the ground, propelled in the excitement; left to flap against the darkened linoleum until the keeper’s hand scooped them up. In a few unlucky instances, you’d seen the occasional rat run off with them. The little-big rodent would sit at the bottom of the floor, waiting for the inevitable and forgotten fish on the ground. You didn’t like to think what would happen after they ran away.

The fish also slept, according to your teacher. They just hovered in place while they slept. You could hardly tell when you watched closely, always seeing those reflective colors constantly shimering.

You knew as well as the keeper that the fish would die. Even with the roof over their heads, food in their bellies, and water in their gills.

Why did they still die?

It was all they needed right?

“Enjoying the view?”

The smooth harmonious voice of the establishment’s owner. He looked awful dapper as he always did, even with his overcoat and suit jacket folded over his arm. Wearing his seashell braces and his purple-black tie he leaned on his left foot; appearing uncharacteristically resolute without his cane.

You nodded before turning back to the tank. Expecting to hear the door of his office opening, you were surprised to see the reflection of his luxury name-branded belt behind you. Feeling the older man’s silver gaze, you feel the need to explain yourself.

“Mom says there’s a new angel fish in here. I just wanted to see.”

Laughter-like bells rang from above. Looking up at the man who held his gloved hand over his mouth, you waited while he quieted to a chuckle. With a fresh smile, he took his glove away, speaking in a tone softer than his usual.

“That’s perfectly fine. Though you should know there’s no new angelfish today.”

You tilted your head in question.

“Yes, today we got what’s called an anglerfish.”

A brush of familiarity caused you to whip your attention to the tank, looking frantically over the vast coral structure. You remember reading about them when you spent time in the library. Over an hour past the time your mother said she’d come, checking over your finished work just wasn’t appealing. Naturally, you’d spend your extra energy learning about them.

“An angler? But don’t they usually live in the deep? How could it be here?”

He swallowed another laugh.

“Usually you’d be exactly right but our latest edition isn’t exactly one you’ll be reading about in books.”

He smiled at your crinkled noise and the scrunched eyebrows. Putting a gloved hand on your back he urged you to turn towards him. Following his lead you looked into his stormy eyes as he spoke.

“How about you come with me to the third floor?”

“The third floor?”

“Yes, you want to see him don’t you?”

You tentatively nodded your head. Even from the man himself, the room felt like a forbidden myth. He opened his arms beckoning you to hang onto him, which you gladly accepted. It was a rare privilege your mother said you were ‘too old for.’ So even with the shred of doubt that fluttered in the pit of your stomach you accepted. Delighting in the whiff of cologne and the warmth you got resting your head on his shoulder. Supported by his forearm you enjoyed your elevated view of the tank. Continuing to look past his locks to watch the tank get smaller as you were carried away, you didn’t turn until you heard the familiar chuckles of the J and F brothers. Both were dressed in their usual tuxedos coming down the stairs with smiles wide and teeth as sharp as sharks.

Greeting you with a smile the J-brother spoke first. “Hello, little one. Heading to the second floor?”

You looked to Azul, who answered for you.

“The third actually…that is if it’s clean up there.”

The silence between them was telling enough, between them that is. For as many times as you flip your head back and forth between them only noting the shared eye contact. And suddenly everyone was smiling again.

“Yup! Clean as a newborn’s butt!”

“Floyd.”

“Hehehe have fun!”

The F-brother giggled to himself poking at your tummy with his claw-like fingers before skipping down the steps. With a light bow of his head, the J brother followed with a smaller smile and a gloved hand on his chest.

“We’ll keep the Mistress company.”

“Thank you, Jade.”

Azul continued up the steps, you peeked slightly over his shoulder as the brothers went through the double doors of his office. As if to get your attention again Azul pats your back bringing your attention back to him.

“How have you liked your new bedroom?”

The topic came from nowhere. The last thing you were thinking about was the giant bedroom you were suddenly expected to be comfortable in. Aside from the unfamiliarity of the whole building, you felt like your new room wasn’t yours. Not that you missed the crack you’ve seen the uninvited rats squeeze through or the dingy smell of the mold behind the dresser. It was just new.

“It’s good.”

“Really? How so?”

Yikes. You didn’t think he’d ask for more.

“I dunno.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“So you don’t like the room, huh?”

Your cheeks felt hot as he triumphantly held a smirk. Holding your hands over your face you hoped it’d hide your guilt from lying. Gentle prodding against your curtain of fingers had you opening up to peer at the chuckling businessman.

“It’s okay if you don’t like it.”

You tucked your head against his shoulder, hiding your eyes and muffling your voice as you apologized.

“Don’t be sorry you're being honest now and that’s what counts.”

Quickly stepping onto the third flight of stairs you immediately distinguish the change of floors with the even lower lighting. Rather than the tasteful purple-shaded lighting above every four tables, the only thing that illuminated the room was a runway collection of violet floor lights. You couldn’t make out the chairs or the tables all that well only vaguely registering different textures of what was nearby.

Azul masterfully walked across the floor, maneuvering obstacles that remained invisible to your eyes. Looking around with a renewed fervor you tried to find the fish tank’s top, finding nothing with your limited sight. With a hand on your back, Azul soothed your searching as he came to a specific spot on the floor; quickly snatching a tarp off the ground to reveal what you’d been searching for.

A giant metallic circle filled with water that was rippling with various little waves that promised life below. It surprised you that you couldn’t even see the lighting of the other parts of the tank below.

“I don’t see anything.”

“Well I’m sure you know the Angler fish isn’t typically used to light,” he adjusted his hold on you, “so we’ll have to be patient.”

As if that were some magic word a ball of light illuminated the surface of the water revealing its owner to be the fish you’d been looking for. With a hanging ball of light, the Angler fish was like one in the books except with some minor changes.

“Why is…everything so big?”

Big was putting it lightly. Its teeth were incredibly long and sharp, snaggling outside of its mouth. Its size was much larger than books estimated and its stomach was enlarged with whatever it had recently eaten.

“Do you know what angler fish usually eat?”

“Shrimp and small fish?”

“Good job. But we have a very…different diet for our angler.”

“What’s he eat?”

He didn’t respond. You turned your head to him barely making out his smiling face in the dark. He kept his eyes on the rumbling water even as the angler’s glowing light disappeared. He continued to stare at the unclear waters. Realizing your fists were clenched tightly on his dress shirt you shakily released your hold. Bringing your sweaty hand to your shirt you held the spot where your heart was palpitating exponentially.

“Are you okay? You scared?”

Just like that, his attention was on you, prepared to take you away at a moment's notice. You frantically told him you were not, that you were excitedly looking at the angler fish. But your hands were still tightly holding onto his dress shirt, fidgeting occasionally as the light of the angler appeared now and then.

“(Y/n) It’s okay if you are. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Uh okay.”

“So don’t be afraid to tell me, okay?”

“Uhm okay…why is there a shoe in there?”

Both of you watched as a man’s dress shoe drifted by. Occasionally lit up by the angler’s unsuccessful snapping at the shoe. It looked as though the fish was playing with it, bringing a smile to your face.

“Uhhh how about we go join your mother downstairs.”

“Awwww.”

“And maybe we can talk to her about getting you a tank in your own room.”

“What?! Really?”

“Yes anything for you, my Pearl.”

______________________________________________________________

Azul felt his latest occupation wasn’t going to be that hard. Specifically in comparison to his current agency as the underworld’s classiest and savvy business for all things. A liquidator of dirty money and the wish maker through contracts; Azul Ashengrotto was not a man to be taken lightly. Not to mention his close ties with the Leech Mafia.

So being a father couldn’t nearly be that hard.

And to some degree, it wasn’t.

It was harder.

When taking up the nighttime routine of a 5 year-old many things were meant to be taken into account. Like the precise temperature of their late-night cup of milk—which was exactly 50 degrees Celsius. Or the very specific wash routine that had to be done, which included having an emotional intervention for a rubber duck that was spouting mold. Or the reading of the storybook that required he voices five different characters.

It was exhausting but so much more fulfilling at the end of the routine when he was asked to lean beside the bed.

“Mom doesn’t do all the stuff you do….so thank you. Goodnight.”

The whispers and a thankful peck along his cheek were like the sun’s ray gracing the deep depths. For once he returned the gesture and closed the door he returned to his nightly throne as a contractor of the deep and depraved. Smiling pridefully as he arrived at the final meeting of a man whose debts would never be paid.

“Excuse me for my misplaced smile, the joys of familyhood truly are a wonder.”

He felt no remorse as Floyd proceeded to smash his face along the table or when he began to plea for his own family after the first tooth was pulled. A sense of disgust filled him to make such soundless gambles when he’d been gifted light itself. It made the final squelch of his last breath that much more earned in Azul’s opinion.

The infamous contractor never intended to be a father; at least not in the legal sense. He figured the closest he’d ever get to a child was when he needed to convince one to forfeit their inheritance—an easy task he’d done before.

But then again life never goes the way we plan.

In a way, it has its own chart. It’s own map that leads to a series of coincidences and chance encounters.

One of those being the unofficial radar of his two right-hand men Jade and Floyd Leech. The twins enjoyed the entertainment that came from chasing down his debtees and those who wished to thwart his clientele. It gave them an excuse from the family business and kept them out of enough trouble to satisfy their parents.

That being said a menial task now and then wasn’t unappreciated. As much as the other half would complain Jade didn’t mind going to the lower side of the city to pick up not only information but a large bag of cheap fish to feed the mutated monstrosities Azul kept getting gifted.

So of course he’d begun to notice the wide-eyed shrimp watching the sick creatures swim about. A window of the innocence he seldom saw in his line of work. Floyd would agree, having fought the urge to surprise the little shrimp on their walk home. But that wasn’t when Azul met them only hearing the vague chuckles and pointed smiles as the twins mused about their travels.

For Azul, it was the woman who’d made a name for herself so soon. Far from being as big as him, she still made it to the ears of his clientele who spoke fondly of her. Known for her business savvy, smooth-talking, and confident personality she’d been able to get into the good graces of many of the underworld’s giants. Something Azul needed, more than ever. As far as he’s concerned as of now she was a mere fox only able to slip around obvious cracks but Azul didn’t mind making gold out of silver.

It seemed like a small exchange: get a partner who could further his influence for the small chore of protecting her. It also gave him an easy out; to say he wouldn’t be bothered should someone come to clean their hands of her was an understatement.

The only problem was that there was a child.

It wasn’t a problem. He’d never call it a problem without it being an obstacle to an otherwise perfect contract. It’d help his image but should he get attached there would truly be a weakness acquired in this partnership. Bringing up this concern didn’t settle his hesitance.

“Whatever we have to do we’ll do it. Besides the kid’s not going to do much of anything, they're good.”

Appearing with a faux weakness was one thing but appearing with a weakness that wasn’t was a concern. Azul debated if it was worth it weighing the opinions of the suddenly invested Leech twins.

“I say we give it a trial period.”

“Trial period?”

“After all typical courting comes before marriage otherwise there’d be room for doubt.”

“I see.”

In no time at all the process would begin where he’d get to know not only the ins and outs of his wife-to-be but the little child who’d been peeking at the top of the rickety staircase. The door of the home she lived in nearly came off its hinges with Jade’s gentle prodding. What’s worse was the musk of fungus growing behind the worn walls and the emptiness felt with the lack of furniture.

“This place–”

“--Is a dump.”

“Floyd you shouldn’t be honest when it comes to these kinds of homes.”

“Jade, Floyd be nice.”

Somehow it becomes that much worse when she finally coaxes a little five year old down to greet them. The way small worn shoes avoid certain stairs and the way they run past a crack in the floor as though something had bitten you there before. And the robotic greeting given upon the woman's command.

He felt gross. Not just because he’s seen three different vermin while conversing with the woman or the suspicious screaming she said to ignore. But because a child was living through this.

Even worse the woman didn’t seem overly concerned and more likely peeved that he was curious at all.

“Why do you keep asking about them? Is it really that big a deal?”

So he’s crafty about when is he not saying he’ll send the child off with Jade or Floyd so that the adults can focus on one another. The problem with this is the woman’s insistence that such attention isn’t necessary. Unclear about whether it’s a defense mechanic or an inclination for negligence but he feels the need to play dirty a bit–staging situations that force the kid to be babysat by one of the Leech brothers.

“Don’t give them trouble.”

“Okay.”

What he hears back on the not-so-detailed reports from his favorite employees are all extremely positive. Unfortunately being positive doesn’t count for all the concerning information they happen to pick up along the way.

“Yeah, they said something about the rats in the walls.”

“What did they say?”

“Mmm I don’t remember but they really liked that restaurant though.”

“Floyd!”

Jade is almost worse. Able to record clear likes and dislikes properly he refuses to share. Saying something about ‘doing his own investigation’ while he holds the ‘gifts’ he’s earned close to his chest. He is maliciously vague about the closeness of his newfound friendship with the child who doesn’t speak to Azul unless commanded to.

He’s changed that now. With a ring on his finger and a new partner in the business, he’s able to start a relationship with a child he’s been worrying about for a while now. Finally able to sneak into that glass- border that he’s been worriedly looking through for so long now; he can finally make a difference.

Technically his work should be done. With a safe home, healthy food, and proper access to health care he should be able to step back and rest easy. But he can’t. Not at all now that he’s seen the innocent wonder he gets ‘playing’ the role of a father.

“I thought your meeting ended thirty minutes ago.”

“It did but I ran into (Y/n).”

“Ugh did they break something? I can tell them to not touch anything.”

“No, they were only interested in the tank's latest edition.”

“Oh. Well, that’s nice did they get to feed it?”

“...No. It’s controversial to show a child something so dark.”

“Hmm, I’m sure they’ve seen worse. Anyway, let’s talk about this asset, when I last checked it was booming.”

He couldn’t kill her. The custody wouldn’t go to him. She off-handedly mentioned you’d go back to her family which she left for reasons she refused to share. It was too risky to leave it up to chance that the family she’d leave behind would even be willing to give his child back.

Azul played with the idea of putting her in a comatose state but Jade reminded him that it’d be a weakness to have her immobile. The allies she’s made, the reputation he’s built, the sadness that’d no doubt plague the little mind he’d hoped to protect. Having an obstacle that would constantly demand the attention of his child was a bit too far….for the time being.

So for now he’d simply get you acclimated, become your favorite keeper, and relocate you when the time was right. You’ve been through so much he’ll focus on boosting your morale. This kind of care takes time and energy; using the elimination method to slowly take out the parasites in your newly acquired tank.

But no worries, like the smart cephalopod he is he can wait until the perfect time to strike. After all, cleansing unnecessary parasites with crippling contracts was his specialty.

“Yes, let’s begin negotiations.”

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