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rainynightmoonlight · 1 year ago

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An introduction to the first note | OHSHC x Male Reader

Prologue time!! Enjoy!! My Wattpad and Quotev!

Description: Of A Melody there once was

Prolouge: Prologue before the Chorus begins

Chapter 1: An introduction to the first note | (You are here)

Chapter 2: The joining of notes to create a nostalgic song

Chapter 3: Violin of Harmony

Chapter 4: Remembering the screeching tune in the memory | TBR

Warning: Any chan is used in a gender neutral way

youtube

(Play this song when I say too)

youtube

(Play this song when I say too)

Y/n was walking up to the new campus he was going to be attending. He was here to show the principal his talent. Sure, Y/n's scholarship was set in stone, but the principal wished to see what kind of person he was admitting into his school. Y/n wore a suit to impress the man he was going to be playing for. He had his ebony violin, case in hand, taking deep breaths.

Y/n was hoping it was only the principal who would be there, but this wish was not granted. As he opened the door gently, Y/n was faced with the principal along with someone else. He seemed to be a year older than Y/n. The boy had bright blonde hair as well as matching violet eyes full of gentle passion. Y/n was startled at his presence. Y/n spoke up in an anxious tone.

“Ah, sorry! I didn't mean to interrupt..”

Y/n had a soft blush and the teen in front of him found it cute. This boy didn't realize that this interaction would start an obsession in his heart.

“It's quite alright, L/n-chan. Tamaki, you may leave now.”

The blonde boy refused, insisting that he stay. Only someone like the H/c haired person in front of him had his interest. Looking at the stature of the s/c boy, Tamaki had noticed him holding a case. It was a violin case.

'Was this the boy who had been offered a scholarship on talent alone? Father seems to have high hopes for this boy.'

“You may now play Y/n L/n”

That's when Tamaki learned the boy's name. It was a name he would never forget after witnessing this boy at his best.

(Play the song now)

As Y/n pulled out his ebony violin, and the bow, he rhythmically played the song he had prepared. Sure, it wasn't his own, but it was a song he loved. With each bow of the strings, Y/n had swayed rhythmically. Each note hitting the small audience with a passion of which they had never experienced. They felt the emotions that Y/n was feeling.

They didn't understand the effect that this boy had. The sweet notes seemed to have more of an effect on Tamaki. He felt Y/n's sadness, which he didn't understand.

That's when he looked at Y/n's s/c face. He noticed the crystal tears brimming his closed eyes. Tamaki's interest was peaked even more. Why was this boy crying when he played such a beautiful melody? He was going to ask Y/n after he had finished, that was his goal.

Y/n still played, not bothered by the stares he was receiving. His thoughts drifted to his mother, the time he practiced this song with her. The tears overwhelmed his eyes as they gently fell.

Tamaki had begun to worry, should he have interrupted this beautiful peace to comfort the boy in front of him? He hesitated, but Y/n picked up the pace. His fingers placed themselves on each note beautifully. It was as if flowers were blooming around Y/n as he delicately played the song he loved so dear.

And then came Y/n's least favorite part. The moment when the song would end, and his melody would cease. He found so much comfort in the melodies he created, even if they pained him when he played.

Y/n had started to slow down as the bow came to a stop. The song had ended, and it had left the two in front of him amazed. Suoh-san expected highly of the boy in front of him, but not this much talent entering his school. He clapped for Y/n as Tamaki did the same. Tamaki was amazed, and had to befriend this boy in front of him. And just as if his father read his mind, Suoh-san had spoken up.

“Please escort Y/n out of my office, Tamaki.”

This flustered Y/n a bit, and Tamaki couldn't help but be consumed by cuteness aggression. He took the boy's hand and gently lead him out of his father's office. He then turned to the y/h boy in front of him.

“You played beautifully! But I have to ask if it's alright little prince, why you were tearing up? Were you that enchanted with the song you played, as well?”

This question stung Y/n's heart a bit. Should he have trusted this stranger? It didn't help that Y/n was flustered at Tamaki's nickname for him. Lucky for Y/n, a black haired boy had interrupted this small conversation. Tamaki was a bit disappointed, and Y/n noticed this. Y/n reached for the blonde boy out of intimidation of being stared at by the black haired teen in front of them. Again Tamaki was enveloped in his own world of cuteness aggression from this h/c haired boy. Y/n had recognized the boy in front of him to be Kyoya Ootori. His fame was from his family's multiple facilities in Japan. Kyoya seemed to chuckle at Y/n in the situation he was in.

“Who is that behind you, Tamaki?”

The two boys were here on account of their parents asking them to explore the school to make sure their classes were all memorized. But they only went because they had host business to take care of before they had gone back to school. The two also were intrigued about the new student they were getting from America, and they only knew about it because Tamaki's father would not stop talking about it. And the gossip had gripped the Ootori family as well. Was this the real reason behind the families pushing them out of the house? Who knows, only their parents of course. Tamaki had finally answered the question.

“This is the famous musician Y/n L/n! I just heard him play, and it was magnificent!”

Y/n blushed, trying to hide his face. He hadn't gotten this much praise from many, and when he did, Y/n rarely ever reacted like this. What was wrong with him? Kyoya had looked at the tear stained face behind Tamaki. He was taken aback at how someone so elegantly presenting could be so cute to him. Kyoya wished to address something, however.

“Well, it's no good for this elegant musician to be crying now, is it.”

This startled Y/n even more, making his face even more red. What was going on? He was so confused, and Tamaki looked back at the h/c haired boy behind him.

“I had asked him about that, but Y/n has yet to answer.”

The two looked at Y/n which made him anxious. He was seriously debating telling these two about the reason his tears struck when he played. Then Tamaki created an offer.

“Hey Y/n, why not join us to our clubroom? We do have some duties to attend to, and you could tell us over some tea!”

Y/n did really like the idea of tea. It would calm him and make it easier to tell. He was never one to keep secrets about his past if he was asked about him. Y/n nodded and Tamaki excitedly took Y/n's hand and ran with him to the clubroom, with Kyoya insuite. Once the trio had reached the music room, Y/n's gentle voice perked up, which had startled the two boys.

“Why is the clubroom a music room?”

Tamaki had enveloped Y/n which overwhelmed him, gushing about Y/n's sweet voice and how it matched him. Y/n was struggling against Tamaki suffocating him, but Kyoya had begun to explain.

“This music room is abandoned, so we had asked the principal if we could use it. He had said yes, and now it resides the host club and most of its clubs events.”

Y/n nodded in acknowledgement, which made Tamaki blush even more.

“You are too precious, L/n-chan! Come inside!”

“Please don't call me L/n, you can just use my first name Tamaki-senpai.”

This made Tamaki stop in his tracks, leaving Kyoya the one to open the door for them. As if one cue, an overwhelming scent of roses met the boy's face. He was amazed! The elegance of the clubroom astounded him! He also noticed a piano covered in curtains. He so wanted to play it. Kyoya then spoke up.

“We're back gentlemen.”

Y/n had saw 4 boys that walked up to Kyoya. Two of them were identical and seemed to be Y/n's age. One was really tall and seemed to be a 3rd year. The last one he looked at was short and had blonde hair, and didn't seem to even be in high school. The two twins were the ones who noticed Y/n first.

“Who is this Kyoya senpai?”

Y/n stared at the two with fascination. And it seemed to show, since the two twins were curious about the boy in front of him.

“This is our newest member of the host club, Y/n L/n.”

This shocked Y/n. He didn't agree to join the club, and he was never asked. The two twins noticed the shock in Y/n's eyes. It was clear he was trapped by Kyoya.

“Uhm, I don't think you ever asked me to join.”

Kyoya looked at Y/n with a small smile. He knew everything about Y/n and how he wasn't of a rich family. He also knew the reason Y/n had tears in his eyes when he played.

“My apologies, I did intend to ask, but it slipped my mind.”

No it didn't.

Kyoya knew Y/n would join. All because Tamaki was the leader of the group. Tamaki had perked up from his stunned, flustered shock. He grabbed Y/n's shoulder.

“Let me introduce you to all the hosts here! Kyoya, the cool type. Mori, the wild type. His companion Honey, the boy lolita type. And the twins Hikaru and Koaru, the little devil types. And you know me, the prince type.”

After this statement, he took Y/n's hand, making him even more flustered.

“And if you were to join us, little prince, you would be the musician of our group. What do you say?”

Y/n was shocked. He didn't want to remind himself of being a musician. He was trying to separate himself from it because of all the emotional baggage it had on him. Before Y/n could answer, Honey had jumped on his back.

“Wow Y/n-chan you're a musician? Can you play a song?”

Y/n looked at the doe eyed boy. He couldn't resist him and he nodded.

“Maybe, but not right now.”

Honey looked a little dejected, and walked over to his tall friend Mori. This gave the twins a chance to tease Y/n around.

“Aw, come on, Y/n!”

Hikaru had started the sentence.

“Play for us!”

Kaoru had finished it. Then they both spoke in unison that unsettled Y/n. “Or are you too scared?”

Tamaki had pushed the twins away, enveloping Y/n into another hug.

“Leave Y/n alone! Don't listen to those twins, my little prince, you don't have to play.”

This gave Y/n an odd sense of comfort. Tamaki had reminded him of his mother, and this made his heart hurt more than it did now as the tears well in his eyes. He brought up both his hands to try to push the tears out of his eyes. This had made everyone freeze, and Tamaki went into a panic. Even with the brief time they spent together, Tamaki felt incredibly close and enchanted by Y/n.

Tamaki had thought the twins caused the tears of his little prince, so he chased them, saying things like “You made my little prince cry” and “Go apologize to him.” Honey had gone up to Y/n and gave him a big hug of comfort, and Mori towered over the two comfortingly.

“Please don't cry, Y/n-chan! How about you have some cake with me and Usa-chan! Here! You can hold Usa-chan too!”

Honey handed Usa-chan to Y/n and took his hand as they went to the table Honey and Mori were stationed at. Y/n perked up at all the sweets that were presented elegantly. As Y/n took a bite of the cake Honey put in front of him, he was amazed.

He didn't realize that the three boys that were running around stopped as they stared at Y/n. A blush met all their faces as they all found Y/n so cute when eating the cake with Honey. Kyoya then took this chance to ask Y/n something.

“Why not give us a small presentation of your musical talent? Then you can have your tea.”

Y/n really wanted that tea, especially if it was a rich, fancy kind of tea. He took a deep breath and spoke gently, which had surprised everyone due to the tone. They all found it cute.

“Only one song?”

Kyoya nodded, intending to keep his deal. Y/n then got up and looked at Kyoya which made everyone freeze.

“May I sing instead?”

They were all shocked by this. Tamaki had thought Y/n could only play the violin. But he was wrong, and Y/n proved it. Then Y/n had a request.

“May I borrow a guitar too?”

Kyoya nodded, as he went to look for a guitar. Honey looked super excited. All the hosts did as they gathered around where Y/n was sitting. Even Mori's eyes showed excitement.

“What are you going to sing Y/n-Chan?”

Y/n thought on his answer, not knowing how to respond. He then thought of the answer, and it was perfect.

“A song that reminds me of my mother.”

If Y/n was going to join this club, then he had to get over the tears that fell when he sang. Everyone froze again. From the way Y/n's e/c eyes had looked, they knew it wasn't something of happiness. And this whole scene was why Tamaki wanted Y/n to be a host.

(Play the 2nd song now)

Once handed the guitar, Y/n gently strummed it to make sure to tune it. Everyone was on the edge of their seats. Then Y/n plucked the strings of the rough guitar as he placed his fingers on the board. Tamaki was reminded of how Y/n beautifully held his violin and played each note. Then his voice started singing the melody. This caught all the hosts' attention. Each one forming a blush on their faces. Then he started fully singing.

This love it is a distant star Guiding us home wherever we are

The tears started to well, but it was faint. His tone was that of a sad one, but Y/n kept going.

This love, it is a burning sun Shinning light on the things that we've done

Everyone was enchanted by his voice. Y/n had kept singing. Only ever looking at his audience only faintly. The emotion was clear in the playing.

I try to speak to you every day, But each word we spoke The wind blew away

The intensity had grown, then came the chorus. This was when the tears started to threaten to fall. Y/n tried to hold it in. And they all noticed.

Could these walls come crumbling down? I want to feel my feet on the ground And deep behind this prison we share Step into the open air

As the chorus ended, the tears fell. Y/n's gripped the finger board as he pressed harder into the instrument he held. It hurt, but it didn't stop him. The hosts had noticed Y/n's face as it shifted. They all felt sympathy.

How did we let it come to this What we just tasted we somehow still miss

Y/n's voice was still smooth, even when he was crying. The guitar had tears slightly pooling, and it was beautiful in a way. The strumming became faster as more emotion was put into the playing.

How will it feel when this day is done? And can we keep what we've only begun

The hosts had focused so much on Y/n. They noticed his state and all looked at him with sympathy in their eyes. They were all amazed that such a simple song could cause so much emotion in them.

And now these walls come crumbling down And I can feel my feet on the ground Can we carry this love that we shareInto the open air

Here it was, Y/n's least favorite part. The ending of his song. He didn't stop, though. His voice slowed and the strumming of the guitar did too.

Into the open air

There was a slight release of the finger board, and the strumming wasn't as harsh. But even when it was, it was still very delicate. The boys around Y/n were all amazed with the talent Y/n possessed.

To the open air

Y/n's voice softened more as he opened his eyes. He looked at the audience as the final lyric came from his lips. The boys in front of him looked even the more amazed.

This love it is a burning sun

And with that, silence fell as the ringing of the last string being plucked ran through the room. It was only for a moment as the whole host club applauded Y/n. Honey was crying and jumped into Y/n's lap across the table. Y/n held the boy in a very motherly way. This caused everyone's blush to deepen.

“Wahh! Y/n-chan! That was so sad!”

Y/n smiled at the small boy he was holding. He couldn't believe Honey was a 3rd year. He learned about this while Kyoya went to get the guitar for him. Honey looked up at Y/n.

“I'm sorry it had made you sad, Honey-senpai. I'll give you my cake if it'll help you feel better.”

Before he could do anything, Tamaki lunged at Y/n which startled Honey and Y/n both.

“That was beautiful, my little prince! You did wonderful!”

Even if Tamaki had tears in his eyes, it was replaced with a big, bright smile that gave Y/n more comfort. Tamaki was now rubbing his cheek against Y/n's as he brushed his tears away. This made Y/n blush a bit, but everyone around him had this jealous aura. Well except for Kyoya, because he went to get the tea he promised Y/n. The twins were quick to react, however. They pushed Tamaki to the side, which caused him to feel rejected, and put Y/n in the middle of them.

“That was truly amazing, Y/n”

Hikaru spoke, as he took a plate in his hand. Then Kaoru spoke, causing Y/n to look at him cutely.

“Would you like some cake as a reward~?”

The tone was for two things. One was to upset Tamaki, and the other was the pure emotion both twins had felt for Y/n. It was small, and it formed rather quickly, which intrigued both of them. As Tamaki watched in shock.

“Here Y/n, let us feed you!”

Y/n was too flustered to move, and he just accepted them feeding him. Hikaru had gently placed a chunk of the vanilla cake into Y/n's mouth. As Y/n chewed, he was amazed with the flavor. This made Hikaru blush as Y/n chewed slightly.

'His facial expressions are so cute!'

Then Kaoru took a chocolate mousse and a spoon. He gently grabbed Y/n's chin to make him look into his amber eyes. Kaoru placed the spoon to Y/n's lips and fed him the mousse. Y/n was in utter bliss. This helped so much with his feelings directed at his mother. Maybe if he did join the host club, things wouldn't be so bad. Kaoru looked at Y/n's smile.

'That smile is so pretty!'

Both the twins wanted this moment to last forever, but Tamaki didn't. So he pulled the twins by the collars and had a talking to too them. Then came Kyoya with the brewed tea. He poured Y/n a cup and sat down In front of him.

“So, tell me, why were you crying when we first encountered each other?”

Everyone's ears perked up as they once again surrounded Y/n. They all felt panicked that the new boy they all gotten close to was put into tears. They were ready for a fight if anyone had caused it. Y/n froze, and then his story began.

He shared about his mom and his friend, though he didn't mention her name. He shared why he sang and why he stopped. He shared about his father and how they moved to America for a new life. Y/n shared everything and didn't realize everyone looking at him with sad eyes again.

This time Mori was the one who went to comfort him. He stood behind Y/n and pat his head gently. Y/n looked up at Mori and his expression had Mori blushing a bit. Then Y/n spoke again.

“I think.. I'll join your host club.”

Everyone was really happy. Tamaki hugged Y/n tightly, and so did Honey. Both were really happy that this musician would join them. Kyoya smirked, he knew Y/n would join, but it wasn't for the reason he thought. The twins then piped up.

“You'll need the school uniform if you're going to join Y/n”

Y/n giggled at what the twins said. Did they think he didn't have one? This giggle was that of sunshine when everyone around him heard it. They were all stunned.

“I have one, though I didn't plan on wearing it.”

“Why not?”

The twins had questioned him. This boy In front of him had piqued their curiosity in more ways than one.

“Because I quite like this suit better.”

They looked up and down on the figure. It was a f/c suit that fit the boy really well. But it wasn't all that eccentric. It screamed commoner.

"Nonsense my little prince! I'm sure you will look dazzling!”

Y/n blushed. And from just this interaction, he knew high school would be an experience. But a good one. Y/n decided to wear the uniform and left the room. Tamaki insisted on walking Y/n home, but Y/n gently declined his offer. However, the twins forced themselves on Y/n as to walk him home.

And Y/n couldn't escape them so he gave up in trying to refuse. They walked Y/n up to the apartment and they said their goodbyes. As Y/n got ready to sleep, he thought about all the boys he met, and how they treated him. Then his mind went to his closest friend, Haruhi. He missed her a bunch, and hoped to see her at school. They were in the same class after all.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

#🪸.mermaid time #🪸.mermaid fanfic #🎵. Of a Melody there Once Was | Ohshc x male reader #ouran high school host club #ouran high school host club x reader #ouran high school host club x male reader #ohshc #ohshc x reader #ohshc x male reader #tamaki suoh #kyoya ootori #hikaru hitachiin #kaoru hitachiin #honey senpai #mori senpai #mitskuni haninozuka #takashi morinozuka #usa-chan #haruhi fujioka

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verso-n-vidalia · 6 months ago

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Me and my obscure anime-loving ass thinking of a Demon Slayer X Mermaid Melody crossover one shot...

#onion rambles #demon slayer #mermaid melody #x reader

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riveramorylunar · 2 years ago

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𝕽𝖊𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖓 𝕺𝖋 𝕬𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖑'𝖘 𝕾𝖎𝖇𝖑𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘

Series Masterlist, (Chapter 23)

Pairings: Leonora Lesso x Reader, Ariel x Daughter Reader, Prince Eric x Daughter Reader, Queen Athena x Granddaughter Reader, king Triton x Granddaughter Reader, Ariel's Siblings x Niece Reader & Melody x Sister Reader

Warnings ⚠️: Teasing and fluff

Pet Names/Nicknames: Little Siren, Nora, Sweetie & kiddo

Word Count: 2,765

Y/N pulled Lesso through the halls of the castle. "Slow down Little Siren" Lesso said and Y/N stopped. "Sorry I'm just excited to show you around" Y/N said as she turned around to face Lesso. "It's alright just don't walk so fast" she said and Y/N nodded before walking slower. Y/N stopped in front of a white door before opening it. "This is my room" Y/N said as the two walked in to the bedroom.

"It's beautiful" Lesso said before she walked over and sat down on the king sized bed. "This is a pretty big bed for just one person" Lesso said as Y/N walked over and stood in front of her. "Yeah I roll around a lot I have a hard time falling asleep if I'm by myself" she said and Lesso took hold of Y/N's hands. "Just know if you ever have trouble sleeping when break is over and we have to go back you're always welcome to come to my room alright" Lesso said and Y/N nodded. "Thank you Nora" Y/N said as she leaned down and kissed Lesso passionately. Lesso pulled away before falling back onto the bed taking Y/N with her. Y/N gasped as she landed on top of Lesso. "Nora what are y-" Lesso cut Y/N off when she rolled the both of them onto their sides. Lesso wrapped her arms around Y/N and pulled her even closer so that their legs were tangled together. Y/N nuzzled her head into Lesso's chest as she sighed. They smiled at each other before leaning in. They kissed before cuddling up to each other and falling asleep. There was a knock on the door a couple hours later before it opened. "Sweetie lunch is re- oh nevermind" Ariel said as she saw Lesso and Y/N sleeping peacefully. "Hey what's going on" Melody said as she peaked around her mother. "Awww they're adorable" Melody said. "Let's leave them be" Ariel said as she grabbed her youngest daughter and shut the door behind them.

Y/N stirred as her eyes fluttered open. She looked up to see Lesso's eyes still closed. "You're staring you know" Lesso said in a raspy voice causing Y/N to blush. "N-no I'm just admiring" Y/N said causing Lesso to open one of her eyes while smirking. "If you say so Little Siren" Lesso said as she rolled into her side before wrapping her arms around Y/N. She stroked a few strands of hair out of Y/N's hair before pecking her on the lips. Y/N smiled before she scooted closer. "Good morning sleepyheads" someone said causing them to look towards the doorway. Eric was leaning against the doorframe with his arms folded while smiling. "Good morning what are you talking about" Y/N said as she sat up as well as Lesso. "You slept through the whole day yesterday" he said as he pushed himself off the doorframe. "Breakfast is ready by the way" he continued before leaving while shutting the door behind him. "We should go" Y/N said as Lesso fell back on the bed before groaning. "This bed is too comfy though" Lesso said and Y/N giggled as she got up off the bed before Lesso could pull her back down. She walked over to her closet and opened it before walking in.

She looked through her dresses when she felt arms wrap around her from behind. Y/N tilted her head to the side as Lesso started placing kisses all over her neck. She grabbed Lesso's hands and interlocked their fingers together. "Which dress are you going to pick" Lesso said as she rested her head on Y/N's shoulder. "Don't know I can't decide" Y/N said and Lesso pulled away before walking up to the dresses. Y/N sat down and watched her girlfriend search through the dresses before stopping at a light sea green dress. She took it off the hanger and turned around. "How about this one" Lesso said and Y/N stood up before walking up to her. "It's perfect" Y/N said before she stood on her tippy toes and kissed Lesso on the lips.

Y/N came out of the closet as she held the dress up before walking over to Lesso who was sitting on the bed. "Can you" she said before turning around. Lesso stood up before resting on of her hands on Y/N's bare back. Y/N shivered at the touch as Lesso zipped the dress up. She leaned down and kissed Y/N's bare back. Y/N blushed brightly as Lesso turned her around. "Beautiful Little Siren" Lesso whispered out before leaning down and kissing Y/N on the lips. They made their way out of the closet and the bedroom before heading towards the dining hall. The two walked hand in hand through the halls when they reached the dining hall. "Ladies first" Lesso said and Y/N rolled her eyes before pulling Lesso with her. "Well hello you two" Skadi said as she smirked. Lesso pulled out a chair and motioned for Y/N to sit down in it. Y/N sat down as she smiled. Lesso smiled back before sitting down next to Y/N. "You guys looked absolutely adorable sleeping together all cuddled up" Sparky said and everyone looked at her. She looked around before her eyes widened in shock. "Uh you guys didn't hear that" she said as she took a sip of her drink. Y/N and Lesso looked at each other before chuckling.

After breakfast everyone got up. "Hey Y/N sweetie there's a couple surprises waiting for you in the throne room" Ariel said and Y/N looked at her mother in confusion. "What do you mean" Y/N said and Ariel looked at her husband. "Just go and see" Eric said and Y/N walked off towards the throne room with Lesso. "They're like glued to the hip now" Flounder said causing everyone to laugh. "Well they do get to do what they want here unlike at the schools" Skadi said as she looked at Flounder. Y/N and Lesso made their way to the throne room. Y/N opened the door and walked in. "Y/N/N" someone shouted before rushing over and picking Y/N up. They spun in a circle before setting Y/N back down. They cupped Y/N's face as her eyes widened in shock. "Aunt Aquata w-what are you doing here" Y/N said as she was still in shock. "Well we all decided to come home because we missed you all and look how you've grown" Aquata said and Y/N frowned in confusion before she looked over her aunt's shoulder to see the rest of her aunt's and three uncles plus her grandfather and grandmother.

"Now who's this hottie" Aquata said and Y/N looked back to see Aquata looking at Lesso. Y/N stood in front of Lesso with her arms out. "She's off limits" Y/N said as her eyes started glowing while she narrowed them. "Wait is this the woman your mother was talking about" she asked and Y/N nodded. Aquata shouted in excitement before pulling Y/N into a hug. Lesso was just standing there frozen in place as she watched the scene unfolded in front of her. Who knew Ariel had so many siblings she didn't that's for sure. Aquata pulled away before grabbing Y/N's wrist and Lesso's wrist before dragging them towards the others. "Guys this is the woman Ariel was talking about the one Y/N is dating" she said as she stopped in front of the others before letting go of Y/N and Lesso's wrists. "So you're the Dean of Evil" King Triton said as he stepped forward. Lesso just looked at him still in shock. Y/N looked up at Lesso before grabbing her arm. "Nora" Y/N said causing Lesso to snap out of it. "Yeah I am but you can call me Leonora or Lesso whichever one is fine" Lesso said and Triton smiled before shaking Lesso's hand. "I like her already even if she is the Dean of Evil" Aqilus said as he nudged his brothers causing them all to chuckle. Their sisters all rolled their eyes before looking away. Triton just sighed before looking at Y/N. "Glad you found someone kiddo I'm proud of you" he said as he ruffled Y/N's hair up. Y/N swatted his hand away as she looked away blushing brightly.

"I see you guys met Leonora" Ariel said as she walked into the throne room with the others. "Yeah we did and you didn't tell us she was this hot" Aquata said causing Attina to smack the back of her head. Aquata yelped as she grabbed the back of her head. Y/N just rolled her eyes before grabbing Lesso's hand and dragging her to the farthest side from the group. "I'm sorry about them" Y/N said and Lesso smiled before lifting Y/N's chin up. "Don't worry about it Little Siren it's fine" Lesso said as she tucked a strand of hair behind Y/N's ear. She leaned down and kissed Y/N on the lips causing someone to wolf whistle. Y/N pulled away and hid her face in her hands. Lesso looked over to see everyone looking at the two. She watched as Ariel smacked the man with reddish brown hair on the shoulder. "Alright that's enough stop teasing your Niece" Queen Athena said and nodded. "Yes mother" they all said and Y/N giggled quietly before she looked back at Lesso.

"Sorry to disturb you two but I hope you don't mind me stealing my granddaughter away from you" they both looked up when they heard Queen Athena's voice. "No not at all" Lesso said as she pecked Y/N on the lips before walking away. "You're coming with me" Athena said as she grabbed Y/N's arm. "Ariel, Aquata and Arista dears would you please join us" she said and the three followed their mother and Y/N out of the throne room. "And you miss Dean Of Evil you're coming with us" Attina said snapping her fingers. Lesso was dragged out of the throne room by the rest of Ariel's sisters causing her to growl. "Oh don't growl" Attina said as she rolled her eyes. "You'll be back with Y/N soon enough" she said as Skadi joined them. "She doesn't like anyone touching her besides Y/N" Skadi said causing Attina to look at her. "Shouldn't you be in Arendelle" she asked and Skadi shook her head no. "In a few days I will but not for the next 5 days" Skadi said and Attina raised her eyebrow.

Queen Athena pulled Y/N towards her room before shutting the door. "Where's the closet" she asked and Y/N pointed towards the double doors. She watched as her grandmother walked in the closet. "What's going on anyways" Y/N asked and Ariel sat down next to her daughter. "We're having a ball" Ariel said and Y/N looked up at her mother confused. "Why" Y/N said and Arista giggled before plopping herself down on the other side of Y/N. "I don't think we need a reason to throw a ball" she said as she leaned back on her hands. Queen Athena came out with nothing making the three frown. "Aquata dear can you go fetch that one dress" she said and Aquata's eyes lit up. "That one" Aquata said and her mother nodded. Aquata rushed off shutting the door behind her. "Now you why don't you go take a shower alright" Athena said and Y/N stood up. "Yes ma'am" she said causing her grandmother to roll her eyes.

Y/N walked out of the bathroom in just a towel. "Come come" Athena said and Y/N walked over and sat in front of her vanity when the door opened. "I got it mother" Aquata said and Y/N looked up before her eyes widened in shock. She tried to look over her shoulder but Athena moved her head back so she was facing forward. Athena started brushing out Y/N's wet hair before blow drying it. She slightly curled Y/N's hair before braiding some of it. She grabbed some hair accessories and put them in. "Alright you can turn around now dear" Athena said and Y/N turned around. "Makeup time" Arista said as she hopped off Y/N's bed. "Where's your crown sweetie" Ariel said and Y/N pointed to a suitcase. Ariel stood up and walked over to the suitcase before opening it. She took the crown out before walking over and placing it on the vanity.

Y/N came out of the bathroom again and the four stopped talking when they saw Y/N in the dress. "wow you look absolutely sweetie" Ariel said as she walked up to Y/N. "Thank you mother" Y/N said as Arista handed the crown to Ariel. Y/N bowed her head and Ariel put the crown on her head. "Now you're ready" Ariel said as she kissed Y/N's cheek.

They all made their way to the ballroom after getting ready themselves. They all heard music playing already as they stood at one of the entrances. They all made their way down the stairs before stopping at the second flight. Y/N looked over at the other side and she swallowed the lump in her throat. Lesso was standing on the other side wearing a suit that was black. She still wore her dark smoky makeup though. She was holding a black cane in her left hand as she stared at Y/N as well.

The others had already made their way down the rest of the stairs and waited for the two. Lesso snapped out of it first before walking causing Y/N to do the same. They met in the middle and Lesso smiled down at Y/N who smiled back. "Shall we my Little Siren" Lesso said as she faced forward and held her arm out for Y/N to take. Y/N took Lesso's arm before they made their way down the rest of the stairs. "You look beautiful by the way" Lesso whispered into Y/N's ear and Y/N blushed. "Well you look handsome" Y/N said causing a blush to cross Lesso's face.

youtube

Everyone clapped when Y/N and Lesso finished dancing. "I can never get enough of your dancing My Love" Lesso said as she leaned down and kissed Y/N on the lips. "EW" all the kids shouted causing everyone to laugh. Y/N pulled away and rested her head on Lesso's chest as she looked at the kids still standing near them. "Let's go sit down" Lesso said and Y/N nodded. The two made their way off the dance floor before walking over to a table and sitting down. Y/N watched as people started dancing. Y/N rested her head on Lesso's shoulder as she interlocked their fingers together. "Would you two care for a drink" someone said causing them to look up to see a man holding a tray of champagne. Y/N took to glasses before handing Lesso one. "Thank you" Y/N said and the man bowed before leaving. Y/N looked over to see red liquid in Lesso's glass now. "Nora did you turn the champagne into wine" Y/N said and Lesso didn't answer instead she took a sip. "You did" Y/N whispered out and Lesso smirked before leaning over and kissing Y/N on the cheek. Y/N just rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her champagne.

Two hours later Aquarius walked over to the two huddled closely. "I hope you don't mind me stealing my niece from you Lesso" he said and Lesso raised an eyebrow. "Aquarius let them have their alone time" Adella said as she walked over. She dragged Aquarius away as the two watched. "Why don't we get out of here" Lesso whispered into Y/N's ear causing her to smile. Lesso stood up as she set her empty glass on the table. Y/N stood up as well before taking Lesso's hand. They walked out of the ballroom and towards the garden as a few pair of eyes followed them.

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lokislilkitten · 2 years ago

Text

Melody had always felt like she didn't fit in Auradon Prep. She didn't share the same tendencies as the other kids. But despite feeling like an outsider, Melody never lost her optimistic spirit.

One day, while wandering around, Melody stumbled upon a group of pirates led by Uma, the daughter of Ursula. Melody was immediately drawn to their charisma and charm, but she still kept her distance, afraid of being rejected once again.

As she watched the pirates, a young man caught her eye. He was tall and lean, with long, wavy hair that fell over his shoulders. His clothes were tattered and adorned with various trinkets and symbols of his pirate lifestyle. Melody couldn't help but notice his striking blue eyes and the mischievous grin that played on his lips.

It was Harry Hook, Uma's first mate and notorious bad boy from the Isle. Melody had heard stories about him, how he was dangerous and unpredictable, but she couldn't help the flutter in her heart when he looked her way.

Harry noticed the shy girl watching him from afar, and he couldn't help but be intrigued by her. He sauntered over, his Scottish accent lacing his words.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Harry asked, leaning in close to Melody.

Melody's heart raced as she tried to form a coherent response. "I, um, I was just passing by." she stammered.

"Is that so?" Harry smirked. "Well, if you're looking for a good time, you've come to the right place."

Melody blushed at his suggestive tone but couldn't help the thrill that ran through her body. For the first time in a long while, she felt like she belonged somewhere.

Melody couldn't stop thinking about Harry after their encounter. She found herself going back to the same spot every day, hoping to run into him again. And sure enough, Harry started showing up more frequently, sometimes with Uma and sometimes by himself.

They had conversations that were filled with playful banter and teasing, and Melody found herself falling for Harry's charm. She tried to keep her guard up, knowing that he was a pirate and could be dangerous, but her heart had other ideas.

One day, Harry surprised Melody by showing up at her door. She was nervous but excited as she let him in, not quite sure what to expect.

"Hey there, lass." Harry said with a grin. "Thought I'd pay you a visit."

Melody blushed at his attention, feeling a mix of emotions she couldn't quite decipher. "Oh, um, okay. Do you want to come in?" she asked.

Harry walked in and looked around, taking in the small but cozy space. "Nice place you got here." he said, admiring the various seashell decorations and colorful murals on the walls.

Melody felt self-conscious but also proud of her home. "Thanks, I like it. It's not much, but it's home." she replied with a small smile.

They spent the afternoon talking and laughing, sharing stories and getting to know each other better. Harry told her about his life on the Isle, about his father, Captain Hook, and how he had always felt like he had to prove himself. Melody listened intently, feeling a sense of empathy for the boy who had grown up with such legacy.

As the sun began to set, Harry stood up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. "Well, as much as I'd love to stay and chat, I think it's time for some real fun." he said, holding out his hand.

Melody felt her heart race as she took his hand, not quite sure where he was taking her. "Ready for a not-so-ordinary day, lass?" he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

As they made their way to the Isle, Harry pointed out the different landmarks and shared stories of his adventures as a pirate. Melody found herself listening to him with rapt attention, hanging on to every word that he said.

When they arrived at the Isle, Melody felt a shiver run down her spine. The place was dark, foreboding, and unlike anything she had ever seen before. Harry noticed her hesitation and put his arm around her shoulder, guiding her through the dark alleyways and across the rickety bridges.

As they walked, Harry flirted shamelessly with Melody, teasing her about her shy and isolated behavior. Melody blushed furiously, feeling both embarrassed and exhilarated by Harry's attention.

Finally, they arrived at a deserted part of the Isle, where the only sound was the gentle lapping of the waves against the rocks. Harry turned to Melody and brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

"Ye look beautiful." he said, his blue eyes twinkling.

Melody felt her cheeks grow hot as she tried to find the right words to say. But before she could respond, Harry leaned in and kissed her cheek, his lips warm against her skin.

"Sorry, love. Couldn't resist." he said, his voice low and husky.

Melody was in disbelief about what had happened. Harry Hook, first mate of Uma's crew, had just kissed her on the cheek. She couldn't help but blush furiously as he walked her back to her house.

The next day, Melody couldn't stop thinking about Harry. She went about her day as usual, attending classes and hanging out with Mal and the other VKs. But every time she saw Harry, her heart would skip a beat.

It wasn't long before Harry noticed Melody's shy and timid behavior around him. He found it amusing and endearing at the same time. He decided to make it his mission to make her feel more comfortable around him.

During lunch, Harry made his way over to where Melody was sitting with the other VKs. He pulled up a chair next to her and flashed her a charming smile.

"Good afternoon, Melody." he said, his accent more pronounced than usual.

"Hi, Harry." she replied softly, feeling her cheeks flush.

Harry noticed her reaction and leaned in closer. "You know, lass, you don't have to be so shy around me. I don't bite... unless you want me to." he teased, winking at her.

Melody couldn't help but giggle at his playful comment. She started to feel more at ease around him, and they spent the rest of their lunch chatting and laughing together.

Despite her initial reservations, Melody found herself falling for Harry Hook. She knew he was a bad boy with a reputation for causing trouble, but she couldn't help but be drawn to him.

Little did she know that their newfound romance would be put to the test sooner than she thought.

It was a warm summer evening, and Harry had invited Melody to go for a walk with him along the beach. As they walked along the shore, the sun slowly setting behind them, they talked about their hopes and dreams for the future.

Suddenly, they heard a commotion coming from behind them. They turned around to see a group of angry pirates from the Isle of the Lost, formerly led by Uma, now feeling like they've been left behind.

"What are you doing here, Hook?" Yzla, the daughter of Yzma, demanded, her eyes flashing with anger. She used to hang out with Uma and her crew when they were trapped in the Isle. She and several other people from the crew refused to step in Auradon as they felt betrayed by their caption and have planned to take revenge.

Harry stepped forward, positioning himself between Yzla and Melody. "I'm here with Melody." he said, his voice firm.

Yzla sneered. "Oh, the little princess. How cute. You really think you can protect her from us?"

Melody shrank back, feeling intimidated by the intimidating pirates. She had heard stories about Uma and her crew and knew they weren't to be trifled with.

Harry didn't back down. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep her safe." he said, his voice low.

The pirates advanced towards them, their intentions clear. Harry took Melody's hand and pulled her behind him, ready to defend her.

Suddenly, a figure appeared out of nowhere, blocking Yzla's path. It was Mal, the queen, and she had a fierce look in her eyes.

"Back off, Yzla." Mal warned, her voice steady. "We won't let you hurt anyone here."

She hesitated for a moment before retreating with her crew, grumbling under her breath.

Harry turned to Melody, a worried look on his face. "Are you alright?" he asked, his hand still gripping hers tightly.

Melody nodded, grateful for Harry's protection. She knew that their relationship had just been tested, and it had come out stronger than ever before.

They continued their walk along the beach after the incident, the sun finally setting behind them, Melody knew that she had found something special with Harry Hook.

The next day, Melody found herself sitting in the park, watching as Harry, Jay and the other VKs played a game of Frisbee. She smiled as she watched Harry's carefree expression, his Scottish accent making her heart flutter.

Suddenly, the Frisbee flew towards her, and she instinctively caught it. Harry jogged over to her, a smirk on his face.

"Nice catch, princess." he said, his voice teasing.

Melody blushed, feeling her heart race. She knew that she was falling for Harry, hard and fast.

Later that day, they walked along the beach, explored the town. It seemed like they were always laughing and teasing each other, their bond growing stronger with each passing moment.

At night, they were on the beach, watching the stars twinkle above them, Harry turned to Melody, his blue eyes intense.

"Melody, I know I can come off as a bit of a bad boy, but I want you to know that I care about you." he said.

Melody felt a rush of emotions flood over her. She had never felt this way about anyone before.

"I care about you too, Harry." she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Harry leaned in, his lips brushing against hers. Melody closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of his lips on hers. It was like nothing she had ever experienced before, and she knew that this was the start of something incredible.

As they pulled away, Harry smiled down at her, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Come on, princess. Let's go see what other adventures await us."

Melody grinned, feeling excited about the future. She knew that with Harry by her side, anything was possible.

#descendants #descendants 2 #descendants 3 #disney descendants #disney #harry hook x melody #harry hook x reader #harry hook fluff #harry hook #pirate x mermaid

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reilemon · 4 months ago

Text

🌊Beneath the Abyss🌊

♡︎ synopsis: Lured by a haunting melody, you find yourself pulled into the depths of the sea, only to be saved by Rafayel, a mysterious merman.

♡︎ pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒MINORS DNI (18+ ONLY)⭒˗ˏˋ𓆩 ⚠ 𓆪ˎˊ˗⭒

♡︎ cw: depictions of (almost) drowning, mermaid au , semi-public seggs, oral (f!receiving)

♡︎ word count: 6.2k

♡︎ a/n: the second story for kinktober 2024. the beginning was very fun to write for someone with thalassophobia 🙂

♡︎ Thank you to my dearest friend and my beta reader ♡︎@its-de♡︎ for helping.

divider by @cafekitsune

Tonight is like any other night - where you sit on a wooden bench by the cliffside and read an old book. The sky is dark as ink, the stars distant and blinking slowly. The moon hangs low and casts a silvery light, illuminating the worn pages of your book. The sea is far below, its waves like whispers, soothing your thoughts as you read. Each wave crashes against the cliff’s base in a rhythmic hum. This place seems cold and unwelcome, but it’s yours. You’ve always come here, seeking solitude that only the night can offer. The dark doesn’t frighten you—it embraces you like an old friend. You feel safe here.

But then, it happens.

A sound, soft at first, like a breath carried on the wind, slips through the night. As it drifts closer, it wraps itself around your mind, around your soul. It’s a melody unlike anything you’ve ever heard—haunting, hypnotic, and achingly beautiful. It calls to something deep inside of you, and before you even realize what you’re doing, you’re standing, the book forgotten, your feet moving on their own.

The song grows stronger, tugging at you, pulling you toward the cliff's edge. You don’t resist. You can’t. The sea below crashing, dark and deep, but it no longer feels distant or dangerous. It feels inviting. The melody grows stronger, filling the air with its melancholic beauty. It’s not the sweetness of the song that unnerves you, but the way it seeps into your bones, like the sea pulling at the shore. You take another step, the rocks beneath your feet slick and uneven, but none of it matters now. Only the song matters.

And then—you fall.

The world tilts, and the sky spins above you as you plummet toward the water. Panic grips your chest, your heart racing as you crash into the icy depths. The cold is shocking, like needles through your lungs, and the once inviting sea now feels like it has you in its grasp, pulling you under. You thrash, desperate, your limbs sluggish as the water envelops your whole being. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound escapes—only bubbles rising to the surface.

You can’t believe this is happening. You’re going to drown.

Terror floods your veins as you sink deeper, your lungs burning, the black water pressing in from all sides. The song, the beautiful, irresistible song, has led you to this cold, watery grave.

You’re sinking into the deep. How could you let this happen to you?

But then, through the suffocating darkness, you see him.

A figure, a shadow, moving swiftly through the water. His form isn’t human, but sleek and graceful. His movements are too fluid, too fast. You blink, your vision fading as the last of your air escapes in a stream of bubbles.

For a brief moment, you think he’ll leave you to this terrible fate. But then, his hands, cool and firm, wrap around your waist, pulling you upward with a strength that feels effortless. His touch is strangely gentle as he propels you toward the surface, through the crushing weight of the sea.

You break through the surface with a gasp, sucking in air as your body shakes, your limbs still heavy and numb from the cold. His grip remains on you, guiding you through the water as he swims toward the shore. He brings you to a sheltered cove hidden from the world. Here, the water is calm, the sea’s roar softened to a murmur. He releases you gently onto the shore, your body trembling, your mind reeling from what just happened.

You lie there for a moment, catching your breath, your heart pounding in your chest. When you finally lift your head, you see him.

You can’t believe it. You sit in the sand, your breath ragged, lungs burning from the saltwater you swallowed, but your eyes—your eyes are locked on him. A figure not human, not entirely, but something out of stories you were told as a child. Stories you never believed. Myths, you always thought.

A merman.

The word seems impossible, heavy and foreign in your mind, yet he is there before you, dripping with seawater, his form half in the waves, half on the shore. His dusky purple hair clings to his forehead, eyes the color of shifting sunsets—blue fading into pink, hypnotic and unreal. His pale blue tail glistens under the moonlight, every shimmering scale catching the silver glow, moving with a grace that seems almost too smooth.

Are you hallucinating? You struggle to grasp at the fact what you're seeing is true. Mermaids were the stuff of stories, tales sailors told after too much drink, legends spun to explain away the strange sea. But now, here he is. A merman. He saved you.

You feel the weight of that thought settle in your chest—he saved you. Pulled you from the dark, icy depths. His hands had been firm around your waist, his strength undeniable as he swam you to safety, your body limp and helpless in his grip. The memory of it sends a shiver through you, a mixture of fear and awe. And now he is watching you with those strange, unreadable eyes. Your heart beats faster, not out of fear but something deeper—curiosity, wonder, gratitude. You don’t know how to feel.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, your voice hoarse and trembling.

He doesn’t respond, his gaze flickering as if trying to understand your words. He’s silent, but there’s something in his eyes—something that isn’t cold, something that isn’t indifferent. He’s saved you, and yet, you can see the hesitation and caution. His lips part, as if he wants to say something, but no words come. He seems frustrated, as though language is a barrier neither of you can cross.

Still, there’s a connection between you—fragile but real. You stand up and take a small step toward him, your eyes meeting his. He stares at you, taking in your wet form, the way your clothes cling to your body. There’s a flicker of something in his expression—something that looks almost like curiosity. But then, as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone.

As he slips back into the water, his eyes linger on you one last time, and without a word, he disappears beneath the surface. You realize then, with a strange certainty, that you’ll see him again. He may not have meant for you to be drawn into his world, but now, neither of you can escape it. You’ve crossed a threshold, and there’s no going back.

Tomorrow, you’ll return. You both will.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You arrive at the cove just as the sun begins to set, the sky turning into shades of amber and rose. What happened last night feels surreal. But the ache in your muscles tells you it was very much real. In your hand, you clutch a small gold bracelet. It’s a token, a simple gesture, but it feels like the least you can offer him for saving your life. You hope he’ll accept it.

You sit by the shore, the same place where he left you, eyes scanning the horizon. You don’t know how long you’ll wait, but something tells you he’ll come. And you don’t wait long.

The water stirs, a ripple moving across the surface. Your breath catches in your throat as you see him. He emerges from the depths with that same graceful ease, his scales glistening in the fading sunset. His eyes find yours, and for a moment, neither of you speak. You simply stare, caught in the same strange tension from the night before. He stays just out of reach, half-submerged in the shallow waters of the cove, watching you.

You shift towards him slowly, trying not to startle him this time. You hold up the bracelet. “For you.” your voice hesitant. You know he doesn’t understand the words, but maybe he’ll understand the gesture.

His gaze flickers to the bracelet, and slowly, cautiously, he moves closer. He raises one hand from the sea, fingers delicate, reaching toward the gift. His gaze never leaves yours as his fingers brush against the gold. You clasp it around his wrist gently, and a breath you’ve been holding leaves your lips. He stares at it for a moment, watching the way it catches the light. Then, he looks at you, his expression unreadable, but his guard... lowered. He doesn’t speak, but there’s a softness in his gaze now.

You smile, gesturing to yourself. “I’m...” You say your name slow and clear, hoping he’ll understand. You point again, repeating, “My name is...”

He watches you, brow furrowing in concentration. He lifts a hand, mimicking your gesture, pointing to himself. “Rafayel,” he says, and your heart skips a beat at the sound of his silky voice.

A smile tugs at your lips. You repeat his name, savoring the sound of it. It’s a small step, but it feels like a bridge between your worlds.

For the next few minutes, you try to teach him more. Simple words. “Water.” You gesture to the sea. “Sky.” You point to the sky. Each time, he watches you closely, though his lips struggle to form the words. He repeats after you, hesitant at first, but with growing confidence. It’s slow, but it’s something. You laugh softly when he stumbles over a word, and his lips twitch, just the slightest hint of amusement in return.

The moon starts to rise. You sit by the shore while Rafayel rests in the shallow water, his body half-submerged. The quiet between you feels comfortable now, no longer heavy with uncertainty. He watches you with a mix of curiosity and caution, his guard still there, but not as rigid.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

You bring a book the next night, an old fairytale, the kind with simple words and enchanting stories. He’s there again and you sit together by the water, turning the pages. You point at the pictures, saying the words slowly, and he listens, repeating the ones he can manage. Each night, you bring another, reading to him in the soft glow of the moon. His words are broken, but he tries. He watches your lips when you speak, mimicking the movements, and each night, you get a little closer to understanding each other.

And as the days pass, something else shifts between you. His wariness fades, replaced by a playful curiosity. He teases you with small splashes of water, grinning at your surprised reactions. His hands linger when he helps you stand up, his touch growing bolder, more confident. You catch him staring sometimes, his eyes roaming your face, your body, with an intensity that sends warmth rushing through you.

You talk more now, not just with words but with gestures, shared looks, and smiles. He asks questions, his voice thick with the unfamiliar human language, but eager to learn. You tell him about your world, your life, and he listens, even if he doesn’t understand it all. And when he speaks of his world, you try to piece together the meaning from the few words he knows, from the way his hands move as if painting a picture.

And each night, as you leave the cove, there’s a part of you that doesn’t want to go. There’s a part of him, too, that lingers in the water, watching you with a look that makes you think he feels the same.

The gold bracelet still gleams on his wrist, a reminder of the night he saved your life.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

Rafayel has always been wary of humans, but with you, he finds himself wanting to know more. There’s a softness in your eyes that eases him, a vulnerability that makes him open up, bit by bit. Each time you smile at him, something stirs in his chest, he can’t quite explain it. It’s different from anything he’s ever known. You’re not like the humans he’s been taught to avoid; there’s no malice, no threat in your presence.

Your beauty, though undeniable, isn’t what captivates him the most. It’s the way you see him. He is not a creature from the deep, something to be feared, but something - someone you want to know. And it confuses him—this growing need to be closer to you, to understand you, to touch you. He’s never felt this way before, and it scares him. But he can’t stay away. The more time he spends with you, the more he begins to desire your presence, the way you make him feel more alive.

The comfort of the cove has become a sanctuary for Rafayel and you. But tonight, something lingers in the air. You’ve been thinking about that first night—about the song that led you to the edge of the cliff. You turn to him, your voice soft but curious “That night, the song... were you the one singing it?”

Rafayel’s gaze hardens at the question, his eyes showing a mix of emotions. He doesn’t answer right away, and for a moment, you worry that you’ve overstepped. But then, his head dips, as if looking for the right words. He takes a breath, his voice low. “Song... not for you.” His eyes meet yours, and there’s something darker there now, something painful. “For sailors, bad men. Hurt... my kind.”

You feel the weight of his words. You’ve heard stories of sailors plundering the depths, but seeing the pain in Rafayel’s eyes—it feels real now. His hand reaches for yours. He explains, his voice thick with emotions he struggles to contain. “Revenge, for my kind. They come, take… kill. They don’t care. ”His fingers tighten slightly around yours, as if bracing himself for what he’s about to say next. “I... stop them. I sing, they follow.”

You realize then what his song was meant to do. It was a lure for the sailors, to drag them beneath the waves. The weight of that presses down on you, and yet, there’s no fear. Only sadness for the pain he’s carried. You swallow, trying to find the right words. “But... I wasn’t meant to hear it.”

He shakes his head, his grip on your hand softening, his voice quieter now. “No. You... not like them. You hear, but...” His brow furrows. “I... not want to hurt you.” The vulnerability in his voice catches you off guard. This creature, so powerful and full of vengeance, pulled you from the depths when he could have just let you drown.

You look at him. “I’m sorry.” you say softly, though you know it’s not enough. “I’m sorry for what they did to you. I didn’t know.”

His eyes soften, the darkness in them fading as he looks at you. “You... don’t need to know,” he murmurs. “You are... different.”

You squeeze his hand gently, offering what comfort you can. “I’m glad you didn’t let me drown.” you say, a soft smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

Rafayel smiles back and you see a glimmer of warmth in his eyes. “Me too.” he says quietly, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand.

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𓇼 ࣪ 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⋆｡𖦹 °. 𓇼

The nights spent by the cove have become a routine. You sit with a fairytale book in your lap, your fingers tracing over the worn pages as you read aloud. Rafayel lies on his stomach, his body still, but his gaze is not. He watches you, ombre eyes tracing every movement of your lips, every flutter of lashes as you speak. You glance up from the book, catching the intensity of his stare. A playful smile tugs at your lips, and you pause mid-sentence. "What are you looking at?" you tease.

Rafayel’s brows furrow in concentration. He still struggles to find the words, but he gestures to his own face, then to yours. "You... beautiful."

The words catch you off guard, a blush peppering your cheeks. You are taken aback by his honesty. He says it so simply, as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Your heart skips a beat, but you brush it off with a soft laugh. “Thank you.”

He tilts his head with confusion in his eyes, as though he doesn’t understand why you would laugh. You shake your head, reaching out to rest your hand on his arm, feeling his cool skin. His body reacts instantly to your touch, a shiver running through him, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, his hand comes to rest over yours.

Each evening, the distance between slowly fades. Touches become more frequent, more intentional. A hand resting on his arm, fingers tracing his jaw, the way his tail brushes lightly against your leg as he moves closer.

One night, Rafayel’s curiosity takes a new turn. You’re sitting on the sand, the fabric of your flowy dress bunched up around your legs. His gaze lingers on the material that shifts with the breeze. He tilts his head, lips in a small pout. Then he reaches out, pointing at your legs, gesturing to the flowing fabric. “Why... clothes?” he asks.

You laugh softly. “Humans wear different clothing depending on the weather, or their style. And we wear shoes to protect our feet.”

At the mention of shoes, his eyes drop to your bare feet. He looks back at you, his lips parting as if to ask something, but hesitates.

"Do you want to touch them?" you ask.

His face lights up with a mix of curiosity and caution. He nods. You stretch your leg out toward him, offering your foot, and he reaches for it, his fingers brushing lightly over the arch. You smile, watching his face as he studies your foot with such focus that makes you chuckle. But then, his fingers accidentally graze a ticklish spot making you pull away from his grasp and laugh as a reflex.

He jerks his hand back, eyes wide with concern, but you shake your head quickly, still laughing. “It’s okay! You just tickled me.”

His expression softens into a playful one, and he does it again, deliberately this time. He watches as your body reacts, your foot flinching away from his mischievous hands, your laughter bubbling up again. You can see the spark in his eyes, the way his lips curl into that rare smile you’re starting to see more often.

Now your eyes trace pale blue tail that glimmers in the water. You can’t stop yourself from staring. You’ve wanted to touch it from the very first moment you saw him.

You take a deep breath. “Can I... touch your tail? It’s okay if you don’t wa - .”

He chuckles at your stammering and nods, easing your anxiety. He takes your hand in his, and lowers it onto his tail, around where knees would be. Your lips part in awe, feeling the cool, sleek texture of his scales beneath your fingertips. It’s smooth, almost silky.

You look up at him. “Your tail... it’s incredible.”

Rafayel’s lips twitch into a small smile, pleased by your fascination. He shifts his body, fully focusing on your legs again. His eyes travel up, towards the space between your thighs. He glances at your face, then back, as though trying to make sense of something. Slowly, he leans in, his head tilting as he peers under the hem of your dress, his curiosity as innocent as it is bold.

A flush of heat rises to your cheeks, scooting back and pressing your thighs together. "Uh, Rafayel..." you murmur, your voice catching.

He looks up at you, confused. You can tell he doesn’t fully understand what he’s done to make you flustered, but he’s aware of the shift in your energy. “What... there?” he asks, his voice uncertain, his hand motioning toward your dress.

You bite your lip, the blush deepening. There’s no hidden intent in his question—just pure curiosity, the same way he’d ask about the books or the language you’re teaching him. You take a shaky breath. “It’s... private,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “Humans have parts that are personal, and we usually keep them covered, especially around others.”

He nods slowly. His eyes go to your dress for just a moment before they return to yours. “Private,” he repeats, the word unfamiliar on his tongue, but he seems to grasp the meaning of it. You can see the restraint in him now, the way he pulls back slightly, giving you space.

In the quiet that follows, you smile at him, reaching out to touch his face lightly, your fingers brushing over his soft skin. “You’re learning quickly,” you say softly, and he leans into your touch, his eyes closing for just a moment. But now you have a question. Your heart races as you summon the courage to speak. "Rafayel..." you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Where... where are your private parts?"

The words hang awkwardly between you, and you immediately regret it. Your body tenses as you brace for his reaction. Instead of laughing or brushing off the question, Rafayel’s expression softens with understanding. He lies on his back, glancing down at his sleek, muscled form. There’s a pause as he considers how to respond, his lips curving in a soft smile.

"They're hidden," he says quietly, pointing to the area right below his pelvis. "Beneath, for… when we need them."

You find yourself staring at the spot where he’s pointing. You bite your lip, glancing at him out of the corner of your eye. His gaze is already on you, soft and unassuming, as if waiting for you to speak.

"So… how does it work?" you ask hesitantly.

Rafayel tilts his head, his brow furrowing slightly as he processes your words. "Work?" he repeats. He looks down at his tail, then back up at you. "You… want to know?"

The heat rises to your cheeks, and you glance away, your fingers fidgeting with the hem of your dress. "I—I guess, yeah," you stammer. "I mean, you asked me, and I…" You trail off, embarrassed.

Rafayel’s lips quirk into a small, knowing smile, and his eyes soften at the sight of your flushed cheeks. Slowly, he speaks again. "I can… show?"

Your breath catches in your throat. The idea of him revealing that intimate part of himself makes your heart race. But before you can respond, Rafayel adds "If… I see yours too?"

Your hands tighten on the fabric of your dress, your mind racing. There's an openness in the way he asks, a genuine desire to understand you better. "You want to see mine?" you ask, your voice trembling just a little. Rafayel nods, his eyes flicking downward for just a second before meeting yours again. “Yes. You… show me. I… show you."

The tension hangs heavy between you, and for a moment, you both just sit there. You consider his words and finally, you nod. "Okay."

Rafayel hesitates for a moment, his eyes searching yours for permission one more time. With a slow nod from you, he shifts, moving just enough to give you a better view. The area he pointed at begins to part slightly, the scales pulling aside to show what is hidden. Your eyes widen as you catch the first glimpse of what lies underneath. The sight is mesmerizing, a beautiful hybrid of human and something entirely otherworldly. His member, long and thick, tapers slightly toward the tip. The texture is smooth with faint ridges along its surface. Your breath hitches as you notice how his arousal throbs gently, merging seamlessly with his aquatic form.

Rafayel watches you, how fascinated you are by this part of him. His lips quirk into a teasing smile, but a faint blush colors his cheeks. He’s aware of the tension of this moment, but there’s a playful, mischievous glint in his eyes as he tilts his head.

"You… stare long time," he teases, "You… like?"

Your breath catches as you meet Rafayel’s gaze, embarrassed for staring for so long. "Maybe," you admit with a shy smile.

Rafayel’s smile widens, his blush deepening. He glances down at himself, starting to feel bashful under your gaze, before his eyes return to yours. He shifts slightly, his hand moving to caress your cheek. His eyes move downward, toward the thin piece of clothing, then back to your face. You know it’s your turn.

The realization makes your palms clammy. Rafayel’s gaze never leaves yours, patient but full of expectation. And you want to match his vulnerability, to let him see you in the same way you’ve seen him. With a trembling hand, you reach under your dress, tugging down the bottom part of your swimsuit, his eyes following your every movement. Discarding the piece of clothing to the side, you lean back on your hands, spreading your legs.

Rafayel’s eyes widen as he stares at your exposed form, lingering on the soft skin between your thighs, on the slickness already gathering there. He looks mesmerized, his gaze flicking between your face and your body, as if he can’t decide where to focus.

"Can… I touch?" he asks, his fingers twitching with anticipation.

You nod, your heart racing. Slowly, his fingers brush against your inner thigh, cool and soft at first. His fingertips graze your entrance, and you let out a small gasp as a jolt of pleasure courses through you.

He pauses, glancing up at you with concern. “Hurt?”

You shake your head quickly, breathless. "No, no… that feels good," you assure him, your voice a little shaky. "But… if you keep touching me like that, I’ll get more… aroused." The honest answer makes your face flush even more.

Rafayel seems both intrigued and flustered by your response. Rafayel watches you closely, his fingers still resting gently against your slick entrance. He looks down, his breath catching as he feels the wetness coating his fingers. You can see his chest rising and falling as if he's trying to keep control of himself.

He glances back up at you. "Can I… touch more?"

The question takes you by surprise. This isn’t just curiosity or playful exploration anymore—this is crossing into something more intimate. You look at him, your breath catching in your throat. There’s a need that’s been growing inside him for so long—one he’s kept carefully in check, unsure if he could ask, unsure if this moment would ever come.

You feel a rush of warmth flood through you at the realization, and with a soft, shaky breath, you nod, guiding his hand a little higher. "Touch me… here," you whisper, your voice barely audible as you place his fingers on the sensitive nub just above your entrance. "This is… very sensitive. If you touch it the right way, it’ll feel incredible."

Rafayel’s breath hitches as his fingers move under your guidance. His touch is light at first, but as he watches your reaction—how your body tenses with pleasure—he grows bolder, circling the sensitive spot with slow, deliberate movements.

The sensations are overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing through you with every stroke of his fingers. Your hips instinctively move, seeking more of his touch, and you can’t help the soft moans that escape your lips. Rafayel’s eyes are locked on you now, his breath coming faster, his arousal clear in the way his body tenses.

"Yes," you gasp, your hands gripping the fabric of your dress as you struggle to hold back the rising tide of pleasure. "Just like that…"

Your body is trembling now, shaky gasps leaving your lips, each stroke pulling you closer to the edge. He watches you intently, eyes wide with fascination. He’s studying every reaction, every sound you make. Your fingers dig into the sand, gripping tightly as the pressure builds inside you, a tight coil ready to snap. His touch is gentle but insistent, the perfect rhythm against your most sensitive spot, and it doesn’t take long before you feel that wave approaching. Your hips buck against his hand, and the pleasure becomes too much, too overwhelming to resist.

“Rafayel -” you moan, your voice shaky. Everything seems to blur as the intense pleasure crashes over you in waves, your thighs trembling, your back arching helplessly as you come. Rafayel watches in awe, mesmerized by the way your body reacts to his touch, his hand still gently moving over your clit, prolonging your release as you ride out every last wave of pleasure. Your chest heaves, breathless, the sensation so intense you can barely focus, your body still twitching from the aftershocks. But as the pleasure subsides, his curiosity hasn’t. His fingers, still slick from your release, hover near your entrance, and he glances up at you. His fingers brush against your wetness, lingering just on the edge.

“What… if I…” he trails off.

You’re still catching your breath, your body sensitive, but you manage a nod, giving him permission. He moves slowly, his fingers slipping inside you, cautiously exploring. His finger slides into you easily, your entrance wet from your orgasm, and you let out a soft gasp as he pushes deeper. When he adds a second finger, stretching you just a little more, a shiver runs down your spine, the fullness making you moan softly. His eyes flick up to yours again, watching your face for any sign of discomfort, but all he finds is more of that same pleasure, your hips gently rocking against his hand, guiding him.

And then, as he curls his fingers inside you, searching, he finds it—the spongy spot deep within that makes your body jolt with pleasure. You react immediately, a gasp escaping your lips as he presses against it.

“There,” you gasp, your voice breathless and needy. “Right there…”

Rafayel’s eyes light up, his fingers moving with more confidence now, curling and stroking that sensitive spot inside you. The pleasure is overwhelming, a different kind of ecstasy that makes you arch into his touch, your walls tightening around his fingers. Each movement makes your moans grow louder, more desperate.

Without warning, he leans down, his mouth hovering just above your clit. Then he presses his lips to the sensitive nub. The shock of his warm mouth against you makes you cry out, your hips jerking against him as the pleasure intensifies tenfold. His tongue flicks out, tasting you, and when he hears your moan, he repeats the motion. Your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, guiding him as his tongue moves over your clit, licking and sucking in perfect rhythm with the motion of his fingers inside you. The combination is almost too much, the sensations making you dizzy, your body on the verge of losing control.

Rafayel seems affected by your reactions, his own breathing heavy now, his face flushed. He’s learning fast, his fingers curling just right inside you, hitting that sensitive spot over and over, while his mouth works your clit with growing skill. Your hips move desperately against him, seeking more of the pleasure he’s giving you, unable to stop yourself.

And then, you feel it—the tight coil inside you, about to snap again, but this time it’s different. The pleasure so intense it’s almost unbearable. You can feel your muscles clenching around his fingers, wet sounds filling the air as your body responds to him.

“I can’t… I’m going to…” you gasp, but before you can finish, your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than anything you’ve ever felt before, your body convulsing, your hips bucking wildly against his hand and mouth. A sudden gush of wetness escapes you, your release splashing against his fingers, your muscles spasm with the force of it.

Rafayel freezes for a moment, startled by the intensity of your release, but he doesn’t pull away. His fingers stay inside you, his mouth still working your clit as you ride out the most intense orgasm of your life.

As your release finally subsides, you collapse back against the sand, panting and spent, your body still tingling. Rafayel pulls back, his fingers slipping from your entrance, wet with your release. He looks up at you, awe and a hint of pride in his eyes, as if he can hardly believe what he’s just made you feel.

When you catch the sight of Rafayel’s face, glistening with the remnants of your release, a shy smile tugs at your lips. You reach out, brushing your thumb gently across his cheek, wiping away the wetness. Both of you share a soft, breathy chuckle. Rafayel, his gaze lingering on your lips, leans down slowly. His breath fans across your skin, and then, with a soft press, his lips meet yours. It’s gentle at first, but the moment your lips connect, something shifts. The kiss deepens, grows more urgent, as though all the pent-up desire comes to the surface.

Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, needing more of him. His lips move against yours, his tongue teasing yours, and you feel the weight of his body pressing against you. His tail shifts in the sand, positioning himself between your legs, his hardened member brushing against your thigh. The contact makes you moan into the kiss, and you both know where this is headed. It feels natural, like this is where you were always meant to end up, like the bond between you has been building toward this moment. Rafayel’s gaze locks onto yours, checking for any sign of hesitation. But all you offer him is a small nod, your body aching to feel him inside you.

He begins to push forward, slow and careful, the head of his throbbing member pressing against your wetness. You can feel the stretch as he starts to ease into you, your body accommodating his size. The sensation is intense, your walls fluttering around him as he gradually sinks deeper. His eyes never leave yours, his brow furrowed in concentration, his mouth slightly parted.

“You… okay?” he asks softly, his voice strained with the effort of holding back.

“Yes,” you gasp, your body trembling. “Don’t stop.”

Encouraged, Rafayel moves deeper. Rolling his hips, each thrust pushes him further, until he’s fully within you, his body pressed flush against yours. He stills for a moment, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him. His hand moves down to where your bodies are joined, his thumb finding your clit, pressing against it in slow circles. You moan, your hips instinctively bucking against his, the stimulation pushing you closer and closer to the edge again.

Every thrust brings him deeper, hitting that sweet spot inside you, and you can’t hold back any longer. Your orgasm crashes over you, more powerful than the last. Your walls clench tightly around him, drawing him deeper, and you cry out his name. Your entire body shudders with the force of your release. The feeling of you pulsing around him pushes Rafayel over the edge. His thrusts become erratic, his breath ragged. With a deep groan, he buries himself inside you, his body shaking as his own orgasm overtakes him.

As the last hints of pleasure fade from your bodies, the night air settles around you, cool and soothing against your flushed skin. Rafayel’s body remains pressed against yours, his chest rising and falling in rhythm with your own as he holds you close. Your legs are still tangled with his tail, the beautiful texture of his scales brushing against your thighs, grounding you in this moment.

Rafayel presses a tender kiss to your temple. His lips trail down to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, and you turn your head, meeting him in a soft, languid kiss. Neither of you speaks for a long moment, simply resting in the aftermath. Rafayel shifts slightly, easing out of you carefully, and you can’t help but shiver at the loss of connection. He watches your face for any sign of discomfort, but all you offer him is a lazy smile.

A faint blush lingers on his cheeks, and his lips curve into a small, sheepish smile. "You not hurt?"

You laugh softly, shaking your head. "No," you reply, your voice gentle. "Not at all. That was… wonderful."

He exhales in relief and chuckles softly. "Good."

You move to rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer, as if he can’t bear to let go just yet.

Then, after a few moments, you both start to chuckle, the sound light and easy. "I… didn’t think this would happen," you admit with a smile. "Not like this. Not tonight."

Rafayel hums in agreement. "You… so different. So... human," he adds with a playful smirk, but his tone softens. "And yet…"

You smile, lifting your head slightly to meet his gaze, finishing for him. "And yet, it feels right." Rafayel’s lips curve into a slow, gentle smile, and he leans down, his breath warm against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. "Yes," he whispers. "It… feels right."

For a long time, you simply lie there together, wrapped in each other’s arms, your bodies warm and comfortable against the cool night air. Rafayel’s fingers continue to caress your skin, his touch tender and slow.

"Stay close," he whispers after a while, his voice barely audible, as if he’s speaking to himself, as if the thought of distance—any distance—is unbearable. His arms tighten around you, his embrace full of warmth and need.

You smile against his chest, nuzzling closer. "I’m not going anywhere," you murmur back. And you mean it. Whatever comes next, you’ll face it together.

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #love and deepspace smut #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel smut #lads smut #lads x reader #lads rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x you #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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pinescent-and-gingerbread · 18 days ago

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✧ Fantasies in the dark - II

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur's obsession with you intensifies and reaches a point of no return when you catch him red-handed... ✦ Warnings/tags: SMUT 18+, MDNI! Masturbation (again), Arthur is still a little pervy, stripping, p in v, Arthur's self-esteem's still shitty, sub!Arthur at first then switches into dom, Reader is a BIG tease. Mainly Arthur's pov. ✦ Words: 5k (oops) Arthur's pic is mine, others are from Pinterest. And as always, as English isn't my first language, prepare for some possible misspellings. Read on AO3

Part I - Part II

A ruby, squared, soft form.

His eyes are stuck on it as his thoughts unthread and tangle endlessly in his brain.

Arthur was a damned man. He had been for a while now and this fatality had settled into his head for a few years already. His sins were so numerous and varied that he hadn’t even considered the thought of going to rest in Heaven when the Grim Reaper would finally put an end to his sufferings.

But even considering all of this, the gunslinger had definitely not planned on adding a new sin to his list by jerking himself off while watching you almost every night for more than half a month. Oh, the same old speech was still playing in his head; his gesture leaking with shame and muscles sweaty from fear of getting caught. The adrenaline and depravation of the act, the sweet, sweet relief of his orgasm, and the momentary satisfaction he was pulling out of it every time was a very dangerous cocktail; he knew it.

He knew, knew, knew everything of that, of course he did. And still, his fingers opening his fly carelessly. Still, his eyes searching for this sublime silhouette of yours. Still, his cock hardening, itching, burning, begging to be grabbed. And still, his hands taking the doomed responsibility of answering the call. Still his muffled groans, his lips bitten, his silent words spoken in his head, your body joining him. Still, your hand, instead of his. His spend, less and less consistent, spurting quickly and spreading on his dirty clothes, the silence following, the emptiness, the shame, the guilt, the coldness amplified by his intimate fantasies. Like those dark loud nights of storms, air charged with electricity, and left in heavy disturbing quietness after the last lightning struck. Still, dreaming, wanting, longing.

Still you.

He felt insatiable, like an enraged, mad dog, pathetic bastard. And paradoxically, as he finally had found sleep again after allowing his body what it needed, he felt weaker than ever. Weakened by you.

You hadn't left him after the first night he had succumbed to temptation. You had branded his spirit with a red-hot iron. Damned him to a lifetime of ache, a mortal succumbing to a Mermaid's melody and sailing in search of her on an infinite sea.

A ruby, squared, soft form.

It’s your shawl lying on a chair. You forgot it a few minutes ago, but he didn’t say anything about it. He’s still looking at it, hands fidgeting, mind pondering. What’s good and what’s bad. The ugliness of his self and soul. The risks, the benefits.

He thinks back to the day you and him just shared. A job in Rhodes, “needing to be taken care of by two people”, Dutch’s words. He had sent him, which was predictable —the gang’s workhorse rarely knows rest. But you? It surprised him a whole lot more. Something about the job requesting some “feminine charm”. He hadn’t complained. Not when he had realized he would be able to spend some time alone with you.

And his gaze had been wandering way more than what common decency was allowing him to. Staring and dreaming were all he had been doing lately, anyhow.

Looking at the delicious cleavage your fancy dress was offering when you got out of your tent and joined him back at camp, your breasts pressed up and round, almost impossible not to devour with his eyes. All he could do was make a sarcastic comment about it as the only defense against his urges. You moron Morgan, just say something nice for once. Luckily -or not- for him, you had wrapped your appealing shoulders in the sophisticated cherry-colored cape to prevent the coldness of the night.

Looking at your back as you both rode into town, looking at your neck when he helped you off your horse once into Rhodes. Looking at your lips as you two were sat in one of the Parlor’s house boxes, the job long-forgotten when he had noticed this little wrinkle next to your lips, that one you have when you laugh and find something funny. He would have to add it to his endless sketches of you.

Looking at your thin, sneaky hands from afar as they were slipping into that wealthy gentleman’s pocket to steal the papers you were both here for in the first place. It all felt distant and insignificant to him now, as a forgettable theater play set in the background.

Later, you had been the one looking at him when he had come to your rescue. The “gentleman” was being insistent with you. As you both had crossed eyes from across the reception room, Arthur had read your apprehension and silent call for help in just a split second. And here he was, puffing out his chest, look dark and intense, muscles tensed. The perfect look of a man you don’t want to cross, that look he and Hosea had worked hard on building, scars and broad shoulders gained after all these years of intimidation. He was so used to it by now he wasn’t even sure he knew how to be anything else. His pointer finger tapping threateningly on the shiny Deputy Star he had on his jacket and his deep, menacing tone had acted as the final details. You should leave the lady alone and get some fresh air, pal. The fool had dropped the case and returned with his tail between his legs without any clue what had actually happened.

And then, your sweet voice asking for a drink. “Come on, we got to celebrate! Finally, a job well handled without a drop of blood.” How could he ever say no to that? It was almost too good to be true. Spending the evening with you, laughing, talking, philosophizing.

Arthur didn’t know he could be that talkative. Maybe it was the whiskey. Maybe it was your presence. Maybe a bit of both. And he had paid for everything. A good hot dinner for both of you, your drinks, and two rooms the moment you told him you were too tired to ride back to camp. Oh, he could have given you all the Wolrd’s treasure if that meant you would keep looking at him with these pretty playful eyes.

As the evening passed, the gentle flow of your endless conversations had led you from the bar to the stairs, to the second floor, to the hallway, and eventually to his room, naturally and serenely, like a rowboat ride on a summer lake.

And finally, after a few yawns exchanged, some delicate eyelids rubbed by you, you had left him to sleep, completely forgetting about your shawl, hanging on one of his room’s chairs. And you had greeted each other goodnight. As friends. This was all he would ever be to you, he knew it. And it was better that way. Like this, he was preserving you from having a pathetic man and a pathetic life being his. He was like an infertile soil, anyway. Any seed you would plant and try to harvest with him would end up rotten, corrupted. Fruitless.

And now left in the stillness of the room, in this deafening silence without the sound of your voice, his vision fixated on your abandoned piece of clothing, the most sinful of all thoughts is digging its way through the fibers of his brain, fed by need and alcohol, gnawing at his neurons, eating up any rational reasoning.

A ruby, tempting garment of yours.

He wants to grab it. To smell it. He wants your perfume to completely fill his nose, so much it would be like drowning in your scent. You wouldn’t be coming back for it anyway, considering how tired you looked a few minutes ago. And you’d never know about it. Just like you didn’t know he was watching you all this time through the fabric of your tent. After all, he was already so deep down into this rabbit hole of lust, what would it change?

And just like that, before he can even think about it more, his arm is already extending, his fingers wrapping around the forbidden fruit.

A descent into Hell he is not able to stop nor control. And at the same time, it feels like getting closer to Heaven.

He lays on the bed, back against the coarse sheets that still felt better than his cot back at camp, and brings your stole to his nose, almost covering his face with it. He closes his eyes.

And he breathes in.

Hell. If God wanted him to stay virtuous, why did he create such a temptatious woman like you? Your scent is without any surprise just as irresistible and bewitching as your whole self.

The fruity notes of it remind him of your skin and lips he wants to taste so badly, a mouth-watering gourmet scent. The floral and fresh ones, of this sparkling mischievousness in your eyes. And in the end, as he exhales, warm and spicy aromas rain on him. They fill his mind with a deep sense of comfort, as if scenting directly your hair. It’s intoxicating, spellbinding. Driving him deeper into his madness. He doesn’t try to resist, not anymore, this delightful fresco of fragrances painted just for him.

Naturally and almost subconsciously, his vicious right hand reaches his crotch. He’s already hard. Just by smelling your shawl.

This time you’ve really hit rock bottom, old bastard.

He doesn’t even bother thinking about it more, he already knows he’s too deep in; already knows he won’t be able to stop himself.

Ah shit, screw it, jus’ a quick wank.

He quickly unbuckles his holster belt, then unbuttons his pants, and snakes his hand between the folds of his union suit. A silent swift dance he is used to repeating by now.

He breathes again a long, deep whiff, and wraps his fingers around his cock thinking of you, once more.

He sees you and your perfect body, and everything blends and blurs in his heated psyche. The form of your breasts and ass through the tent's canvas he knew by heart at this point. Your smirk, your eyes looking back at his, only his during this night spent together. Your heady, addicting scent surrounds him and fuels his fantasies even more, making them more vivid than before, the soft fabric of the stole against his skin a light caress he imagines yours.

He strokes and strokes and strokes, he needs it more than ever, even if, truth be told, every time is more than ever. His pinkish cock’s head is reddened and swollen from having been rubbed so many times lately, sensible and almost pained. But he doesn't care. It makes him feel even more alive. Even more here. Simply better.

He wants his body to feel pleasure. Pleasure, for once, instead of pain. Pain all the time, pain everywhere, bullets through his muscles, knives on his skin, cutting through his flesh, fists against his bones, breaking his jaws, his nose, his cheeks. Broken, used, beaten, ripped, bruised, overworked, abused. Oh, he’s tired of it. Only in those prohibited moments, he can experience pleasure. No matter how wicked and profane.

The room is now filled with those wet, fast-paced sounds, his rustling against the sheets, and the smallest of grunts coming from his unholy lips as he fucks his fist. Your name escapes him from time to time, muffled by your shawl he's still holding all against him with his left hand, and breathing the air from.

As if all the World’s oxygen would never be as good as breathing through it. As if everything else would feel thick and fusty in his lungs. No Mountains, no Oceans, no flowers, not the tastiest food, nothing could ever compete with smelling your scent.

Stroke, stroke, stroke. Goddamn it, she’s perfect. A big, hard stroke. Oh God, yes, just a bit more…

Too absorbed by his delirious daydream, he doesn't notice right away the creaking of the door as you enter his room again, searching for the very thing he's using to masturbate right now.

“Arthur, I’m sorry to bother you again but I think I forgot my sh—”

You freeze.

SHIT! He instantly curses loudly and jumps from the bed so suddenly that he almost falls to the ground. A stumbling mess, his holster crashes on the wooden floor with a loud percussive sound as he shoves his member back into his clothes as fast as possible, looking like a disjointed chaos of limbs. He is mortified. There is no way in the world you won’t understand what was just happening. He ends up standing next to the bed, after having thrown your cape at the other corner of the room with such force it looked like the damn thing was made of burning iron. And he doesn’t even know why. Maybe to distance himself from his sins. To try and erase this horrible vision from your pretty eyes. His labored breath and fast-beating heartbeat are now ruled by panic instead of lust. For all his life he had never experienced such shame and felt so utterly stupid.

There is a small moment of silence, heavy and embarrassed. A little time of denying. No, this can’t be happening. But your look turns in circles from the bed, him, and the scarf, circling him like a cornered animal. That’s it, his pride is dead right here in this stupid hotel room. You see right through him, he’s sure of it. Your piercing beautiful gaze lands on his ears a few times, and he knows they’re crimson just by the heat he can feel on them. But the worst thing of all is his bulge, obvious and raised up as a flag right in the middle of his thighs, under his badly buttoned fly. Like a Mausoleum to his Dignity. The damn thing refusing to shrink and obviously screaming loudly his offence to the whole World. All the contrary, your gaze falling on it produces the exact opposite of what he wants, his cock almost twitching in return.

Damn it!

Damn it, damn it, damn it!-

“Where you… Hum…” You start, before clearing your throat slightly.

“ ‘m sorry, Am… I didn’t mean to… ‘m such a goddamn fool.” This is the best he can come up with. What excuses could he have anyway? Nothing could justify what he did.

You had never heard his deep asserted voice so chagrined. Utter fear and shame. You didn’t even know he could feel that way.

His gaze is fixated on his dirty boots, refusing to cross yours. Just as goddamn dirty as me.

“Were you pleasuring yourself, Mister Morgan?” You ask, your tone slightly playful. He doesn’t see it, but a mischievous grin settles on your face.

He takes your tone as a mocking one. You would have all the right to mock him. That’s all he deserved.

He tries to answer but doesn't even dare to admit it verbally, as if it would aggravate his situation. He just nods slowly, as seriously as if he was at a funeral.

“With one of my clothes?” You ask again, your grin widening.

Another nod, his eyes shutting as if he had been hit by something, your sentence making the whole thing even worse. Oh, just a few seconds ago, he was feeling more present and alive than ever, and now all he wanted was to disappear or die.

He hears more than he sees your steps on the parquet. Every stomping sound hurt him a bit more. He doesn't even dare to move. As if everything he would do from now would offend you. Even breathing, no, even existing is too much.

She’s going to slap me. A step. She's going to yell in my face. Another step. I’m dead. A final step.

You’re so close to him now he’s holding his breath, eyes closed, ready to face the well-deserved punishment of your choice for his trespass.

But he's only met with stillness until you speak again.

“Arthur, do you really think I was that hot in my tent, every night?”

The words reach his ears but his brain refuses them. His mouth opens in astonishment. He closes it to swallow loudly and opens it again as if trying to speak in utter confusion.

“You… I… Wait, really?”

“I never thought you could be that naive, honestly.” You answer, a little chuckle escaping you. One of your hands slowly reaches the side of his face, but he still shivers slightly when it touches him. You guide his head back up for him to finally look you in the eyes.

Arthur's two blue sapphires are topped with anxious brows. A bright confusion and a soft vulnerability. They don’t settle too long on one point of your face out of nervousness, as if they could burn you.

“M-me neither.” He simply whispers, a bashful, nervous smile settling on his mouth. He still doesn’t move.

“Do you really think I wasn’t aware of what I was doing, mmh?” You continue, your fingers traveling from his face all the way down his neck, gently caressing the base of his hair.

You can’t be serious right now.

“I… I don’ know…” And he really doesn’t. This is all so unbelievable to him that he’s persuaded this is all a dream and he’s going to wake up any moment.

The only thing anchoring him to reality is your fingers exploring him, making him slowly let out the breath he had been holding in his chest.

“Let me help you finish what you've started…” You murmur, voice low and obvious to what you’re implying, sultry, suggestive.

He feels his shaft pulsing again instantly in answer, his body once again taking the lead. He’s about to say something, to ask you if you’re sure you want to do this with an old bitter moron like him, but one of your hands is already reaching straight to his crotch, palming his warm, needy erection.

“Anh…!” The moan turning into a groan he lets out duplicates your own arousal.

His hips rock against your hand involuntarily, the need for contact of any sort getting more powerful than his shame. He still doesn’t dare do much to you though, not wanting to cross any more limits. He lets you handle him just like you want. He lets the flow of life take him instead of fighting against it, for once. The only gesture he allows is settling his big hands on your back, sweaty and almost shaking.

Oh, your sneaky fingers. They touch and grope and palpate, and he sighs louder. It feels so much better, to have your hand touching him.

After a few more teasing caresses, you sway in a smooth motion and playfully push him backward, making him fall on the bed. He sits there, looking up at you with those two adoring cerulean pupils, as if you were the Sun itself. A distant magnificent star, impossible for him to reach, condemned to only contemplate.

“Get your clothes off.” You order, his reactions making you more confident and straightforward than usual.

He is quick to obey. You could have asked him to jump off a cliff and he would have done it without even thinking. His clothes fall one by one on the floor and you feast on every area of skin he’s offering you. He ends up entirely naked for your eyes. This Titan, cascade of virile hairs everywhere, prominent scarred muscles carved into stone by Ares himself, gorged with raw powerfulness and designed to kill. To survive. And between those open thick thighs, his aroused member. The one he thought of as the triumph of his shame a few minutes ago, is now the Apotheosis of his Glory. Thick, long, hard like him, surrounded by a crown of tawny curls.

“Look at you…” You let out, almost licking your lips. But he doesn’t answer. He doesn’t see what you do at all. Instead, he let his gaze wander on your chest, and you can almost hear the silent plea in his gaze for you to join his nakedness.

Standing right in front of him, you begin to strip yourself out of your clothes, agonizingly slowly, your face displaying this provocative grin that turns him on so much. It’s purposeful, and you feel your own arousal rising as you notice the red coming back to his cheeks and ears.

First, your boots and socks, discovering your delicate legs. Then your blouse, showing your shoulder and chest, then your skirt. He stays silent all the while, enjoying your little show more than you could imagine. Your hips swaying, your arms gracefully dancing, each piece of clothing falling on the ground, this is all a trance he's getting hypnotized by.

Seeing you undress just for him after all those nights spent on his cot touching himself watching your shadow is like adding all the missing color from a masterpiece, enhancing and fulfilling.

“That’s what you’ve been thinking about?” You purr proudly, now in your undergarments.

“God yes. Yer a real’ angel.” He praises in a fevered-like whisper.

You smirk as all answer. “Come on now, show me those dirty things you’ve been doing.” You speak while nodding at his crotch in an almost challenging way.

His hand instantly reaches for his cock. It was itching him to since you had looked at it earlier. He presses his fingers hard around it and he grunts softly, the sound incredible to your ears. Obeying you and surrendering fully to his depravation, he slowly starts stroking himself again while watching you intensely. What did he do to deserve such a splendid spectacle?

That’s when you decide to slowly bend inward and undo the last pieces of clothing you still have. Just a few gestures and your breasts are bare and hanging for him to look at. Jeee-sus. You see and hear his hand speeding up.

Lastly, you reveal your own sex to him, a pearl between those gorgeous thighs of yours, and he curses out loud this time.

“You're so goddamn beautiful. I could... Damn, I could finish right now jus' lookin' atchu.” He confesses, his cheeks, ears, and chest getting even redder at his own words.

“Really, uh? You're quite easy to tease, Mister Morgan.” You tease, before turning around and bending again, wanting him to see your bottom, taking a more than suggestive position with your ass up.

“Oh, for God sake.” He nearly chokes, his rhythm accelerating again; almost frenetic. This is all he ever wanted during those cold lonely moments. All he ever needed to see. And he can’t help but engrave every little detail in his mind; the little scars you have here and there, the different tone and grain of your skin, your hairs, your body’s hollows and bumps. Every little imperfection. And they make it all even better. Better than any fantasies he had ever pictured in the past few weeks. Because they are making you yourself.

You turn again to face him and straddle his lap, unable to resist your own urges that had been building and building since you had found him touching himself to the thought of you.

That’s when something finally lights up in his mind. The moment he feels your soft, warm thighs around him, and how you’re soaked in between them, it hits him. You’ve been wanting him just as badly as he wanted you. As odd and surprising as it sounds to him. This new reality is right there against his tip as you start rubbing your entrance against it, teasing, playing, pressing just a few inches in, gently praising how big he looks and how good it would be to have him inside of you.

That thing inside of him explodes.

Suddenly his hands are all over you. Touching everything they can, discovering, molding your curves under his fingertips. Hands on your thighs, hands on your hips, waist, neck. Each part of you touched is breaking every chain that was holding him back, one by one. These perfect sensations blind him to any reasoning, any sense of restrain, and push him to palm your breasts. God, the softness, the warmth. He sighs in appreciation as he kneads both of them and you join his pleasured breathing.

More.

One of his hands leaves your chest to grab your ass, roughly, and he squeezes, hard, while he sucks on the breast that has been abandoned. “Arthur!” You moan out in return, pleasured and surprised voice, mouth left open in delight. Oh, he will satisfy you. Those renewed vows appear as clear as day between the mess of his head as he keeps devouring your nipple endlessly, almost suckling at it. He will push that voice of you to its limit, break it until you won’t be able to scream.

“That’ what you wanted all this time, uh? Drivin’ me insane?”

You search for something clever to throw back at him but the calloused hand on your breast suddenly reaches your cunt and you gasp instead.

“That’ what you do? Torture poor devil like me until they can’t help but fall for you?” He asks again, his confidence heightened by your sweet sounds, his tone getting darker and darker. Touching your folds pleasures him almost as much as you, his brows furrowing into a needy and intense expression.

“J-just you… ‘Just wanted you to notice me…” You admit, your hips rolling on his lap and against his hand. His fingers part your cunt and trace their own way through this little Heaven, exploring this place he had craved so much; and it makes him more excited than any thoughts he could have had on his own.

“Well, that sure worked, girl.”

He lets go of your pussy and you squeal in protest, almost ashamed of your own sound. He smiles triumphantly at you, feeling satisfied to give you a taste of your own medicine. He wraps both of his arms around your waist, your chest ending up pressed against his face; his nose is shoved in it and he sighs louder this time.

He can’t wait any longer. Not when he has been dreaming of this for weeks. Not after discovering your unforgettable perfume. Not after having felt this wet, warm promise of your entrance. He looks up at your face, searching for any trace of disgust or apprehension but you're completely free from any. Mouth agape, breaths deep and hips shamelessly searching for his, you're even more gorgeous than before, and he snaps.

He guides you carefully, his hands warm and hard against your bare skin. And he pushes.

His sex entering you slowly is deliciously hard and hot. His cockhead is big, way bigger than what you’re used to, and feels so good already. His arms hold you in place as he pushes again, wanting to be completely stuffed in, a long, low growling sound accompanying his movement. Oh, Christ Almighty. He had never felt so good than buried like this in your warm, silky, divine cunt right now.

Once fully settled, you both sighs and breath loudly for just a few seconds, your gazes meeting and silently agreeing on how fucking delicious this feels. Then you move up, wanting to ride him, feeling his shaft pull out as you do, but his arms grab you tighter and put your hips back in place.

“God!” You whine as you feel his length plunging again and hitting that spot inside of you.

He starts to buck his hips up against yours, unable to resist anything anymore. His rhythm, he wanted slow and meaningful at first, is quickly turning fast and hard, a remnant of how incredibly frustrated and needy he had been all this time.

“I’m gonna -Ohh, shit- I’m gonna show ya what ya get teasin’ me like that.”

Arthur's southern drawl is even more prominent, his voice hoarse and deep from effort. His thrusts up are more and more powerful, making you jump up and down on top of him and for the first time in days he thanks himself for having pleasured himself so many times lately, otherwise he would have come instantly right there in your heat. Your breasts bounce in this erotic, unresistible dance that he’ll remember for every future night he'll spend alone.

“Oh Arthur, don’t stop!”

His cock pulls out and shoves into your cunt so fastly it's rubbing perfectly how you want it deep inside and you reach for his shoulders, needing to hold onto him, already so close. “Yes, yes, yes, right there!”

He hears your accelerating breathing, your higher-pitched moans turning into screams and he searches for your lips with his. Your tender petals against his dirty mouth. But he doesn’t care, there’s only your pussy right now, and your incredible smell he’s filled with once again, just like you’re filled with his tongue and his dick inside of you.

Both his hands grab your ass and he fucks frantically, his balls slapping against it with each thrust, making your plump flesh jiggle and those hitting and smacking sounds resonating throughout the room. Again, and again, and Damn it again.

It’s too much for you.

You cry out loudly as your fingers dig into his shoulders and your head tilts backward, and his big, solid arms keep you pressed against his chest, completely wrapped around you; and he finally, finally feels it. Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure, instead of pain. This irresistible release, your pussy clenching and squeezing all around his cock. “-Ngh, s-shit yes angel, give it t’me!”

You give it all to him without any resistance and in a obscene scream. And it’s too much for him.

“Ah, God…” He hisses as he feels it coming, quickly pulling you up —as effortlessly as if you weighed nothing— and pressing his cock against your clit, well nestled between your lips.

He reaches your lips again, needing to finish while kissing you, both of your bodies almost sewn together, his moans sounding more and more like primal growls and hisses at every rubbing movement against your core, movements getting faster and faster, impossibly faster, So fucking good, Jesus so goddamned perfect, Perfect, perfect!- Until he finally comes, translucent cum leaking all the way down his shaft and spreading on your lower belly, all panting and grunting, a complete mess; a satiated beast.

It’s better than any of the dreams he ever had, waking or sleeping. And it’s not just the release of this one and only time, it’s the pinnacle of all these lonely pleasures shared with no one in regretful secret.

For the second time that night, he thinks he’s dead.

He falls backward, back against the mattress, and you follow, unable to stand without him. In that silence only disturbed by your exhausted breaths, he turns and grabs the first piece of clothing that he has at hand’s reach, his flannel. He gently uses it to clear your belly from his seed and seeing it, on your smooth and soft skin, makes a wave of culpability crash onto him once again. Shouldn't have done all of this. Should have taken care of her properly.

A dark, glum expression settles on his face and he wraps himself in a deep silence instead of your arms as he finishes to clean the both of you. God, did that man ever know rest for more than a few minutes? At this thought, you bend over to put a small kiss on his forehead, as a thank you for his aftercare.

“Satisfied enough?” You finally break the silence, getting up from the bed –not without stretching your back slightly and swaying your hips before bending to reach for your clothes on the floor.

Arthur cannot help but think of a Nymph as you do all of this still naked. Those irresistible, divine beauties that lure men with a simple move of their finger, as they say in books. He knew it was all stories from another time, but he was more and more convinced they would look exactly like you if they did exist.

“More than in a long time. You?” He replies, voice neutral and features closed as usual. He stays on the bed and put only his pants back, his cock finally softening under the coarse fabric. He never stops looking at you all the while.

“Couldn’t be better”. You assert, your blouse falling back on your upper body. You then roughly fix your hair in this casual, impish way that was yours.

That was driving him insane.

“You’re a little minx, ya know that? Gettin’ naked on purpose every night…”

“Oh, please. You didn’t really complain as far as I know.”

“Nah, but ya did make me insane. Teasin’ littl’ thing y’are.” He says with a fond voice he would have preferred less obvious.

You innocently shrug your shoulders, cheeky grin on your face. The way you're playing with him that easily should have been shaming to him, but he doesn't feel any shame anymore, not after what you have shared.

"Goodnight, Arthur." You throw as all answer, leaving him as you walk through the door of his room. He greets you back, the trimmest trace of longing in his rough voice.

Once again alone, once again cold, Arthur grabs a cigarette from his pocket to smoke before falling asleep; maybe to keep this lingering warmth just a bit longer, the sensations of your body, and especially your sex squeezing around his, still remaining on his skin. Lying completely in the bed, he smiles to himself as he notices you have forgotten your shawl —again. Or maybe you had left it on purpose. Maybe you had both times, now that he is thinking about it. The ruby fabric had landed wrapped all around his old, worn-out leather jacket, like a flame dancing around, enveloping, lapping at a tree.

It looks great that way.

Maybe you were only playing with him. Maybe this was only a one-time thing. But who cared? Tonight, Arthur had been taken care of by a Nymph. And no other mortal pleasure, no other solitaries delights, not even the most lustful and depraved images he could have pulled out of his tormented mind could ever compete with that slice of Olympe you had given to him.

a/n: Yeah, 5K words, I knooow! I'm hopeless. It's quite a lot, but I didn't feel like cutting, nothing felt right. What can I say except thank you, so much, for everyone's interest in the first part, for your notes, comments and reblogs, and for reading all of this! I am in utter PANIC rn because I feel like nothing I could write would be as good or as well received as the first part, but here it is! I really hope it didn't disappoint!

Also, to give Caesar what belongs to Caesar, the holster falling was completely inspired by my dear @zae-heeyyy's Piquancy (II)! I thought it would fit the comical aspect of the scene eheh (go check it out)

And also go check out this amazing piece Moons drew from this fic! Thanks again for this delightful treat! 💙

tag list: @a-court-of-valkyries, @redwritr, @cassietrn, @esquilone, @starlightt180, @narcoticv3nus, @thoughts-of-bear, @emjiroki, @prettyundeadgirl, @eternalsams @amyispxnk @babybatss-blog @ardeniaa @sauvignon-velvet @sweeterlilith (I tried to tag people who had shown interest in a part2, really sorry if I missed anyone!)

#okaaay I'm super nervous posting this!!#you guys loved the first part sm I hope this didn't disapoint...#do I write a pt3?#yeah still a bit filthy and Arthur being a yearning dirty man #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 fanfiction #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan x you #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan rdr2 #pinefic

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pa1nrema1ns · 3 months ago

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Master and Apprentice || Sung Jin-woo (Part 1 of 3)

Siren!Jin-woo x Deaf!Omega!reader

A/N - Hello everyone! This fic was inspired by the lovely @forbidden-sunlight's siren!au. We both collaborated on this piece and it serves as a direct sequel to her imagine, so do be sure to check it out first! This story picks up right where her imagine left off.

╰┈➤ Chapter Index

🪸 Prequel by @forbidden-sunlight 🌊 Part 2: Two Intertwining Melodies 🦈Part 3: In a Sea of Fire

Content warnings: 18+ MDNI, mythical creatures au, canon divergent, a/b/o dynamics, afab!reader, suggestive themes, obsessive thoughts, slightly ooc Jin-woo (he's very reverent towards Ashborn), mentions of violence, death, and despair, forbidden romance (humans and sirens are natural enemies), eventual yandere!Jin-woo.

Word Count - 3.6k

Summary - Sung Jin-woo seeks answers about his potential mate from Ashborn in the deepest depths of the abyss.

Dividers by @anitalenia and @firefly-graphics

After what feels like an eternity, Jin-woo comes to an abrupt stop. He wasn’t tired in the slightest, but he couldn’t finish this journey unless he was in the right frame of mind. If he was going to face the sea monarch, Ashborn, then he needed to compose himself. He was his mentor’s prized disciple, after all.

Resolute in his decision, Jin-woo pinches his brow, shuts his eyes, and releases a deep, suffering sigh. He had to stop ruminating over the useless ‘what ifs’ of his current situation and focus on the matter at hand. You emitting pheromones in his presence was proof enough that you were a compatible mate, but this would be meaningless if you were unreceptive to him. It also begs the question, was humanity even capable of consorting with sirens? In search of an answer, he reminisces about the tales of old passed down by generations of his kin, as well as the many speculations made by humans.

No one knew the exact origins of his species. Most humans assumed the progenitors were Persephone’s handmaidens, punished by Demeter after Hades had taken her daughter to the underworld and forced her into becoming his queen. Some stories also claimed that seafoam birthed them, but Jin-woo scoffed at this particularly ridiculous rumor. A scholar had recently published an article on how sirens may actually be the offspring of the river deity Achelous and a divine songstress, citing notations from various mythos on this theory. In truth, reality was far simpler than any of these far-fetched narratives.

There was just no definitive explanation for the existence of sirens. They were not interchangeable with the peaceful denizens of the ocean, known as mermaids and mermen. While all fell under the umbrella of the term ‘merfolk,’ the sirens had a far more hostile and bloodstained relationship with humans.

Since time immemorial, his brethren were viewed as nothing but a scourge upon this world of humanity. Beautiful as a raging typhoon and every bit as devastating, the sirens served as harbingers of doom and destruction for those foolish enough to risk the perilous waters. Their heavenly voices were tantamount to the funeral dirges used to usher the dead into the afterlife. It would be understandable to believe that the sirens were the monsters in this baleful story. However, human nature at its core is fraught with wickedness, and men soon grew wise to the machinations of merfolk.

Odysseus was the first to survive an encounter with sirens. During his voyage to Ithaca, the cunning man had instructed his crew to plug their ears with beeswax, effectively blocking the intoxicating songs that had ended the lives of so many before them. Emboldened by the success of Odysseus’s scheme, other sailors began using this method to conquer the sea and establish trade routes. Within a matter of a couple hundred years, humans not only overcame their fear of sirens, but they also poached them. Huntsmen would capture, torture, and kill Jin-woo’s ancestors simply for crossing paths with them. Worse yet, these scoundrels would often murder merfolk solely to harvest their organs, bones, and scales. They would then use the defiled corpses as ingredients for commodities, medication, and even aphrodisiacs. It was truly grotesque, if not outright barbaric, and more than justified the ire his kind felt towards humanity. While they hunted for the noble sake of survival, men did it for bloodsport and money.

The horrific fates suffered by many of their beloved brothers and sisters particularly infuriated the alphas, with their robust constitutions and natural sense of leadership. With a thirst for vengeance, they began targeting and attacking ships, ports, and even beaches. The alphas considered any place or vehicle that harbored humans as eligible targets. The less temperamental betas remained neutral and avoided the bloodshed, opting to prey upon shoals of fish and other maritime animals instead. Omegas could not join in the hunt, as they were far too precious to lose. They were the most cherished and talented singers amongst the sirens and required around-the-clock protection because of their significant rarity. These were the origins of the current hierarchical structure Jin-woo adhered to.

After recalling the tumultuous history of his people in its entirety, Jin-woo clenches his fists until his knuckles turn white. This was so damn frustrating! Rather than granting him an understanding of his attraction, it just proved all the more why it was so illogical.

Defeated, Jin-woo raises his head, opens his eyes, and continues to swim.

Another hour passes before he finds himself at the ingress of Ashborn’s lair. His enigmatic teacher lived in almost complete obscurity. Devoid of any light, and enveloped by a suffocating aura, this nautical cavern intimidated all who dared to approach it. Well, almost all that is apart from Jin-woo. He effortlessly permeates the invisible barrier designed to keep intruders at bay and ventures into his master’s spiritual domain.

Despite being an ancient and powerful king of the sea, Ashborn made the strange decision to emulate a land-like environment in his personal chambers.

As Jin-woo manifests into the realm, his appearance gives way to a form more befitting of a land dweller. His tail separates into two legs, his scales smoothen into skin, and he loses the winged fins on his ears and back. Once finished with this metamorphosis, Jin-woo takes a deep breath. Fresh pine, grass, and flowers perfume the air as he’s greeted by a lush valley. It had been a while since he had visited, and the setting had required him to transform into a human. Interestingly, transfiguration was one of the first skills Ashborn taught him. Speaking of his mentor –

“My disciple, it is good to see you again, though you appear…troubled. Tell me, what ails you so?” A rumbling voice rings across the horizon, signaling Ashborn’s approach; the tenebrous essence of the powerful deity contrasting with the greenery of the land. He appears in front of Jin-woo as a great dark knight. Much like his surroundings, Ashborn’s current visage was nothing but an illusion. Even the bravest of warriors said that his lifelike image invoked sheer terror in their hearts.

Many speculate he possesses a massive stature, at least several leagues in height and breadth alone, with piercing eyes and endless tendrils of dark hair. Others claim he is the son of Poseidon, one of the twelve Olympians, and a God of destruction who presided over the sea. However, Jin-woo never once witnessed this side of his teacher in all the years he’s been under his mentorship. Ashborn certainly exuded dignity, but he still displayed a humble attitude. And without fail, he would always appear in that strange, armored suit whenever he was in Jin-woo’s presence.

“My teacher, I must ask for your help on an urgent matter,” Jin-woo starts, anxiously running his tongue across his bottom lip. “This morning, while I was scavenging, I stumbled across the unmistakable aroma of an unmarked omega. It…it was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. As if I was being beckoned by someone or something. I wanted, no, I needed to heed its call.”

Ashborn listens in silence, his expression indiscernible. Jin-woo continued.

“When I arrived, I was in front of a monstrosity of a ship – a yacht right by the sandbanks. At first, I assumed that someone had taken an unfortunate siren captive. But when I finally saw her–”

“You recognized she was human. Not only that, but she belongs to the lowest level of the hierarchy, an omega. Speak if I am wrong, my dear pupil.” Jin-woo lowers his head in shame, fringe obscuring his eyes. This action all but confirms it.

“I don’t know what to do or how to proceed, teacher. Everything I’ve learned about these creatures has made me detest them. But I can’t bring myself to hate her. How could this even be possible? We are not even of the same species. She’s my enemy, my prey…. At least, she’s supposed to be.” His voice lowers into a near whisper as he ends his confused rambling.

“And yet you don’t view her that way, do you child?” Ashborn poses a question he already knows the answer to but needs to hear in his pupil’s own words.

“No, I don’t,” Jin-woo replies grimly. “I yearn to know more about her. And not just that. I want to meet her, court her, and make her mine. If she’ll even have me, that is… So please, teacher, tell me if there is any meaning behind what I feel. Am I destined for something that bears no place in reality?”

Ashborn remains uncharacteristically quiet while faced with such a loaded question. All is eerily silent for a few moments, save for the cheerful chirping of the illusionary songbirds. At last, the monarch gazes at Jin-woo and gives him the answer he so desperately desires.

“It is entirely possible Sung Jin-woo, alpha of Jindo island, for I am proof of such a fantastical circumstance. My first and only love was also a human omega. A woman I devoted my entire being to over a millennium ago.”

Jin-woo’s eyes widened in shock at this revelation. His mentor had fallen in love at some point, and it was with a member of the human race? This was unheard of.

“I never knew you had a lover,” Jin-woo murmurs softly. “What was she like? Do you still remember everything about her after so many years?”

“Let me show you, my disciple. It is a tragic tale that words alone cannot properly convey.” With a wave of Ashborn’s hand, their surroundings began to morph and alter. The valley transforms into a spacious, yet quaint medieval village composed of several wooden houses with a bustling marketplace at its center.

When Jin-woo regains his bearings, he notices his mentor has also metamorphosized. A man with a sun kissed complexion, long dark hair, and a beard stands where he once stood. Though visibly unrecognizable, he was unmistakably Ashborn. A crimson cape was clasped to the pristine silver armor he wore. A paladin. Jin-woo recalls. He had some knowledge of the past lives of men through his rare excursions onto the Mainland. While disguised as a human, Jin-woo once traded in his goods for a textbook on history. He was loath to admit just how intriguing he had found it.

Ashborn speaks, his voice no longer resonating within the confines of shadowy steel.

“It was here in this village that I came across her. She was the only daughter of a peasant farmer. A strong-willed, rapscallion of a woman with a wit sharper than any blade. I can remember her beauty, her warmth, and her tenacity as clear and concise as the day we met.” He says with a wistful gaze. The scene then shifts to a woman in a pure white gown. Her eyes remained hidden, but it did nothing to impede upon her loveliness. The woman runs animatedly towards a man who looks identical to Ashborn’s borrowed likeness and leaps into his arms. The man then effortlessly spins her around before bringing her into a kiss. Jin-woo watches on, mesmerized by what was unfolding in front of him.

“I feared her rejection once she knew the truth of my identity,” Ashborn admits. “On the night we first made love, I finally revealed to her my status as ruler of the sea. However, it did not matter. She loved me wholly and unconditionally, regardless of who or what I was. Such was the strength of her resolve.” In the next instance, they return to the same valley from earlier. What differs this time is that the man and woman are there, unacknowledging of Jin-woo and Ashborn’s presence. Lost in their own special world. The woman has a flower crown on her head, and she sits on the grass, holding the man’s head in her lap. Both appear happy and at ease.

“For the first time in my existence, I experienced true contentment. I long to return to those days, but alas, our bliss did not last.”

Ashborn solemnly shuts his eyes as darkness overtakes the sky and rain falls. The man is now shown standing at a grave with an expression of anguish marring his face. The woman is nowhere to be seen, although Jin-woo knows exactly where she’s at.

“A plague was scourging the land and indiscriminately ending the lives of thousands. I tried to protect her with my magic, but it was to no avail. She fell gravely ill despite my best efforts. I discovered shortly thereafter that omegas were more susceptible to sickness than their contemporaries. If I had known beforehand, I would’ve brought her to the sea with me, away from that damned disease. But I was a fool who was willing to love and live with her as a man, not as a king. And as punishment for my hubris, an ailment snuffed out her life.”

At the end of his recollection, Ashborn’s lair returns to its original state. His mentor had also regained his shadowy exterior. The valley appears completely untouched by time, as if it were still one thousand years in the past. That’s why his lair looks like this. Jin-woo thinks as he finally recognizes its significance, It was their personal sanctuary. After a few moments of silence, Ashborn speaks.

“Although our circumstances are similar, you still have the privilege of choice. I cannot turn back time, nor can I change the past, but I am grateful. I experienced unspeakable grief, yes, but I also would have never encountered such love, tenderness, and passion had I not taken a chance on my omega. You, my disciple, still have free rein over your decision. Should you choose to pursue this woman, you have my blessing and irrefutable proof that she is a viable mate for you. If not, you will still receive my unwavering support in your future endeavors. The choice is yours to make.”

Jin-woo’s throat bobs. He feels an incredible sense of guilt at unearthing his master’s secret.

“My teacher, I apologize for prying into your past. I – I did not mean to bring up painful memories for you. I cannot imagine what you have endured. As of right now, I am not sure what it is I want, but I know for a fact I cannot give up on this human. I will need some time to contemplate and sort out my feelings. If you will excuse me.”

Jin-woo bows his head before turning to take his leave. As he approaches the exit, a sudden thought emerges at the forefront of his mind.

“Teacher, there is one more question I must ask. This human, she does not speak with words. She communicates with her hands and gestures. Is this some type of sorcery or spell that she’s casting?”

“It is most likely sign language, a manner of non-verbal communication used by humans who are unable to vocalize or hear. Perhaps she cannot speak, or has a hearing impairment, so she must express herself through other means.” Ashborn answers, curiosity lacing his voice.

Jin-woo feels his heart sinking. A siren’s serenade played a pivotal role in the mating ritual and was performed just prior to consummating an eternal bond. If what Ashborn said is true, then there is a possibility you could be immune to his song. This meant he wouldn't be able to use it on you when the time came…

He grits his teeth as he remembers your smiling face. Try as he might, Jin-woo just could not get you out of his head, nor was he willing to let you escape his grasp. You may not have realized it yet, but you had unknowingly sunk your fangs into him and the seeds of obsession were already beginning to take root. Rather than being discouraged by Ashborn’s observation, he instead finds himself reinvigorated.

“Teacher, disregard everything I said earlier. I now know what it is I must do.”

Ashborn peers into the eyes of his disciple, relieved by the determination that lights them. This was much more like the obstinate young man he knew.

“I choose to seek this omega and stake my claim, no matter what challenges may await the two of us,” Jin-woo proclaims proudly. “I will make her mine, but only if she consents to my proposal. And if not through song, then through other courtship methods. I am strong, stronger than any other alpha in my territory, and I know I can protect her from all who would wish her harm. I won’t let my mate slip through my fingers.”

“But what of maladies and the passage of time? You can fight against gods and monsters until the end of your days, but sickness or her ephemeral lifespan will not spare this young woman. In the end, your time with her shall be fleeting.” Ashborn ruthlessly counters Jin-woo’s declaration of protection.

Jin-woo bites his lip, not expecting this development. However, before he can muster a response, his mentor graces him with an answer.

“I know of one way you can overcome this. There is a recipe for an elixir known as the Holy Water of Life. It is a miraculous potion that can imbue invulnerability to communicable diseases, extend lifespan, and transform the consumer into a siren. I unfortunately did not have knowledge of such a panacea while I was with my love. Of course, I live with the regret of not discovering it sooner, as now I have no such use for it, but this does not mean I will idly stand by and let history repeat itself with my protégé.”

With a flash of light, an ancient scroll appears in front of Jin-woo. It unravels by itself to reveal its contents to him. Jin-woo’s eyes widen as he reads. Is this…?

“Behold. The ingredients for crafting the Holy Water of Life. I bequeath this boon unto you, my disciple. However, heed my warning as the acquisition of these components requires you to conquer all 100 floors of the Demon’s Castle and to defeat its king, Baran. This is a treacherous dungeon that may claim your life if you are unprepared for it, but it can also impart you with unspeakable power should you prevail.”

Jin-woo perks up at this information, his interest now fully piqued. “Tell me, master, where can I find the Demon’s Castle?”

“It hides far away, in the city of Seoul, within an incorporeal dominion. It is a flame-ridden landscape that will require you to assume the form of a human to enter the castle. Knowing all the risks it entails; do you still accept my offer?”

“I do,” Jinwoo confidently states.

“Very well,” Ashborn nods his assent, and a key materializes into Jin-woo’s palm.

“Use this key to open the gate to the Demon’s Castle. I have also implanted it with the coordinates to the dungeon’s location. You need only close your eyes and grasp onto the key to visualize it.”

Following the instructions, Jin-woo sees a map that details the exact distance from his current whereabouts to the metropolitan area of Seoul. It will be a lengthy trip, even with his impressive swimming prowess. He estimates it will take roughly half a day to arrive at his destination. Undeterred, Jin-woo presses onward.

“Teacher, I cannot thank you enough for all your help and guidance over these last few years. I give you my word; I will return alive and well, both with the elixir and Baran’s head. And then I will meet with the omega and court her in earnest.”

He departs without another word, although his promise relays an unspoken farewell between them. After some time passes, Ashborn stares at the vast skies of his domain and muses to himself.

“You have grown so much from when I rescued you from the Cartenon Temple all those years ago, Sung Jin-woo. I could not be prouder of you, my disciple. Till our next encounter.”

12 hours later...

Jin-woo finally emerges from the dark, briny waters that frame Seoul’s coastline.

After leaving Ashborn’s lair, he briefly returned home to pack and prepare for the journey ahead. Both Jin-ah and his mother were worried about his sudden departure, so he did the best he could to assuage their fears by giving them a sanitized version of the truth.

Jin-woo claimed Ashborn had provided him with a list of rare ingredients that were only available for purchase in the human markets at Seoul. He even promised to bring back a box of chocolates as a souvenir, something his mother and little sister had enjoyed during one of his return trips to the surface. He then traveled the full 413-kilometer distance from Jindo-gun to Seoul, stopping only for a few hours to rest and recuperate.

As he approaches land, he assumes the form of a naked human man and walks inland from the sea. However, Jin-woo comes to a halt when he becomes more aware of his current state of nudity. While it didn’t bother him, it would cause a lot of unnecessary trouble if any nosy beachgoers happened upon him and asked questions. It is also…pretty embarrassing to admit that he is…wobbly on these legs. Very much so.

He quickly summons his magical inventory and grabs a simple black t-shirt, boxers, fitted jeans, and athletic sneakers (‘Adidas’, the portly sales attendant had called them). As worthless as he found human decorum to be, Jin-woo needed to remain as inconspicuous as possible while he was in disguise. Once dressed, he strolled into the city. After 45 minutes, he found himself at the designated street junction on the map. Taking a deep breath, he brings forth the key, turns it, and unlocks the gate.

⚓︎ To be continued...

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enha-stars · 8 months ago

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✧ eyes on me ; s.j

pairing: bf!jake x f!reader (mdni)

synopsis: jake was greedy; he was soft and loving and a bit silly, but he was greedy for you, for your attention, for anything you’d give him

warnings: lots of fluff, down bad jake, mentions of religion, death, hell [romantic], shy/sub jake (sorta), sort of dom reader (if you squint), attention whore jake (affectionate), boob play, jake loves titties, suggestive, no smut, kissing, hair pulling

a/n: idk what this is but i'm having so many jake thoughts it's insane. what i would give to pull his hair once.

the smell of butter wafted through the air as you fluffed the pillows on your sofa, humming a soft melody that jake had strummed into your subconscious.

jake watched you from the kitchen as he poured the popcorn into a large bowl and grabbed two cans of pop before he walked towards you, a soft smile on his lips.

he loved friday evenings because he got to spend them with you; your arms wrapped tightly around him as you mumbled about your day, he spent better half of the night finding a way to crawl into your skin and build a home.

he wanted to be as close to you as humanly possible, and then some. sometimes —and he always thought he was being slick but you knew— he would listen to your heartbeat and will his own heart to beat in synch with yours.

it always did.

jake watched as you fell onto the sofa, a soft groan escaping your lips when your back dug into the armrest. his eyes twinkled and he set down the popcorn on the little table you had pulled.

“don’t wanna lay on me, baby?”

you shuffled a bit downwards before you smiled up at him, eyes a bit droopier than you would have liked. he looked so pretty, standing above you with his hair brushed back and his skin glowy.

“mm, i wanna hold you.” jake naturally bit his bottom lip as his eyes crinkled in adoration. it didn’t matter how many years you two had been together; jake sim would always have that shy lover boy inside him.

jake waited patiently as you got comfortable and moved to lay on you once you nodded at him, giving him the go ahead. you prepared for jake's full weight on you and tensed up your body but he gently laid himself in between your legs.

he slotted himself between your legs and smiled against your chest when your legs wrapped around his lower half, your arms following in suit and wrapping around his shoulders.

his arms wrapped around your waist and he breathed you in; tucking his face in your neck. it had been a long week for the both of you and he had been looking forward to this every second of the week.

you shivered when his warm hands slid under your shirt and rested on your back, his nails lightly awakening all the cells in your body. you dug your heel in his shin and he nipped the skin of your neck.

"you smell good," he whispered. his eyes were squeezed shut and when you pulled back to see his face, he looked immensely content; like this is exactly where he belonged, exactly where he would stay.

"i smell like you," you smiled down at him, a twinkle in your eyes. he wanted to kiss it, to brush it and feed it; keep it ignited forever like his own personal lighthouse.

"exactly," he replied. "and i smell like you. just how God intended."

instead of answering, you crinkled your nose at him and he felt his heart rate pick up at the sight.

you slid one hand down his shirt through the collar and your other hand pressed 'play' on the tv before it slid into his hair. you felt him shiver under your touch and you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

right then and there, if jake had died, he would have been okay with it. he would have hated leaving you all alone, but if he had to go, he wanted it to be in your arms.

he was sure that even if dante himself had pulled him through hell, a second in your arms was enough to make it all worth it.

the familiar blues and fishes graced your tv and jake hummed in content as he pressed his ear against your heart, listening to the melody of the mermaids and your heart synch into the most beautiful song jake had ever heard.

your eyes never strayed from the tv as you watched the film you had been thinking about for a few days. you couldn't pinpoint why the little mermaid had been swimming through your thoughts until you began running your fingers through jake's locks.

jake focused on the tv for a bit but the feeling of your hand pressing down on his back, the coldness of your palm against his burning skill had him dizzy. his eyes fluttered shut when your fingers scraped his skull.

"you remind me of prince eric," you whispered, tugging on jake's hair. you tilted his head upwards to catch his eye and your throat bobbed at his expression; the way his eyes burned with a simmering heat and the small hitch in his breath didn't escape you.

"yeah?" his throat was dry as he looked up at you, a familiar heat bubbling in his stomach. "what about him?" jake didn't care about the movie. he didn't care about ariel's dilemma or sebastian's lectures. he cared about you; he wanted you, he wanted your attention.

all of it.

you shuffled under him, lips getting closer as your fingers ran through the ends of his hair. you slid your hand from the nape of his neck to the front and grazed his skin until you could brush the hair out of his eyes.

jake stared up at you with shiny eyes and pink lips. he had been biting on his bottom lip for a bit and you brushed your thumb against the pulled lip, enticing him to release it.

his body was yours, after all.

"you kind of look like him," you responded. your fingers traced the lines of his face, the dips and plush of his flesh until he was sure that you could mold him from any clay. he rested his chin in between your breasts, putty in your arms.

"your hair," you mumbled. jake watched carefully as you ran both your hands through his hair, tugging at the ends. his eyes shut and he barely held on to the whimper that almost escaped him. "it looks like his. especially since you've grown it out."

"what else?" jake wanted your eyes on him. he couldn't really handle them, but he loved the way his body felt alive under your gaze.

"your personalities are similar," you mused. your eyes glanced at the tv and jake slid his hand from your back to your stomach. the rough calluses on his hand tickled your skin and you glanced down at him, a smile tugging on your lips at the desperation in his eyes.

"he's charming, optimistic, adventurous," you listed. jake listened carefully, letting your voice settle deep within his bones until he was sure he'd hear you even after death. you smiled brightly at him and jake felt the air in his lungs leave him. "he's sensitive and a bit shy."

"sounds like me," jake grinned.

"it does," you laughed. "i fell in love with you long before i even met you."

you turned back to the tv so you didn't see the look of pure astonishment on jake's face. he felt his cheeks warm and he pressed his face against your chest, grinning to himself when you laughed at his shyness. you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and his hand slid up your stomach.

he wasn't full yet; he was still starving for your attention. he wanted to bask under your stare until it overwhelmed him. he let his hand travel further upwards until his fingers brushed the skin right under your breasts.

he was so glad you weren't wearing a bra.

you tried really hard to keep you attention on the tv. you knew jake was up to something, but you weren't ready for his wet tongue to press against your nipple through your thin shirt.

you naturally arched your back in response and jake took that as a sign to continue. your nails dug into his scalp as his tongue continued to poke and lick at one of your nipples while he pulled and pinched the other with his hand.

he loved your boobs. he could have spent the rest of his life like this, simply laying in between your legs with his tongue on your skin and he would have happily thanked whoever was responsible.

your head fell back and your eyes shut on their own accord at the pleasure. noticing the lack of attention, jake bit down on your skin and smiled against your wet shirt when your eyes fell on his.

"eyes on me, baby."

jake stared into your eyes as he sucked on your other nipple, his hand squeezed and kneading the other breast. your breathing had deepened and jake buzzed under your stare, sucking and nibbling like he had a point to prove it.

you swallowed a moan but jake felt it in the way your body squirmed underneath his. he released your hardened, perked nipple and raised his head, eyes shiny with lust and love.

"please," he begged against your skin. his breath brushed your face and you had never seen anything prettier. his hair fell across his forehead so prettily, and his eyes shone with so much love it almost choked you.

you smiled softly at him before your hands travelled from his hair to his cheeks. you cupped his chiseled jaw and pulled him towards you, lips crashing against his. you swallowed his little gasp and tipped your head further down, lips moving his passionately.

jake felt his entire core shake as his lips moved against yours, teeth and tongue all clashing as every unsaid whisper speaks itself into existence.

you pulled jake's hair, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. a string of saliva connects your bruised, plump lips and jake breaks it wirh his tongue. your eyes hungrily follow his movements and he knows he has all your attention now.

he knows he's always had it, but now you can't think about anything except him. exactly how he can't think about anything other than you.

"what do you want, baby?"

you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips and smiled against his lips when his eyelashes brushed your skin. you pulled away and tucked a piece of hair behind his ear.

"you, jake. i always only ever want you."

he grinned at the look in your eyes and the breathiness of your voice and pressed his pelvis against yours, swallowing your moan.

"i always only ever want you too."

998 notes · View notes

rothpie · 25 days ago

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❝FIDELITY❞ |part13

MASTERLIST -`✮´- Rafe Cameron x Kook!Reader x JJ Maybank

Summary: Kook!Reader’s world is upended by betrayal, and her only way forward might lie with the most unlikely person—JJ Maybank. But as they build a new life together, old flames and past mistakes refuse to stay buried.

Warnings: daddy issues

previous - next

The golden glow of the late afternoon sun bathed the shoreline in warm hues as the car came to a stop in front of a small, weathered beach house. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore was faint but unmistakable, a background melody that you hadn’t realized you missed until now. It had been years since you’d last set foot in the Outer Banks, but as you stepped out of the car, it felt like the island hadn’t aged a single day.

From the backseat, Liliana was practically vibrating with excitement, her little sneakers tapping against the edge of the seat as she craned her neck to take in the house and the stretch of sand just beyond. “Is this it? Are we here? Is the beach right there? Can we go now?” Her words tumbled out in a rush, her face lit with pure anticipation. JJ had really hyped this up for her.

JJ chuckled as he opened the trunk, throwing you a knowing glance. “Told you she wouldn’t be able to sit still the second we got here,” he teased, slinging a couple of bags over his shoulder. He leaned into the car to unbuckle Liliana, who was already wriggling like she could free herself. “Hold your horses, Lily! The sand’s not going anywhere.”

“As if you didn’t spend the entire day filling her head with stories,” you shot back, grabbing your bag and giving him a pointed look. He just shrugged, flashing that lopsided grin of his that always brought out his dimples.

“And I’d do it all over again,” he said, stepping closer, the playful glint in his eye unmistakable.

Your brow shot up. “Oh, would you now?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replied with mock solemnity, scooping Liliana out of the car like she weighed nothing.

The moment her feet hit the ground, Liliana shot forward like a firework, running a few steps before skidding to a halt and turning back to you both. Her face was a mix of wonder and worry. “But what if the waves get too big and take all the sand away?” she asked, her big eyes wide with concern.

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head as you shut the car door. “That’s not how beaches work, sweetheart.”

JJ walked over, effortlessly lifting Liliana back into his arms. Her little arms wrapped tightly around his neck, and her free hand pointed enthusiastically toward the dunes. “Come on, uncle JJ! You promised to show me the secret seashell spots!”

He adopted an exaggeratedly serious expression, as if carefully considering her words. “Oh, you mean the super secret ones? The ones where mermaids leave their treasures?”

The sharp intake of breath Liliana let out was so dramatic that you were sure the neighbors heard it. “Mermaid treasures? Really? You never told me that before!” She wriggled, trying to break free to race toward the beach.

JJ held her a little tighter, laughing. “Easy, kiddo. First, we have to go over the beach rules. Right, Ma?”

You arched an eyebrow at him, crossing your arms with a faint smirk. “Oh, there are rules now? This is news to me.”

JJ grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he bounced Liliana lightly in his arms. “Rule number one: You always stick with your beach buddy.” He gave Liliana a small shake for emphasis. “And guess what? I’m your official beach buddy. Certified pro.”

Liliana nodded seriously, like he’d just shared the most important information of her young life. “Got it. Beach buddy. What’s rule two?”

JJ tilted his head like he was deep in thought, but you could tell he was stalling. He clearly hadn’t expected her to press for more. The realization made you stifle a laugh.

“Rule two…” He trailed off, then snapped his fingers like he’d just remembered. “Oh, right! Never, ever leave the beach without finding the perfect seashell for your mom.”

The warmth in your chest spread so quickly it was almost overwhelming. You didn’t even try to hide your smile. “A very important rule,” you said softly.

“And no going into the water without our say-so,” you added, shooting JJ a quick look. He nodded firmly in agreement, giving Liliana a playful kiss on the cheek.

“Got that, sweet pea? Most important rule of all,” he said, his voice gentler now.

Liliana turned to you with the most serious expression her tiny face could muster. “Don’t worry, Mom. I’ll find the prettiest one for you. Maybe even a mermaid shell!”

When JJ finally set her down, she took off again, her little feet leaving chaotic patterns in the sand as she dashed toward the dunes. JJ stepped beside you, setting the bags down as he followed your gaze.

“Is everything okay?” he asked quietly, his hand brushing yours in that casual, familiar way that always made your stomach flutter.

You glanced at him, sunlight catching the angles of his face in a way that was almost unfair. Beneath his usual playful demeanor was that rare sincerity that always left you a little breathless. “She already loves it,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Liliana’s excited shout broke through the moment. She stood at the edge of the dunes, waving frantically. “Come on, slowpokes! We’ve got mermaid treasures to find!”

JJ nudged your shoulder and leaned in, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. “You heard the boss.”

And just like that, the two of you trailed after her, leaving the bags behind for now. As you watched Liliana’s tiny figure dart across the vast expanse of sand and sky, the weight of your old worries began to fade.

With JJ and Liliana by your side, the past didn’t seem so heavy anymore. Their laughter and joy had a way of grounding you, steadying you like nothing else could. Almost like a balm for every wound you thought would never heal.

The soft rays of morning sunlight filtered through the expansive windows of Cameron Development's conference room. Rafe sat at the head of the table, pretending to listen to the consultant leading the meeting. Carefully crafted slides lit up the large screen, their graphs and figures giving the room a heavy, serious air. But Rafe’s mind was far removed from the dense mathematics on display.

He absently twirled the pen in his hand, his fingers tapping a rhythmic pattern on the table. The others in the room were focused—scribbling notes, nodding in agreement, and asking sharp questions. Yet Rafe felt as though he were sealed off in a bubble of silence, alone amidst the crowd. Inside, a weight lingered—indescribable and unshakable, like an itch beneath the skin.

“Mr. Cameron, the cost analysis for this property is displayed in the following chart...” a voice began, pulling him out of his thoughts. The woman's words, however, sounded distant, as if she were speaking from another room. Rafe’s eyes flicked to the screen, but the numbers meant nothing. They blurred together like meaningless symbols.

After a moment, his assistant Jasmine leaned over and whispered, “Mr. Cameron, is everything all right?”

Startled, Rafe tore his gaze from the screen and looked at her. He straightened in his chair, shaking his head. “Yes, go on,” he replied, his voice harsher than he intended. Jasmine recoiled slightly before retreating, returning to her notes as the presentation continued.

But that unease—that suffocating sense of discontent—had been with him all morning. Even as he sipped his coffee earlier, he’d tried to pinpoint its source and come up empty. Maybe it was the wine he’d indulged in last night. Or the muggy weather. Yet, deep down, he knew it was neither. This wasn’t the usual stress of work. It felt like a harbinger of something unknown.

He was tired of certain things. Years ago, he’d envisioned this life differently. But now, as his father Ward Cameron prepared to pass the company to him in just a few months, Rafe couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d been chasing the wrong dream. Gaining his father’s approval had been the ultimate goal for years, and now that it was within reach, he wasn’t sure he wanted it anymore.

What did he want? He couldn’t answer that either. But he knew it wasn’t this monotonous grind. Waking up, burying himself in work, and returning home late at night to collapse into bed—it was draining him. He missed having a life.

He felt like a machine. His hangouts with Kelce and Topper had dwindled. There was no one special in his life. Occasionally, they played golf, only to part ways afterward.

Not that he wanted his old life back. The endless partying had lost its appeal long ago. He was closer to thirty than twenty.

Parties were for the young, and he wasn’t young anymore. His life revolved around work now. But even so, he wished for something resembling balance.

No one forced him to work until midnight—he chose it. He could leave at a normal hour, like everyone else. But then he’d just be another employee in his father’s eyes. And yet... he couldn’t tell if his father’s opinion even mattered to him anymore.

The meeting finally wrapped up. As the attendees trickled out, Rafe stayed seated, leaning against the edge of the table and staring out the window. The city outside was alive, its energy a stark contrast to the sterile stillness of the office. Cars passed, people chatted. It was just another day for them. For Rafe, nothing felt ordinary anymore.

He heard Jasmine approach but didn’t turn to her. His gaze remained on the street. Outer Banks moved at its own pace, a rhythm he’d forgotten how to follow. “What’s next on the schedule, Jasmine?”

“There’s a site visit this afternoon, and a meeting at five,” she replied. He nodded, not saying anything more. Taking the cue, Jasmine stepped away.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. Fishing it out, he saw Topper’s name flash on the screen. With a resigned sigh, he answered, “What is it, Topper? I’m busy.”

Grabbing his wallet and car keys from the table, Rafe listened as his old friend’s voice came through, casual and unapologetic. “Man, you’re always busy. It’s boring as fuck!”

Suppressing an eye roll, Rafe considered hanging up. Topper could be exhausting.

Unlike Rafe, Topper hadn’t taken on any family responsibilities. He lived off his parents’ wealth, hosting parties and drinking himself into oblivion on his yacht. It was the life Rafe used to lead, now a distant memory.

“If you’ve called for no reason, I’m hanging up. I’ve got work to do,” Rafe said, heading toward the elevator. He nodded briefly at a few passing colleagues, their polite smiles a reminder of his carefully curated image.

“Don’t tell me you’re skipping my birthday, man. It’s my 25th! It’s gonna be legendary! You know that new yacht my dad got? I’m packing it full of people—drinks, music, girls—the works!” Topper’s enthusiasm was palpable.

Rafe stepped into the elevator, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. Five years ago, he might’ve been thrilled. Now, it felt like a relic of a life he’d already left behind.

“Topper,” Rafe said, his tone sharp with warning. He rubbed his temple, already tired of the conversation.

“Come on! It’s my birthday! We’re best friends! You can’t ditch me—it’s practically betrayal!” Topper’s mock indignation made Rafe huff out a reluctant laugh. As much as he could be a pain, Topper had been his closest friend since they were kids.

“Fine,” Rafe relented. “I’ll be there. But don’t expect much more from me.”

Topper’s triumphant whoop on the other end made Rafe’s lips twitch into a faint smile. Annoying or not, Topper had a way of breaking through his walls.

“Bring Sarah too,” Topper added slyly. At that, Rafe’s smile vanished, replaced by a sharp furrow of his brows.

"Fuck off. You’re disgusting. She’s married, man." Rafe grimaced as he stepped out of the elevator, almost revolted. He couldn't stomach the idea of his best friend dating his sister again. Once was bad enough; thinking about it now made him queasy all over again.

"I know, I know. I was just joking. Besides, Ruthie would lose her mind if she saw us." Rafe rolled his eyes, heading toward the company entrance.

"If you think I’ll let you use my sister to make Ruthie jealous, I’ll come over there right now and break your nose." He pressed the button on his key fob to unlock his car parked at a distance.

"If that’s what it takes to get you to hang out, sure. Come on, man, I just wanna spend some time with my buddy." Rafe opened the car door and slid into the driver’s seat.

"Yeah, no. Screw off. I’ll see you tonight."

After hanging up on Topper, Rafe let out a deep sigh, though it did nothing to ease the tension gnawing at him. He stared at the phone in his hand for a moment before tossing it onto the passenger seat.

Of course, he’d meet up with him later. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do tonight—today had already been a miserable excuse for a day. Maybe killing time with a drink and some banter would bring a flicker of color back to his gray world.

His schedule after the meeting had him heading out to scout a new piece of land, but he found himself pulling into a store parking lot instead. Maybe he needed a bottle of water, a cup of coffee—or maybe just something, anything.

He’d always hated smoking. The handful of times he’d indulged were just to blend in, and even then, he’d sworn it off years ago. Two years clean, give or take.

But now? Now he craved something—cigarettes, coffee, maybe just a distraction.

Music might help, or something to drown out the endless chatter in his head. He couldn't seem to live with the gnawing unease inside him. Not just live—enjoy. Life had become tasteless.

He was tired of the monotony, yet he didn’t want to fall into the reckless chaos of living without direction. He didn’t want to become like Topper—didn’t want to go back to the way things were four years ago. He’d left that life behind. Still, he couldn’t shake the hollow sense that life itself had no meaning anymore.

Wake up. Coffee. Work. Lunch. More work. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

It wasn’t that he expected something or even hoped for it. He just believed—deep down—that his life needed spontaneity, something unscripted.

When he glanced at other people’s lives, he hated the envy that simmered under his skin. He had everything—literally everything. Half the island bore his family’s name. He had the money, the yachts, the cars, the houses, and the company that would eventually be his.

Thinking back on how hard he’d tried to earn his father’s approval made him cringe. The future had already been set in stone. He would have ended up with it all anyway. Sarah had never wanted the company, not even as a backup plan. She couldn’t picture herself stuck in a 9-to-5 grind. She’d built a life with John B—a life she’d chosen.

Sarah made her choice.

But Rafe couldn’t help feeling like he’d fought too hard for the life he now had. The absurdity of struggling for something he was destined to inherit stung.

Looking at Sarah’s life now—running that local restaurant with the guy she loved, the one they built brick by brick—it was obvious she was happy. They spent their time together. And whenever Rafe saw her, she wore a smile so big it was impossible not to notice.

She enjoyed what she did. She had a purpose, a goal—not a grandiose one, but something she’d worked toward piece by piece.

Rafe had always aimed for the top. He wanted the best and wouldn’t settle for less. Every time he fell short, he hated it. But Sarah Cameron—now Sarah Routledge—knew how to stumble and pick herself up. She wasn’t afraid to rise slowly, setting her sights a little higher each time. Rafe, on the other hand, had always gone straight for the summit.

Sometimes he wished he could be more like her—the beloved child, the one who succeeded without trying too hard, who didn’t draw ire even when they failed.

But those thoughts felt toxic now. He no longer envied Sarah the way he had years ago. He knew her ability to be loved came from the absence of the poisonous thoughts that plagued him.

He didn’t want to look at her with bitterness or jealousy anymore. He wanted to erase those thoughts from his mind. She was his sister, and he was happy for her.

Still, he couldn’t help but admire her.

Rafe pulled his car into the convenience store’s lot and stepped out quickly, desperate for a distraction.

Every time his mind drifted to the past, it felt like his heart skipped a beat. The way he’d treated his sister—the jealousy, the reckless behavior—it was nothing short of awful. He had been a terrible person, a terrible brother.

And a terrible boyfriend.

Even if he wanted to believe those years hadn’t happened, some moments—some memories—clung to him like an unwanted shadow. During the rare moments when he let his guard down, his mind always wandered back to one thing.

Regrets and what-ifs.

His thoughts would take him there, wandering through a maze of past mistakes and fleeting happiness.

Of course, he had happy moments, as everyone did. But the happiest ones stuck with him, refusing to fade—even when he drank to forget them.

And sometimes, he hated that. The harder he tried to drown those memories in alcohol, the sharper they became. He’d never seen himself as the kind of guy to cry drunkenly. Not until the last three years.

He clung to regrets and the potential of what could have been. He despised the ideals and fears that had once defined him. He loathed how every "truth" he’d believed in had turned out to be a lie, and how he was always the wrong person at the wrong time.

Sometimes, he couldn’t help but question and compare the choices his current self made versus the ones he’d made in the past. If he’d do it differently now. Would he, or wouldn’t he? The answer had never once changed: he’d undo every mistake. Every single one. He wouldn’t have done any of it. Not a single thing.

She had been the right person at the right time. There was no way it hadn’t been the right time for her. But for him? Rafe wasn’t so sure. He’d been the wrong person at the wrong time—both, at once.

Rafe stepped into the store, pulling his phone from his pocket as it buzzed with a notification. Jasmine. She was texting about some of the stakeholders causing trouble regarding the new property.

“Perfect,” he muttered under his breath, irritation already bubbling up. He inhaled sharply, trying to calm himself. He had to think this through carefully and not let his temper get the best of him. This wasn’t some minor hiccup in his day—this was business. He couldn’t make rash decisions and screw it all up.

He focused on steadying himself, considering what sort of issue this particular idiot might be stirring up. Was the guy testing his patience on purpose? Trying to push his boundaries?

With another deep breath, he worked to calm the tension in his chest. Ward would have handled this with ease, but Rafe’s impulsive nature had always been his Achilles' heel. He cursed himself for it. Quickly, he typed a reply to Jasmine, asking her to cancel the evening’s meeting and schedule one with the problematic stakeholder instead. He followed up with instructions for Jasmine to stall the guy and keep things civil until then.

As soon as the messages were sent, the sound of his own thoughts drowned out the world around him. It was like something was pulling at him, calling his name. He shoved the phone back into his pocket, trusting Jasmine to handle it. She always did.

Looking up, he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze wandering toward the aisle ahead. That’s when he saw it—the door opening, letting in a gust of cool air. A woman walked in, a small child at her side.

At first, he couldn’t make out her face, but something about the way she moved felt… familiar. Rafe’s heart stuttered, an inexplicable urgency creeping into his veins. He knew her. He knew her well. Or at least—he had, years ago.

The woman stepped further into the store, placing a few items on the counter. Then, she turned.

And Rafe froze.

You.

It was you. He was sure of it. Nothing in his life had ever felt this certain. That face—etched into his memory, the one he used to know every detail of—was still the same, even with the faint traces time had left behind. His heart raced and sank all at once. Seeing you again, after all these years, wasn’t supposed to be this easy.

Four years. Four long years without hearing your voice, without holding your hands. Yet you had never left his mind. Your name, your face, every moment spent with you—they were all still there, as vivid as ever.

You had lost the golden tan you used to have, but your eyes—they spoke volumes. And your smile? God, that smile. It could kill him. A smile that big shouldn’t even be legal.

Shit. You were still breathtaking. Rafe wanted to fall at your feet, worship you. You were still the most beautiful girl on the island, and nobody else even came close.

He had thought about you so much. There were nights he thought he might go insane from not being able to see you. The disappointment he felt when he saw you’d removed most of your Instagram followers, leaving only a few family members, and then made your account private—it had stung more than he cared to admit.

How many times had he stared at your profile picture, wishing he could have just one more chance to stand by your side? To go back and rewrite everything? He couldn’t count. He would’ve given up everything for a do-over.

But then his eyes drifted to the small child by your side. His heart, which had been racing, suddenly slowed to a halt. He hadn’t noticed the little girl at first, too focused on you. She was cheerful, looking around the store with wide eyes, holding up a chocolate bar in her tiny hands. She said something to you, and you bent down with a soft smile to answer her.

But Rafe wasn’t watching that moment of sweetness. He was staring at her face.

Those eyes.

Rafe’s breath caught in his throat. The girl’s eyes—they were his. The same intensity, the same color, the same expression. Something deep inside him caught fire, and for a moment, he couldn’t breathe properly. Everything felt so sharp and clear, yet utterly chaotic.

He had always known this was a possibility. In the back of his mind, he had replayed your last conversation over and over. You’d told him you were drunk. He had assumed you’d terminated the pregnancy. But the thought that you might not have—that had lingered in his mind all these years.

You’d told him you were keeping the baby. He hadn’t asked, and you hadn’t offered any more than that.

And now, standing here, it hit him like a truck.

A girl.

She was his. Yours.

Their daughter.

You lifted your head then, your eyes meeting his. And Rafe saw the panic there, the shadow of old memories and old fears. For a moment, you froze. The child clung to your leg, oblivious, as you and Rafe just stared at each other. God, he had missed looking at you. Even from a distance, he had missed seeing your face.

But then you moved. Quickly. You grabbed the little girl’s hand and turned away, your other hand carrying the bag of groceries. You headed toward the exit without looking back.

Rafe stood there, rooted to the spot, as if chained in place. He wanted to call out, “Wait!” But the words stuck in his throat. He wanted to chase after you, but he didn’t know what he’d say if he did.

The way you had left made it clear you didn’t want to talk. And he had already hurt you enough. The last thing he wanted was to reopen old wounds.

And yet, he couldn’t stop staring after you, his heart in his throat. He’d need time to process this. To figure out what the hell he was supposed to do now.

He felt like he was drowning. All he could think about was getting out, finding air, calming himself. Memories crashing against him so vividly made it hard to breathe.

As he rushed out of the store, he tried to steady his breathing, but it didn’t help. His hands were trembling as he walked to his car.

It was as if he were drowning. He just needed to get out—out of this moment, out of this place—and catch his breath. The way his past had suddenly been thrust in his face made it hard to breathe.

He left the market in a rush, trying to control his deep, shaky breaths. His hands trembled as he walked toward his car.

---

Rafe, still struggling to process what had happened in the market, found himself standing outside Sarah's office. His knuckles were white from gripping the steering wheel too hard, a physical reflection of the chaos in his mind. He had seen Bella. A little girl... and now, everything was in disarray.

He didn’t think much—he couldn’t. He was looking for a safe harbor, someone to help him shoulder the weight of seeing you again after all these years. The missed chances, the regrets—they crushed him.

He had been young then, practically a fool kid. He was never sure if the decision he’d made was the right one.

So, without a second thought, he drove to Sarah. He knew he couldn’t go to Topper. Topper wouldn’t understand—he didn’t even know about the baby. And even if he did, he was too shallow to handle something this big. Kelce wouldn’t get it either; he’d just tell Rafe to let it go. That left Sarah as his only option.

Despite the fact that Sarah could be insufferably annoying sometimes, Rafe knew she would understand. Unlike him, she was good with emotions. She could empathize and offer sound advice. She was the only one who could talk him through this.

No matter how much she had changed, when it came to you, Rafe knew Sarah would hesitate to steer him wrong. This wasn’t some trivial matter—it was serious. It was about the woman he had once loved.

When Rafe knocked on Sarah’s door, he was a tangled mess of unease. He couldn’t get you out of his head. The way your hair had once been straight, now effortlessly wavy. The childlike look on your face had been replaced with a maturity that only made you more beautiful—almost impossibly so. You’d always been an angel in his eyes, but now? Now you seemed ethereal.

“Rafe? What’s wrong?” Sarah asked, her tone laced with worry. She was almost panicked at the sight of him. It had probably been months since her brother had shown up at her door. To see him looking so unhinged? That had been years.

“We need to talk,” Rafe said, his voice lacking its usual edge. It was almost shaky. He needed to calm down, and he needed Sarah’s clear-headedness to help him think straight.

Sarah hesitated but opened the door fully. “Of course, come in.”

Rafe walked into the living room but didn’t sit down. He shoved his hands into his pockets and paced around before facing Sarah. “I saw her today,” he blurted out. His hands, deep in his pockets, felt ice-cold despite the sweltering heat outside.

Sarah’s face froze. “Saw who?”

He steadied himself, finally saying your name. His gaze fixed on some point on the wall, far away. “She was in the market. She had a little kid with her,” he said, his voice almost a whisper. He didn’t know what to do. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing again like a trapped animal. He felt like he was losing it.

Sarah stayed quiet for a moment, a shadow of concern crossing her face. “And?” She was bracing for some sort of story—a confrontation, a drama, maybe even a fight. Watching Rafe’s agitated figure pace the room was dizzying. He needed to calm down.

“And…” Rafe shook his head slowly. “Nothing happened. Just… our eyes met. Her eyes…” He trailed off, haunted. “I couldn’t stop looking. But I told you, didn’t I? She said she called me because she was drunk. And I thought that she… that she got rid of her. I thought she—” His voice cracked. “I thought she did. I never knew for sure because we stopped talking, but I saw them today. Both of them.”

Sarah took a deep breath, trying to steady her tone. She didn’t want Rafe to catch on to her growing unease. “Rafe, I’m not sure bringing this up is a good idea.”

“I just keep thinking!” Rafe’s voice rose. “It’s not like I wanted this! She told me she was drunk—what was I supposed to think?! And now—now, after all these years, I see her, and I don’t know what to do.” He was trying to rein himself in, to pull back the storm brewing inside him. He wasn’t blaming you. He regretted the pressure he had put on you back then, hated himself for it. It had always been your choice. It always would be.

But he had spent years in limbo, stuck in a no-man’s-land between missing you and wondering what had become of you.

Sarah looked down, staying silent. But Rafe’s eyes stayed locked on her, probing. “You shouldn’t do anything, Rafe. Maybe she’s just visiting. After all, she and Liliana haven’t been here in years—”

Rafe froze. His entire body went still, and his head snapped toward Sarah. “What did you say?”

Sarah stammered, realizing too late what she’d let slip. Her lips parted in panic as she cursed herself inwardly. All she had to do was keep quiet—and she hadn’t.

“I—I mean, I just—”

“Liliana?” Rafe’s voice was ice-cold, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Who’s Liliana?”

Rafe blinked, his mind whirring. Just moments ago, he had been pacing like a caged animal. Now, he stood stock-still, rigid as if he were a machine running out of power. The silence in the room was deafening. “Is that her name?” His voice grew sharper, angrier with Sarah’s continued silence. “How do you know her name?!”

Sarah stayed silent for a beat, her gaze dropping to the floor as she braced herself for the hell she knew was coming. Her lips opened and closed uselessly before she finally exhaled. She was screwed. “I—I mean, we—met a few times. In Asheville—”

Rafe stumbled back, almost losing his balance. He shook his head slowly. “You were meeting with her? While I was here, losing my mind, wondering if she was even alive?!” His voice cracked with fury, spiraling out of control. Sarah flinched at his rising volume, clasping her hands nervously in front of her.

“Rafe—” Sarah started, her voice defensive. She knew she had messed up, big time. Not only had she let it slip, but now, with Rafe losing it right in front of her, she had to keep herself from blurting out everything else. Because if Rafe knew this, he’d want to know the whole truth.

“She didn’t want our family involved,” Sarah explained cautiously. “And you—”

“Stop right there, Sarah! That should’ve been my choice!” Rafe roared, his voice shaking with emotion. “I didn’t want it, fine, I’ll admit that. But that doesn’t mean you had the right to take away my chance to know her. Or— or what she’s done! You’re my sister—my own blood. What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Sarah narrowed her eyes, fists clenched. It took everything in her not to hurl the closest vase at his head. “You already made your decision, Rafe! You chose to stay out of her life, to abandon her! So don’t you dare come at me now just because I didn’t fill you in on everything she’s been up to! If you cared so much, you’d have been there! Instead of partying while she was pregnant, maybe you could’ve been in the delivery room with her!”

“Oh, so I didn’t care?!” Rafe barked out a bitter laugh, his hands trembling. You had been the first person who made him believe in love, the first to show him kindness for no reason at all. The only person who made him want to be better. The only person he ever loved. “That’s your excuse? My mistakes? You think I don’t know I screwed up? Of course, I know! But since when did that give you the right to keep everything from me?”

Sarah shot to her feet, glaring daggers at him. “Oh, don’t even start with me! Since when did me being there for my niece and her mom turn into ‘keeping things from you’? Yes, I spent time with them. What was I supposed to do? Ignore them just because you didn’t want to be in the picture? Grow up, Rafe!”

“It was my choice!” Rafe yelled, his voice raw with frustration. His eyes burned with an intensity that matched his words. “But don’t you get it? I was falling apart! Every day without her—without them—was hell! And you saw it! You knew how much I loved her! You knew why I made that choice, why I did that!”

The argument had reached a boiling point. Sarah shook her head, finally stepping back, her voice quivering with quiet fury. “Oh, I remember your ‘choice,’ Rafe. The one you made to earn Dad’s approval by erasing her and the baby. That’s what we’re talking about, right? Own it for once!” Her voice dripped with venom, though her expression was eerily calm. She was done yelling.

At this point, she didn’t think there was anything left to defend. Rafe wasn’t the only one who had suffered. Sarah had been there. She had been there for you when you gave birth, and the father of your child wasn’t. Instead, JJ, Cleo, Pope, Kiara, John B, and Sarah herself had stood by your side. But Rafe? Nowhere to be found.

“At least when you got wasted, you had the luxury of waking up the next morning and moving on. She didn’t. Eight months after you walked out, she was leaking milk through her shirt while a baby screamed in the next room, and she was still recovering from giving birth. You left her alone, Rafe. So no, you don’t get to come in here and play the victim. I didn’t tell you, yeah. You’re damn right I didn’t.” Sarah crossed her arms, forcing herself to stay calm. Despite everything, he was still her brother.

“And you know what? I’m glad I didn’t. Because if you had even a shred of courage, you would’ve been there to find out yourself.”

Rafe froze for a moment, his chest heaving as he tried to contain himself. He took a long, shaky breath, but the anger in his eyes refused to fade. Finally, he shook his head, his jaw tight, and turned sharply toward the door. The slam echoed through the house, leaving Sarah standing there in silence.

Everything was a disaster. He hated it all—hated the situation, hated himself. But most of all, he hated that Sarah was right.

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aventurineswife · 1 month ago

Note

So idk how to make a request. So I hope this is ok??

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNeT75Hpt/

Hear me out a fic about this Aventurine with mermaid reader , and he captures her. I’ll leave the rest to you, so you have your freedom when writing 🫶

Don’t fell pressured :)

Beneath the Waves, Beyond the Game

Summary: Aventurine, a flamboyant and cunning pirate, thrives on risk and games of chance, but his life takes an unexpected turn when he captures you—a mysterious, defiant being of the sea—after your haunting song lures his ship to wreckage. What begins as a clash of wills slowly evolves into a fragile bond, as shared vulnerabilities and unspoken understanding unravel the masks you both wear. Amid storms, trust, and bittersweet goodbyes, the game between the gambler and the mermaid changes them both in ways neither anticipated.

Tags: Pirate!Aventurine x Mermaid!Reader, Enemies to Lovers, Slow Burn Romance, Captivity & Freedom, Pirate/Mermaid Dynamic, Forbidden Connection, Emotional Vulnerability, Found Family Themes, Bittersweet Ending.

Warnings: Themes of Captivity and Loss of Autonomy, Emotional Manipulation (Light), Storm/Peril Scenes, Brief Mentions of Betrayal and Guilt, Melancholy/Bittersweet Tones.

A/N: Y'ALL ARE FAST AFF!! 😭😭

[Part 2]

Aventurine had always thrived on risk, gambling with lives, fortunes, and fate itself. The sea, for all its temperamental fury, had always been his ally—a rolling canvas of danger and opportunity. Yet nothing in his decades of games and gambles had prepared him for you.

You were sprawled across the floor of his private quarters, your tail shimmering with iridescent hues as seawater pooled beneath you. The moment he'd heard your song—a haunting melody that echoed through the mists and lured his ship to the wreckage of a treasure-laden galleon—he knew he couldn’t let you slip back into the ocean’s embrace.

You glared at him now, your once-melodic voice reduced to silence, replaced by a defiant scowl. Aventurine lounged in his throne-like chair, one leg crossed over the other, his flamboyant coat draped behind him like a cape.

"Do you make it a habit to lure ships to their doom, or am I just special?" he drawled, adjusting his jeweled eyepatch with deliberate flair.

You said nothing, your shimmering tail flicking once against the wooden floor, splashing droplets onto his polished boots.

He chuckled, leaning forward, the feather in his hat catching the low lamplight. "Silent treatment, is it? Fair enough. I've always enjoyed a challenge."

You clenched your fists, your lips pressed into a thin line. Your freedom was gone, and this man—this gaudy, insufferable pirate—seemed to delight in your captivity.

Weeks passed aboard the ship, and the game between you and Aventurine began in earnest.

He spoke to you daily, spinning tales of his exploits, offering you trinkets from his plunder, and even playing games of chance where the stakes were your freedom. You refused every gamble, your pride unyielding even as your curiosity grew.

In turn, you sang only when you thought he couldn’t hear—a mournful tune carried by the waves. But Aventurine always listened, his sharp mind piecing together fragments of your story.

"You sing of loss," he said one night, his voice unusually soft. He stood at the door to your makeshift prison, his silhouette framed by moonlight. "Of betrayal. You’ve felt it too, haven’t you?"

You flinched at his words but said nothing.

He stepped closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "You think I don’t know what it’s like to be trapped, to have your fate decided by others?" He tilted his head, his eyes glinting like twin flames. "But I broke free. And so will you—if you’re clever enough to play the game."

For the first time, you spoke. "You don’t understand the sea’s bindings, pirate. My freedom isn’t yours to give."

The slow burn of trust began with small acts. Aventurine loosened your chains, allowing you to roam the deck under guard. You, in turn, offered him warnings of treacherous waters ahead, saving his ship from disaster more than once.

"You’re not like the stories," you admitted one evening, your voice hesitant.

"Flattered," he replied, grinning. "But you’d be wise to keep your guard up. I play to win, and I always do."

"Always?" you challenged, meeting his gaze.

His grin faltered for the briefest moment, but he recovered quickly. "Luck’s been kind to me so far."

Yet you saw through his bravado. Behind the jewels and theatrics was a man haunted by choices, a survivor who carried his guilt like a hidden scar.

The breaking point came during a storm. The ship was battered by relentless waves, its crew scrambling to secure the sails. Aventurine himself took the wheel, his usual calm replaced by a rare intensity.

When a rogue wave threatened to sweep you overboard, he abandoned his post to pull you to safety, his hand gripping yours with a desperation that surprised you both.

"Don’t you dare die on me." he hissed, his voice cracking.

For the first time, you saw him without his mask—a man terrified of loss.

The aftermath of the storm left the ship battered but intact. Aventurine found you sitting on the edge of the deck, your tail dangling in the water.

"You saved me..." you said softly.

He shrugged, his usual grin forced. "Couldn’t let you take all my secrets to the deep, now could I?"

But you weren’t fooled. Slowly, you reached for his hand, your touch tentative but firm. "Thank you."

He stared at your joined hands, his guarded expression faltering. "You’re not supposed to thank me," he muttered. "I’m the villain here, remember?"

"Villains don’t bleed for their captives," you countered, your voice steady.

The ending was bittersweet.

Aventurine kept his promise, releasing you near a hidden cove where the sea glittered like liquid sapphire.

As you slipped into the water, you turned back one last time. "You’ll always be playing, won’t you?"

He smirked, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "What can I say? The game’s the only thing keeping me afloat."

"Then I hope you win, pirate." you said softly, your voice carrying the weight of unspoken understanding.

And with that, you disappeared beneath the waves, leaving Aventurine standing alone on the shore, the ocean stretching endlessly before him.

#x reader #honkai star rail #hsr #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #hsr aventurine #aventurine x reader #hsr aventurine x reader #aventurine x you #enemies to lovers #slow burn romance #captivity and freedom #pirate/mermaid dynamics #forebidden connections #emotional vulnerability #found family themes #bittersweet ending

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rainynightmoonlight · 1 year ago

Text

Prologue before the Chorus begins | OHSHC x Male Reader

Prologue time!! Enjoy!! My Wattpad and Quotev!

Description: Of A Melody there once was

Prolouge: Prologue before the Chorus begins | {You are here}

Chapter 1: An introduction to the first note

Chapter 2: The joining of notes to create a nostalgic song

Chapter 3: Violin of Harmony

Chapter 4: Remembering the screeching tune in the memory | TBR

Chapter 5: TBD

Chapter 6: TBD

Chapter 7: TBD

Chapter 8: TBD

Chapter 9: TBD

Chapter 10: TBD

Chapter 11: TBD

Chapter 12: TBD

Chapter 13: TBD

Chapter 14: TBD

Chapter 15: TBD

Chapter 16: TBD

Chapter 17: TBD

Chapter 18: TBD

Chapter 19: TBD

Chapter 20: TBD

Chapter 21: TBD

Chapter 22: TBD

Chapter 23: TBD

Chapter 24: TBD

Chapter 25: TBD

Chapter 26: TBD

WARNING: implied death

Everyone had surrounded the young boy in the suit that fit his stature. His eyes so bright and full of life as he stood in the middle of the crowd. He loved having everyone's eyes on him. His lips had moved rhythmically as each note, each lyric, dripped out of his mouth like honey.

With the last word he had sung, there was a pause. All the guests there had clapped and cheered. This was young Y/n's life, and he was used to it. It wasn't a big life or an important one, but it was his. As his mini concert had ended, Y/n stepped toward his mom playfully.

“How was that mama? Did I do the notes right?”

The young boy's mother stared down at him with a kind smile. She had picked up the boy to flaunt to her friends as they complimented him. She wasn't avoiding the question, just needed to show the young boy she held in her hands how much of an impact he had on everyone around him. The young boy was a charmer, there was no doubt about that fact in anyone's mind.

This was not intentional. Every time he had tugged at the heart stings of his audience, it was all unintentional. Y/n was oblivious to this all the time, and it left him in an ignorance that was sort of a blissful one. His mother and pulled him in front of her while she held him close.

"You did beautifully Y/n! Everyone was enchanted! Taken to the world as your melody played through your voice."

The little boy in her arms had sparkles in his eyes. He was so proud his mother thought so highly of him. He was only 7 years old, but people saw a great future in him. He was not of wealth or fame, not of big fame that is, and of moderate wealth. His family was having a small party with friends, and this was all just to get Y/n to sing his melody to the friends of his parents.

They sometimes used the boy as a way to brag or bring some praise to them, but it brought so much joy to see everyone enjoy his melodies and songs. His singing was not the only musical talent Y/n had.

The singing was only one of many acts he was going to do for the guests in front of him. He was very well versed in many musical instruments, but Y/n did have his favorites. Even though they were of cliché choices, Violin and Piano were his favorites.

They were the sweetest out of the most, and delicate. Much like the boy who played them. He never understood how someone could make these instruments sound so aggressive, but he always made them delicate and soft, even with the songs of an aggressive tone. It may be because the instrument matches that of who plays them.

Before the second act, Y/n went to go find his closest friend. It was the only other child who was invited, and this is because this child was polite and of a nature that matched that of grown-ups. But with Y/n the two acted as any child would.

Y/n had found his brown haired friend after a minute of searching. It took longer because he was stopped by all the guests he passed to get a picture with them or to talk to them. It was mostly chatter of asking if he remembered them, which he didn't most of the time.

"Haru-chan! I'm over here!"

The brown eyed child looked at her friend with a blank stare. Y/n had run up to her with a big hug and spun her around. The two had gone to school together, and they lived pretty close, even if Y/n lived in a small house.

Y/n was really fond of Haruhi, she had made him happy and stood by him when no one would. Even if the two were only 7, they were really close with each other. They had been friends since they were 3.

"Did you like my song?"

Haruhi had nodded slightly as a response before her gentle voice had spoke.

"Mhm, it seems everyone else did too. I do have a question."

Y/n perked up at the thought of Haruhi having a question for him. She rarely did because she had the little boy figured out so quickly. But one thing had stumped her about his character.

"Why do you sing?"

Y/n had giggled at the question, but not in a way of being mean. No, it was in a gentle, childlike way.

"Because my melodies bring everyone so much joy! After each note of a song, people seem to be smiling!"

After that, the two played with each other. They played pretend mostly. Y/n was always the prince and Haruhi the knight or someone that would protect the prince. She never liked the gender roles of being the princess, and she saw herself more of a protector.

Haruhi had made it her duty to be Y/n's protector in a way since he was so popular for his singing. But sadly, this would have been one of the last times he would have sung for a group of people.

……………………………………………………………………………………..

Stuck in a white hospital, with his dad, Y/n was sitting ideally. Curious as to why they were here. Was Y/n sick? He didn't feel sick. He hadn't realized his mother was not with them. Y/n was only 10, he was more focused on the thoughts of curiosity of the surroundings.

He also wondered why he was not in school. Right now, he would have been studying with Haruhi, and making her panic a bit with his lack of knowledge on some things.

The two had cared for each other as if they were siblings, and some thought their relationship would be deeper than what they showed. They were only children, however, and only ever saw each other as siblings. Y/n had tugged on his father's sleeve.

"Dad, why are we here? Do I need a check-up? Are you sick?"

His father seemed to be stuck in his own mind as to what to tell this innocent child of his. He had not realized how much this would hurt his father.

"Y/n, my sweetest child of mine. Your mother is very sick right now. They might need to keep her in the hospital."

His father looked away with sadness. Y/n's eyes were shocked. His mother sick? No, it couldn't be his mother. His mother wasn't sick. Y/n was stuck in a loop of denial.

This poor boy was so sucked into his thoughts that he didn't notice he buried his head in his father's sleeve, crying. Y/n's father only patted him on the head, joining his child in the crying.

"Not my momma! She's gonna get better, right? She'll be okay and come back right, papa?"

The boy's father did not answer, only bringing his child closer to him. The nurse at the reception desk looked at them both with sympathy in her eyes. She could only imagine what their future would be like.

A year passed and Y/n's dearest mother was not doing any better. Haruhi and Y/n had visited her as much as they could, and Y/n even sang her songs. But Haruhi had noticed that after each visit, her friend grew more and more timid. Y/n's mother was his lifeline, so of course he was lower than he was before. Y/n had always thanks Haruhi for joining and comforting him whenever he cried.

This week was especially hard because Y/n's mother was in a comatose state. Haruhi only ever had empathy for her friend during this time. She recalled the time when her own mother had died and all the time Y/n used to try to make her feel better.

All the songs he had sung for her. Y/n even joined Haruhi when she would pray to her mother. She greatly appreciated Y/n for this, and intended to do the same.

"She's not getting any better. No matter what song I sing, she never smiles at the end. Am I doing a bad job, Haru-chan?"

Haruhi felt a pang in her heart for the young boy she stared at. Even though his goal for singing was a sweet one, it was one of the worst. This is because even if one person did not smile at the end of one of Y/n's melodies, he would feel saddened.

"It's not your fault, Y/n. She's just really tired right now, and needs to rest. Come on, let's go get some ice cream. My dad said he could take us to the small shop you like so much."

Y/n cheered up at this for a bit, but it didn't cure his full sadness. He enjoyed his time with Haruhi and her father. He loved her dad, he always thought Ryoji was funny. He even liked his job and thought it was a cool job to have.

Ryoji counted Y/n as one of his own sons because of how much time the boy spent with the small family. And during the last year, Y/n's father had asked them to take care of him while he worked.

After the week had finished, Y/n got the dreaded news he never wanted. Y/n's mother had passed on, and the once joyous boy was solemn and sad. Haruhi tried her best to cheer the poor boy up, and it worked a couple of times, but never fully.

Y/n's father was always busy, so he was left either alone or in the care of Haruhi's father. It made Y/n sad because he desperately wanted his father to comfort him.

After another year had passed, Y/n's father decided to move to America. He wanted a fresh start and leaving the past of his dead wife. Y/n was apposed to this because he would be leaving his dearest friend behind. His father understood, but said that Y/n could visit whenever he wanted. They had said their goodbyes, and luckily Y/n had a means of still talking to Haruhi.

But after they had left for America, Y/n's melody had stopped. He still sang, but never for others. It was more for himself to remember his mom. He still played, but it was for his mother. Everything he did that involved music was for the remembrance of his mother.

After every song had ended, he would end up a teary mess. The tears had stopped happening a couple of years later, but the songs still left Y/n sad.

His father had signed Y/n up to become a singer prodigy, but Y/n refused. However, Y/n still did it. Y/n had become a mini celerity within his area, but it wasn't something he wanted. He only wanted the fame if his mother was there. But even with his melody dying out, it never did stop.

With high school nearing close for Y/n, his father had gotten a letter of recommendation from the Ouran school chairman himself. His father was reluctant to enroll his son, especially back in the area he had left behind. But Y/n's father had given him some thought and called Ryoji. They both agreed that Y/n could stay in the apartment next to them and that Y/n could return to his old home. Y/n's father told him about the news and right after he got it, Y/n bolted for the airport right away.

Y/n had made some decent money being the mini celerity he had become, but he was still considered of the lower class. So Y/n was left with a scholarship, but luckily enough was able to afford the uniform. Though when he arrived, Y/n was so focused on trying to prepare for school, he didn't get a chance to meet back up with Haruhi the way he wanted.

In fact, Y/n didn’t even realize he was moving in right next to Haruhi. This was a detail his father left out, but it wasn’t purposeful. He did say Ryoji would check up on Y/n, but nothing about Haruhi.

Little did Y/n know, he would see her. The first day of school at the new school he was going to attend. And he had opted out on wearing the uniform the first day.

Do not repost or translate without my explicit permission! Reblogs are welcome!

#🪸.mermaid time #🪸.mermaid fanfic #🎵. Of a Melody there Once Was | Ohshc x male reader #ouran high school host club #ouran high school host club x male reader #ouran high school host club x reader #ohshc x reader #ohshc x male reader #ouran high school host club x male y/n #ouran high school host club x y/n #ohshc x y/n #ohshc x male y/n

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mydearlybeloathed · 8 months ago

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── 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑! 𝐈 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑!

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your people have a legend: mermaids only ever fall in love once. you never put much thought into it, until you come across a band of human pirates.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: romance dawn trio x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: sleep who's she? ~7k baby (1.7k intro, 1.4k luffy, 2k nami, 1.9k zoro)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: my contribution to mermay... on the last day of may, it gets increasingly more unhinged, sanji kinda gets bullied, robin is carrying the last two relationships, my own made up mermaid courting rituals, biting, a bit of violence

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: i had this playlist on repeat while writing 🙆

The last island had warned the waters to come were infested with dark creatures of slithering scales and tempting voices. Creatures that pull you in deep and leave you out to dry a corpse. Born from seafoam, storms, and desire. Mermaids.

“Mermaids?” Zoro drawled.

“I met a mermaid once,” said Usopp, and everyone groaned unanimously. “She tried to take me down, but my charms were just too much, so she let me go.”

Everyone surely believed him, of course.

And of course the motley crew ignored every reservation and warning and sailed headfirst into the treacherous sea. At first, nothing at all was out of the ordinary. The morning fog hung tentatively over the water splashing at the ship's hull as it powered through. Sure, the sun could’ve shined a bit brighter through the thick clouds, but it was a lovely day for adventure.

Nami stood at the helm keeping an eye on the horizon, relishing in the breeze hitting her face, when you heard an odd buzzing in her ear. She swiped at the air and rubbed her ear on her shoulder, but the sound only grew louder. Puffing her cheeks, she turned to ask Sanji to get her the bug spray, when she noticed he too was messing with his ears.

She laid eyes on each of the crew scattered around the deck, enjoying the cool weather. Everyone shifted uncomfortably, faces screwing up as though in pain.

“Do you guys hear that?” she asked needlessly, gathering their attention.

Zoro cupped his ears, nodding. “Yeah, it’s like…”

“Buzzing,” Luffy finished. He kept swatting at the air, searching out for some fly assaulting him.

“No, it’s… it’s singing.” Sanji faced the waters, the words of the village folk coming back to him as his eyes widened. He whipped back around to lock eyes with Nami just as she put everything together too.

She gasped. “Mermaids.”

The ship rocked and the weather shifted drastically in seconds. Already thick clouds doubled in number, drawing close and creating a swirling mass in the sky. Waves rumbled and rose to crash over the deck, sending the crew into hysteria to grab their bearings.

And on top of it all, the most beautiful melody rose above the chaos, filtering into the ears of the crew and blocking all else out. Usopp’s hands slackened around the rope he held steady, eyes glazing over as he leaned toward the far off sound. Sanji’s eyes flickered up to the sky, roamed over the gray clouds, and fell to the waters below, his mind dizzied by the beauty and lithe of the voices. Zoro stumbled drunkenly over his own two feet, desire furling in the pit of his stomach, legs carrying him to the edge of the ship to catch a glimpse of the one singing to him. Luffy froze midclimb up to the crowsnest, head darting this way and that, mind clouded. Nami gritted her teeth, resolve formed to not give in to the angelic, mystifying, amazing song sung just for her—she left the helm unguarded, leaping to join her friends in calling out to the seas.

The crew’s voices overlapped in thier pleading for the woman to come near, to give them all that the song promised. Their every dream would come true, if only the mermaid would help them into the water. The pod of mermaids encircled the ship, their harmonies intertwining in one mind. The ship might have kept on drifting, guided by rough waters manipulated by the mermaids’ hand, and crashed right into the reef and all the crew would be scooped up by the she-beasts, thrust into the deep to drown,

If not for one voice which rose above the rest in a demanding, desperate order: “STOP!”

Instantly, the clouds parted and sun bled through. The song fell through to indignant shrieks, splashes dying down to ripples as shiny tails descended into the blue. Nami blinked awake, feeling hungover and headached, looking blearily out on the water. Vision clearing, she caught a sight she would never forget; a woman lain on the far rocks, a single beam of sun illuminating the vibrant scales running along her skin till they met at a tail dipping into the water.

The fact that their ship was headed right for those jagged rocks was an afterthought. She lurched back and sped into motion, barking out furious orders and smacking the men upside the head to push them into gear. Sanji stood frozen at the ship’s rail, gripping the wood in a vice, eyes glued to the creature. “Nami, it’s—”

“I know!” She gripped his shirt and whipped him around, slapping the side of his face a few times. “We’re going to crash!”

Sanji blinked, shook his head, and raced to grab a flinging rope, jumping high and tying in down in one swoop. Nami bolted to the steer, an eye out the window as she pulled with all her might to change their course. Usopp soon joined her, guiding the ship bit by bit to the left’s clear passage. She fell backward when Zoro’s shout reached them, “We’re clear!”

Risking a moment of peace, the navigator cupped her hands over her face, allowing her body to calm all its flighting-fighting instincts. The calm lasted for all of five seconds before the screaming began.

“Luffy! What—Why—What?!”

Nami sprang upright, locking eyes with Usopp, and the two sighed in unison before heading above deck. Whatever Nami expected, it wasn’t the terrified, shivering form of a mermaid baring her two fangs at a looming Luffy. The others stood a ways away, unsure what to do with themselves, but certain they didn’t want to get involved with this.

“Luffy!” Nami cried. “Did you drag her up here?”

Given the mermaid’s following hiss, Nami assumed that was the case. Luffy inched closer still, and the mermaid lost all her gusto, face falling as she scrambled away form him, dragging her tail behind her.

The mermaid was beautiful; that was the common thread of thought. Her damp hair hung all around her face, nearly covering her deep eyes. Scales creeped up her torso and faded into skin around her chest. Her every movement was caught by the sun, her scales shimmering rainbow reflections into the air around her.

“Stay back,” she hissed out, eyes narrowing upon Luffy. “Demon.”

Usopp scoffed, grabbing the mermaid’s sharp attention. “What, long-nose?”

Ruffling, chuckled awkwardly, he looked around at his friends for help, receiving nothing but raised brows. “I just mean—you’re the mermaid.”

The mermaid blinked slowly. She seemed to have forgotten the threat before her, all attention directed at a quivering Usopp. “I’m the demon? I’m the one who saved you. You think my people decided to let you live on their own?” She laughed, and the sound had a pretty ring to it. “No. I commanded them.”

Her eyes darted back to Luffy as he took to sitting criss-crossed in front of her. “I should have let you and this demon-child die on the rocks.”

It soon became obvious she knew Luffy ate a devil-fruit just by one look at him, and she was not happy about it. Luffy only tilted his head at her hostility, a little frown on his face. “Are all mermaids this rude?”

You balked, gaping before snapping your mouth shut, not dignifying him with a reply. Luffy persisted. “I like your tail. What do you mean you saved us? Why?”

Curling your tail closer to yourself, hands holding your upper body up, you glanced from the pirate captain to each of his crew. They didn’t look too threatening, but you’d learned long ago to never trust a human’s looks. Many a mermaid died on the grounds of humans looking nice. So Luffy’s question begged an answer. Why did you save them?

You shrugged a shoulder, eyes drifting out to sea. “My people need to eat.”

Usopp gulped. “We’re very gamy. You wouldn’t like us—”

“I wasn’t done speaking,” she quipped back, a brow raised. “Mers are carnivores by nature. Normally, we steer clear of humans.” You sneered at the word. “We find your kind to be a predator, and we’re a peaceful people.” The swordsman scoffed and rolled his eyes at that.

“But times have changed. The fish have fled this sea.” You took a deep breath, shakily letting it out. “My people are starving, and they look to me as their princess for guidance.” Quickly clearing your throat to hide how the topic gloomed you, you snapped, “All that is to say that I strictly forbade the hunting of humans despite the starvation. They disobeyed me. That is why I helped you.”

You faced them all as your tail began to glimmer even brighter, slowly but surely parting down the middle. Your face contorted slightly as your scales seemed to mold into your skin, leaving you bear before the crew of pirates. You shivered in the breeze, raising your gaze once more. “Any other questions?”

There seemed to be none, silence running around the deck, and you prepared to jump back into the water before your parents sent the guard to find you, when the demon-child spoke up.

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded, face taken by seriousness. “How do we bring the fish back?”

You blinked once, then twice, and then a third time for good measure, but nothing in his expression betrayed hilarity. He wasn’t pulling your fin. The devil-fruit eater meant to help you.

Demon. That’s what he was. You knew this fully well. It’s what your parents taught you from a young age. Devil-fruit eaters are the enemy of the sea, and thus the enemy of the mers. You’d followed this rule all your life… but then you looked at the one they called Luffy, you really looked at him right in his face… and none of that made any sense anymore.

Sure enough, Luffy led the charge against the oil corporation mining near your peoples’ home, threatening convincing them to move elsewhere. Within a few days of the miners’ departure, some mers managed to coax schools of fish back to their reefs. With the ecosystem and chain of life restored, the Straw Hat Pirates had no reason to stay.

And really, neither did you. What you did have, however, was a reason to go with the pirates. Adventure, the life you’d always dreamed of, away from the reef you’d felt tethered to for so long… and a certain member of the crew who had caught your rapt, undying attention.

There’s a legend that mermaids only fall in love once, never to find another who would fill the gap in their hearts. You would always call it foolish romance… but really, there might be something to it.

LUFFY

You were a goner the moment he offered to help you with those big, genuine eyes of his. As much as you tried to deny it—and you did try to deny it—you were falling in love with a human. A devil-fruit eater at that. What had you been reduced to?

And yet, there was no denying it. Especially not when you couldn’t bear to go an hour without laying eyes on him. Your mother said it was normal for mers to feel… possessive over the one who holds their affection, and that fact was not lost on you as you slithered through the water, approaching the pirate lazed out on the rocks he’d dragged you from about a week before.

Your eyes rose above the water first, little grin still below the surface. Luffy looked so relaxed, eyes on the clouds, every once in a while glancing at his crew on the anchored ship nearby. You braced your hands on the cool stone and launched yourself upward, fanged smile gleaming as water splashed Luffy’s legs. His laugh had you keening closer, dragging your tail along the rocks. Luffy grinned for all of two seconds before the seawater sunk in. Instantly drowsy, he tried to offer up another smile as you winced.

“Sorry,” you giggled. “I always forget.”

He laughed it off, already recovering as he shifted to face you. Luffy’s eyes followed your tail to where your fins dipped into the sea. “If only I could swim with you. Bet it’s fun.”

“If only.” You shared a smile for a little too long, but it never grew uncomfortable. Lingering in the moment, you gazed over at his ship, melancholy taking over as your smile faltered. “So… you’re leaving soon?”

“In the morning.” You clicked your tongue and tried your best to act nonchalant, failing miserably as you pursed your lips and combed through your hair.

“Why not tonight?” you offered with a tight grin. “You should get away as fast as possible. I don’t know how one becomes pirate king but it's not by sticking around a boring reef and its boring princess. Ha! I’ll even help bring your anchor up faster! Then you can be out by sundown.”

The silence crept up your spine, getting you all antsy as you lowered your gaze to the rippling waters. Shoulders tense, you could feel Luffy’s eyes on your profile as you picked at the algae along the rocks. He probably thought you were an idiot, rambling like that. And if so, that was fine. It would make him leaving so much easier.

Luffy inched toward you and ducked to meet your gaze. “Come with us.”

“What!” You hit an octave the best soprano would envy, losing your grip and slipping right off the rock back into the water. Your hands grabbed at the slippery stone, panic all over your face before you plunged under the surface.

You drifted under the waves, unmoving as the words replayed over and over in your head, leaving no room for misinterpretation. Glancing up at Luffy’s bright laughter, you caught sight of him peering down into the sea, his face muddled by reflections and ripples. He couldn’t be serious. He just couldn’t.

Luffy grew nervous when you didn’t resurface, leaning over the water to catch a glimpse of your shimmery tail, when as quick as lightning you broke the surface and came nose to nose with him. Blinking wide, you breathed deeply, so close you felt his every exhale on your skin. “You mean it?”

“‘Course!” Luffy offered you his hand despite the fact he’d lose all his strength the moment he touched your sea-soaked skin. “Wanna join my crew?”

Yes. You wanted nothing more than to follow him to the end s of the earth and then some. Part of you had been hoping he would ask. The rest of you longed to take his hand and smother him in hugs till he pried you off him. But… the water swirled around your tail, threatening to carry you off in a current, and your lips quivered down.

“I… I can’t!” you cried, dipping underwater before he could catch you, darting off into the blue. Panic bubbled in your chest, strangled gasps sending pops of air into the water around you. No matter what you wanted, you were bound to this reef. Your home, your kingdom… and above all that, to ever think of running off with a human was foolish beyond measure! So you wasted away all night long, lamenting around the sea, hiding above the coral and sands.

Luffy watched the water all morning, trusting you would show despite your disappearance implying otherwise. Nami set a hand on his shoulder. “Luffy, she’s not coming.”

He had to hope. You wanted to go, he saw it in your eyes, and he wanted you to go too. Luffy didn’t think he could bear leaving without you, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. He knew from the moment he met you that he needed you on his crew—but why? He searched his head for an answer, coming up short. Giving the sea one last hopeful glance, Luffy sighed and gave Nami the go-ahead.

The ship had barely sailed off when a shimmery, sparkling thing leaped out of the water, shouted his name, and plunged back into the blue. Luffy raced to the ship’s edge, a smile creeping up his face. You raked a trail of seaspray behind you as you darted just below the surface. Again, you propelled yourself out of the water. “Wait!”

Luffy threw his head back laughing, holding down his hat on his head. He shot Nami an I told you so look, to which she rolled her eyes and turned, lest he catch her pleased smirk. A round of chuckles ran amongst the crew as they slowed the ship’s leave, not that it mattered; Luffy was already slingshotting his rubber arms out at you, and the next time you appeared arcing through the air, your shout turned into a yelp as his arms wrapped around you and pulled you in. Another panicked shout of his name left you before you collided with the rubber man, the pair of you rolling to the deck.

You worried your tail crushed him, the hefty weight of it landing on his legs, but all reservations fizzled out the moment his arms wrapped you up in a warm embrace. Luffy’s head found your shoulder, your hands hooking around his shoulders. “I’m covered in seawater…”

“Don’ care,” Luffy muttered into your skin even as he weakened and sank into you. “I knew you’d come with us.”

“With you,” you corrected instinctively, pulling away to stare right into his eyes. “I’ll follow you anywhere.”

He giggled softly. Luffy’s arms unraveled as he opted to instead cup your shoulders. “Good.”

From then on, where one went, you’d soon find the other. Not only on your end; Luffy quickly grew so accustomed to your presence that he began to wait for you to start eating, much to the amazement of his friends (Zoro almost admitted he was jealous before he saw the hints of puppy love in his captain’s eyes, and decided to let it go for now).

You still had some things to wear off before you fully let yourself admit you were falling for a human. Luffy seemed to be completely comfortable just going around holding your hand, swinging them between your bodies as your cheeks warmed. Luffy never strayed far from your side, comfortably resting an arm on your shoulder or some other contact. You never completely told him off for it, somewhat liking how his warmth contrasted with the cold of your sea-ridden body.

Now, it’s a given that Luffy cannot swim. He ate a devil fruit—everyone knew this fact very well. But now Luffy had his mermaid with him! All his faith went into knowing you would always swim to his rescue should he need it, so what’s the harm if he got a little bit more reckless surrounding the sea?

(The harm is to your stress. By God, he would be the end of you one way or another).

The number of times one of the crew has called your name, given you this tired and sorry look, and pointed out to sea. Luffy was likely to be flapping about in the distance. The most recent occurrence, Sanji set a hand on your shoulder and went to let down a rope ladder. “I’ll help you back up, lovely.”

Outwardly, you might gripe about holding his hand and having to save his devil-fruit ass from drowning every other week—but inwardly? You’d turn hell over before you let Luffy die. So you held his hand tightly in yours, wearing a smile so small only Luffy’s keen eye could see.

NAMI

Without really realizing it, Nami had fallen headfirst for your awkward, waterlogged, fishy kind of charm (and she wasn’t at all going to complain). She first started feeling it when the freshly victorious crew met your mer royalty parents at the surface, your tail mesmerizing as it dipped just into the water, your upper body propped up onto some scattered rocks. Your eyes filled with hope the longer you spoke to them in words too far to reach. Majestic. That’s the only word to describe you.

Well, majestic and graceless. That second descriptor was added when you rolled off the rocks into the water, beaming up at your parents before doing a figure eight around the sea and vaulting into the air. You flipped tail over head, cackling as you hit the water with a splash. A tiny laugh left Nami, eyes shining.

She was the first to help haul you up a rope ladder, hands clutching your damp arms. Nami met your smile steadfastly. “What’d you tell them?”

You giggled, cheeks warm at how you practically laid across her legs, the rest of the crew gathered around. “I just told ‘em I found something worth leaving for.”

(You’d told them you found a pretty human girl and had to leave with her or else you would probably die).

You promised to return for your birthright throne one day, though that promise hurt you. You had a duty to your people after all, no matter how pretty Nami was. But until then, you had today, and you would make the most of it.

Love wasn’t enough of a word to describe what you felt looking at Nami, and obsession was a bit too extreme (though Usopp would teasingly disagree). You simply… couldn’t help but gravitate toward her any chance there was, ever in her orbit. Where Nami was, you were soon to be found. Nami never told you to screw off or give her space; on the contrary, when your shoulder brushed hers, she pressed into you fervently, skin to skin and warm.

It only took a month for you to throw all caution to the wind and do the only thing you knew—go forth with the mer courting rituals (you were hopelessly at a loss, only doing what you’d seen the older mers do to beckon the attention of their intended).

Nami, clueless, accepted each gift of dazzling seashells and shimmery pearls with alighted smiles, taking you in her arms even when you smelled of the kelp forest you’d swam through to find the treasures. She laughed off the bites you gave her wrists, arms, and sometimes shoulders, snickering about how it tickled. And she sat and listened to every song you sat her down to listen to, closing her eyes as the melody calmed her, never needing any actual enchantment to draw her in.

In turn, you assumed her habir of buying you things was some sort of human ritual. Why else would Nami’s cheeks be so rosy as she handed you a luxury hairbrush you’d raved about seeing in a shop window?

“Did you see this new pearl she brought me?” Nami leaned toward Robin giddily, rolling the pearl in her palms. Her lip between her teeth, she stifled a too bright smile. “I’ll have enough to make a bracelet if hse keeps this up.”

“Then I’d say you’ll soon have a bracelet,” Robin mused, turning a page in her book. Nami tilted her head, eyes narrowed.

“What’s so funny?”

Robin’s lips curled up into a grin, eyes darting up to meet Nami’s. She barely contained her mirth as she flipped the book around and handed it over. “Nami, she’s been courting you.”

Jaw slack, Nami poured over the open page, heart stuttering. She slapped a hand to her temple, huffing a laugh. “So by giving her gifts, I’ve been courting her back?”

Humming, Robin took her book and closed it gently. She turned to face Nami entirely, brows raised. “You don’t seem upset.”

“I’m not,” Nami quipped, cheeks warming instantly. Robin chuckled behind her hand. “I—I mean—Uhm…”

The older woman stood and set a hand on Nami’s shoulder. “I’d expect an invite to swim fairly soon.”

Sure enough, not a day later, you shyly slinked up to Nami as she headed to the galley for dinner. Your hand found her wrist, tugging her aside as Zoro and Robin passed by wearing matching grins. You stared at your feet uncharacteristically, shuffling back and forth. Nami felt hot all over. She reached out a lissome finger to wrap around your pinky, whispering, “What is it?”

Swallowing thickly, you huffed a confident breath and snapped your head up. “Would-you-go-on-a-swim-with-me-tomorrow?”

A little smile worked its way up Nami’s face. Your eyes squeezed shut the second you finished your sentence, wincing like she might lash out. “I’d like that.”

Your whole face lit up, eyes wide as saucers. “O-Okay. At sunset. We’ll be docked at that island by then, right?”

Nami nodded and pulled you into the galley. Right as she passed through the door, before she could catch the teasing glances of the others, she turned and mumbled, “It’s a date.”

Nobody questioned it when you hissed your fangs at poor Usopp, booting him out of his seat right next to Nami, and promptly plopped down next to the grinning navigator.

Sunset came to slowly, in your opinion. All day you’d been tripping over nothing, nervous hands making your awkward legs even more coltish than usual. Around evening, the ship tipped too far left far too quickly, sending you careening right into Nami. You dragged the both of you down to the deck, face hidden in your hands as she laughed brightly.

And finally, the sun descended across the sky, shooting oranges and yellows and pinks into the clouds.

The wind kissed your face as you leaned against the ship’d railing, eyes darting back and forth over the rippled waters below. Fish flittered at the surface, bubbling her and there, muttering awful curses at each other. Nami sidled up beside you, eyeing your profile before gazing down.

You snickered, drawing her attention. “Fish hear all sorts of swears and insults from the sailors. I wish you could understand them because I will never be caught translating that mess.”

Your laugh trickled off as you looked at her, eyes trailing up and down her form. She wore one of her bikini tops and a pair of shorts, nothing too special, but something flared up in your chest at the sight of her. Skin prickling, you whipped around and found Sanji not too far away. The cook took a drag of his cigarette, admiring eyes set on Nami. Your fangs peeked out of your lips, trilling a low hiss. Sanji choked and nearly dropped his cig into the sea, catching it betwixt his fingers at the last second.

Nami’s laughed gently, taking your arm and swinging one leg over the ailing, then the other. You gazed into her eyes deeply. “C’mon,” she smiled. “I thought we were swimming?”

With that, she jumped off the ship and plunged into the sea. You jerked forward, watching bubbles fizzle up from the deep before Nami’s head popped back into sight. She kicked into deeper water, calling for you. Taking a moment to sike yourself up, you stood precariously on the ship’s railing, preparing to make a graceful dive after her—when your foot slipped.

Yelping, you tottered offbalance and fell face first off the ship, just barely flipping around to land feet first in the water. The water fizzled and bubbled all around you, the usual sting of scales surfacing from the depths of your skin causing you to squirm slightly. Your senses enhanced instantly, so Nami’s rich, boisterous laughter flowed down from the air to the sea, embarrassment flooding your body. Slowly, you swam upward, water parting over your head and dripping donw your face.

Eyes hooded, you came to face to face with Nami’s state of hilarity, clutching her sides as she struggled to remain above water. You waded toward her, hands finding her sides and giving her a break from kicking even as your eyes avoided her own. She hooked her finger under your chin, grin cheeky. “I thought it was cute.”

“Wasn’t meant to be,” you grunted.

Nami rolled her eyes and kicked away form you. “I thought we were swimming?”

“Not here,” you said, coming back to your sense. You reached for her hand and led her along the coast. “This way.”

You placed her arms around your neck and sped through the water, taking the pair of you far from the prying eyes of the crew and nearby sailors. Nami tucked her face into the crook of your neck, chuckling as seaspray stung her skin. Your tail propelled you toward a secluded cove you once visited with your aunt’s migrant pod, and you reached your destination in no time at all.

Now, Nami had done her research. She knew what to expect… But then you actually started to swim, your tail not making the usual constant up an down movements. You took a deep breath, eyed her hopefully, and parted the water by arcing your arms outward. Using a single, powerful thrust of your tail, you glided through the water like a piercing arrow, rotating in a spiral corkscrew. You circled Nami, who treaded water with a confused furrow in her brow.

She had been picturing the Dance of Sea Hearts all day, and yet she hadn’t come close.

Taking a breath, Nami gulped some air and ducked under the surface, flinging open her eyes. The salty water stung her eyes but she remained wide eyed, gaze trailing after your lithe curves and spirals. She caught your eye and the whole world seemed shifted all at once.

Suddenly pickiing up speed, you swam on your side round and round Nami, creating a current that spun Nami in a circle. Cheeks puffed of air, she went up for another bout of air and sank back down in one fluid motion. It was odd sort of dance, your fins brushing her skin and your hands tangling in her hair, taking her hands and spinning Nami in circles till the girl’s lack of oxygen and dizziness created a euphoric lightedheadness. But she trusted you, so she rose up for air and descended under the waves once more.

When you finally started to sing, Nami wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to return to the surface. You were one person yet your voice sounded like a choir, echoes forming under the water and overwhelming every living creature in the vicinity with the beauty of your vocalizations. She remembered when she heard your people singing her crew to thier watery depths… and this was nothing like that. Their voices beckoned her forth with promises of jewels and safety of wealth… but you didn’t promise anything other than the safety of your love.

Nami’s lips returned to the surface, sucking in as much air as she could. As the water closed around the crown of her head once more, you floated right in front of her, careful to not allow any enchantment into your voice. You wanted to do this right, not the way your people usually took the hearts of humans. Lips parted, you strung out your song—the song your father sang to your mother, and her mother to her father, and his father to his partner, and so on.

The dazed look in Nami’s eyes was nearly concerning, and you nearly feared you’d let slip some magic, when her hands cupped your cheeks and her forehead collided with yours. Bubbles flew form your mouth, song halted instantly. Nami gave you a tilted grin, picking up the melody where you’d dropped it, and you were putty in her hands.

Deeper the pair of you sank into the waves, your arms enveloping her body and holding her close, your tail curling around her legs. Noses brushing, your voices twinned together as your smiles rose to greet each other. Nami tapped your arm rapidly, on the brink of suffocation, and you swiftly swam the both of you back to the surface.

Gasping in air, Nami curled her arms round your neck, lungs no longer straining under the power of the sea. “Are we, like, mermaid married now?”

You laughed awkwardly, nosing her cheek. “Not exactly… Do you understand what I’m asking?”

“I do.”

“And?”

She pecked your lips. “I like you too.”

Though your heart threatened to sink, you accepted her kiss wholeheartedly, vowing to someday make her understand the depth of what you felt for her. The night grew long and full of laughter, splashing water hitting your faces as you committed a dance of your own making: having fun.

ZORO

Zoro knew the moment he laid eyes on you that you were dangerous.

With sharp fangs, fins that flared when angry, and the most hypnotizing eyes that made him feel things when he looked in them—you were close to the myths he heard growing up on his home island. Except, unlike the myths, you were kind, and maybe that’s what made it worse.

Zoro also knew something else the moment he saw you jump in the way of a sword strike from an oil miner and proceeded to tear him to shreds. With a mumbled curse and flushed face, he felt a thump in his heart as you heaved, dark eyes taking him in like you intended to devour him whole. But then you smiled, corners of your mouth curling to reveal shiny teeth that should have been threatening, and all he could think was a very firm shit.

He wasn’t getting a crush on a mermaid.

Yet, he found his eyes always drifting to you one way or another. And that voice—you swore you never used your enchantments on anyone, finding it unethical, but you had to be doing something to him. Each morning you went up to the crows nest and sang a song. Zoro was able to name every single one by now, but he’d rather die than admit it.

(But you knew, having a keen eye to catch his eyes fluttering closed whilst you spun your melodies).

You composed yourself far better despite feeling a similar tug in his direction. You were a princess, after all—albeit a feral sea princess, but you held poise nonetheless. Of course, that didn’t change the fact that every time you laid eyes on Zoro you had this innate desire to bite him. Maybe then the cook would get the message and stop staring.

Either way, it was really only a matter of time before the culmination of looks, touches, and songs took its final toll on you both.

You sat with Robin on the steps leading up to the helm, you head propped in your hands, eyes unabashedly laid upon the swordsman training on the deck below. Robin’s eyes drifted up from her journal, flicking between you and the source of your admination, before shaking her head. “You could talk to him, you know.”

Blinking, you glanced her way. “I do talk to him.”

“I mean,” Robin laughed. “Talk to him. About you and him.”

“Oh no, I can’t do that. It would complicate things.”

“And constantly undressing him with your eyes doesn’t?”

You cast her a little glare. “Don’t test me.”

Rolling her eyes, Robin shoved your shoulder, nearly sending you falling donw the stairs. “I’m sick of watching you two. It’s sickening. I’m sure I don’t have to remind you of your own romantic customs?”

Cheeks burning, you stammered over incoherent words and wobbled to your feet. Pausing to breathe, you peered over your shoulder, losing yourself for a moment as you caught sight of the grace with which he moved. He moved on from lifting weights, instead going over his katas and form with sword, the Wado Ichimonji.

Robin’s chuckles brought you back to reality. Pouting, you gritted out, “Shut up.” You whirled around and meant to march right up to Zoro—what you were going to say was the issue of future you—but you walked head first into a broad chest and fell in a heap of limbs on the ground.

Zoro’s eyes went wide, motionless as you glared up at him only for your eyes to soften instantly. Zoro huffed a laugh and reached out his hand. You eagerly accepted his help, jumping back to your feet and falling right into your habit of admiring every detail in his face. Your surprisingly strong grip remained on his wrist, your eyes darting between the flesh of his arm to his chesnut eyes. Zoro frowned deeply, confused, trying to tug his hand away and reeling at how strong your vice was.

Blinking quickly out of your trance, you released him, stared blankly, and bolted below deck. Zoro watched carefully, having half a mind to call you back; he’d walked over to talk to you, after all. He liked talking to you (it was a shocking revelation he was still having trouble accepting).

Robin felt like an intruder on such moments, yet always found herself in the middle. She snapped shit her journal and Zoro’s head snapped in her direction, quickly darting his attention elsewhere. Robin let loose a sigh of exasperation.

“Ridiculous.” Before Zoro could process whatever that meant, Robin was gone, leaving Zoro clutching his hand ot his chest and wondering why his skin crawled with the lingering sensation of your touch. He really couldn’t take much more of this. And neither could the crew.

“Every time they speak I feel like I’m walking in on a hook up,” Nami complained to Sanji. “They make asking about the weather feel sensual.”

Sanji chuckled to that. “Patience. Not everyone is as emotionally aware as you, darling.”

A week passed, and the usual brief glances and looks of longing exchanged readily. And then came the night of your watch. Everyone always knew when you had watch because you made it everyone else’s problem the whole day. Groaning and grunting, you lamented your lost sleep, and the others usually chuckled behind their hands whilst you sighed.

Usually, you spent your watch alone, charting the stars to pass the time and singing old sea shanties to keep yourself awake. But tonight was different; tonight, someone joined you.

Zoro’s footsteps thunked against the deck, startling you from your daydream. Shoulders dropping, you sent him a smile and went back to leaning against the mast. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nope,” Zoro sighed. He followed you gaze to the night sky. “Have they moved?”

“Have they—?” You paused to stare at him, mirth glittering in your eyes. “Have the stars moved?”

He flushed from his neck to his nose, only worsening at the sight of your blue-moon smile. “You know—are there new ones? Constellations. Don’t new ones appear when we’re in different areas?”

His frantic explanations only humored you more, dragging tiny chuckles out of you even as you nodded. “I know what you mean. Sorry for laughing… There are new ones. See there?” You sidled up to him and pointed to the left side of the sky. “There’s the South Mother. I could never see her back at my reef.”

Zoro’s brows met. “South Mother?”

“I think you call her Ursa Major,” you explained. “To us, she’s our ancestor, banished to the stars for loving a human.” Realizing how close you’d drawn to him, you glanced at Zoro before swiftly clearing your throat and stepping away. The tranquil quiet filled the space between you, before the stories of your childhood rose to the surface of your memory.

“My mother always told that story as a warning. Never deal with humans. They get you cast among the stars.” A tiny scoff left you, smile forming. “But my father? He told me South Mother was a revolutionary. Why shouldn’t she have loved a human? If she found one worth her time, then that’s her choice.”

You chanced a look at Zoro, locking eyes with him. You found it in yourself to not look away. “I always liked my father’s version better.”

Zoro nodded tentatively, unsure what to say if he should say anything at all. He settled for sitting against the mast, motioning for you to join him. You dropped down quickly, taking a spot on his right and resting you head against the wood. Minutes went by in blissful silence.

“Can I bite you?”

The question caught him off guard, Zoro lurching up to stare at you. His jaw agape, he found your expression to be one of utter seriousness, blinking at him expectantly. His swallowed thickly. “I—In what context?”

You shifted around to face him, waiting for him to do the same. “In the context that I want to bite you so no one else does.”

Reeling, Zoro managed a laugh, lips curling upward. “I don’t think you have to worry about anyone else biting me.”

“So you don’t want me to?”

“I didn’t say that.” Gods, what was he doing? He lowered his gaze, watching your hands fidget nervously with your boot laces. You were nervous… Glancing up, he saw that same nervous energy swarming your face. “Can I ask why you’re worried someone else will bite me?”

You thought back to your conversation with Robin, and her advice, and regretted ever bringing any of this up in the first place. It was all so stupid. You’d done so well of pushing all of this down… but he was waiting for an answer, and you’re quite certain you’d give Zoro anything he wanted.

“In my culture,” you started, “we bite those we… feel things for. It lets others know they’re talking with someone.”

Zoro understood what you actually wanted to say, no matter how hidden in your words it was. “And you want to talk with me?”

You wanted so much more than that. Honestly, you were clinging to your composure. He’s lucky you even asked first. “Yes. I do. And I don’t want you… talking to anyone else.”

Squinting at the space over Zoro’s shoulder, you awaited the blow of rejection. Surely, Zoro had other options. He was a warrior—strong, wise under all that moss on his head, and kind. Yet slowly, Zoro moved into your line of sight. His heart thundered around in his ribcage, his next sentence feeling silly, yet true.

“Humans do something similar,” he offered. “You bite me… and I’ll bite you.”

You hadn’t expected to get this far. Nodding gently, you threw caution to the wind along with all the pretense. “All that is to say… I… Well, I understand the South Mother because I met you.”

Zoro’s gaze softened, his hands drawing you closer till his exhale fanned your face. You knelt before each other, a single question in his eyes, to which you nod and lean in if only to be near him. His hand cradled the back of your head, lips dancing across the skin of your neck, finding the spot that made you squirm and biting. Zoro had no fangs to sink into your flesh but it hardly made a difference; the mark was there, along with several others littered along your shoulder.

Letting out a shaky breath you gripped Zoro’s jaw before he could go any further and brought his face level with yours. Running your tongue over your two jutting fangs, you muttered, “Where?”

Zoro craned his neck to the side, his breathing heavy and pupils consuming his irises. You gently traced the line of his jaw, completely enamored, before latching onto the skin where his neck met his collarbone. Careful to not wound him, you bit down just enough to leave your mark. Zoro’s slight hiss had you soothing your tongue over the mark, remembering the feel of his lips on your skin, and copied his earlier ministrations. Zoro would deny it over and over, but he whined, and you would take that knowledge to your watery grave.

Come morning, imagine the crew’s surprise walking into the galley expecting the usual dance of awkward feelings, only to find the pair of you thick as thieves showing off the fresh territorial markings splayed across your necks.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s @murnsondock

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riveramorylunar · 2 years ago

Text

𝔗𝔬 𝔑𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔚𝔢 𝔊𝔬

Series Masterlist, (Chapter 26)

Pairings: Leonora Lesso x Reader & Melody x Sister Reader(Brief)

Warnings ⚠️: Knife and Teasing

Pet Names/Nicknames: My Love & Little Siren

Word Count: 1,277

"Do you have to go" Melody whined out as she clinged to Y/N. Y/N pulled Melody off of her before kneeling down and cupping her face. "I would love to stay here with you for the whole week but I want to visit Nora's home land" she said and Melody frowned. She let go of Melody's face before pulling the gold fork out of her hair. She held it out and Melody tilted her head. "Why are you giving me a fork" Melody asked and Y/N smiled. "It's mother's dinglehopper and I want you to have it now" Y/N said and Melody grabbed it before looking closely at it. She clutched it in her hand before hugging Y/N again. Y/N hugged back and held Melody tightly. "You'll have Flounder and Sebastian to look after you for the whole week" Y/N said as she pulled away again before kissing Melody's forehead. "Plus you can mess with your Aunts and Uncles since they're home now" She continued causing Melody to giggle quietly. "Come back soon alright" Melody said as Y/N stood up. "I promise I will Mel I always keep my promises" Y/N said as she ruffled up her sister's hair.

Y/N, Lesso, Sparky & Soren all made their way down the stairs of the castle after saying goodbye to everyone. "Thank you for letting me come along it's been awhile since I've been to Neverland" Sparky said and Lesso nodded her head. "It's no problem only one thing though none of you can tell anyone I'm from Neverland when we get back to the schools" Lesso said and the two nodded. "We won't we promise" Sparky said as they all made their way through the town towards the loading docks. As they got closer to the docks they saw a huge ship waiting. "Is that our ride" Sparky said and Lesso nodded. "Yes our ticket to Neverland" Lesso said as they arrived at the pirate ship.

Lesso set her suitcases down and bag before walking up to a pink haired man with an eye patch over his right eye. He had slightly pointy ears and gold hoops. He had a red skull face and pale purplish pinkish skin. His scleras were completely black and he had blue eyes and diamond shaped pupils. His teeth were shark like. He had a scar around his neck and burn marks on his upper body that was covered with a black pirate shirt and a red trenchcoat. His fingernails were painted black and he had vine like tattoos wrapped all around his arms down to his legs. "Leo" the man said noticing Lesso walking up to him. "Vince you haven't aged a bit" Lesso said and the man laughed as he threw his head back. "And you've grown a lot captain" someone said causing them all to look up to see a woman with blue hair leaning against the deck railing. "Speak for yourself you look like you've aged over 50" Lesso sneered out causing the woman to roll her eyes. "Don't be like that" the woman said before she looked at the other three that were standing near Lesso. "Bird boy has grown a lot too but who are the other two" the woman said and Lesso grabbed Y/N's hand before pulling her towards her. "This is Y/N and she's my girlfriend" Lesso said causing the man to choke on the cigar he was smoking. "G-girlfriend since when" Vince said and Lesso looked at Y/N. "About 3 months ago" Lesso said and Y/N smiled. "We had a slight problem in between though but it's all handled now" Lesso continued as she smiled wickedly causing the other two to smirk.

They got onto the ship and Vince got on before grabbing the wooden steps and lifting them up. "Where is everyone at" Lesso said and the woman pointed down. "Sleeping quarters" she said and Lesso hummed. Lesso and Y/N made their way to the captains quarters. "So you're the captain" Y/N said as she looked around the room.

"Yeah I am" Lesso said and Y/N turned around as her mouth dropped open. Lesso's back was facing Y/N's and she was completely bare except for the boxers she wore. Y/N watched as Lesso's back muscles flexed when she reached for a pair of pants. "You're cute when you get flustered easily my love" Lesso said causing Y/N to look back over to see Lesso putting on a pirate hat. "I don't get flustered easily" Y/N said as she frowned. Lesso cocked an eyebrow before she slowly walked up to Y/N. "Are you sure about that little Siren" Lesso said and Y/N gulped when she felt something metal under her chin. Her eyes moved down and her eyes widened in shock when she saw Lesso was holding a black dagger in her hand. "Y-yes" Y/N started out as she felt her face heat up. Lesso walked around Y/N before stopped behind her and wrapping an arm around her waist. "Well I think you're lying my love I can see it on your face and plus the way your breath hitches just a little when you get flustered gives it away" Lesso whispered into Y/N's ear causing her to freeze in place.

"Captain we're about to depart" Vince said and Lesso stepped away from Y/N before kissing her on the cheek. She pocketed her knife before walking to the door and opening it. Lesso looked back over at Y/N with a raised eyebrow and Y/N rushed through the door with Lesso following her. "CAPTAIN YOU'RE BACK" someone shouted and they all looked over to see a boy with curly hair. Some of it was in his face and it covered his eyes causing him to trip and fall to the ground. Y/N immediately rushed over and helped the young boy up as Leonora just smiled in amusement. "You're still clumsy as ever Arnold" Leonora said as she walked over and ruffled the boys hair up. Y/N followed Leonora up the steps and sat down next to the wheel as Leonora looked down at her girlfriend. "What do you think about the pirate life so far" Leonora said as she leaned against the wheel. "Well for one I didn't think you could get hotter but damn you did" Y/N said causing Leonora to bark out a laugh before leaning down. "You're a cutie" Leonora muttered out before pecking Y/N on the cheek.

To Y/N and Sparky it felt like days since they've been on the ship but really it's only been 10 hours. "Are we there yet" Y/N sighed out for the hundredth time and Leonora rolled her eyes. "No" Leonora said causing Y/N to groan while tilting her head back. Y/N felt the boat shake slightly making her gulp. "W-what 's going on are we being attacked" Y/N stuttered out and Soren chuckled. "No look down" he said and Y/N looked over the ledge of the boat to see it floating out of the water. "What the hell" Y/N said before looking back over to see Leonora smirking. "Pixie dust My love pixie dust" she said and Y/N's face heated up. "R-right" Y/N said as she sat down on one of the crates. Leonora just smiled before looking back ahead as she started towards the north star. Oh how she couldn't wait for Y/N to see her home island.

A/N: Hey I'm back with writing this book series I hope you enjoy this chapter. The other chapters will take a little longer than usual to post since I'm still doing other fic but I hope you enjoy this one because this is the last happy one the next/last chapter will have a shit ton of angst in it so.... Oh and don't worry this book series isn't over there will be a book two after the next chapter!!!

#Leonora Lesso #Lady Lesso #Leonora Lesso x Reader #Lady Lesso x Reader #Leonora Lesso my Handsome Dean Of Evil 🔥🪄#Melody #Sparky Jester #Flounder #Sebastian #Soren #TSFGAE #The Little Mermaid #Daughter Of The Little Mermaid #River's Stories 📜#Lesbian #River's Ocs

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antinousletmehit · 18 days ago

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Could you do a Poseidon x fem mermaid reader where she helps him in the aftermath of 600 strike PLEASE!!! I’m desperate for this to be written 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

୨୧┇Poseidon x fem!reader

────୨ৎ──── ────୨ৎ──── ───

When you arrived at the secluded grotto, the sight that greeted you made your heart sink. Poseidon sat slumped against the smooth wall of his underwater sanctuary, his trident propped up beside him. His normally imposing figure seemed diminished, his pale skin marred with deep gashes and his breathing labored. The wounds on his torso and arms glowed faintly, leaking divine ichor that mingled with the seawater like golden smoke.

You hesitated for only a moment before swimming closer.

“Poseidon,” you said softly, your voice carrying through the water like a gentle melody. “I’ve brought something to help.”

He opened his eyes slowly, the stormy blue of his gaze meeting yours. Despite his pain, his expression softened ever so slightly at the sight of you. “Little one,” he rumbled, his voice deep and resonant, “why are you here? This is no place for a delicate creature like you.” You frowned, settling beside him. “Delicate or not, I’m not leaving you like this. Someone has to patch you up, and it looks like it’ll have to be me.”

Poseidon’s lips twitched into a faint smirk, but he didn’t protest as you carefully unwrapped the herbs and seaweed. He watched you work in silence as you began cleaning his wounds, your gentle hands moving with practiced care. “What happened?” you asked after a while, glancing up at him.

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he didn’t answer. “Odysseus,” he said finally, his voice laced with bitterness. “The mortal thought himself clever enough to challenge a god. He got the better of me…this time.” You winced at the anger in his tone, but you didn’t let it distract you. “You’ll recover,” you said firmly, wrapping a particularly nasty gash with a strip of kelp. “And then you can…I don’t know, throw a tidal wave at him or something.”

Poseidon chuckled, a low rumble that vibrated through the water. “You’ve got a wicked streak, don’t you?” You smiled shyly, your fingers brushing against his skin as you adjusted one of the wraps. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time around you.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment, and you felt the weight of it like the press of a current. “You’re bold,” he said, his voice softer now. “Few would dare to touch a god, let alone lecture him.”

You shrugged, focusing on tying off another bandage. “You’re not just a god to me,” you said quietly. “You’re Poseidon. You’ve always protected me, always looked out for my kind. It’s my turn to look out for you.” Poseidon was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with a gentleness that surprised you, he reached out and cupped your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “You’re a curious one,” he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. “Perhaps it’s no wonder I’ve always been drawn to you.”

Your heart fluttered, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the last of his wounds. “Don’t get all sentimental on me now,” you said, trying to lighten the mood. “Just rest,” you said, finishing your work. “You’ll need your strength for whatever comes next.” Poseidon closed his eyes, a small smile playing on his lips. “Whatever comes next,” he repeated, his voice a soft rumble. “I’ll face it.”

You stayed by his side as he drifted into a peaceful slumber, the waters around you calm and still, as if the ocean itself were holding its breath.

#epic the musical #epic the musical x reader #poseidon #poseidon epic the musical #epic the musical poseidon #poseidon x reader

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marvelstoriesepic · 2 months ago

Text

The ropes that bind me

Pairing: Fisherman!Bucky x Mermaid!Reader

Summary: Being a creature of the sea, you are bound to a life beyond the surface, always in sight of the human realm, yet forever out of grasp. But after centuries of this finned existence it’s a fisherman coming to the docks day after day that compels you to bridge the gap between your worlds, despite the warnings about humanity being ingrained into your kind your whole life. Will you meet the same tragic end as several of your sisters before?

Word Count: 13.4k

Warnings: mentions of murder; capture; death; a terrible father; slow burn

Author’s note: This is part one. I planned on writing this as a one-shot but I felt like it got a little too extensive, so I decided to split it up. I'm working on the second part but I can’t promise y'all anything about when I will publish it.

[Divider from @silkholland ]

Masterlist

It’s a risk. You know that.

Your kind rarely ventures out of your sacred sanctuary.

But there’s a curiosity you’ve kept guarded for so long, one that manifested, trembling in your soul for such a long time. And the time has come for it to reach the surface, urging you to do something.

It’s a reckless decision that would send your sisters into a chorus of disbelief, their voices sharp and laced with warning, if they only knew about your whereabouts.

If they only knew what pulled you to the green horizons, uncharted by your finned existence.

“Only a foolish heart dares to venture where the water’s touch has never extended.”

That’s what you’ve been told centuries ago. That’s what you’ve been told almost every day since the first. Because living on land meant living like a human. It meant dying like a human too, shortening the span of your life to the ones of the townsfolk.

And yet, here you stand, arms outstretched to feel the wind on your skin, the soil beneath your trembling feet like the softest moss kissed by the light of the sun. You haven’t used your legs in a while. After years and years of floating through jeweled depths, where silence cradles and the currents hum lullabies, your legs feel unfamiliar, unfurling from limps long forgotten, awakening with an overwhelming buzz of sensation.

The very earth breathes beneath your bare toes and the thrill that thrums to life in your belly elicits a laugh that slips free.

You had managed to steal a pair of trousers and a shirt from a man near the shore and you relish in the way the fabric brushes against your bare skin underneath.

At first, the feeling of standing on land is surreal, a strange rapture coursing through your body as you feel the ground’s warmth seep into you. And you do your best to recall the forgotten melody of walking, the sweet cadence of motion.

It’s like the earth has a heartbeat and you feel it in your toes, in the balls of your feet. The texture of the grass feels tantalizing, each blade teasing and tickling your senses as a slight breeze tangles with your long hair, making it sway and play with the wind.

The air is suffused with the sweet scent of flowers you don’t know the names of and you hear notes of music spilling from open windows of the cottages you get closer to with each timid step.

And as the uneven cobblestone of the streets meets your feet, you gasp at the new feeling. It’s hard and cold at your delicate skin and you let it sink in.

Your heart races with every, still slightly unsteady step as you get used to the headiness of gravity.

This moment feels so fragile, yet monumental and you don’t do much to try and suppress the wild exhilaration that keeps you going, reclaiming a new kind of freedom you only observed from your watery haven for so long.

The first time you made use of your legs, you were only able to half-crawl, half-rob to a canopy of trees where you hid behind, watching them in their community.

Humans.

One of your sisters, Zephyra, insisted you come with her and watch them.

Thus, you observed, hidden between thick trunks of trees and branches hanging above and beside you - surrounded by the forest at the edge of the village. You drank in the melodies of laughter, the tender exchanges, the innocence of life that beats through the streets of the town like a heart so deeply treasured.

You watched with wide eyes how children chased one another through fields, their giggles, and squeals carried over to you by a breeze you’ll only feel on land.

People walked hand in hand, words soft and sweet like the gentle cooing of doves not far off, picking at crumbs on the ground, and you never had been so in awe with anything before as in that moment, never felt a longing so implanted in your veins it actually made something squeeze in your chest. A stab tore through you.

It was their emotions that fascinated you most - the way a mother knelt to catch her child’s tears or the fervent embrace of two people in the shadows of the cottages. In every glance, every smile, you saw the depths of passion and sorrow, joy and despair, that you so longed to fathom.

The humans live under a sun that dips into the horizon, casting shadows you only ever watched hidden away from all of this.

You craved it. You wanted it.

But after Zephyra and you returned home, the stories you were told scared you off enough to never set foot on this land again. Humans could never understand, could never accept your essence. They would hunt you the second they lay eyes on you, kill you with a spear so quick there’s nothing you could do.

You’ve been told that’s what happened to your sisters Aella and Lirienne as they disappeared decades ago.

But oh, how you always yearned to touch their reality, to be a part of their existence, if only just for a fleeting instant. It was an intoxicating allure that called to the very core of your being.

So, you continued watching those men.

The men that steal the fish out of your waters. You would peek out of the surface and watch the boats bobbing, fishermen casting their nets and sharing conversations.

You always take great care to remain hidden, only your head peeking out of the water, cloaked with delicate seaweed and bubbles that would shimmer in the light of the sinking or rising sun, shadowed by the willows hanging over you from the land.

At dusk, when the fishermen would return, you'd delight in the warm glow of lanterns illuminating the harbor, casting a golden light over the water, as if honoring the creatures that live there.

But even in the countless years that followed, you kept your distance from the town. The allure of a home just out of reach kept resounding in your heart, but remained unacknowledged. It was a promise carved deep into your resolve, a tribute to your fallen sisters.

Even your beloved sister Zephyra disappeared one day, never returning to the waters again.

So, you stayed away, left with a solitude that cradled your pain. You lingered on the edges of the world, where your sisters’ memory lay, resting heavily upon the water’s surface.

Until him.

At first, he was a fleeting silhouette, unnoticed by your eyes. Just a boy with an impish grin and eyes that sparkled like the dappled sunlight that filters through the leaves of the trees whose shadows help you stay unseen by curious eyes. He was just a flicker of movement by the shore, a mere shadow dipping nets into the shallows.

But as the seasons turned and years rolled by, he transformed in a way that lured you in. And as he grew, so did your awareness of him. Brown strands - long, wild, and tempestuous in the summer breeze, then neatly cropped in the chill of winter - framed a face that was a canvas of boyish charm, deepening into the rugged handsomeness of manhood. Each summer blossomed him into a stranger you couldn’t help but behold, yet feared to know.

He now wears marks of the earth, the land you craved to wander. Sun on his skin, wind in the creases of his brow, roots by his eyes.

He seems to know the waters well - the waters you call your home - and it fills you with an emotion, a warmth, you can’t place. His eyes always hold a depth and you even found out their color after a reckless pursuit drove you to getting a little closer one day - a color so bright you only ever get to see it when looking up at the sky when the seas are at their calmest.

He always moves with an elegance that belied his trade, as if the sea itself had taught him the rhythm of the tides.

You watched him as one watches a season unfold, slowly, each detail revealing itself over time. His shoulders are broad and he bears a certain strength - a strength that speaks of patience, of waiting, of knowing what to do after so many years of doing it.

Each glance you steal at him, each morning you wait for him to show up like a living poem crafted from sunlight and shadow, you feel a rising anticipation for something you haven’t been sure what to make of.

His laughter often reaches you and it enthralls the very essence of your being, lifting you from the deepness where you had long chosen to dwell.

It made you question whether this man was the kind to put a spear through your chest at your first encounter.

He’s a quiet being. And yet a single look at him sets your skin aflame and everything within you bubbling in ways you never felt before.

It’s in the way he would linger by the water at dawn, his gaze distant, as though he, too, could sense a world just beyond his reach. And it was then, when he was alone and unguarded, that you could almost feel the beats of your different hearts aligning, as if he sensed you there, as if he might turn his head just once and meet your hidden gaze.

He never did. And so, you watched in silence, a lonely witness to his life. Until watching no longer felt enough, until the towns call and the pull of his shadow became a song that demanded to be answered.

Because in those stolen moments, you felt the tumult of a long-suppressed yearning. A yearning that whispered sweetly of possibility, beckoning you to reclaim what had been left behind.

A longing that both terrified and thrilled you, as it slowly chipped away at the fortress you had built around your heart. Every fiber of your being wished to reach out to him, yet the ghosts of your fallen sisters remained a haunting reminder, ever ready to dissolve the hope that rose anew.

“Hey, you.”

You had memorized the voice of this man, cataloged its nuances like a precious artifact, each inflection etched into the tapestry of your consciousness.

You’ve come to know it like you know the sound of the soft patter of raindrops landing on your watery home, each variation a note in a song you never asked to learn yet can’t unhear.

Sometimes it’s soft as a breeze rippling across the water, a gentle murmur that barely touches the air nor reaches your ears.

Other times it’s light, like the hush of wind through a grove of the willows that shadow you, gentle and easy, coaxing warmth from the marrow of your bones.

And then there were moments when it sharpened, an imperceptible blade glinting in the sunlight. It didn’t happen often. Rarely.

But you remembered the time when that little girl with the same chestnut hair moved perilously close to the water’s brink, stumbling and almost falling into the cold.

You held your breath as he acted, pulling her away swiftly with a reflex that was impressive to you. His voice had shifted then, tone arching with urgency and fear as he scolded the girl with authority and a warning in his tone.

You felt the force of his words ripple through the water, almost enough to draw you forward, enough to make you long to touch the shore.

But then she gazed up at him and he stopped, hanging his head and letting out a long breath before crouching down to her height meeting her eyes with his own burning cerulean. His voice had lowered to a gentle mumble, too soft for you to make out the words. But you could see the way his shoulders had slumped, saw the soft brush of his fingers as they tucked a stray brown curl behind her ear, coaxing reassurances and apologies from deep within.

You came to know his voice in all its colors - the rough, the tender, the ache of his untouched presence as it stretched across the sea, reaching without knowing, searching without seeking.

And now, that voice; the same you’ve traced in the chambers of your heart - this time, for the first time, it’s meant for you.

You don’t know what to do, so you simply stop, every part of you coming to an abrupt, swaying halt. It’s so sudden, your balance on limps that aren’t yet truly yours, teeters and your new-forged feet betray you with a faint, unsteady wobble. You falter, nearly tipping forward but somehow catching yourself before the moment could betray your clumsiness.

A low, hushed laugh floats across the space between you, perhaps carrying a hint of an apology. A chuckle you only ever were granted to hear with an ocean separating you. There’s a kindness in it that verges closer to your heart than you’ve ever let anything reach. You feel it curl around you, lingering like the air just before rainfall, filling every part of you with a building awareness.

Slowly, you turn, each movement deliberate as it dawns on you that this is the first time you’ll see him up close. And it’s earlier than you had expected.

His gaze is trained on you with a calm you can’t quite reconcile with the way it leaves you breathless. For the first time, you look into his face and watch him look at you in return. You really see him as you had only dared to from afar before, and the sight is somehow more vivid than anything the light and shadows of memory had ever sketched.

It takes everything in you to keep you from losing your footing, to hold yourself back from tumbling headlong into that gaze. Those eyes are even softer up close, quieter somehow as if they hold within them the deep, untroubled patience of still water.

They look at you in a way that sets your spirit ablaze, a look that feels like an invitation, an opening - a silent gesture drawing you into something vast and uncharted, like the dark waters that stretch out from the shore, the waters you now see from his point of view.

“Apologies if I startled you.” His voice is soft, a gentle curve of his lips and an apology in his tone. His smile feels like it is made for you, as if shaped by the kindness he carries.

His gaze settles on you, taking in details with an openness that lets you hold steady, your heart fluttering wildly.

His eyes drift, skimming over the loose folds of fabric draped awkwardly over your frame, too loose to be your own. You’re not even sure you put the clothes on correctly. There are so many holes and ends, it’s confusing, despite the fact that you watch them wear those kinds of things every day.

Still, it’s a strange weight that tugs at your shoulders and you feel each thread press against you. The fabric hangs from you in off places, sagging and bunching, like a poorly assembled cloak.

You watch him closely, like so many times before. Noticing the exact shirt he is wearing, the glint of something - a chain - around his neck that always catches the sunlight on the docks, the tousled strands of dark hair falling onto his forehead. Not as long as some years but not as short as others. Somewhere in between.

And the kindness on is face that doesn��t shift at the sight of your appearance. There’s nothing but warmth in the smile he gives you. Perhaps a hint of curiosity glints in his eyes and a little bit of sympathy, but his expression is devoid of the sour notes of judgment.

He doesn’t laugh, doesn’t narrow his gaze into some cold scrutiny. Instead, his eyes linger softly, understanding, the kind of look that might calm your beloved waters in the midst of a storm.

“I have never seen you here before,” he quietly ponders and you’re not even sure if he even directed that your way. Though, human interactions are obviously not your forte, so you can’t be sure.

You don’t know what to say to that, yet it seems like his attention isn’t exactly fixed on a possible answer you might give him. He glances downward and something in his gaze pulls tight. You look down at yourself, only seeing your feet splayed against the damp, chilled stone, the skin bare and exposed against the rough and dirty ground.

His brow creases, a subtle furrow pulling at the lines of his face, shadows gathering where light once rested. His smile is replaced by a slight frown - a soft, thoughtful sorrow - and in that shift, you see a compassion as real as anything you’ve ever known.

“Where are your shoes?” he asks, voice gentle but confused and also blending in with something else. Is that concern, perhaps? You’re still trying to get a hold of human emotions. “You really should wear some! Or else, you will get sick.”

The words catch you off-guard, pulling you from whatever veil of composure you’d managed to hold. You meet his eyes then, startled again at the intensity you never were on the receiving end of before. He looks at you as if he’s seeing right through you, past this fragile disguise of human form.

You realize then, with the thickening air between you, that he indeed waits for you to say something.

You open your mouth, letting the air hold his question a little longer as you only manage to take a breath in. Your skin heats up and you feel exposed without the lap of water on your skin. A strange pulse quickens inside you.

What could you say?

You’re not wearing shoes because you’ve never needed them, because your feet have only known the touch of smooth stones and seaweed and cool, endless water in the form of fins.

But these words falter before they ever reach the air, answering the question that still lingers there, drowning somewhere in your throat.

You manage only a small, soft sound, a hesitant beginning of something - yet it withers almost as soon as it forms.

But he’s still watching you, still waiting. The kindness in his face shifts into something almost protective, as though he senses the way you shrink back, the unease that rises in you.

The air stills around you as he begins to lower himself to the ground, hands moving with intent and you watch him in shock as he fumbles with the laces of his own boots.

One by one, he slips out of them, his bare feet settling against the cold, unyielding stone with a casualness that leaves you bewildered.

You stand there, caught somewhere between astonishment and a strange, blooming curiosity. What is he doing? The question hangs on the tip of your tongue but it never quite forms.

Instead, you only stare, your eyes wide, your heart tripping over itself as you watch him in his crouched position before you. His head tilts upward, a faint smile gracing his lips at the sight of your confused and startled expression.

His hands are steady as he reaches toward you, his fingertips pausing just a breath away from your skin, so close it sends a shiver over you and he hasn’t even touched you yet. His eyes flicker to yours, asking without words, his gaze careful, as if giving you a chance to retreat if you wish.

But you don’t. You can’t. All you’re able to do is watch, motionless, as he gently lifts one of your feet, his touch feather-light and yet enough to send a shiver of heat through your body. Carefully he slips your foot into the empty space of his boot.

The leather envelopes your foot and it feels foreign and strange, but there’s an odd comfort. The warmth of his skin still lingers. He glances up at you every few seconds, his gaze still questioning, but also assuring, all blended in the same shade of blue.

You still don’t say a word. You’re simply frozen, gaping at this man in wonder and disbelief as he kneels before you. He slips the other boot onto your remaining foot, his touch leaving you, only hovering now, like the softest ripple across the surface of the sea.

And when he finally stands, he moves up slowly, looking at your now covered feet, wrapped in the warmth he left behind. Satisfaction enters his features, easing some of the lines on his forehead and he nods subtly.

For a moment, he simply looks at you, and you are captivated by the light that swims in his eyes, a light you never captured in a glance from this far away.

You watched this man for years from your hidden places, observing without ever being seen. But never would you have anticipated this kind of reaction. This kind act doesn’t seem to come from the same folk of people who murdered your sisters.

Humans have always been strange. Their motives elusive and tangled, but now, as you stare down at his boots on your own feet, something deeper drops in your stomach, like a stone thrown into the waters that marked your home for so long.

But never in the centuries living there, you had known this sensation.

You look down at your feet and it’s weird not to see the familiarity of your skin you come to expect. Feet so used to water, now wrapped in the leather of his world.

A faint shake of your head accompanies the slight crease of your brows, a wordless attempt to deny this generous strangeness. But before you can actually say anything, he speaks up.

“You should have them. Keep them,” he insists, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards his smile that seems to reach you, almost warming the air between you both.

You lift your eyes to him, gaze wide and unsure, searching his face as though it might hold the answer to a question you’re just now learning to ask.

He nods with his smile in place, reassuring eyes focused on you. He doesn’t seem to mind your lack of answers, doesn’t question the quiet you keep.

But your eyes drop to the cold stone beneath him, where his own bare feet now rest. Guilt picks at your chest and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth.

However, he catches your look and waves it away with a soft shake of his head, his voice low and soothing. “Don’t worry about me, yeah?” He gestures to the boots on your feet with a tilt of his dimpled chin. “I’ve got another pair of those back at home. You need them more than I do.”

That’s far from the truth but again you don’t manage to say it out loud.

You’ve waited for this moment - a moment with him - in the lonely spaces of longing for years that drifted by like currents, each one pulling you back to him. Watched him from the shadows of the willows, hoping for this closeness, wondering what it would feel like to stand before him in this strange new world of breath and heartbeat.

You had thought a thousand times what you might say, how you might reveal yourself, how you’d keep your hidden nature to yourself. But now, standing in front of him, with his kindness covering you like the borrowed warmth of his feet, you find that words slip from your grasp, elusive as the mist on morning water.

This outcome is something you’ve never envisioned.

He’s so unlike anything you’ve ever known or even seen in the years of observing. You thought you’ve come to understand this whole other world of living by simply watching, but it seems like you were wrong.

And now, with him so near, you feel an ache within you. It’s an urgency, to hold onto this moment, to gather it like water cupped in your hands without letting it seep through your fingers, slipping away and only leaving few drops of memories.

The thought of him turning, of watching him fade back into his life while you slip back into the waiting depths, unsettles you in a way that feels almost as if it could be human.

Before he can drift from this shared quiet, you open your mouth, desperate to get an answer to a question you’ve been craving to know for so long. Words rise up in a fragile rush, each one carrying the weight of years without knowing.

“What’s your name?”

The question comes out soft, hesitant, unused to forming sound above the water’s edge, especially not in the presence of a human.

Your voice is so unfamiliar in the open air, it feels like something fragile and newly-formed, like your human legs, still feeling slightly foreign and unstable.

The words feel small, tentative, yet they seem to reach him with a firm presence, judging the wide grin that splits his face. You’re blinded for a moment, despite the sun having set already.

There’s a flash in the brightness of his eyes, like a spark in the deep blue dusk.

“James,” he drawls, and his voice drapes over the name like a soft weave of warmth, rolling off with ease and a hint of satisfaction at your question that sends a shiver trailing up your spine.

It’s strange to put a name to the face of your dreams. He feels almost different now. He feels closer. And every soft whistle of wind even far off in the distance seems to echo his name back to you. Every lap of the water against the shore seems to repeat it for you. As if you could ever forget.

“But,” he adds, his grin deepening, voice dropping to a softer, more intimate note, “you can call me Bucky.”

The words lap at your skin like the water has so long. You only heard it now, but it feels so familiar already, despite it sounding like something so foreign. Bucky. You repeat it in your mind. You will repeat it until the day you die.

It sits strange but soothing in your mind, something he handed to you, something he gave for you to keep. He stands before you now, not as the man you’d glimpsed from afar, but as James - Bucky - a person with a story, with a name that now belongs to your memory just as surely as he belongs to this moment.

And though you have only just spoken to him and his actions did surprise you, somehow, in a way you can’t explain, it feels as though you’ve known him all along.

****

Your sisters hadn’t noticed your absence that day.

But they did notice the way you lingered with your head out of the water, watching these fishermen until the sky darkened day after day. You only retreated to the depths, once Bucky’s back disappeared down the cobblestone streets.

Because since you got the chance to meet and talk to Bucky, you neglected subtlety.

You just wanted to see him again.

“Be careful,” Thalassa had murmured, her voice a whispering tide as she glided to the surface next to you, also watching the human figures along the docks. Her emerald tail brushed against your turquoise one for a moment, as if conveying the importance of her words.

But you didn’t offer a response. And after a short while she retreated into the depths with a reluctant flick of her tail, leaving you alone to the swell of emotions you only thought humans to have for a long time.

Your heart was alight with a strange duality, torn between the allure of the surface world and the dark abyss of your home. The lapping of the soft waves against your skin tenderly reminds you of the boundary you danced along.

Your sisters could not know of Bucky. Could not know of his attachment to your heart, because revealing him would be to unleash the tempest that lay between the realms of man and mermaid.

So you ignored their probing gazes, the burn of their suspicions. Rather, you watched another day come to an end, dusk velveting the horizon, painting it with strokes of amber and indigo as he vanished between the silhouettes of aged buildings.

It had been weeks since your encounter. Weeks that mean nothing to your endless life, mere moments devoured by the deep vastness of time. But perhaps it feels longer for Bucky and his human life.

He’s been a little different at one point. He looks around more, takes pauses to watch the people walk down the streets with shadows across his brows.

With every sun that dips below the horizon, every glow of light flickering on across the docks, you watch him in interest as he lingers.

His gaze sweeps more, taking in everything around him - the bustling streets that lay deserted at night, the infinite expanse of water that holds you. It’s as if he’s looking for something - or perhaps someone.

Each glance holds a flicker of hope, but it gets dimmed as day after day passes.

The disappointment weighing on his shoulders almost persuaded you to reach out from the abyss, to slip through the veil that separates your world. The sight pulls at you as strong as any current, urging you to bridge the distance between you.

There were moments you almost did - almost let yourself glide toward him and let your fingertips brush the fabric of the surface where his distant gaze lingered.

But each time, just as your heart crested with resolve, you’d stop, some inner instinct tugging you back down. With tendrils of kelp tangling around your tail, a benevolent force pulling you under, as if the ocean itself were binding you, holding you fast in the memory of your lost sisters.

It kept you from making a possible mistake.

Perhaps the same one your sisters did before you.

You crave his attention once more, the way his eyes met yours, the way they traveled over your human form. So gentle. So intrigued.

Yet, each time, you quelled the urge.

What if the world above bears little resemblance to the dreams you harbored beneath the waves?

What if Bucky is the only man - the only human soul tender enough, strange enough to pull the boots from his own feet and place them on yours, bare and unaccustomed to the earth’s cold bite?

A fisherman like many others, working in an air full of salt and sun, roughened by the chores it entails, yet soft in a way that lured you in, creeping into the imaginations of a world that’s cruel to your kind.

But he looked at you with a gentleness, so unbidden and unassuming, so freely given.

He gave you his boots and didn’t expect anything in return.

The boots, sturdy and worn, carrying the scent of the shoreline and the faintest trace of him, as if they still carry his warmth.

You hid them. Hopefully well enough away from your sisters to find.

They’re tucked deep in the hollow of a great rock crevice beneath the ocean floor, enveloped with kelp, nestled between beds of soft sand.

They lay there in waiting, concealed from the curious eyes of your kin, camouflaged among the seaweed and driftwood that crowds the small cavern.

When you visit them you let your fingers brush across the leather, feeling the texture of the old fabric, the rough weave that had known the weight of his footsteps.

There has to be a reason why he alone has caught your attention. Why his face moves like a movie in your mind. Why his voice sounds in your ears even when you’re diving deep through the water.

You had watched the men at the docks for centuries. Watched their faces hardened by work, their voices loud and grating, their laughter rough as stones grinding together.

They are everything that Bucky isn’t.

He became your project, your indulgence, the one spark that lit through your endless existence in an undiscovered world.

And with each passing week, the waters of your mind seem to grow murkier, filled with the haze of a foolish infatuation. You found yourself growing bolder, your curiosity morphing into a reckless ache that defied the cautious distance you were never meant to cross.

So, right now, you drift closer to his boat, close enough to feel the whisper of his oars cutting through the water, to catch the careful pull of his hands as he gathers his nets.

The urge to help him sneaks up on you, a strange, insistent pull that makes no sense. But you stay near, watching, waiting, wishing somehow to ease his work as if you might soften the weight of his nets or guide the fish into his reach.

There was a time when the very sight of a fisherman stirred only bitterness in your chest. You remember the way you used to despise them, the men who intruded upon your world, robbing it of life with no thought to the dynamic of the sea.

The fish are companions. Creatures who share your water, belonging to the ocean as much as you do.

These men would come, nets spread wide, taking what was not theirs to take, disturbing the balance you and your sisters held so dear.

You remember watching with a cold, simmering anger, feeling the injustice sharp like the end of the spears that slice through the surface of the calm waters to hit their mark.

They would descend upon your waters - eyes cold, features grim, hands rough, determination in their rowdy voices - as if they owned the very nature of life that swam right beside you.

How you loathed the way they dredged your domains, the waters bared of their bounty, the fish that once had danced freely in the ebb and blow of the tide. Their insatiable greed felt like murder in your heart.

In those times, you and your sisters lurked near their boats, hiding beneath the water’s shadow. With a thrill of mischief, you made the waters churn and swell, coaxing the fish to retreat, your shared laughter a sweet counterpoint to the gruff curses hurled by the men.

You hummed the call that kept the fish away, a high and reverberating sound that sent the scales darting to safer depths.

It left the men bewildered and you sent them home with empty nets and a frail temper.

It was a game of sorts. A contest that played out in silence. A protest raised by the scorn that lived in your heart.

But Thalassa, the eldest and sharpest, had lectured you and your sisters. She watched you from the shadow of the rocks and willows, her eyes stern and unsympathetic as she spoke of caution, of balance, of the risks of tempting human wrath.

“Leave them be. They are dangerous,” she would warn, “we cannot disturb their world without consequence.”

You listened with half an ear, always eager to return to the surface and defy them once more.

Yet now, you find yourself drifting even closer to Bucky’s boat with none of that bitterness. He works in a way that seems careful and respectful, his voice low as he murmurs into the open air. Sometimes to himself, sometimes to a companion, sometimes to the sea.

He never shouts or lashes out at the water, doesn’t hold the same harshness as most of the others. There is something in him you want to protect, to ease, to give him some small reprieve from the toil of his days.

So, something calls you to help him, to slip through the currents unseen, guiding fish toward his nets. Perhaps he might even feel the abundance, sensing something unusual in the generosity in his catch, as though, he, too, were being seen, were being cared for.

You know his boat well by now. Know the way it cuts through the waves. You had watched it from afar, drifting close enough to feel the subtle pull of its wake, but never daring to let it come too close.

But you crave details. The sun-cracked lines that spider across the surface. The exact color that marks the wood.

Deliberately, you reach a hand up, fingertips weaving through the water until they brush against the boat. It is rough to the touch. Rougher than most of the things in the smooth underwater life.

Your eyes focus on the flecks of rust around the nails, and thin cords of rope frayed at the ends where his hands must have held them countless times.

You move around the net that innocently floats in the water beside you. It brushes against your scales. A teasing brush, as if it’s alive, curious just as you are.

But you’re too caught up with the way he’s so close to you, right above you, that you don’t give the net much of your acknowledgment.

Foolish. That’s what your sisters would call it.

It twists, rough weave pressing against your waist, looping around you and you notice it too late before it tightens. It’s almost aggressive in the way it scrapes at your scales, clinging, pulling tighter still until you realize, you’re bound.

Every knot - perhaps handmade by Bucky himself - presses into you, pinching at the soft places that had never known the feel of something so abrasive, so coarse.

Panic rose sharply in your chest. An emotion you hadn’t felt in this expanse. An emotion you hadn’t felt at all. A silent scream holds you back as you struggle, feeling the ropes bite into your skin, its fibers digging like tiny claws.

Each movement makes it worse, the net swallowing you with each panicked twist and turn, until your fins lay trapped, folded painfully against your body, your long hair caught between strands.

You tug, hiss, pull, in a desperate attempt to escape. But it only digs deeper with each effort.

Your tail is twisted agonizingly, arms bound by your sides. You understand now, what Thalassa had meant. What she had warned you about. The stories of your sisters who strayed too close to the human world and found themselves ensnared.

The stories that ended in a tragedy you might experience yourself. Caught in the same cage that claimed so many lives from the sea, that captured breath and flesh without mercy.

Every inch of the net presses into you, relentlessly, a weave too tight for escape with a brutality that forces every inhale to catch, every exhale to strain. You feel your own heartbeat thundering beneath your skin. A sensation that’s so new and overwhelming, you lose all sense of direction for a second.

You’re trapped as surely as the fish you once pitied.

You hiss, fangs bared in desperation, mixed with a sliver of fury that coils as tight in your gut as the ropes around your body.

A shadow falls long across the water, over your form, and you still. Your breath quivers but another hiss sounds from your body as the water shivers around you and the net begins to rise. The net you’re caught in.

You are lifted, inch by inch from the depths that are your sanctuary but feel so far away in this moment. So unreachable. You miss it already.

Water slips away from you, flowing past your limbs, leaving you heavier in the net’s trap. You wonder, in those painful, breathless moments, if this is what the others had felt. If this is what Zephyra had to endure alone all those years ago.

Did she too feel her body pressed into the harsh fibers of this human snare, her breath coming shallow as her world receded, giving way to theirs? Your mind whispers a silent prayer in loss and sorrow, a prayer that sounds like her name. You know she won’t be able to answer.

The net holds you mercilessly, a tangle that knows nothing of you, knows nothing of the life it’s entrapping. It just takes it.

Fragments of thought flash through your head - images of your sisters who’d be filled with grief if you too wouldn’t come home again; the sea caves that hold Bucky’s boots with the secret of your infatuation with the man; the drifting kelp you passed countless times; the soft beds of sand where you once lay undisturbed.

You’re bound like any other fish of the sea, the dignity of your form crumpled into the harsh weave of the net as it lifts you even higher, into a world you begin to realize you were never meant to enter.

You wonder if this is to be the end.

If Bucky will draw you up from the water and look upon you with the same indifferent gaze he might give a dying fish, a thing captured and condemned. Or if his face will fill with hatred and disgust, driving his spear through your delicate body faster than you can react.

It would be almost poetic, wouldn’t it?

To die by his hands, those hands that gifted you warmth, that smiled upon you with kindness, that once held you in a gaze so soft it stole your resolve.

The man you’d spent countless hours watching, the one who captivated you beyond reason, the one who drew you closer despite every warning. James. Bucky. His name echoes through you as the net drags you upward. A bittersweet irony that cuts deeper than the thin ropes around you.

You break the surface, the water’s last drops slipping from your arms as the harsh bite of air claims you. Its chill presses close, where the net presses closer. The cold seeps fast, faster than you thought air could reach, sinking sharp teeth into you.

The thundering of your pulse rushes through your veins and spreads through your entire body until it sounds in your ears. It’s both, desperate and fierce. Your bound and bruised body awakens to the fire that flickers with each throb, and you tug and twist with a new fury, igniting against the woven lines that dig and press, refusing to relent.

The sun cuts down in a blinding blaze, harsh and painful in your eyes, and it strikes you like a glare from another world. You squint, hissing through your teeth, fangs exposed; scales, skin, and face pressed to the net’s unforgiving roughness. It takes several heartbeats - long, dragging seconds - before the light dims enough to reveal the world above, the world you’ve glimpsed but never known.

And then your eyes adjust, widening as you take in the shape before you, hovering over you, leaned over the edge of his boat.

Your hissing stills. Fangs pull back. The fight in your body slows.

Bucky’s hands are steady and sure on the net, gripping it and holding you with a kind of strength that is impressive for humankind. But they are frozen. Neither pulling nor loosening his grip, holding you just so - poised between worlds. Caught where the water clings but air consumes, where your tail flickers on the edge of transformation, not quite yet splitting into separate, human limbs.

You are held, suspended, both in body and gaze and in the stillness even the ocean seems to hold onto.

Bucky’s face is wide open, slacked, features drawn in a way that lets you see it all - shock, utter disbelief, something deep and vulnerable you cannot name.

His mouth is parted as he stares, silent and struck, and there is a tremble in his grip now as if he himself has become the one who is captured. Spellbound.

There is no cruelty in his face, none of the hardened indifference you’d feared to find in a fisherman’s eyes.

But your breaths are still shallow, each one strained as you cling to the scratchy lines of the net, fingers wrapping tightly around its strands, your chest heaving in dragging motions.

You’re caught in the pull of his gaze, the vehemence in his blue eyes, wide and wild, locked onto yours with an intensity that burrows deeper than you’d have thought a human’s eye could reach.

You feel exposed, more naked than the sea has ever left you, as though he sees through the scales, the sharpness in your gaze and fangs, right down to the pulse of fear that flutters beneath your skin. He stares and, impossibly, you stare back.

But then, after what feels like an endless, drowning silence, something shifts. His gaze softens, something curling at the brink of his stare as he takes you in with something beyond shock.

His shoulders ease, the rigidity in his body smoothing as his breathing starts again. His grip remains firm on the ropes that hold you. But there is no malice in his touch, only a steady hand, a gaze that pulls you in even if you strain to resist it.

The fear within you thrashes wildly like you’re just a wounded creature sensing its end. You feel yourself trembling, breath coming faster, more desperate, betraying the dread that swims in your eyes the longer you are held half above, half in the water.

Bucky notices, his brows drawing together, a crease deepening between them, concern coloring his expression in a way you do not understand.

His gaze slips away from you for a moment, surveying the open water. He glances around, looking at the stretch of horizon where boats might appear, where more of his kind could descend upon you if he called out, if he raised his voice to summon help.

Your chest tightens, breath catching in a strangled gasp as terror flares anew, your eyes widening. Would he actually call for help? Would he actually hand you over like every other day’s catch and watch your execution?

Another hiss builds up, but it leaves your lips faint and broken, the sound weak with fear. Not of warning but of helplessness.

It echoes soft and strained over the water, barely more than a whisper against the waves. As if your voice is held captive just like your body.

He hears it, the small note of despair hidden in your voice, and his head jerks back. His gaze finds you once more.

There is something in his eyes that speaks of an apology. A remorse that settles deeper as the water below. His hold on the net loosens, his grip easing so that more of the water can reach you again, its familiar caress lapping at your form. As if trying to pull you back toward the safety you called your home for so long. As if desperate to help you escape this cage.

He recognizes you. You see it in his eyes. You basically watch the gears turning, the way realization washes over his features. But there is so much more. Wonder. Inquiry. Awe. Astonishment. One that seems to draw him closer, as if he is not simply looking at a creature of the sea but at something miraculous, something precious.

One of his hands slips free from the net, and you feel its absence like a weight lifted, the net sagging slightly around you, allowing you to feel more of the water.

He turns his shoulder, his movements slow, careful not to startle you further. He searches behind him, brushing over the clutter of his boat. But his gaze remains softly tethered to yours.

Then, a glint catches your eye, a flash of steel in his hand. A knife. Sudden tension bolts through your limbs. Instinctively, your body tries to recoil but is still unable to do so.

Alarm shoots through his eyes at the subtle tremor rippling down your form.

“Easy,” he soothes, “it’s alright.” He says it with a whisper, a softness you only ever watched his lips form from afar but the sound never reached your ears before. Your body stills with the ease that sinks into your bones.

His mouth lifts into a faint, reassuring smile, quieting the last stirrings of panic.

With slow hands he presses the blade to the lines of rope, wielding it with a care that feels sacred. His brow furrows in concentration as he cuts through the knotted fibers, slicing where they press too tightly against you, but never letting the blade get too near to your skin.

He doesn’t even hesitate. Doesn’t pause a second to consider the effort it probably took to craft this net, nor the care in each knot that now falls loose under his hand.

Every movement of his hands are deliberate. His gaze flickers from the net to your face, to your trapped form, careful not to linger anywhere that might unsettle you, cautious not to graze the skin and scales stretched vulnerable against the bindings.

You watch him as you did when he slipped those heavy boots onto your bare feet those many weeks ago. That same startled disbelief makes itself some space within you, spreading like the cold dawn light always filtering through the water’s surface, that usually shimmers on your scales.

Your eyes linger on him, trying to understand, to piece together this contradiction in the form of a fisherman. A human, as gentle as he is foreign.

Again and again, you were told of their harshness, of the relentless cruelty they carry, their disregard for the life coursing through the sea.

So how is this man real? How is he here with his soft eyes, hands working with such care, brows drawn into a crease of concern? Instead of malice, there is a kindness in the lines around his eyes, deeply ingrained in his irises and it startles you all the same, like it has the first time.

This man - James - Bucky - is no villain of your sister’s stories.

He is not the faceless terror of the human shore.

He is something else entirely. An exception, perhaps. The one who is gentle where others might be harsh, who frees instead of binds.

Somehow, that exception is enough for you.

Enough to loosen the warnings of your sisters they etched into your memory, the caution they expect you to keep, the dread they drape over the very mention of men and nets and sharp steel.

Because you’re not looking at a murderer. You’re looking at your savior.

And he is working for your freedom, movements leisurely and measured, until the last binding of rope has fallen away, each woven knot surrendering beneath his blade.

You feel the grip of it loosen, and with it, a strange new lightness fills the parts of you that had been pinned down, captured.

There are bruises now, dark and tender, littering your skin, and small cuts where the net bit into you. But the pain is an afterthought, dissolving as you stretch, the water rushing around your fins in a cool balm, as if trying to soothe you.

Bucky’s gaze does not lift from you. His eyes drift over the marks, those dark welts and stinging cuts, and something painful shivers across his face.

His hands tighten on the final piece of rope as he pulls it away from you like it might continue hurting you with just a brush at your skin.

His lips press into a hard line, his jaw working in tension. His brows furrow deeper as he studies those lines against your skin, a look that holds none of the satisfaction of a hunter admiring his catch.

No, it’s an expression of someone caught in the grip of remorse, a guilt so heavy it seems to tug at his shoulders.

You realize then, that he’s holding the rope like something unholy, an object of disdain. His knuckles whiten around the last severe piece, and his eyes narrow on it.

The disgust is there, but not for you - not for the creature freed from his net. The disgust is for the remnants of the trap. For the scars it left on your skin. For the way it squeezed your fins to a painful angle. For the role he unwillingly played in it.

He seems to soften though as he watches you glide into the water gracefully, breathing deeply, reverently, as though the sea itself is an extension of your soul. As if it’s greeting you, happily taking you back into its arms.

He pulls the remaining lines of rope from the water with a certain hesitation, as if you’re having a moment he doesn’t want to interrupt. The torn and useless remnants of his net slip from his hand into his small boat. He won’t be able to redo the net with those ropes but his eyes hold no regret.

You could have disappeared already. Could have slipped down beneath the surface, beyond the reach of his eyes, back to the quiet depth that cradles your secrets.

Safety is waiting only a single dive away, already touching your tail, yet something is holding you here. You linger, your head just above the waves, suspended in that fragile space where your world touches his.

And in the stillness that forms between you, you see him truly looking. Not with the distance of a man glimpsing a mystery but with a reverence that seems to slow his every breath.

His gaze is not hurried. He takes his time, as if each second reveals another layer, another detail. As if he is memorizing the curve of your cheek, the foreign power in your eyes, the salt-laced droplets sliding down your skin.

Wonder fills his features, curiosity softens the angles of his jaw. He’s admiring you.

Admiring the way the sunlight catches on your scales, painting his face with the shimmer of your being. Shades glimmering turquoise, veined with trails of silver that follow along your translucent threaded fins, blurring into rivulets of cerulean and jade.

His lips are parted, but you watch the faint whisper of a word forming, the trace of something fragile and bare. Perhaps he doesn’t even realize he’s spoken, the words drifting to you like a half-breathed sigh.

“It’s you.”

It’s a murmur, more to himself than to you, the sound barely louder than the lapping of the waves against his boat.

It sounds like an answer. An answer to some unspoken question he must have asked himself, again and again, as he scanned the shoreline, the streets of his town, in the dawning light.

His voice clings to those words, as though he has been searching, always searching, for a glimpse of you amidst the townsfolk.

Though he’s been looking in the wrong places all along.

****

You’re no longer the only one observing.

Seeking a glimpse into a life so different and out of reach, yet always in line of sight.

The day after he rescued you, he returned to the docks early, hours before he would normally start.

The docks were silent, wrapped in the pale blue serenity of dawn.

You watched him intrigued, covered by the tall willow trees leaning over the water. The long branches heavy with dew, draped down to veil you in their green gloom.

You could see him clearly. More than ever. Perhaps because, deep down, you knew he came here for you. Came here because he wanted to catch a glimpse of the creature he caught like a fish the day before.

His gaze drifted over the water’s surface, searching. He was close enough for you to make out the lines easing from his brow. You weren’t quite sure what they meant but it had been one of the same looks he gave you yesterday.

The glint of the early light caught in his eyes as he looked across the innocent waves, perhaps feeling that you were close by.

You held yourself still, heart pounding and soul pondering whether to show yourself. Nervous, you pressed yourself further against the knotted roots of the trees, feeling the solid earth interlaced with the touch of water.

You studied him as you always have. Safe, shrouded, and yet, feeling so near like you never had before, as though a single soft lap of the water could give you away. This was a spot you hid in all the time with Bucky standing on the docks. Same distance as always. But he never felt so close.

Still, you held back, watching the line of his shoulders, how he stayed and watched, silent and waiting.

And just before you could catch a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes, another fisherman strolled over to him, voice loud and angry, a brash disturbance in the quiet morning.

You saw the older man shake the remnants of Bucky’s net in his hand, the shredded ropes still damp and torn. His words rose in harsh waves, berating, biting, blaming.

They rose with your anger. You felt it heat your skin, curling your fingers, snipping your tail.

The waves around you stirred, a flash of dark blue swelling as the currents twisted at your will, the sea restless beneath the fishermen’s feet.

The desire to rise and cast the old man back with the tides pulsed through your veins in a dangerous urge. But you felt Thalassa's resignation at your actions in the back of your mind and reined it in. So, you forced the currents back to calm, just enough that they would think it was only the morning breeze pushing at the water’s surface

Nobody seemed to have noticed. Well, nobody but one person. Because he didn’t take his eyes off the sea.

Bucky did not turn way, did not shrink into himself, standing rooted on the wooden planks. He seemed to ignore the older man’s harsh words, not bothering to defend himself.

A light ran over his eyes, a relief flickering like the soft glow of sunrise breaking over the water.

His lips curved ever so slightly, a subtle tug at the corners, as though the fisherman’s anger mattered as little as the waves lapping beneath them.

He came earlier the following days as well.

He would step up to the edge of the planks, where his gaze would drift over the soft ripples of your world.

There was patience in his silence every time, like he understood. Like he seemed to get that you weren’t going to show yourself. Still, he came every day. Came, stood, and watched.

It stunned you.

Softened eyes filled with wonder at what lay beneath the unseen. Beneath the innocent stir of the currents. It was as though he had uncovered a hidden treasure, and rather than clutch it, he merely held the idea of it, savoring the knowledge of something beautiful and rare close by, unrevealed by the rest of the world.

It became a ritual of sorts, something he seemed to relish. His own little secret with the sea and with something - someone - he knew lived just out of sight, as if he’d finally found the invisible pulse of the waters he’d crossed all his life without ever realizing.

He always seemed so relaxed in those morning hours. Just him and his secret. Simply watching in contentment, as if not wanting to disturb the calm that held you in its depths.

He traced the waves with a soft smile, admired the way the early morning rays glistened on the water.

As if only now realizing the beauty that lay just outside his door his entire life.

He is currently out on the water again.

You’re always aware when he is. Always know when he sails along your home. He basically becomes a part of it in those moments.

But it’s not his ship that cuts through the waves.

Its form is harsher, its hull thicker, forged more for might than the gentle trawl of his simple craft. It's built like a wall against the waves, not gliding with them like Bucky’s boat normally does.

No, this ship slices through the blue with a purpose that doesn’t belong here.

And he is not alone on deck. There’s that same man that had yelled at him the day after he tore his net to save you.

That’s the reason you followed it out in the open sea - a tinge of protectiveness over the man who saved you. Even years before he laid an eye on you.

Voices ring out above, warped and muted by the water surrounding you, yet they pulse in jagged waves that pierce the quiet.

You narrow your eyes, feeling tension build.

There is an argument happening, rough and sharp, and you wouldn’t bother with it, if his voice wasn’t a part of it.

There is a strain in it. Frustration. Defensiveness, that tugs at something inside your chest.

It pulls you upwards slightly, despite the instinct to sink back into safety.

You linger close enough to feel the force of the anger that tears through the air, even as the water dulls the hardness.

His voice is smaller, caged in by a louder tone, cut down even as he tries to speak. There is something drained in it, something almost defeated and it coils in your chest like a knot, winding tighter with each second you remain just below the surface.

The boat rocks more roughly, as though the weight of their frustration puckers down into the sea itself.

The reckless part of you, the one that caused you to get tangled with the human world before already, again makes a decision for you.

Carefully you move higher, the blur of the voices clearing out the closer you get. The closer you are to exposing yourself to the same air that breathes their argument. Your head is out of the water before you can think, hands holding you steady on the rough wood of this intimidating vessel.

The first voice is one you have heard plenty of times. Older, rough-edged and hard, like waves crashing over jagged rock. It’s the same raised voice Bucky had stood on the receiving end before.

“You’re telling me you cut through a net because you couldn’t be bothered to reel it out right? It would have lasted another season, James!” You flinch at a thud that makes the ship groan. Perhaps a first meeting wood. “Just carelessness - plain carelessness.”

Your fins flutter as the swell of your anger moves in the water with you. Your gaze shifts to the dark outline of the larger vessel above you, hiding your exposed head, not to be seen by the people moving along.

There is no trace of Bucky’s care in this ship, only an imposing sort of power that presses on the water below in all the wrong ways.

You hear Bucky’s strained breath. See his hand grip tightly to the worn wood of the rail.

“It was tangled. I wasn’t going to bring it back all ripped and knotted, without fixing it myself. I know how to mend it.”

He sounds done with this conversation. A tiredness in his voice that never makes it to his eyes when he comes relishing in your tranquil presence in the mornings.

There is a scoff. “You know how to mend it?” A bitter laugh sounds in the air. But it holds no joy. It’s dark. “Well, son, do you also know how to catch fish with it? Half the time you’re out here, you’re thinking about something else. What do you think your mother would say, watching you waste time and gear like this?”

The coldness of the words washes down into the depths, an accusation that somehow bears down on you, too. The water around you shivers and it's then that you realize that’s your doing. You don’t do much to stop it.

Bucky doesn’t reply right away. But you can feel the weight of his silence.

And you’re surprised for a second at the lack of fear inside you. Fear, because he still could be telling this man, who seems to be his father, about you. About how you - a creature of the sea - were the reason he came home with a torn net. Lines of rope all frayed and in pieces.

He could. He could tell him. But, somehow, deep down, deeper than the ocean floor, you knew he wouldn’t.

You basically feel Bucky shift on deck. Feel his gaze roam over the vastness of your home. As if it could give him comfort. As if it composed him enough to speak.

“The net’s on me. I'll have it replaced,” he then says, voice low, flat. “But don’t act like I haven’t pulled in my share of catches.”

A dark, disappointed groan drones in your ears. “You keep saying you’re here, that you’re focused, but I don’t see it, James. I don’t know what it is you’re chasing after, but it certainly is not in these waters. So, you better figure it out, son, before you waste any more of my time.”

He seems to step closer to Bucky. The thumping of footsteps reverberates around you, sending shivers through your skin, making you instinctively recoil. Your head stays above water but you’re tense. Ready to sink back down at any second.

A shadow nears the edge. Closer, closer, until a figure looms right above the railing. You catch a glint of a big hand gripping the side, knuckles sharp and bloodless.

He seems to lean in, dark hair entering your vision and you dive beneath the surface. But not before hearing the commanding tone of his voice again.

“Now, give me that. You should not have it any longer.”

You’re poised, back in the water, but your heart thrums wildly against the pulse of the sea. The timbre of his authority makes your skin prickle, sounding in your ears as sharp as you’d heard it moments before although it is muffled again.

You keep diving a little deeper. The cold water is bracing you, rushing around you as you sink. You’re low enough to feel safe. To feel the familiar comfort. But you don’t.

You’re restless, nerves tingling.

You can still hear him up there. Bucky. But his voice is tinged with a weariness that’s almost painful to hold inside yourself. The words themselves are lost in the currents, swept away before they can reach you, but you feel them all the same.

It’s worn, like driftwood tossed by a thousand waves. Softened by the relentlessness of it.

You hear his surrender. The long battle that he seems to fight against himself, its breath barely hanging on. Each word carries a heaviness that seems to drift through the sea as though seeking a place to settle but always getting pulled with the stream.

Your heart clenches painfully at the guilt inside. He cut that net, sacrificed it for your freedom, and now here he is, caught in a tangle of it all, left without a defense. And he lets it weave around himself, lets it bind him like his ropes had bound you. But now, he doesn’t reach for a knife. He simply lets it squeeze. Lets it suffocate him.

Before you can get lost in your mind, there is a soft sound coming from above. A plink. It’s delicate, as a raindrop over calm water.

You glance upward, startled at first, your heart doing a jump in synchrony with the rush that disturbs the surface.

Something glimmers, silvered, tumbling in slow motion, catching fragments of light as it drifts through the blue toward you.

It spins and glints, looking like such a fragile thing as it nears you.

Entranced, you reach out, letting it settle into your palm, where it rests cold against your skin, weighty and exquisite all at once.

It’s a chain. Slender, woven like river reeds into an elegant braid, its polished links softened by wear. At its center, a small pendant hangs, swaying gently in the currents that surround you both, learning the cadence of the sea for perhaps the first time.

The pendant is engraved with fine lines, winding into elegant patterns that glint faintly, illuminated by the underwater light.

You don’t known what it means but you run your fingers over it, tracing the grooves and smooth imprints. It’s beautiful and you find yourself admiring the little details. The weight is a comfort in its smallness, like something that belongs close to the heart.

A realization halts your thumb that’s been swiping over it.

Your pulse stirs anew.

You have seen this before - watched it sway against a familiar chest, catching flecks of sunlight as it moved in time with each breath. You’ve watched it rise and fall with every step, tucked close, held as something treasured. Sometimes atop his shirt, sometimes beneath it, where it touched the skin over his heart.

It is Bucky’s.

You have noticed it often enough to recognize it. Saw the flash of it when he leaned forward, the light of it dancing against his skin.

But you never saw the details before. The intricate pattern that makes it so unique.

A surge tugs at your memories. The way his hand would reach up, seemingly on its own, fingers softly grasping it, brushing over its surface like you just had. As if it holds something for him. Something valuable. Something of a price no coin in the world could ever reach. And it grants him access to it by a simple touch.

And now, it rests in your palm with a weight of importance so irreplaceable, doomed to drown and sink into a pit of darkness where it would lay unattainable but never forgotten.

You can’t let that happen.

There’s no way to find out what happened for it to fall where sky meets water but you won’t let it get dragged to its watery grave.

And something tells you it wasn’t Bucky’s decision to let go of it in such a way.

****

Bucky seems different this morning.

He was even earlier today. Sitting there already when you came up from the deep, shadows clinging to his frame, pooling in the curve of his shoulders. They are slumped in a way that makes him almost look unfamiliar, as though he’s been folded inward.

He would have caught you the moment your head met the first air of the day but with his eyes tipped downward you were able to retreat to the shadows of the willows without him noticing.

He drags a hand over his face, a sigh in his chest.

When he finally looks out across the water, there is a longing heavily dripping from his gaze like the water droplets from your lashes. His sadness seeps into the air, causing your breath to hitch.

Fingers tighten around the pendant that basically fell into your hand yesterday. It digs into the soft skin of your palm, pressingly reminding you who it belongs to.

There was no good time to give it back to him the day before but now there is.

But there is no way he won’t see you placing it on the wooden planks near enough for him to find.

Your heart hammers.

You wish for the pendant to give you that something it seems to grant Bucky so many times. Perhaps a bit of courage.

A deep breath fills your lungs. It wobbles on the way out but it’ll have to do.

Slowly, you submerge, sliding back beneath the water where silence engulfs you once again. Maybe that’s all you need to calm down.

You glide forward with the grace that comes naturally. Fish flit past, a scatter of silver that parts seamlessly around you. The water yields to you, always knowing your intentions before you do. Algae sway with your passing, green tendrils blending softly as you slip through.

You near the dock, near Bucky, and draw in another centering breath before pushing yourself to rise. The pendant is still tightly gripped in your palm, fingers almost aching.

The water responds, curving away for you to swim through. You emerge, inch by inch, already seeing his blurred form, a soft tether pulling you upward.

And when you break through, lifting your head into the open air, your eyes meet his.

Bucky’s breath catches, and he stills completely, eyes widening with that flicker of disbelief you remember from the first time. His face is struck by surprise. But it melts. Softening. Faster than the first time.

The shock in his gaze is fleeting now, submitting to something else, something that lingers, far lighter and deeper.

His mouth is open, caught mid-breath, and then his lips curve. A faint exhalation slips past his lips - half gasp, half laugh - an unguarded sound that leaves him like he’s been holding it, too fragile to release but too powerful to contain.

He holds himself still. Each muscle in his body restrained, as though he’s afraid the slightest shift might scare you away, making you sink down to the bottom of the ocean where he could not follow. He doesn’t even blink. As though he’s afraid that you might be a figment of his imagination and vanish the second his eyes open again.

But there’s a tremor in his hands. And the sudden rise and fall of his chest with the curling fists betray his desire to draw near.

His gaze trails over your features, each line of your face, lingering as if he tries to convince himself that you are real, despite him having seen you already.

The way he looks at you feels almost too much - so full of amazement that you feel your heart stutter, feel heat rise in your cheeks as his unabashed gaze rests so intensely on you.

You drop your gaze from him, rather keep it on the wooden planks as you slowly lift your hand out of the water. The one with his lost treasure in it.

Quietly, with a shyness you haven’t expected, you move closer. Carefully. Purposeful.

His eyes follow. Darting from your face to your hand, back and forth. His gaze softens with every passing second as you approach.

You stop beside the outside of his thigh, and with a breath that almost stuck in your throat, you unclench your fist while lowering it to the dock, setting it down as if even the wood beneath should bear its weight with care.

Taking your hand away, you reveal the chain and pendant that gleam like a secret laid bare between you both.

You draw back slightly, giving him space to process what lay before his eyes.

Bucky remains motionless. Suspended between reality and a cruel fantasy that plays tricks on him. His gaze is glued to the pendant as if it’s something sacred.

The bewilderment painted across his face that slackens his features and lets his mouth hang open is almost comical. A childlike miracle that softens his features to something so unexpectedly vulnerable. Your chest feels light and you can’t help the smile that softly tugs at your lips.

One of his hands reaches toward it as if on its own accord, callous fingers brushing over it with a slow tenderness, as though he is rediscovering a lost part of himself.

He lifts it in his palm, the chain glinting faintly in the dim morning light, and he stares at it like he’s seeing it for the first time.

The breath he releases is shaky, a sound caught somewhere between a laugh and a sigh, breaking from him with the relief of something heavy lifted.

He closes his hand around it, pressing it close to him as if it’s something to be treasured, as if he’s able to draw warmth from its metal. His eyes squeeze shut for a moment and his fingers tremble around the newfound relict.

You avert your eyes. This feels like a moment you shouldn’t take part in. It feels like you’re intruding into something private with him so unguarded.

So you prepare to return to your hidden shadows, to leave him with his thoughts, to let the moment be his alone.

“Wait!”

The word is barely more than a croak, a rasp of something unsaid that was out before he could gather his strength.

You turn your head up to him again, meeting his gaze as his hand scrubs over his face, eyes wide and shining with something he can barely hold back.

He tries again, voice steadier but no less quiet. “I- I don’t know how I could ever repay you.”

His gratitude floats between you both, the sincerity making your breath catch. His eyes search your face with something akin to incredulity. As if he’s still not sure if you’re really floating in the water before him. As if you still could be something his mind just made up. Even though the evidence of your presence is clutched tightly in his hand.

You don’t understand how he sees this as a debt. He was the one to gift you back your freedom. Your life. So why would he believe the debt could ever belong to him and not to you?

You watch him searching for language, his mouth shaping words that never quite leave his lips, his hand pressing the pendant to his chest.

He breathes deeply, almost as if bracing himself. And when he speaks again, his voice is low and quiet.

“Thank you,” he whispers, softer than before, his voice thick with gratitude that runs deeper than you will ever understand.

Something warm rises from some deep place within you and you feel it light up your face like the morning sun upon the water you’re floating in. Your mouth curves into a soft smile.

In response, his eyes brighten, a glimmer finding its way back into the blue depths as if he, too, is warmed by some inner sunrise.

His lips twitch upwards, hesitant yet honest, corners of his mouth tugging until it spreads into something whole, something radiant.

He holds you in his gaze as if he’s made a room there for you already. Something for you to stay. Something to keep you.

His eyes hold the kind of devotion that moments ago he had reserved for the pendant alone. But now it’s turned to you as if you’ve become the rare treasure placed back into his open palm.

He looks at you as if you’re the one who saved him today.

And before you can even so think about slinking back under, he speaks up again.

“May I-” He studies you for a heartbeat longer, contemplative. “Do you have a name?”

It’s intimate. A question only meant for you. Only uttered for your ears and not for the listening sea around you. The note is stronger, clearer, as though a surge of determination forced him to ask, not letting him leave until he gets an answer.

You can’t stop your smile from widening. Heat creeps up along your neck to the tips of your ears and the impulse arises to dive away, hiding from this emotion, resisting it. But you can’t let his question hover above you like that. Not when he answered you after it was you asking for his name those weeks ago.

A flicker of something crosses his eyes. Something you might interpret as an endearment. He seems to cherish this moment, eyes so fully fixed on the way your cheeks redden under his attention.

“Y/n.”

He beams. Face lighting up with a smile so pure it renders the sun climbing behind him rather useless.

He repeats your name - breathes it, really. He couldn’t help himself. Each syllable drips off his tongue like he’s tasting it, savoring it as if the sound itself holds some secret sweetness he never knew he craved.

Your tail flicks, cutting a gentle line through the water, a motion so out of your control like the sudden thrill in your chest.

He seems to engrave each note, each cadence of your name into the deepest folds of his mind.

As if he might hold onto it forever.

As if he can’t bear to let it fade.

“I am in love with the impossibility of us.”

- Lauren Eden

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