#which get swallowed by the earth and the ocean

[sibillascribbles08]

Honestly the eclipse makes me think about the final shots from The Rite of Spring segment of Fantasia and how every time I watch it I just have to sit there and stare at a wall for a few minutes processing it all and I wonder if literally anyone else feels the way I do about that segment

[astraloverflow]

Depraved and Obsessed König Teaser

MDNI please :) Been working on this fic for a little while now, let me know what you guys think!! It's my first time writing and I'm a little nervous about how it'll be received, but I'd LOVE some feedback!! Basically, König's chasing poor reader through the woods, oopsies. There's gonna be so so so much build-up to this point though in the final work! WC: 762 words, planning to be about 15-20k once it's done, so get ready 😩

You could taste the blood in your mouth as you ran, lungs constricting with each heaving breath, trying to take in enough oxygen to sustain another quick stride. The corners of your vision were going black— you were fucking exhausted, but the adrenaline kept you going, it had to. Your legs burned, barely able to feel them anymore; the only sensation reaching your brain was your soles against the floor of the forest, as they destroyed leaves beneath your sprint. 

That and the pitiful burn of your heart. 

Turning to look behind your shoulder every other second frantically, you were met with nothing but the deafening silence of the night. Shivers of lightning struck through your body, and the entire situation started to feel too real. The gasping inhales and exhales of your collapsing lungs, the sound of your pulse beating harshly in your ears, the shrubbery crumbling apart in your tracks, wind blowing, cascading the broken leaves into the mix of ground, almost as if trying to obscure where you were going, it was all too much. No animal dared to make a noise, not a peep, maybe they were too afraid to draw attention to themselves, you should have been too, but that thought was far gone from your head at this point.

Considering his sheer size, you’d expect someone like him to be loud, stomping on the ground, practically shaking and breaking the earth beneath his feet, just as you desperately tried to. Your heart, being bludgeoned by your over-exertion, tried to keep up, but your throat tightened up with each desperate breath. You had no idea if he was meters behind, or waiting around the corner to grab at you when you thought you were safe. You knew he could swallow up the distance between you two with ease, you have seen it time and time again. On the field, in training— you saw it anywhere and everywhere he was able to fully display his incomprehensible prowess and brute physical strength. 

But tonight, tonight he was quiet, calculated, and cruel, which made your anxiety spike to unknown extremes. The dread that grew deep in your stomach felt like it weighed twice what you did; it tried to hold you down, tried to pull you into the ground. It almost did, in a way you almost wish it did— if the earth opened up and swallowed you whole, you would be away from him. The cold embrace of the earth, enclosing you in, threatening to turn you into an artifact for archaeologists— you would take that over this sickening feeling that you couldn’t shake. You tried to drop this anchor of a weight, but it clung to you like a cinder block, tightly tied around your waist with thick rope, before being tossed off the edge of a boat, forcibly pulling you into a fluid body of salt, sinking, struggling. Then it hits you. You feel your body hit the ocean floor and it rips the air you tried so hard to keep, straight out of your chest. Water fills your lungs, rushing in mercilessly, and it burns. It hits you.

All this time you were wondering where he was, why he wasn’t chasing immediately after you. At a point, you almost thought he gave up and left, but that was too merciful for him.

This was a game to him, he was toying with you.        

You stumble slightly, and it brings you back to reality harshly, the situation demanding your attention, heart feeling like it was just resuscitated. Not noticing the jagged ground you had just tripped over, inhaling sharply, your arms fly out in front of you to steady yourself so you wouldn’t crash into the ground. Catching yourself, you continued to work your legs, trying to cover more ground, trying to get as far as possible, though a small part of you knew it was hopeless. Initially, you had hoped to run back to the barracks, somewhere safe, somewhere away from him, somewhere with people, somewhere with witnesses. But he had rounded the corner, so quickly that it made your head spin. He cut you off completely, and in a haze, you had made a last-ditch for the woods encasing the base.

You couldn’t see it now, but he was smiling to himself, watching you stumble over your every breath as you dug your grave deeper, heading nowhere useful. As he analyzed your desperate attempt to evade him, he chuckles before speaking to no one but himself, starting a steady saunter towards you “So fucking predictable.”

[denim-devil]

✫ Emerging Adulthood | R.G ✫

Summary - Whilst learning how to drive, Rick has other plans once his temptations kick in…

| DBF!Rick / Blowjob / Facefucking / Swallowing |

Nervous wasn’t the only way to describe how you felt.

The van, cold yet lacked space, you were crammed shoulder to shoulder with Rick, the neighbour who became close friends with your dad, not just for any reason though.

It was going smoothly although you could hear the slightly creak of the dark van’s metal exterior every time you began to break, it was new to you but travelling hours on end from college to home, back and forth got exhausting from time to time, this way you could see your father…and Rick.

“Thank you for this Rick, it’s gonna make my life so much easier…”

Smiling to himself, he shoots a glance your way, his arms resting against his meaty, spread thighs.

“It’s nothin’ kid, trust me, ya dad seemed pretty happy about it, atleast we can spend some time together, feel like ya’ve grown to quickly…”

Shuffling lead to him leaning over directly into your space, mouth level with your ear, a helping hand slowly monitoring your steering, looming over your own.

It wasn’t something new to you, it had been years, ever since the day you were introduced there had always been a click, with it recently growing into something more, Rick hated to admit how much you had an affect on him, yet that was secreted…for now.

Heat began to rise up from your strained neck, blossoming into your cheeks. Rick could see it, being this close, feeling his skin on yours, he could feel the van wobbly slightly, knowing that your focus was elsewhere.

“C’mon sweetheart, you got it, look at ya go”

His whispers had you actively clutching the wheel, southern accents had a charm and you were certainly afflicted by it, his hand now removing itself from your own and down to your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

He kept it there for a few seconds, testing the waters, you could both feel the tension, thick as a block of butter, head fuzzy with the thought of something happening, something you had been longing for.

He pulls back for leverage, allowing you to make a left turning, flicking the indicator on just before, you could hear the light chuckle and the low, short and huffy “good boy”.

“You really are gettin’ good at this ain’t ya?”

You nod with confidence, evidently ignoring the boner that began to ache between your pressed thighs, how could you possibly escape this situation without embarrassing yourself?

With space to breathe, you begin to get comfortable again, slightly slouching back with a newly perpetuated confidence, with a teacher as good as Rick, which was no surprise, Carl was a big part of his life, even after his divorce with Lori.

He was the biggest distraction on earth, to you, he was everything and more. “Hey…kid? See that over there? Why don’cha pull in for me, give yer legs a rest…”

It was a desolate patch of road, away from the car’s passing by, away from the world, secret and quiet, your heart pounded, thumping in your ears, loud.

Nodding was your only answer as you follow his words, pulling in slowly, turning the car until you came to a stop.

“Good job kid, ya really gonna smash it” He ruffles your locks, now messy and out of place, it catches Rick of guard, nothing out of the unusual yet his cock twitched, the sight of you alone was intoxicating and it took everything within him the sight of you alone was intoxicating and it took everything within him to sit and just pretend he was okay, the look unknowingly had you creeping back in on yourself, a shyness only he was able to bring out.

You twiddle with your thumbs, anything to take your mind off of him, to just escape for those five seconds before he scoffed.

“What’s wrong kid?” His words were the catalyst, looking up into his ocean blue eyes which looked glazed, comforting yet bright and curious.

“Nothing…just, this-“ He shuffled, backing up his seat a little before resting an elbow on the window and spreading his meaty legs wider practically giving you an invitation. “What about it? Somethin distracting ya?” You nod timidly. “I can help with that…”

His southern drawl was thick, soothing to the brain. You turn to look at him, eyes immediately drinking the view in, lowering, settling on the bulge between his legs, you tried stifling the small gasp of air that managed to escape you, it was to late.

“I can explain-“ He tutted, his thumb slowly tracing the outline of his throbbing cock, glued to the way you shuffled in your seat like you had ants in your pants. “Ya don’t hav’ to, I’ve been tryin’ fer so long with ya, waitin’ till I had you all to myself…”

As if time stood still itself you were so focused on him, the way he looked, the way he sat, the way his thumbed at his cock, palm fondling the front of his dark wash jeans, it was alluring, you wanted more.

You yearned for this day more then you would like to say, patience was waning thin on your side, every inch of you on fire just at the single thought of becoming more, the judgment and broken connections that would likely follow had you stilled and confused, it wasn’t enough to withhold you from desire.

“All ya have ta do is nod, then ya can have it and some more sweetheart.”

It felt like a punch to the stomach, like the air in your lungs evaporated within seconds. The heat in your cheeks scorching the skin successfully, succumbing to Rick’s charm.

Your palms were damp, almost sticky as you shakily reached towards his crotch with a wanting hand, nodding in the process, swallowing the spit that had collected in the back of your mouth from salivating just at the thought of seeing it, seeing him.

“Atta boy-“ Reaching for the back of your head sweetly, he slowly lowers it, watching you wiggle into a comfortable position before your nose, now squished up against his crotch, huffs, breathing him in.

Relishing in the smell, musky, thick with masculinity, sweet with temptation. Eager hands search his thighs before you face the ultimatum, looking up into his darkened eyes, lust filled.

Rick knew exactly what you wanted and happily complied, pushing you further into his aching bulge, stuffing your nose deeper.

“That’s it, ya so fuckin’ hungry for ain’t ya”

Hot pants litter the front of his trousers, tongue darting out to lap at the freshly made wet patch. The taste heavy with want scorned the tip of your tongue, fingers avidly searching for the zipper to unleash your dirty fantasy.

Rick watched. His tongue dangerously flicking against his lips as he silently watched, the soft moans that fell from the pits of your chest once you successfully managed the opening, pulling the zipper down, releasing the beast.

Eager finger tips dig into the waist band of his underwear, his bulge nothing short of chunky and big, filling the entire space within the material.

His length flops out against his stomach with a heavy thud. You couldn’t help but look in awe, the tip angry and red, multiple veins, thick and pumping with desire, he was big, scarily big but you expected nothing less from an ex-deputy.

A searching hand wraps around him, engulfing the head with the extra skin that sat there, watching in anticipation once it flicked over the tip, jerking him slowly back and forth.

Rick groaned, head lulling back into his car seat, legs widening even further for you slot deeper into, making space for the casual onslaught that was now set in stone.

This was nothing short of both risky and dangerous, you had no self control, not when it came to Rick, you allow yourself to indulge, inspecting the jizzy head before your mouth wraps around his bulbous tip, wide and wanting.

His hands, full of warmth and protection slowly search the back of your neck, raking up into your locks before grabbing a handle, he tugs you back catching you off guard but it’s not for nothing.

“Been thinkin’ about these pretty little lips wrapped around my cock, ya think ya can take it?” Without a warning your pushed back into him, mouth engulfing what he gave you, a strong hand settling at the back of your neck, warm yet eager to push you downward, watching each inch of him get lost within your wet cavern.

It gave you no time to think, how could you think? His cock reaching the depths of your throat, the tip glued to the back of your mouth once your nose buried itself in the thin layer of hair that framed the beauty and beast.

“Fuck, ya been practicing with them boys in college? Who knew ya were a good cock sucker-“

He holds you down once you start to gag, eyes rolled back into your head, balls pressed heavy against your brow line, you couldn’t do anything yet submit to the man.

Rick wouldn’t ever admit it but watching you struggle to breathe, slapping at his thighs for air was something he’d think about every damn day from now.

You choke before being allowed to pull off with a pop, coughing into the material of his trousers. Once again your back on with a newly found love, tongue flicking over the tip once you sink your throat down again, taking his cock completely, back and forth with the direction of his hand.

That’s when his mobile began to buzz, throwing you both off guard, it wasn’t enough to make you stop though, your other hand coming to cup the base of his balls, rolling both between your fingers.

“Gotta be quiet sweetheart, it’s ya daddy. Keep suckin’ that dick like a good boy”

In which you did, following his lead once he pressed accept, taking the risk. It felt dirty once the conversation started, knowing any slip up could cost you both, yet it had you going faster and deeper, stuffing your mouth full of him.

“Yeah he’s doin a pretty good job, think I outta give him a few more for good measure, gotta give it to him though, he’s very…good” Ricl bit into the centre of his bottom lip, keeping his heavy groans back which were seated deep in his chest, urging to come out.

His hand kept it’s presence known, bouncing his hips upward into your skull, balls freely slapping into your cheek. Dirty. Wet. A small puddle of saliva formed at his base, strings of it latching onto the base of your chin, it would be a miracle if your dad never heard any of it, how you worked him over.

“He can’t talk right now, he’s just parking up, yeah that’s right—“ It was quick yet everything you were searching for, nothing short of filthy. Nothing mattered to Rick more then watching your growing affliction for his cock flourish into neediness, hearing just how much you wanted it by the relentless gags and the hollowing of your cheeks.

Nobody really understood the burning hunger that sat heavy in his gut, only you, the constant lapping at the tip, the frequent squeeze of his balls, he couldn’t hold on for much longer, not when you had every incline of how to make him crumble.

“I gotta go, need to finish up with him, I’m sure he’ll tell ya all about it when we get back…”Your eyes started to well with tears as he fucked into your throat, using your mouth like he would toy, chasing after his orgasm.

Ending the call was the gateway to your freedom, his pace faster then before, delivering harsh blows, his hand holding you down, forcing you to take it.

“Gonna cum boy- can you take it? You taking it?” Nodding with anticipation is all it took for Rick to sink every single inch into your throat, he sat heavy on your tongue, feeling him pulse and twitch, hand keeping you in place once you feel each thick shot land in different places in your mouth, pooling behind your lips.

“Shit— shit” Swallowing every drop you couldn’t let any go to waste, tasting him fully, slightly salty but over-all sweet and tantalising, it lingered behind even after swallowing every drop, tongue cleaning his cock before you pull of with a pop, watching it fall and lay, half hard.

“C’mere sweetheart” His eyelids were hooded, his mouth turned out into a coy smile, he looked faded, lost in his pleasure. Darting forward into him, his tongue flicks into your mouth, over your own, hungrily, learning just how damn good he tasted on you, his beard grazing the skin surrounding your now abused mouth.

“Think ya could try that again?”

#RE-WRITE

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest and @stobinmonth.

Lake Michigan, 1987

CCF Spring Break Prompt: Ocean & Stobin Month Prompt: Holiday | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | POV: Multiple | Pairing: Platonic Stobin, Pre-Steddie | CW: None | Tags: Post S4, Everybody Lives, Steve's on a Mission to Crash Corroded Coffin's Spring Break Getaway to the Beach, Robin's Along For The Ride

Robin

Robin squirms in her seat. They've been in this car for hours, and she's sweating, legs sticking to the leather. She lifts one thigh, then the other and feels them release, but also hears the little thwap it makes. It's so gross. 

She thought they were supposed to be there by now. 

"How much further?"

"Not sure," Steve says, "look at that map again."

Robin doesn't want to look at the map again. She's not interested in playing navigator. 

"Ugh. This is taking forever."

"Stop complaining, we're going to the ocean!" Steve declares, banging his fist against the steering wheel.

Robin rolls her eyes.

"Lake Michigan isn't the ocean. It's a lake. It's in the name, even."

"Same thing."

"Really not," she says, but lets it go, "How late are we? Because I'm starving and they better have food left. Good food. But I'm not optimistic."

Steve doesn't say anything. 

"Hello? Earth to Steve? Dingus, are you listening to me?"

"I'm listening."

"We're not lost, are we? What time were we supposed to be there?"

"Uh. When we get there, I guess."

"That's not an answer. Do you even know where we're going to meet them? What's the plan? You've been awfully secretive about this adventure."

Steve mumbles something under his breath.

"What?" she asks, twisting the stereo knob all the way down.

"Theydon'tknowwe'recoming," he says in a hushed rush.

Robin flops around in her seat, turning to face him fully, "Steven. Harrington. What do you mean they don't know we're coming?" 

"Surprise!" he says weakly.

Then, after a beat.

"Yeah, we might be lost."

"Steve!"

"Kidding, just don't let me miss the sign for 94 East."

She throws her hands up in the air, exasperated. 

Steve

He didn't know there were this many beaches on Lake Michigan. 

They've checked like a dozen spots, and so far, no Corroded Coffin. No Eddie. He knows they are staying in Indiana.

Well, he thinks that's right. Maybe they changed their minds? Maybe he misunderstood? It wouldn't be the first time.

"I didn't know there were this many beaches," he admits, as they're standing next to his car at a gas station. Robin's continued cooperation paid for with a big bag of snacks. 

"It's literally called the third coast, dingus! Seriously. You thought we'd just pull up to the entirety of Lake Michigan, and what, stumble across Eddie Munson and his band of bozos?! You can't be serious."

That's exactly what he thought. He is a dingus.

"So, we're stalking Eddie Munson?! That's where we are in life now?"

"Stalking is a little exaggerated," he argues. He's been dancing around this thing with Eddie for months.

"Were we invited?"

"No," he admits and she's shaking her head, unimpressed.

This was a dumb idea. 

Eddie

He hears his name being shouted, very clearly. Twice. Which is odd, because everybody he's with is still in the van. He can hear Gareth and Goodie bickering in the back, and Jeff's nose is in a book in the passenger seat. Plus, that was definitely a woman. And women, in general, aren't in the habit of screaming his name.

So, he's hearing things.

Great. This better not be a Vecna thing. 

He swallows. He was trying to get away from Hawkins.

"Psst. Ed. Eddie. Edward," Gareth hisses, and all Eddie can see is his mouth at the bottom of the pop-out window on the back of the van. Ridiculous. 

"What?" Eddie asks, clicking off the gas nozzle in the van. He can't leave it unattended. They have a very strict budget. But he takes a step closer to see what Gareth needs. He clearly crawled over the backseat for a reason.

"Your boyfriend is here," the mouth says.

"Huh? I don't have a—"

Gareth taps on the glass, cutting his thought short, "Steve Harrington. And Robin. Nine o'clock."

Eddie slowly turns his head, and sure enough, Steve and Robin are in the middle of a hand-flailing argument next to Steve's car. He just couldn't see them before, the dispenser was in the way.

So, he did hear his name. 

He turns towards them, and watches. Then, Robin makes accidental eye-contact with him, and he waves. 

She nudges Steve's shoulder, and Steve turns around. And the grin that crosses his face is transcendent.

"Told you, Rob!" Steve declares with gusto, and then he's loping over, grabbing Eddie, hugging him.

"Uh, hi," Eddie says, nose smushed into Steve's neck. Which is definitely fine. For sure.

The side door of the van swings open, and they separate.

Goodie looks them all up and down, and then just says, "No."

Eddie laughs. He's not saying no to whatever this is, "What are you doing here?"

"Stalking you, apparently," Robin says, and Gareth's disembodied mouth laughs as Steve stomps on her foot.

"Ow!" she shouts. Steve ignores her.

"We're not stalking. We were bored, and like, I remembered you said you were doing this for spring break, and I thought, why not? Sounds fun," Steve rambles, and Eddie is very charmed. 

What was Steve's plan? Wander the 1,000 plus miles of coast?

It doesn't matter. If he drove three hours to chase him down, Eddie's not gonna let him slip through his fingers.

"We're camping in the dunes, if you wanna?" Eddie offers.

Steve's nodding while Robin's shaking her head no. Eddie takes Steve's answer, because he likes it better.

Was Steve Harrington chasing him? Is that what this is? That's crazy talk. But…

"Definitely," Steve says, pushing his hair up off his forehead with his hand. "Yeah. Definitely. We'd love to. I'd love to."

He seems nervous.

Holy shit. 

Eddie knows that move. He went to high school with that move. 

Steve Harrington is flirting with him. 

And Robin is disgusted by it.

Eddie smiles, "Let me finish filling up and you two can follow."

"Cool," Steve says, "that's cool."

Eddie steps back, and squeezes Robin's shoulder. He likes Buckley. She'll get over it, and he'll definitely owe her for wing-manning.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries, check out @corrodedcoffinfest to read takes on Spring Break prompts, or to offer up your own!

For more Stobin, pop on over to @stobinmonth to follow along with the fun!

[knightjpg]

landslide | chapter 4

chapter tags: alcohol mention, reader has a toxic boyfriend, implied cheating on reader by said boyfriend

prev | next

You dream of the ocean. 

Blue against blue, hot dry sand between your toes. The aftermath of salt under your tongue. You're swimming. You look, feet kicking, hands paddling, but there's no shore to break your line of sight. The horizon stretches until it fades, a blurry blue line as vast as the world. 

You don't feel afraid. You're just tired. Your arms and legs feel so heavy, and the water feels heavy, too. Waves are coming faster, weightier; you dip below and break through the surface— 

until you're pulled under. 

Buried alive under big heaving wells, swallowed down by surface gravity. You claw against the water, desperate, fighting for air— 

and cough yourself awake. Your chest hurts, tight with the remnants of your nightmare, and for a split second you feel panic when a weight presses on you; but it's just Kettlebell who curled up on top of you somewhere during the night. 

Upon feeling your hand in his fur his head lifts, big dark eyes blinking hello. Then he yawns and hops off you. Now that you're awake his job is done, and he can go annoy Mim in peace. 

When you swing your legs over your bed you groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. Your temple throbs, occasional pinpricks of pain shooting like stars over your eyes. 

Last night comes back to you slowly. 

The bar, the too-many drinks, no sight of Dave. The kind stranger who listened to your blubbering about your boyfriend. 

Hot shame rushes through you now that you recall your words in the wondrous, headache-inducing light of sobriety. God. You totally unloaded on a guy you'd never met before and then he... 

He called you a cab, didn't he? And made sure you were sent home. 

You bury your head in your hands and mouth the words what on earth is wrong with me. 

The mortification is enough to eat you alive. You vow you'll never let it get that far again—with alcohol or waiting for Dave that long. Speaking of which... 

You raise your head and grab for your phone. Predictably there's an apologetic text from Dave waiting for you: 

01:24 Srry missed your calls, smthing came up with a friend x 

You stare at the screen for a long moment. 

Slowly, like your fingers haven't quite made up their mind yet about replying, you type out an answer. 

08:50 I waited a long time for you. 

You chew your lip as you send it, feeling anxious and small. When Kettlebell returns to the bed to let you know his and Mim's food bowls are still offensively empty, you shake yourself out of it and go through the motions of your morning routine.  

Before you hop in the shower, however, you can't resist another peek: 

09:22 Make it up to you? 

You exhale.  

See? He doesn't say it explicitly, but he's sorry. He'll make it up to you. He cares about you.  

Life happens, things get in the way. You have to believe that. What is a relationship if you can't trust your partner? 

What is a relationship if not the feeling of throwing yourself off the tightrope and waiting for the other to catch you mid-fall? 

“Wear the sluttiest one you have,” Liv says. Her voice crackles on speakerphone; her face is out of frame on the video call, bending down to apply her eyeliner. 

You laugh. “The sluttiest—? God, I don't know if I even have anything like that.” 

You sift through your clothes again, slowly, pulling out one or two things that might make the cut. It's been a while since you've gone out with just friends, just for fun, just for yourself. 

Without Dave. 

He hasn't made good on his promise to make it up to you yet—says that with his holiday coming up he's extra busy, has to make sure things don't fall apart once he leaves. 

The reminder of the stupid Bora-Bora trip with his stupid marketing colleague has been enough to leave you on edge.  

And while you don't think Liv and you will ever become best friends she's been kind. When you texted her in a fit of tears about Dave flaking on you again you expected excuses for his sake— 

You're so lucky! 

—but instead she called him a cunt and said you should join her and some others to go dancing. Shake your ass and make him regret on losing out on time with you, she'd said, and even though it's not your thing you agreed. 

If only to feel like you could. 

“Wait, what's that one? The black one?” Liv peers into the camera. One eye is perfectly made up, smoky dark eyeshadow contouring an arched, pencilled-in brow. 

“This one?” You pull the dress off its hanger and hold it up for the camera to see. 

It was an impulse buy. On sale. The fabric felt soft and stretchy, and even though you could see your panties in the changing booth mirror when you bent down you loved the look of it too much to leave it. 

You'd just started dating Dave. You remember you were still feeling giddy and excited with that nervous kind of confidence that made you blush and smile and think maybe I'll wear it for him one time. 

It's been gathering dust in the back of your closet ever since. 

“Yesss,” Liv says. “That's what I'm talking about.” 

When she goes back to her make-up table you hold the dress up in front of the mirror. 

It doesn't feel like you. 

It feels like the person you once really wished you were, and even that wishful optimism is no longer part of your repertoire. 

You turn around. “Hey, do you think—” 

Your phone buzzes, covering Liv's face with a popup that says in big white letters incoming call! 

You grab it quickly, throwing your dress on the bed. “Hang on, someone's calling—” 

With one swipe Liv disappears, and you hold the phone to hold to your ear. Unknown number.  

“Hello?” 

“Simon.” 

“Nice to finally meet you,” you smile, and shake the massive hand held out to you. Simon runs warm; his grip is firm and brief. “I, um. I heard about your mother passing. From Beth. I'm so sorry.” 

He averts his eyes for a moment. They're a lovely warm shade of brown, starkly contrasted against his pale skin and blond lashes. Up close you see shadows of nicks and scars. Souvenirs from his work. 

“Thanks.” 

He hardly says another word all evening. At times it feels more like he's watching over rather than participating in your little party of friends gathered at Tommy and Beth's apartment; a hulking shadow brooding in the corner, shying away from the inner circle of light and laughter. 

It'd be easy to forget he was there, but you don't. 

You're a little fascinated by him. If Beth is like your sister, what does that make him? Family by-proxy-by-proxy. You've heard enough about him to decide he's got a good heart underneath his withdrawn demeanour, and it makes you eager to forgive what others might see as rudeness. 

You sneak looks all throughout the get-together, in between board games and salty snacks and bad jokes. Try to map his heavy brow, his serious gaze, the scar running over his chin that mirrors the one Tommy has on the back of his neck. 

After the first few times you chalk it up to coincidence. But when you look again, again—those brown eyes meet yours. It confirms: 

Simon's been looking at you, too. 

“I don't understand,” you say. 

You're not convinced this isn't a prank call. No, worse—a scam. Even when “John” reads out Joseph's place, date, and time of birth—even when he could tell you Beth's middle name or Tommy's last place of work. 

There's just no way. 

“Just... after eight years? Isn't that a crazy long time...?” 

A begrudging pause. “I can't tell you everything, sweetheart. Confidential. You understand.” 

You try to. Simon left you something, John said. Wouldn't say what. Couldn't say how. But it's for you, if you want it, just making sure— 

Of course you want it, you tell him. You have a P.O. box, he can send it anytime— 

“It was requested you receive it in person,” John says. “On base.” Paper is shuffled and shifted in the background. Faintly you hear a door open and close. “There's one not too far from your address.” 

“John” gives you the directions, and a quick google shows that he's not lying; there really is a base close by, and it fits John's description. 

“Okay. Um... Do I need to bring anything?” 

“Your ID should do.” John clears his throat. “I'll have one of mine handle it. Mention my name—John, Captain Price, whatever you like—and they'll sort you out.” 

“Alright. Thank you...” 

You end the call feeling dazed. Tonight was supposed to be for letting go of everything, for living in the now, in the moment—and suddenly the past comes knocking at your door. 

The anxiety returns like a wave crashing on your shore. 

You should be over this by now. It's been so many years. You've cycled through all of grief's vicious stages, and the sadness and loss has dulled to the point you don't think of it anymore every day. And even then—it was Beth who was your best friend, Beth who you cried for the hardest. Not Simon. Simon was— 

(family by-proxy-by-proxy) 

—special. 

But him leaving you something behind shouldn't be enough to derail the peace you've clawed out for yourself. 

Right? 

You tell Liv it was a family thing when she asks, but she's concerned, says you look pale; “Are you sure you're up for going, babe?” 

You open your mouth to say yes. 

Before you can, though, a notification pops up. It's Dave. You told him you were going out earlier today and received no response—more and more often these days, you remember thinking—and shrugged. Put it out of your mind. 

You open the text. 

Oh I was thinking we do chinese tonight and a movie marathon 

You bite your lip, hard. Text back, Sorry, maybe some other time? 

He's not usually one to respond so quickly, but the three dots pop up before you're even done typing. 

We can go out together sometime 

Just call and cancel 

I'll get your fav <3 

—you crumble. 

It's pathetic, but right now all you want is someone's arms to bury yourself into and to cry on a familiar shoulder. To not be alone in a crowd of strangers with girls that you don't know very well. 

You take a shuddering breath and try for your best apologetic smile. “Liv? Sorry. Um—I think the family call thing got me a little harder than I thought.”  

How do you explain what Simon was to you? What Beth and her family were to you? 

“I'm really sorry for flaking on you suddenly, but is it okay if I go with you next time?” 

“Of course, babe,” Liv rushes to assure you. “Take it easy, okay? You really don't look so good. We can go out dancing anytime—I'll add you to the groupchat.” 

“Thanks. Have fun,” you tell her, and she says she will before the screen goes dark. 

With trembling hands, you press the call button. 

“Um, sorry. Am I in the way?” 

“Not at all.” The guy before you flashes you an easy smile. “Want one too?” 

You nod yes, and watch him pour you your drink. He has nice hands; slender, nails neatly trimmed, a plain watch around his wrist. 

“I'm Dave,” he says as he hands you your drink. You accept with a smile and offer your own name, and go through the usual so what do you do for work, who do you know here, did you come with a friend, what food did you bring to the potluck? 

“Er,” he says a little sheepishly, “just drinks, I'm afraid. I can't cook to save my life.” 

“It's not so hard once you get started. They've got these food delivery boxes now, where you just get everything you need for a meal.” 

“Ah, I want to, but. You know.” Dave gestures with his hand. “Work keeps me so busy when I get home all I want to do is pass out.” 

You give him a sympathetic smile. You know that feeling too, all too well. “So that's why you're here, huh?” you joke. “To eat your fill and then leave before the cleanup?” 

Dave winks. “Oops. Saw right through me.” 

In the end Dave does stay for cleanup, though you suspect he only does so because he wants to talk to you after and ask for your number. 

You're a little surprised at yourself for giving it. 

It doesn't have to mean anything, you tell yourself later on the way home. It can just be practice. Getting back into the dating scene after disappearing from it for a few years. 

Worst case you try a one-liner on him and he ghosts you. 

Part of you hopes he doesn't, though. You enjoyed talking to Dave. He seemed nice. Normal. 

Uncomplicated. 

Beth would want that for you, too, you decide when you close the door behind you. A nice normal bloke you can live a nice normal life with. You can't hide yourself away forever; the excuse of work keeping you too busy to socialise is wearing thin.  

Who knows? You smile to yourself as you drift off. 

Maybe this could be the start of something really good. 

Dave leaves early in the morning when you're still half-asleep in bed. You don't remember getting there last night; he must've carried you over after you fell asleep on the sofa. 

You wrinkle your nose at the empty plastic containers littering the low table in the living room. It's messier than you remember it; Dave even forgot his jacket, still thrown over the back of the sofa. You pick it up and dust it off— 

...? 

You frown and lean in, sniffing the jacket. 

Traces of something sweet and fruity still cling to the fabric. 

You stand there, in the still morning light spilling through the windows, holding the jacket and staring at it. You're overreacting. You're reading into it. You're so sensitive. Jumping to conclusions. 

Dave doesn't usually wear scent, does he? 

crazy bitch, possessive cunt, stupid whore— 

...But maybe he's started to. You'll... you'll ask him about it. That should be okay, right? You'll ask him, and then he'll say oh, yeah, just trying out this new thing. 

And the world will be right again. 

Tears prick at your eyes and you blink them away, carefully hanging Dave's jacket onto the hanger in the hallway. You avert your eyes as soon as possible. 

You don't want to think about it. 

If you do, you'll just make yourself go crazy. Talk yourself into doing something stupid, like calling him and then blubbering accusations at him like a lunatic. 

You breathe out. No. This is your free day, and you're not going to spend in moping inside. You scoop up Mim, who's come out of his hiding place, and kiss his little head while he purrs in your arms. 

You're going to feed your cats, feed yourself, and then... 

Then you'll go to that military base. Get it over with. It'll get you out of the house, out of your head, make you think about something else than Dave wearing a woman's scent. 

Even if that something else is the dead brother-in-law of your equally dead best friend. 

[the-broken-pen]

Hey can you do one about a villain with teleporting powers

The hero woke up gasping, scrambling upright in bed as the back of their neck tingled in warning. Their eyes darted around the room, blurry, before settling on the far wall.

The villain watched them, idle and unimpressed.

The hero’s lungs, traitorously, forgot how to breathe. They wheezed slightly, one hand clenching onto the blanket, the other sliding underneath the pillow for their knife, where–

The villain hummed, and the hero’s attention snapped back to them at the same time they managed to draw in a painful, terror-addled breath. The villain’s gaze was unnerving as they flipped a knife over their knuckles.

The hero’s knife.

“You,” the hero managed, but they couldn’t think of anything to say, and they were so tired and their pulse was jackrabbiting in their ears.

The villain seemed to know this.

“I warned you,” they said. They didn’t even sound mean about it. Just a gentle reminder–hey, don’t forget to check the mail, hey, it’s your mom’s birthday, hey, can you feed the dog?

‘If you keep interfering, I will hunt you to the ends of the Earth and make you stop. There is nowhere I will not find you. Do you hear me? You cannot run from me, so don’t make me chase you.’

The hero swallowed.

“I didn’t think you would actually do it.”

The villain nodded like they had expected this. “You’ve learned from your mistakes, though, yeah?”

The hero knew the right answer. They knew that the proper response would be to slide off the bed onto their knees, to swear in every language they knew that they wouldn’t do it again. That the villain would be the only one allowed to splash blood onto the streets of their city, and the hero would choke on the pain of doing nothing and stay silent in it.

“You knew I wasn’t going to listen to you,” the hero said, and it was accusatory. The villain shifted slightly. “You had to have known I wouldn’t stop just because you threatened me.”

The villain shrugged one shoulder. 

“Of course I did. If you were the type of person who would have stopped, I would have killed you instead of giving you a warning.”

The hero’s grip tightened on the blanket. “That doesn’t make sense. If I was going to stop then why kill me–”

“I don’t believe in weakness,” the villain interrupted. Their gaze was searching and heavy on the hero’s face, knife still spinning over their knuckles. “Which is why you’re alive, because you have never been weak.”

The hero’s jaw tensed.

“You wanted this.”

The hint of a smile pulled at the villain’s mouth.

“Of course I did. You think I didn’t know you would try and run? You think I didn’t know exactly how you would react the moment I threatened anyone in that cursed city?”

“So you weren’t actually going to kill anyone?”

“Oh, no,” the villain corrected. “Of course I was going to. They don’t matter to me.”

The hero’s stomach turned. 

“Those are people–”

“They’re a drop in an ocean of humanity. You know better than to think I would care about something so trivial,” the villain said.

“They’re not trivial–”

The villain sighed, harsh in the darkness of the room.

“I bore of this. Get dressed. We’re leaving.”

The hero jolted back.

“I’m not going anywhere with you.”

The villain sighed again, as if they were dealing with an unruly child and getting a headache for their efforts. It sent the hero bristling like an angry cat.

“There’s nowhere you can go that I can’t find you. You know that, right? There is no end of the line for this. You can drive until you run out of gasoline, until your feet bleed, and you drain your accounts of money. And I will follow, and I will leave every person who helped you nothing more than a stain on the ground, until you decide the trail of bodies isn’t worth avoiding me. Is that really something you want?”

The hero set their jaw, rising to their feet. 

“You won’t find me,” they swore. And the villain–

The villain laughed.

“I know your face. Of course I can find you.”

The hero was missing something, and the lack of knowledge felt like a sword over their head. 

“I don’t–”

“There’s no way you would have known,” the villain said gently, like they knew how much it bothered the hero that they were missing something that was apparently vital. 

They probably did know.

The hero glared.

The villain looked on the verge of another laugh.

“Once I’ve seen a face, I can find a person anywhere in the world. No matter how far. That’s all I need. You could go to the other side of the planet, and I could teleport to you without a second thought.”

The hero gaped.

“Any face?”

The villain paused. “Yes.”

The hero’s throat went abruptly dry.

Any face–

“You could do so much good,” the hero said, and their voice broke slightly. “Do you know how many people you could save? Natural disasters and missing persons cases and–”

“You misunderstand me.”

“You could–”

“I don’t want to do good.”

The hero stopped.

“You don’t want to do good,” they said flatly.

“I am not a good person,” the villain said. “I don’t want to do good. I want power, and I want to do as I please, and I want you.”

The hero was going to be sick on the wooden flooring. They were barefoot, and weaponless, and that fear still ran up their spine.

“I am a person. You cannot have a person.”

“You are a glorious, powerful being,” the villain countered.

“That doesn’t make me less of a person.”

“No,” the villain agreed. “But it does make you something other than trivial. How could I do anything other than want to have that?”

The hero backed up a step.

“You can’t have me.”

The villain matched them, silent even as they stepped forward.

“You plan to run?”

They sounded amused.

The hero supposed that was better than anger.

“Stay over there,” the hero said shakily. The villain obliged, settling their hands into their pockets. Like this was a means to an end. They had flipped to the back of the book and read the ending, and were watching the hero catch up to the scenes they had already seen played out. The villain’s eyes burned into them.

And abruptly, skin going cold, the hero realized there truly wasn’t a way out of this for them.

The villain would never let them be. They could run, like the villain said, and the villain could kill every person who so much as looked their way. They could hide, and stumble through cities and down alleys and the villain would always be around the corner. 

They had little doubt that every other person in this shitty motel was already dead. 

The villain grinned like they could read every thought as it crossed the hero’s face.

“Where will you go,” the villain said. They stepped forward until they were close enough to touch. 

It wasn’t really the sort of question that wanted an answer.

“Everyone else in this building is dead, aren’t they?”

The villain cocked their head, as if to say, Come now, you know the answer to that.

The hero didn’t think they would ever be able to draw a full breath again.

“Where,” the villain said, soft like a secret. “Will you go, little hero?”

It felt like dying. It felt like reaching out to help someone a second too late. A second too slow to catch the building as it fell. The wrong side of a fire before it blew up.

“With you,” they whispered, and the villain smiled wider.

“What was that?”

“You heard me,” the hero snapped, and thrust their hand out. The villain took it without hesitation.

They tugged the hero into them, leaning to slot their mouth next to the hero’s ear. The hair on the back of the hero’s neck stood up.

“You could do so much bad,” the villain whispered, and the hero ground their teeth hard enough to hurt.

Anger flared bright enough to drain every ounce of fear from their body. Because this was the worst case scenario, wasn’t it? What could be lost.

“Every step you make, every blow you deal and fire you start, I’ll be there. And I'll stop you. Again, and again, and again. You want me?” The hero bared their teeth. “Then have me.”

The villain tugged them closer, and laughed.

“I look forward to it,” the villain replied, and then darkness swallowed the both of them whole.

A week later, a team of agents entered the motel to find it coated in blood and the smell of death.

A month later, everyone knew there was a fight of immovable power and unstoppable force shattering its way across the world. 

A year later, the victor panted through a bloody grin, bruised and crackling with vicious unleashed power, and laughed. Because truly, the ending had been on the horizon since the moment the two of them had first met.

[milotraflgkl]

Kissing Practice

SANJI X FEM!READER

note: THIS IS A REUPLOAD!!! content: mild angst, jealousy, thought to be one-sided feelings, insecure reader-ish, kissing/making out, suggestive kissing, sanji being a flirt. WC: 1886

You and Sanji were always flirting, it was obvious the attraction you had for the man and it was obvious that his interest in you was more than most other women. But that didn’t mean his endless flirting with other women came to a halt just because of you, at first it didn’t bother you all that much. It was harmless flirting and banter, but when he started to show more interest your hopes were lifted that he might’ve been interested in you. Maybe it was how long you two were stuck on the ship, you were the only person who ever gladly took Sanji's flirts and gave them back.

But it was your first time as a crew back on land, deciding to spread your legs you all went to the local bar to share some drinks and have social interaction with people other than the ones you were stuck with on the ship. You sat at the bar drinking a beer and making small talk with Usopp, who had already quite a few beers. He was babbling on about something that you couldn’t quite pay attention to because your eyes were stuck on something else, Usopp took a moment and another sip of his beer before he noticed you weren’t paying him any mind and he followed your eyesight. Sanji sat at the other side of the bar with some random woman all over him, moving her hands across his arms and laughing at whatever on earth he was telling her. He was looking at her the same way he had been looking at you those flirtatious moments on the ship and with that, it all hit you in one foul swing. He didn’t like you, you were just to keep him entertained. You swallowed heavily before quickly grabbing another beer and chugging it, then asking the bartender for another.

Usopp turned to look at you immediately, his facial expression became one of a worried one. He watched as you opened the next beer and began to chug it, “Hey- Hey!” He says carefully pushing the drink away from your lips, “Chill out..” He mumbled, you looked at him for a moment and stared. You turned to look at Sanji in the girl hitting it off so well, it made you scoff at yourself for being so dumb and gullible. You squeezed your eyes shut before you placed the beer down on the counter and sighed, “Sorry…” You respond to Usopp taking a deep breath, you weren’t drunk only on your third drink. Just a bit tipsy but another drink might get you there, you didn’t want to be drunk and emotional so you told yourself you’d finish this drink and then get water. You sniffled for a moment as you stared at your beer, flinching suddenly feeling hands against your back. You turn to look at Usopp who was attempting to comfort you and rub your back gently, “He’s gonna keep doing that, maybe you should too? Yknow… If he can flirt so can you.”

You stared at Usopp for a moment, processing what he was saying to you before it fully clicked a little switch in your brain. If he can flirt with others, so can you. You told yourself a small smile coming to your lips, “You know what, you’re right.” You say, pushing yourself by the hands away from the bar. “I did see a handsome fellow earlier~” You hum, twisting your body and beginning to walk off to find the stranger that would be here to simply have some fun for the night. Your eyes scanned around the room before they finally fell upon him, he was sitting alone at a table which is perfect timing. You walked over and sat across from him, beginning to make small talk with him and attempting to flirt with him.

What you weren’t aware of was how there was a pair of ocean blue eyes staring into the back of your head, having forgotten about the woman who sat next to him.

You were hitting it off with this stranger, your elbow perched up on the table and your chin being held up by your hand. The guy began to get a little more comfortable, one of his hands reaching over and touching yours then his leg feeling up your calf. You felt yourself beginning to sweat nervously, why were you so nervous!? You were just harmlessly flirting, a little fun for the night. Then one thought flew into your mind, You’ve never even kissed someone, let alone go past that. You grew nervous that you were leading this man on that he would get you in bed, you had to think of a way to get out of this situation and fast. You listened as this stranger told stories in a way to impress you before you finally came up with an idea, You gagged and covered your mouth acting shocked in so did the man. “S’cuse me..” You mumbled from behind your hands and quickly rushed off to the bathroom.

You finally found the bathroom after struggling in a crowd and quickly locked yourself in, hoping that he hadn’t followed and you could just sit in here for maybe an hour or so then make a sneaky exit. You sighed in relief as a few minutes had passed and no knock from the sound came from the other sound, you looked at yourself in the mirror and immediately your mind began to race. Picking yourself apart from the girl that Sanji had gotten all close and personal with, why weren’t you his type? How could you be his type… You let out a shaky sigh and inhale trying to stop yourself from crying. Knock, Knock. You flinched at the sound of the door and stared in confusion, “[Name?]” A voice called from the other side and you knew who it was immediately.

Sanji.

You stared at the door in shock, why was he here? Had he seen you fake being sick? You didn’t want to see his face right now, you were kind of hoping you could’ve snuck out without any of the crew knowing and going to the ship to give into sleep earlier. You inhaled shakily and squeezed the counter gently before you found the courage to speak, “Yeah..?” You asked out, you heard him attempt the door handle. “You alright? I saw you looked like you were going to be sick.” He asked you, and you almost scoffed at the words. You let go of the counter and made your way to the door, opening the door slowly and looking at him. “Yeah… Just had a few too many drinks and guess the food didn’t settle well with it.” You lied and met eyes with Sanji, God his eyes were beautiful you could stare into them for hours.

You realized you had been staring and blinked, “I’m… I’m good now though.” You respond with a soft, nod attempting to slide your way past him before you feel Sanji’s hand on your waist and push you back into the backroom shutting the door behind him. You heard the sound of the lock clicking panic bubbling in the pit of your stomach as you looked at Sanji, you inhaled a shaky breath as you looked at him. “Sanji.. are you drunk?” You whispered out, And he shook his head in response. “Only had one drink.” He whispered back, his eyes slowly traced over your face until his eyes stopped and stared at your lips.

Carefully Sanji led you to press your back against the cold counter, your hands immediately grabbing hold to support yourself as you stared at him in shock. “[Name]…” He whispered out his face so close to yours it made your skin burn and butterflies in your stomach erupt, “Can I please kiss you..?” He asked in a whispered tone as his nose gently brushed against yours, You shivered at the feeling of him so close to you. You were malfunctioning at the question and took a moment to process what he had just asked of you, you turned your head quickly which caused Sanji to let out a small gasp of disappointment.

“I’ve… never actually kissed anyone before.” You muttered out in embarrassment, your eyes glanced towards Sanji as he stared at you in shock for a moment. “You’ve.. never kissed anyone before?” He repeated your own words but as a question, his voice full of pure disbelief. You swallowed and nodded your eyes turning to look away from him again, instead suddenly finding more interest in the countertop beside you. “[Name]…” He whispered, his hand gently touching your jaw and guiding your face back to look at him. You looked at him nervously scared of what he would have to say, he chuckled at how scared you looked. “How about… I give you some private lessons?” He whispered as if the two of you weren’t locked in a bathroom alone, your breath hitched as he offered and stared at him in shock your face becoming extremely warm and you knew he noticed with the grin he had on his lips. “Oh… Okay.” You responded in a breathy tone as soon as you gave Sanji the green light his lips were attached to yours, his hand on your waist pulling you closer and his other found its way to hold the side of your neck.

His lips were oh so soft, the taste of cigarettes still lingered on his lips and you felt like you were dreaming but how gently he was kissing you. You didn’t want this moment to ever end, how his thumb moved gently against your neck and he held you so close. Your mind began to race to wonder how many other women he has kissed this softly then remembering that moments before he had been flirting with another woman, you quickly pulled away which caused him to stare at you in shock. “What… what about the lady you were with?” You asked out trying to catch your breath and watched as his eyebrows furrowed, “What about her?” He asked you. “You just… left her.” You glanced at the door before his hand redirected your face again. “Yeah, I did, for you.” He says, staring at you with a serious yet soft expression.

“Cause I like you [Name].” He whispered and those words sent shivers down your spine, your mind running on auto as you attach your lips back to his and kiss him. He carefully moved away, “Gentle.” He says you nodded as he told you before kissing him more gently which he responds with a pleased hum.

You two would stay in the bathroom sharing simple kisses for a few minutes for the sound of a knock interrupted, the two of you turning into a blushing mess and quickly making your way out of the bathroom and back into the club. Make your way back to sit with the crew and share soft glances before everyone finally decides to leave, but you’ll be needing more of those ‘private lessons’ sometime soon.

[holdmytesseract]

Hunter & Prey

☆ The Baby Fever AU ☆

Loki x Y/N

Summary: On a charity event, you and Loki play a dangerous game of seduction. Who is going to cave first?

Warnings: pining? flirting? sexual tension, very suggestive smut/mild smut, dom!Loki? basically very sexy stuff

Word Count: 2,1k

a/n: Prepare some water, guys. It's going to get hot in here... 👀

Baby Fever Masterlist °☆• Loki Masterlist °☆• Masterlist

divider by @fictive-sl0th <3

The whole evening had been nothing more than a game for you and Loki - and the only question was who'd cave first.

Small, secret touches when hopefully no paparazzi was looking your way. Your hand brushing his hand. A finger playing with the black buttons of his black shirt. Or a short tug on his black leather belt to pull him closer - which the god of Mischief only commented with a low chuckle, or an revengeful touch of his own... Fingertips brushing the dip of your lower back or the curve of your hips in a seemingly innocent gesture.

But it wasn't just the touching... The looks you threw each other from across the red carpet, the places you were seated at or the dance floor were borderline G-rated. You could tell that Loki was practically undressing you with his eyes. His gaze lingered on your curves, which got highlighted by the dress you wore perfectly. His piercing blue eyes telling you that he'd drag you away to a hidden corner and have his way with you - if he could. Loki was a master in hiding his thoughts in front everybody else. His desiring looks were meant for you and you only; not once failing to make your knees weak.

The problem was that you weren’t even close at hiding your lustful gazes quite as good as Loki did and therefore it didn't go unnoticed... At least by your best friend...

"Oh for God's sake, babes..." Nat's voice suddenly caused the bubble of fantasies you just swam in to burst. You blinked; head turning to face the Widow. "S-Sorry, what did you just say?" Natasha giggled. "See, that's exactly what I mean." "What?" "Oh no, babes, don't you dare to shit me and play innocent now. I know exactly what's going on in that pretty head of yours." You giggled; "And what would that be, huh?" voice dripping with fake innocence. "Taking a ride on the handsome god over there," she said blatantly; nodding at Loki. "That 'handsome god over there' is my boyfriend, so I have every right to, don't I?"

Your best friend crossed her arms over her chest. "I never said something else, but we're at a charity event, babes. If Tony, Steve - or hence even Fury gets a whiff of this, you two are fucked. Don't forget that sexy Mischief is still 'on probation'. 'Misbehaving' on a important charity event probably isn't playing into his hands. I'm just saying." Her words brought you down to earth a bit. You swallowed, "You're probably right, yeah..." and averted your eyes from Loki's - much to the god's dismay.

You tried very hard to not let your sexual attraction towards Loki get the better of you, but that was everything but easy. Especially not when it was time for him - and Thor to step on the small stage. He moved elegantly - like the prince and god he was. You didn't even have be close to him, exchange fleeting gazes or small touches... The mere look of him was enough to drive you insane this evening.

He was dressed all black for this event. Black, shiny dress shoes. Black suit trousers, which were so well tailored that they left little to imagine; held around his hips by a black leather belt. A tight, perfectly fitting black shirt was neatly tucked inside his trousers; sleeves rolled up.

His hair was tied up into a loose man bun. This hairstyle combined with the slight stubble on his chin and cheeks and the outfit he wore was a dangerous combination. Deathly.

You swallowed hard; feeling your eyes glued onto him; heart beating fast against your chest. You crossed and uncrossed your legs; trying to somehow just cope with the situation you were in.

Turned out, you couldn't.

Unbeknownst to you, oceanic blue eyes were following you...

Biting your lip and wincing at the sound of his deep velvet voice sounding through the speakers, you felt like fainting. You had to get out of here.

"Nat?" You gently elbowed your best friend, who was seated beside you. "Yes?" "I-I, uh, I'll be back in a sec." You stood up; witnessing Nat throwing you a questioning glare. "Restroom," you mouthed, before you piled out of the big ball room and stormed off to the ladies bathroom.

You took a deep breath as you stood hunched over one of the sinks; staring into the mirror in front of you. What did you get yourself into? You asked yourself. Sure, you wanted to play that game - but both, you and Loki forgot the rules.

"Fuck..."

Loki.

Sneaking off with him wasn't an option, but the evening was still young. The event just started. Meaning, you had to put yourself through this for another few hours. There was no other option. No other way out of this...

Your thundering thought got interrupted by the restroom door opening and closing. The clicking of shoes could be heard. No high heels, though. You knew how high heels sounded like... Only dress shoes clicked like that on marble floor. You looked up, head snapping down the rather large room. Toilet stalls were lining the left side, sinks the right - and in the middle... Your eyes widened.

He had a wolfish smile on his lips; nearing you like a predator its prey. "Don't tell me you've been fleeing, my love... Can't you take this little game of us any longer, hm?" Loki took another carefully calculated step towards you.

You winced; wanted nothing more than to let yourself fall into his awaiting arms. You shook your head; trying to keep it cool. "Loki, what... What are you doing here? This is... This is the ladies room! W-What if someone is coming inside?!"

The god only smirked, then casually snapped his fingers; causing the lock on the door to turn. You swallowed.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" He stepped even closer; causing you to step back. He was going to trap you. Between him and the wall.

You were fucked.

"U-Uhm, I-I-" You stammered; unable to form words - already.

Loki chuckled deeply and ran a hand over his tied up hair, before it went to his chest. You watched with horror how long fingers worked to undo the first four buttons, which resulted in you getting a delicious sneak peek of his pecs and chest hair.

"Did my presence made you speechless, darling?"

All you were able to do was staring and trying not to drool - or faint.

The closer he got, the more dangerous this situation got for you. You tried to hold on and get a grip, but when his scent wafted over to you and invaded your nostrils, you were done.

Another chuckle rumbled through the god's chest. He was enjoying this.

"I really did render you speechless."

Charred wood, musk, a hit of leather and blood oranges. Gods... You wanted to drown in his scent. In him.

You felt how your legs buckled; knees giving in underneath you.

You gasped; hadn't seen that coming. You should have.

You were already prepared to hit the harsh ground, when you felt suddenly two strong hands on your hips; keeping you from falling and pinning you against the white wall. You gasped at his touch; only noticed now how close Loki really was.

"I got you, love." He breathed into your ear and helping you to stand properly again. Once the god made sure that both your feet were touching the ground, one of his hand engulfed both your hands. You met his eyes - and for one tiny, foolish moment, you thought that he'd finally show mercy on you, but then he roughly pinned your hands against the wall above your head with his forearm, giving him the chance to lean in even closer.

"L-Loki-" "Shhh," he hushed you; lips ghosting over your neck. "Don't speak, my love... Just feel..." He started to pepper your skin with kisses. Gently, at first, before they became more demanding. More passionate. Loki nipped and even bit the sensitive area, only to sooth it with his hot tongue a second later. You whimpered; had turned putty in the god's hands already ages ago.

You were lost. Lost in his touch. Lost in his kiss. Lost in him.

When Loki was satisfied with bruising your neck, he moved to kiss your lips. "Mhhh," he moaned. "You taste delicious." You could say the same for him.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth; gently biting. Loki growled and tightened the hold he had around your hip, before diving into another kiss.

So lost, that you didn't notice at first, how Loki moved and took a step closer - until you felt his thick thigh brushing the insides of your legs - and not just his thigh... A moan threatened to fall from your lips as you felt him; legs instinctively clenching around his thigh. The only thing which prevented the skin on skin contact, were a few layers of fabric. Your flowy evening dress and his suit trousers.

Fuck...

When the hand which was still curled around your hip began to wander until it cupped your ass and pushed you further onto his thigh, reality suddenly caught up to you.

"L-Loki..." You wiggled your hands and arms; trying to get free of his grasp. "L-Loki, stop," you panted - and he immediately let go of your hands; cupping your waist instead. "W-We can't, babe." The god immediately started to pout. "Why not? I've been trying to hold myself back already the whole evening. I can't do this much longer. You're driving me insane, darling." He dipped his head to lick along the shell of your ear and bucking his hips once more, in order to prove his words.

"F-Fuck, Lokes... You're making things not exactly easier..." You couldn't help but slip your hand behind his body to give his ass a squeeze. Loki jolted; hips bucking again. "I'm making things not easier?" He quipped in a rather high pitched voice. "Darling, if you keep that up, I'm going to ruin those expensive trousers."

You moaned; unable to control it.

"You are still on probation. If Tony, Steve or Fury gets a whiff of what we're about to do, you'll be in serious trouble - and I don't want that." Honest concern was swinging within your voice. Loki sighed and reluctantly slipped his thigh from between your legs and even took a step back, but kept his hands firmly on your waist. "You... You are right. I don't want to risk this. Not now that I finally wooed the woman of my dreams."

"Okay, okay, let's say we're making it both not easier for the other." Your boyfriend smirked; hand playing with the hem of your dress. "Then why don't we just give into it, hm?" You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment; trying to keep a cool head - again.

"Babe, we can't fuck in the restroom of a fancy theatre in the middle of New York on a charity event!" Another pout. "Why not? The door is locked. Nobody can-" "Loki..." You said firmly; signalling him that this was serious.

Charmer.

You giggled; blushing. "Let's go back to the others." He nodded. "I really hope this event is over soon... Will be very hard to control myself around you." You pressed a soft kiss on his scruffy cheek; the stinging, tickling sensation stirred again something deep within you. Just image how it would feel between your le-

Goddammit control yourself, Y/N!

"Alright, let's go." He walked over to you. You stared at him; jaw clenched. "Babe... Please... Please never- I repeat, never do that in front of me again or I might reconsider my life choices and jump you right here and now. Are we clear?"

"I-I hope so, too." You adjusted your dress and hair a bit and wiping Loki's lips, in order to get rid of your lipstick, before you went to the door. "Are you coming, babe?" The god nodded absent-mindedly; his gaze directed downwards. "Yes, darling, just give me a moment. I have to..." His large hands tugged and pushed the black fabric; legs bending. "... adjust the package. Unless, people will know or might even get suspicious. We can't have that, right?" Your eyes dropped; following his hands. You just couldn't help it.

Damnit.

Another wolfish grin formed on the god's face. "Yes, ma'am." "Good."

A snap of his fingers unlocked the door again. You opened it; carefully peeking around to see if the coast was clear. It luckily was. So, you stepped out, Loki following you close behind in quiet.

Shortly before you reached the main hall again; you felt Loki's breath tickling the skin of your neck, whispering into your: "Just for your information, darling... I hope you know that you won't leave my bed for the rest of the night as soon as this is over."

A shiver rand down your spine. You smirked. "Sounds promising."

Baby Fever Crew: @muddyorbsblr @mochie85 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jaidenhawke @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @multifandom-worlds @jennyggggrrr @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @herdetectivetheorist @hisredheadedgoddess28 @chennqingg @km-ffluv @simping-for-marvel @princess-ofthe-pages @huntedmusicgardenn @stupidthoughtsinwriting @lokiforever @loz-3 @eleniblue @icytrickster17 @jaguarthecat @yourfriendlyslytherinhc @kimanne723 @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @smolvenger @lou12346789 @lokisrealpurpous @isaidoop @lokisgoodgirl @aagn360 @cakesandtom @alexakeyloveloki @glitchquake @anukulee @lady-rose-moon @lovingchoices14 @ainsley30 @lokischambermaid @irishhappiness @mandywholock1980

[kingofbodyrolls]

Deep Dive (m) | knj

*this is a re-upload since I deleted my old account 🫣

You’ve been searching for gemstones deep on the seabed— having found a broken piece of blue aquamarine. Searching for the missing piece and your new rival, you find it and much more with the blue tailed merman Namjoon while on a quest for crystals.

→ Pairing: namjoon x reader (female) → AUs: mermaid!au, fantasy!au, magical!au, soulmate!au → Trope: strangers to lovers → Genres: fluff, smut, angst + a very small sprinkle of comedy → Rating: mature/explicit/R18 (this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.) → Word count: 19.7k → Warnings (general) + triggers: not much, honestly it’s all very very fluffy, lovey dovey and cute (you’ll probably get a cavity). There’s also a lot more lore and worldbuilding in this one compared to the others, as this is the first time we’re properly introduced to the seacity🧜It’s also rather existential and philosophical.  → Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please be safe), oral (male and female), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, love making, kissing, breast play (licking, sucking, biting), handjob, fingering, clit play, hair pulling, creampie, very brief cockwarming. → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: I really don’t know what happened when writing this one; my fingers totally slipped and most of this is just world building 🫣 At least I had a shit ton of fun writing it! I tried to make the smut a bit different than I normally do, because I just feel like what I write is getting very repetitive… So I tried changing the pace of it a bit, but I don't know if it worked or not. Anyway, I really hope you like this one too, and I managed to finish it before Namjoon’s birthday, which means I’ll release it on that day 🥳 Please do let me know what, and if you liked it, and if you’re excited for the rest of the mermaid stories ✨

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

The boat sways gently with the rhythm of the waves, each crest and trough sending a flutter through your stomach, a tantalizing whisper of the adventure awaiting below. The sea has always been your muse, its vast, enigmatic depths a sanctuary where you’ve carved out your own livelihood. As a freelance scuba diver, you descend into the ocean’s embrace, hunting for hidden treasures—crystals and gems, and occasionally, the rarest of finds. These treasures are not just artifacts; they are fragments of the earth’s ancient soul, preserved in the watery depths.

Hae, your best friend and partner in this aquatic quest, stands beside you, her hands steady as she helps you prepare for the dive. She runs a holistic and spiritual webshop called Soulful, a name that seems to capture the essence of her being—a blend of spirituality, sustainability, and an eye for the aesthetically divine. The gems and crystals you unearth find their way into her shop, where they are revered not just for their beauty, but for the energy they carry. The world has turned its gaze towards the mystical these days, and her shop has become a beacon for those seeking solace and healing in the arms of nature.

With your wetsuit snug against your skin, fins secured, and the weight of the oxygen tanks settling on your back, you feel the familiar thrill course through you. Hae hands you your goggles with a smile, and before placing the mouthpiece between your lips, you flash her a grin. “See you soon,” you say, voice laced with excitement. The small tool bag—your fanny pack of excavation tools—rests comfortably at your side, ready to assist in your quest for nature’s buried wonders.

You take a deep breath and plunge into the ocean, the water swallowing you with a resonant splash. As you breach the surface, your arms stretch forward, parting the water with a smooth, practiced motion. The ocean welcomes you, wrapping you in its cool, serene embrace. Here, beneath the waves, you are home, surrounded by the vibrant tapestry of sea life. Jellyfish drift by, their tendrils trailing like delicate threads of silk, while schools of tiny fish scatter at your approach, shimmering in the filtered sunlight that dances through the water. Deeper you dive, into the world where time slows, and the ocean whispers secrets long forgotten by the surface. The seafloor is a hidden gallery of nature’s artistry, where crystals and gems lie in wait, forged over eons by the earth’s elemental forces. Each one tells a story—of undersea volcanoes, tectonic pressures, and the alchemical dance of minerals. Hae often speaks of these gems as if they are living beings, infused with the spirit of the ocean itself, each one a relic of the deep’s quiet, patient creation.

You smile to yourself, recalling her poetic musings, almost as if you were reading straight from her website. But you know the truth behind the beauty—these crystals, formed through evaporation, precipitation, and the intricate dance of minerals, are more than just pretty stones. They are pieces of the earth’s heart, shaped by the hands of time and nature’s immense power. Sodium, magnesium, calcium, potassium—their chemical symphony plays out in each crystal, each gem a unique testament to the forces that birthed it.

To you, they are not just beautiful—they are a testament to the majesty of the natural world, a tangible link to the planet’s deep, unspoken history. Hae’s customers, too, are drawn to this connection, to the knowledge that each crystal was not mined en masse, but discovered and unearthed by your hands alone. This makes each piece not only ethically sourced but also one-of-a-kind, carrying with it a story that can never be replicated. And then, there’s the healing. The myriad of spiritual properties attributed to these gems opens another world entirely, one that you and Hae have only begun to explore. It’s a world where science and spirituality entwine, where the physical and the metaphysical dance in harmony. But for now, as you dive deeper into the ocean’s embrace, you’re content to simply marvel at nature’s handiwork, knowing that whatever treasures you find will carry a piece of this underwater realm back to the surface.

A glint catches your eye in the distance, a shimmer that pulls you deeper into the ocean’s embrace. You’ve lost track of how far you’ve dived—perhaps just a few meters, or maybe more. Time seems to stretch and compress down here, as fluid as the water around you. A quick glance at your watch reveals that only ten minutes have passed, but you know you must be mindful of the oxygen left in your tank. Still, the ocean’s siren call urges you onward, tempting you with secrets yet to be unveiled.

Something blue sparkles ahead, its brilliance cutting through the murky depths, and you find yourself drawn to it like a moth to a flame. Your body moves with the fluidity of the water, each motion a dance of instinct and harmony. Down here, you’re not just an explorer—you’re a part of the ocean itself, swaying gently in time with the currents. The source of the light reveals itself as you approach a small rock formation, where gems of varying shades of blue glisten like forgotten stars scattered across the ocean floor. Aquamarine, calcite, and amazonite—Hae’s voice echoes in your mind, recalling the knowledge she’s shared with you. Aquamarine, the “Sea Water Stone,” born from the cooling magma of the earth’s depths, its color an echo of the ocean’s own hues. It’s a stone that calms the mind, eases stress, and sharpens communication, a talisman of courage and clarity. Blue calcite, a crystal forged from calcium, carbon, and oxygen, soothes like a lullaby, its gentle presence calming nerves and quieting anxieties. It also opens the mind’s eye, enhancing intuition and inner vision. And then there’s amazonite, a gem you’ve always favored. Its cool blue-green tones speak to your soul, a “Stone of Courage” that promotes truth, honor, and positive communication. It balances the masculine and feminine energies within, weaving harmony into the fabric of life. You reach out, your fingers brushing the rough texture of the rock, marveling at the beauty before you.

Carefully, you pull out your tools—a smooth flat file and a soft silicone hammer—and begin to work. The gems yield to your skillful hands, and soon, you’ve gathered a small collection of aquamarine, blue calcite, and amazonite, each piece a perfect reflection of the ocean’s quiet majesty. You tuck them safely into your bag, their weight a comforting presence at your side.

But the ocean isn’t done with you yet. You swim further, your eyes scanning the seabed where kelp and other sea plants sway like ethereal dancers. A small cave catches your attention, its entrance barely large enough to accommodate you, but you’re compelled to explore. You squeeze through the narrow opening, and the sight that greets you steals your breath away.

Before you lies a treasure trove of green crystals, their surfaces shimmering like serpent scales. Serpentine—Hae has spoken of this gem, formed deep within the Earth’s mantle by the transformation of silicate minerals through water. This is your first time finding it, and you can’t help but marvel at its beauty, the green hues reminiscent of a forest hidden beneath the waves. You run your fingers over the rough surface, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within the stone. Carefully, you chip away a few pieces, their weight adding to the growing collection in your bag.

But the bag is heavy now, laden with the ocean’s gifts, and a glance at your watch tells you it’s time to return. With a reluctant sigh, you leave the cave behind, swimming back toward the surface, your heart still lingering in the depths. As you break through the water, the sunlight dazzles your eyes, and Hae is there, her hands reaching out to help you back onto the boat. The weight of your gear is a burden you’re glad to shed, and you push the bag toward her, eager to share your discoveries.

“Wow!” she exclaims, her eyes wide with wonder as she sifts through the gems. “You really found a lot—and serpentine? You’ve never found that before. My customers are going to be over the moon!”

Her excitement is infectious, and you can’t help but smile. “That makes it all worth it,” you say, pulling off your hydro fin shoes with a satisfied sigh. “But I’m keeping one piece of serpentine for myself—it’s too beautiful to part with.”

Hae nods, still mesmerized by the treasures you’ve brought to the surface. The joy in her eyes is a reflection of your own, and you feel a deep contentment settle over you. The ocean has shared its secrets with you once again, and as you breathe in the fresh air, you know that the bond you share with the sea is stronger than ever.

You sail home under the setting sun, the ocean’s breeze carrying with it the scent of salt and adventure. The rhythmic lapping of the waves against the boat lulls you into a state of serene satisfaction. Back on land, you join Hae in her cozy apartment, where the warmth of the evening light filters through the windows. Her small photo studio, a creative sanctuary tucked into a corner, is ready for the treasures you’ve unearthed. Together, you arrange the crystals with care, each one glistening like a piece of the ocean’s soul captured in stone. The camera clicks, preserving the gems’ beauty for the world to see, as Hae’s artistic eye transforms them into visions of wonder. The process is swift but meaningful, a quiet ritual that binds your shared passions. Soon, the crystals will grace her webshop, ready to bring a touch of the sea’s magic to those who seek it.

“This collection is huge, Namjoon,” Hoseok remarks with a warm smile, his gaze sweeping over the shimmering array of gems that adorn the older merman’s room. “There’s so much history embedded in these walls,” he adds, pointing to the meticulously arranged stones, and Namjoon feels a flush of pride rise to his cheeks. He’s poured countless hours into curating this collection, each gem—some calcite, larimar, jasper, peridotite, amazonite, and serpentine—bearing the weight of time and the ocean’s secrets.

Yoongi casts a sidelong glance at Namjoon and his prized collection, murmuring with a wry grin, “It’s impressive... but also incredibly dorky.”

Hoseok bursts into laughter, his joy so radiant that for a moment, Namjoon thinks they don’t need the sun in their underwater world—Hoseok’s light is enough to illuminate the depths.

“I’m not a dork,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms over his bare torso in an attempt to feign indignation, but his stern expression does little to sway the younger mermen. Their laughter echoes through the water, a melody of friendship that only strengthens the bond between them.

“Nerd, then,” Hoseok offers through another burst of laughter, his voice rippling through the water like bubbles rising to the surface. Yoongi, ever the skeptic, merely rolls his eyes, already weary of the conversation. Namjoon can sense that Yoongi’s thoughts have drifted elsewhere—likely back to his bed, where he longs to sleep away the rest of the day. But Namjoon’s heart beats with a different rhythm, one that craves adventure. He usually embarks on treasure swims with his friend Soo-ah, but she’s preoccupied with her fiancé, Seokjin, as they prepare for their upcoming wedding.

Namjoon casts a glance at his friends, hoping they’ll soon take their leave so he can slip away into the inviting embrace of the sea. The room feels too small for his restless spirit, and the ocean beyond the walls calls to him like a siren’s song. He had initially invited them over for their monthly book club, but the gathering has devolved into something else entirely—Hoseok couldn’t stop laughing at the protagonist’s ridiculous misadventures, and Yoongi, true to form, had forgotten to read the book altogether. The story, plucked from the land above, strikes Hoseok as particularly odd and amusing, especially since he’s never set foot on land himself.

“Book club’s over, right?” Yoongi asks with a resigned sigh, his voice heavy with fatigue, as if the very mention of reading has drained him further.

“Yeah, but do try to read the next book for next month,” Namjoon chides gently, though he knows his words will likely fall on deaf ears. Yoongi merely shrugs, not even bothering to pick up the worn book as he drifts toward the door. Namjoon watches them go, rolling his eyes as Hoseok flashes him a soft smile and a thumbs-up before they swim off to their respective homes.

As their laughter fades into the distance, Namjoon finally feels the freedom to pursue the adventure that has been stirring within him all day. The sea awaits, vast and full of mysteries, and he is eager to explore its depths once more.

Namjoon exhales a deep sigh, the weight of his thoughts momentarily heavy, but he renews his energy by nibbling on some fresh kelp. The taste is crisp and briny, filling him with the vitality he needs for the journey ahead. With a determined glint in his eye, he slings his backpack over his shoulder and sets off on his adventure. The sea has always been his home, its vast expanse a comforting embrace. His parents, both scholars dedicated to preserving the rich history of their underwater city, have instilled in him a love for the past. But while they focus on teaching the young minds of the city, Namjoon’s heart has always been drawn to the secrets hidden within the earth—gems and stones that hold their own silent histories.

He propels himself forward, his baby blue tail cutting through the water with graceful precision. As he gathers speed, the fish scatter in a dazzling display, their scales catching the light as they dart away. The underwater world rushes past in a vibrant blur of color, until something shimmering in the distance catches his eye.

Ahead, perched on a rock formation, are gleaming clusters of calcite and aquamarine, their surfaces dancing with the light that filters through the water. The sun’s rays, fractured by the waves above, cast a spectrum of blues across the gems, making them shimmer like the sky at twilight. Namjoon’s breath catches in his throat, as it always does when faced with such natural beauty. Each gem is a masterpiece of time and pressure, a testament to the earth’s patient artistry. He reaches out, reverently running his fingers over the cool, smooth surfaces, feeling the ancient energy thrumming within them.

He pulls out his tools, careful not to disturb the surrounding environment, and begins to collect a few of the precious stones. As he works, he remembers Soo-ah and selects a particularly radiant piece to bring back to her, a token of their shared love for the ocean’s treasures.

But his heart skips a beat when he notices something unsettling—many of the gems have already been harvested, leaving only a few scattered remnants behind. A frown creases his brow as he wonders who could have beaten him to this spot. None of his friends share his passion for collecting gems. Sure, Taehyung enjoys gathering trinkets and curiosities, but stones have never been his interest. The thought of another collector in these waters feels strangely alien, a mystery that tugs at the edges of his mind.

Who else, he wonders, could be drawn to these underwater treasures with the same fervor that drives him?

You find yourself submerged once more, the embrace of the ocean welcoming you into its depths as you embark on yet another treasure hunt, eager to unearth new crystals. Your path leads you back to the familiar cave where you previously discovered the serpentine and calcite, their beauty still vivid in your memory. Yet, something feels different this time—there are fewer crystals adorning the rock formation and scattered across the seabed. The ocean’s depths, a canvas for nature’s exquisite artistry, have always been a sanctuary for the many fascinating crystals that dwell there. But you’ve never encountered another diver who collects them as passionately as you do. The realization leaves you momentarily puzzled, until a flicker of purple catches your eye in the distance.

Intrigued, you glide through the water with graceful urgency, approaching the new discovery. As you draw closer, you recognize the delicate gray and rose-hued crystals as lepidolite, known for its ability to enhance astral travel and lucid dreaming. You’ve rarely come across these gems in your dives, and even now, only a few precious stones cling to the rock formation. Carefully, you retrieve your tools and begin to collect the lepidolite, tucking each piece into your bag with a sense of reverence.

Continuing along the seabed, you pass by schools of vibrant fish, their colors a blur of life around you, until something extraordinary catches your attention—massive aquamarine crystals, far larger than any you’ve ever seen before. They seem to pulse with a quiet energy, drawing you in with their mesmerizing blue hue. As you approach with a gentle hand, you feel an inexplicable connection to the gems, as if they are whispering tales of the ocean’s mysteries and the magnificence of the world beneath the waves.

Gingerly, you touch the aquamarines, and a surge of calm washes over you, a tranquility deeper than anything you’ve ever experienced. The sensation is strange, yet profoundly soothing, as if the ocean itself is sharing its serenity with you. 

Taking your time, you inspect the crystals, standing tall on a rocky pedestal surrounded by pink sea bushes and kelp that sways in the water’s current. A few curious fish glide by as you carefully chip away at the base of the crystal, hoping to extract a substantial piece. When you finally succeed, you notice something peculiar—the crystal’s twin, the piece that once stood beside it, is missing. The jagged edge where it was removed is unmistakable. The question lingers in your mind, unsettling and persistent: Who has taken the other piece?

As you wonder who else might be drawn to the allure of these hidden gems, your hands continue their careful work, collecting a few more of the larger pieces, along with several smaller ones. You know that the smaller stones, though modest in size, still carry the same potent energy as their grander counterparts, and some people cherish them all the more for their delicate beauty. Each crystal, whether large or small, holds within it the ocean’s quiet wisdom, waiting to be shared.

Gently, you tuck the treasures into your bag, the weight of them a comforting reminder of the sea’s generosity. With a final, lingering glance at the shimmering aquamarines, you propel yourself upward, your body moving effortlessly through the water’s embrace. As you break through the surface, the world above greets you with a rush of air and sunlight. Hae is there, her arms open wide, her smile as warm as the sun. She helps you back into the boat, her touch gentle and reassuring, as if she understands the wonders you’ve just encountered below.

Once you’re back in the boat, the weight of your gear feels heavier than ever as you remove it, but your heart is light with the excitement of your discoveries. You eagerly reveal your treasures to Hae, each crystal glinting in the sunlight as you lay them before her. With a grin, you hold up the largest aquamarine, its cool blue depths mirroring the ocean below. “This one’s mine,” you declare, the gem feeling like a piece of the sea itself in your hand. But then your tone grows more serious as you add, “I think there’s another diver out there collecting gems. So many were missing from the formation.”

Hae’s eyes widen, her smile fading into a look of concern. You can almost see the wheels turning in her mind, already strategizing, perhaps even considering whether it’s time to move to a new, more secluded spot. The thought of competition makes her uneasy, her gaze drifting over the precious stones as if they might vanish any moment.

Sensing her anxiety, you place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry,” you say with quiet confidence. “I’ll dig around, find out who it is. We’ve come too far to let this unsettle us.” Your words are meant to calm her, to remind her that together, you’ve weathered challenges before. After all, her webshop, with its unique blend of spirituality and sustainability, has always stood out in a sea of imitators.

Hae exhales softly, her tension easing as she meets your gaze. “Okay, thank you,” she murmurs, her hands gently gathering the remaining crystals, leaving you with your cherished aquamarine. The stone gleams in your palm, a symbol of the bond between you and the sea, and now, a silent vow to protect what you’ve both worked so hard to build.

The pull of the ocean is undeniable, a quiet voice in the depths of your soul that beckons you toward the gem, as if it carries the very essence of the sea within its crystalline heart. You know instantly that this piece belongs by your side, a reminder of the ocean’s mysteries and your bond with its vast, hidden world. The sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the water as you sail back to shore, the quiet lapping of waves a soothing lullaby.

Returning to your apartment, you flick on the light, the familiar space bathed in a soft glow as you carefully place your ocean gift on the nightstand beside your bed. The gem catches the light, its surface shimmering like the sea at dawn. With a contented sigh, you brush your teeth, the routine grounding you after the day’s adventure. But as you lay in bed, your mind drifts back to the ocean, and sleep comes quickly, filled with dreams of underwater realms and the treasures that lie beneath.

Yet, even in sleep, a question nags at you. For days, the mystery has lingered in your thoughts—who could be venturing into the depths to collect gems alongside you? Your research has led you nowhere, each inquiry a dead end. No diver you know is as daring, or perhaps as mad, as you, willing to plunge into the ocean’s deepest reaches. The puzzle gnaws at you, an itch you can’t quite scratch, and the frustration builds like a storm on the horizon. It feels as if the answer is just out of reach, hidden beneath the waves, and the more you dwell on it, the more it drives you to the edge of your patience, a riddle you are desperate to unravel.

Driven by a spark of determination, you’ve hatched a bold plan—to dive back into the depths and catch the mysterious intruder who’s been claiming your precious gems. Hae thinks it’s a dumb idea, but she indulges you, knowing your spirit is as restless as the ocean itself. And so, once again, you find yourself out on the boat, with Hae in the vast expanse of the ocean under the midday sun. The boat sways gently, a rhythmic dance on the water’s surface as you methodically pull on your gear—your oxygen tanks, goggles, and hydro fins. The final touch is your backpack, securely fastened to the tank, ready to hold whatever treasures you might uncover.

With purpose in your heart and a steely resolve, you press your arms together and plunge into the ocean’s embrace. The world above fades away as you descend into the deep, your body slicing through the water with graceful determination. Thoughts of the smaller boats you saw earlier linger in your mind, fueling your hope that this dive will lead you to your elusive rival.

As you dive deeper, the current cradles you, guiding your body as you sway with the ocean’s rhythm, until you reach the seabed. The familiar terrain unfolds before you, a place you’ve visited many times, yet now it feels different, touched by the presence of another. Only a few small gems remain, their glint a reminder of what’s been taken. You scan your surroundings—kelp sways like dancers in the current, fish dart about in a symphony of colors—but no sign of competition yet.

Undeterred, you press on, swimming further along the seabed, following the contours of rocky formations. Your heart quickens as you reach a familiar spot, the place where you once unearthed a magnificent aquamarine. But as you approach, your breath catches—the rock’s surface is nearly barren, the aquamarine all but vanished, save for a few remaining shards that catch the light. Your fingers hover over the stone, tracing the empty space where the gems once gleamed, now a haunting reminder of what’s been lost to unseen hands.

A sudden jolt, like a spark of electricity, tingles through your fingertips, and before you can react, a blur of blue fills your vision, distorting the world around you. You blink rapidly, trying to clear the haze, but it remains—an ethereal presence in the water. Then, you feel a light, almost playful poke against your cheek, and a startled scream escapes into your mouthpiece, sending a cascade of bubbles spiraling upwards.

Instinctively, you jerk backward, heart pounding, as you struggle to comprehend what’s before you. No—this can’t be real. It’s not another diver. It’s not even human.

In front of you, suspended in the water like a living dream, is a merman. His face, heart-shaped and adorned with eyes like dragon-like darkened amber, is framed by short, blue hair that floats gently around his soft cheeks, jawline and pointed chin. Thin soft eyebrows arch over those wide, curious eyes—eyes that seem to hold all the wonder of the deep. His lips, thick and juicy are slightly parted in a soft ‘o,’ convey a mix of curiosity and surprise. Your gaze travels over his tall frame down to his bare chest, lean and strong, and then to the tail—an iridescent baby blue, shimmering with every subtle movement, a perfect extension of the ocean’s beauty. 

A wiggling tail instead of legs.

You blink again, desperate to make sense of the vision before you. A merman… It has to be.

He drifts closer, his tail flicking gracefully as he reaches out to poke your chin once more, his voice resonating through the water with an almost melodic quality. “Are you human?” he asks, his tone gentle yet filled with the wonder of a child discovering something new.

Your mind races, and you nod frantically, unable to speak with the mouthpiece still in your mouth, your feet paddling in the water as you fight to steady yourself. The reality of the moment crashes over you like a wave—this is no fantasy. A merman is right in front of you.

As your gaze falls on the backpack strapped to his shoulders, you notice a subtle shimmer, a gleam of something precious. In that instant, the pieces fall into place—he’s the one. He’s the mysterious collector, your unexpected rival in this underwater hunt for gems.

“I’ve seen humans before,” he continues, his voice carrying an almost casual tone as he swims around you, studying you like a creature from another world, “but I’ve never seen one dressed like you.”

Your heart aches to respond, to ask a million questions, but with the mouthpiece in place, all you can do is let him circle you, his eyes filled with an innocent fascination. The silence between you is heavy with unspoken words, each glance exchanged like a whispered secret between the ocean and the sun.

As you take in the sight before you, your eyes are drawn to a necklace resting against his chest, the small piece of aquamarine nestled between the firm contours of his titties—chest, you mean chest! The gem, cradled in the hollow where his muscles meet, glimmers softly, almost as if it’s alive with the very essence of the sea. You can’t help but stare in awe, the allure of it tugging at something deep within you. Thank heavens for your goggles, masking the blush that would otherwise give away your wandering thoughts.

“You look funny,” he remarks, his voice laced with innocent curiosity as he reaches out to grab one of your hydro fin shoes. The unexpected touch throws you off balance, and for a moment, you find yourself flipping weightlessly in the water, your body twisting like a leaf caught in a gentle current.

“Is this supposed to be like a mermaid’s tail?” he asks, holding your foot aloft as though it were some ancient relic to be deciphered. His brow furrows in concentration, and you can’t help but feel a mix of amusement and bewilderment at the sight.

Instinctively, you jerk your foot back, breaking free from his grasp, and you push against the water with frantic kicks, a glance at your watch reminding you that time is running out. As much as you wish to linger here, captivated by the merman’s presence, the pressing need to return to the surface propels you upward.

“Hey! Where’re you going?” he calls after you, his voice tinged with a hint of desperation, but you’re already too focused on reaching the surface to notice the distress in his expression. The thought of what could happen if you don’t make it in time isn’t one you’re willing to entertain.

Breaking through the water’s surface, you take off the mouthpiece and  gulp in fresh air, scanning the horizon until you spot your boat, a distant speck where Hae waits, the other vessels having long since disappeared. It seems manageable, this swim back to the boat, as long as you stay above water—your oxygen tank now empty, its weight a reminder of how close you cut it.

But before you can begin the swim, something solid collides with you, stopping you in your tracks. “Ow,” you exclaim, startled as you float backward, only to find yourself face to face with a familiar figure, his blue hair dripping wet above the waves.

“Hi,” the merman says with a smile, his dimples appearing like little pools of light in the sun. The simple word carries a warmth that catches you off guard, and for a moment, you’re lost in the easy charm of his grin, the ocean around you feeling suddenly smaller, as if it were just the two of you in this vast, endless world.

“Hi,” you greet him with a soft smile, still astonished that he followed you to the surface at all. A swirl of unspoken questions rises in your chest, but they tangle in your throat, leaving you staring at him, wide-eyed and speechless. The world seems to blur, save for the merman before you, his wet blue hair plastered against his forehead, his dragon-like eyes sweeping over you with a curious intensity, as if he’s memorizing every detail.

“What’s all that stuff you’ve got on?” he asks, pointing a slender finger at your goggles and then at the oxygen tanks strapped securely to your back.

“These?” you say, finding your voice as you point to your goggles. “They help me see underwater,” you pause, feeling the weight of the tanks pulling at your shoulders, “And these let me breathe while I dive—they hold the oxygen I need when I’m down there.” You gesture to the tanks behind you, your explanation feeling small in the face of his wide, unblinking curiosity.

He hums thoughtfully, nodding as if piecing together a puzzle. “Makes sense,” he says at last, though his gaze strays past you, catching sight of Hae waving from the boat that rocks gently on the surface, her silhouette framed by the scorching sun.

“I... I have to get back,” you mumble, pointing toward your friend, the words feeling heavy as they leave your lips. You try to steady your thoughts, but they swirl like the currents beneath the sea, a thousand questions dancing just beneath the surface, questions you don’t quite dare to voice.

“Okay,” he says, but there’s a flicker of something in his eyes—hesitation, perhaps. “But before you go…” His voice halts your movements, drawing you back to him like the pull of the tide. You turn toward him again, heart fluttering in the quiet space between you, as if the ocean itself is holding its breath, waiting to see what comes next.

“What’s your name?” His voice is soft, carrying a gentleness that ripples through the water.

“It’s ___,” you reply, offering him a smile that’s both shy and warm.

“That’s pretty,” he says, and when his lips part into a smile, his dimples carve deep into his cheeks, making him almost impossibly cute, but dangerously so. 

“I’m Namjoon.” 

His name lingers between you like a secret, sweet and mysterious. “Will I see you again?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, his brow raised in curious hope.

You can’t help the grin that spreads across your face, the warmth filling your chest. There’s something about him—this enchanting creature of the deep—that makes you feel drawn in, like the tide itself is pulling you closer. You nod, the joy bubbling up inside you as you answer, “See you later, Namjoon.” There’s more than one reason you want to see him again. The unspoken questions whirl in your mind, but there’s also the thrill—because maybe, just maybe, you want to get your hands on the best crystals before he does.

As you turn and swim back toward Hae, your thoughts a mess of wonder and disbelief, a blush warms your cheeks. Did you just make a date with a merman? The thought sends a tingle of excitement through you. But when you glance back to where he was, Namjoon is already gone, having disappeared beneath the shimmering surface, like a dream fading with the dawn.

You finally make it to the boat, the sun still hanging high, bathing everything in golden light. As Hae helps you out of the water and hands you a towel, her eyes are wide with confusion. “Who was that? And how did he just vanish into the water like that, without any diving gear?”

“A merman,” you pant, peeling off your oxygen tanks and goggles. The words slip out of your mouth so naturally, like it’s something you’d say every day. Not the revelation of a magical creature, but a simple truth.

Hae stares at you, eyes nearly bulging from their sockets. “I’m sorry, what?”

“A merman,” you repeat, more firmly this time.

“A merman?” she echoes, her voice faint and incredulous, as if the very idea is too fantastical to grasp.

“Yes. A goddamn merman,” you say, grinning wide as you meet her disbelieving gaze. “Scaly tail and all.” And then the absurdity of it all hits you, and before you know it, you’re laughing—a bright, bubbling sound that lifts the tension from your chest.

Hae blinks, her mind racing to catch up with the truth you’ve laid before her. When she finally does, her gaze shifts to the shimmering crystals you’ve collected, and without another word, she turns the boat towards home, lost in thought as the ocean waves lap against the sides. And all you can do is sit there, the excitement of your encounter buzzing through your veins, as you wonder about the next time you’ll meet Namjoon beneath the waves.

The next time you set sail, the open sea stretching endlessly before you, a current of giddy anticipation courses through your veins. Thoughts of the blue-haired merman, Namjoon, fill your mind, sparking excitement deep within your chest. Will he be there today, waiting beneath the waves? You wish you could speak with him underwater, to ask him the thousand questions swirling in your heart, but the surface would have to do for now. You can’t help but smile at the thought of seeing him again.

Hae steers the boat through the shimmering water, the horizon vast and infinite. As you slip on your gear and dive beneath the surface, the ocean’s cool embrace pulls you into its depths. You swim purposefully, eyes scanning the underwater world, searching for both gems and a glimpse of Namjoon. 

Suddenly, something blue catches your eye, sparkling in the distance. Your pulse quickens as you think, just for a moment, that it might be him. But as you swim closer, your heart sinks—it’s only a cluster of aquamarine, glittering like pieces of fallen sky. You feel a bit foolish, letting your hopes get the better of you. Shaking off the disappointment, you turn your attention to the task at hand, collecting the gems with careful precision, though your thoughts continue to drift back to the mysterious merman.

You move to a new spot, finding a hidden cave adorned with larimar crystals. The stones are breathtaking—swirls of blue, white, and gray blending like waves crashing upon a shore, smooth and radiant. The sight brings a smile to your face, the beauty of the moment settling into your heart. You gently gather some of the crystals, placing them in your bag with reverence, as if each one carries a secret.

Just as you’re about to leave the cave, a shadow falls across the entrance. Your heart skips a beat, startled by the sudden presence. But then, the familiar voice reaches your ears, warm and apologetic, and you see him—Namjoon, his figure filling the space, his smile soft and full of quiet charm.

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, his hand nervously scratching the back of his head, his eyes filled with a gentle sincerity.

Relief washes over you, and with a playful wave of your hands, you signal that it’s okay—that he needn’t worry. How you wish you could speak to him down here, let your words float freely in the water like the bubbles escaping from your gear. But for now, your gestures will have to suffice. Your smile says the rest—you’re just glad to see him again.

“You’re collecting crystals, right?” Namjoon asks, his voice cutting through the liquid silence as he gestures toward your already bulging bag. You nod in response, still catching your breath from the weight of the gems you’ve gathered.

“Do you want me to show you a cave with lepidolite?” he mumbles, his tone casual but a bit uncertain. “They’re pretty rare, but I know of a cave that’s full of them.” For a fleeting moment, you wonder if this is the ocean’s version of Netflix and chill, the awkwardness of the offer landing with the charm of a bad pickup line. You can’t help but smile at the thought. 

Still, you nod, knowing that Hae would be thrilled to get her hands on more lepidolite, and besides, you’re curious. You figure underwater Netflix and chill is a bit different from what you’re used to anyway.

Namjoon leads the way, his brilliant blue tail weaving effortlessly through the water, shimmering like sunlight caught in a sapphire. You trail behind him, captivated by the rhythmic sway of his form, the way his muscles ripple across his broad back like waves sculpted by some divine hand. You can’t help but wonder—do they even have gyms down here? The sight of him, so fluid and powerful, is mesmerizing, and before you know it, time seems to slip away, your focus narrowing to the subtle dance of his movements.

“This is the cave,” he suddenly announces, pulling you out of your reverie. You hadn’t realized just how long you’d been swimming, utterly absorbed by the quiet beauty of the journey and him.

You follow him inside, and the sight that greets you takes your breath away—deep violet lepidolite, sparkling in the dim light like stars scattered across a twilight sky. You’re awestruck by the sheer abundance, the rare gems nestled into the cave walls as if nature had painted this secret world just for you.

“Beautiful, right?” Namjoon giggles softly, his voice echoing gently through the cavern as you nod, too taken by the sight to speak. You pull out your tools, carefully beginning to gather the precious stones, all while feeling the warmth of his gaze lingering on you. His silent watchfulness stirs a strange flustered feeling inside, like he’s studying you with the same intensity you’ve used to admire him.

Once your bag is heavy with lepidolite, Namjoon takes you on a quiet tour of other hidden gem spots. Each place he shows you feels like a secret whispered by the ocean itself, and soon your collection grows so large that the weight of it tugs at you, as if the sea itself is trying to pull you back down. When Namjoon offers to carry your bag, you try to refuse at first, clinging to your independence. But as your arms grow heavy, you relent, watching in awe as he effortlessly takes your overloaded bag, slinging it across his broad frame with ease. He carries it as though the weight is nothing, his strength as graceful as the tides themselves.

With a raised arm, you gesture that it’s time to surface—your oxygen running low, the familiar ache of needing air settling into your chest. He seems to understand immediately, and together you ascend, the world around you turning brighter as you rise toward the surface.

Breaking through the water, you gasp in the fresh air, peeling off your goggles and mouthpiece, eager to speak to him in the open air. Namjoon surfaces beside you, droplets clinging to his skin as the sun catches the water in his hair, casting a shimmering halo around his smiling face.

“We should do this again,” he says, his voice warm and full of excitement. “Wasn’t it fun?”

“It really was,” you reply with a smile, your heart still buzzing from the underwater adventure. “Thank you for showing me all those caves. My friend, Hae, is going to be over the moon,” you say, casting a glance toward the boat swaying gently in the distance.

“That’s great to hear,” Namjoon replies, his voice as smooth as the rippling waves.

A flicker of frustration tugs at your chest, and you bite your lip. “I just wish I could talk to you down there,” you admit, your words heavy with a longing that feels both simple and profound.

“It would be nice, yeah,” he muses, his soft smile brightened by the sunlight. “But I don’t mind coming up here to talk. I like the air up here too,” he adds with a gentle chuckle, his gaze warm and steady.

“I have so many questions,” you blurt out, the words escaping you before you can hold them back. There’s too much wonder bottled up inside you, too much curiosity, and it needs to spill over.

Namjoon laughs, a sound so genuine it feels like sunlight breaking through clouds. “Shoot,” he says, his dimples deepening like two small whirlpools at the corners of his mouth.

You pause, your mind swimming with possibilities, before settling on the most obvious. “Are you the only merman, or… are there more of you?” you ask, your voice tinged with awe.

“There are more,” he says with pride, his chest lifting slightly. “There’s a whole city beneath the sea—Naraeum, where we live.” His eyes gleam with the pride of someone who belongs to something ancient and wondrous.

A thrill runs through you at the revelation. An entire city of merfolk hidden beneath the waves. The thought makes your pulse quicken, the realization that you’ve stumbled upon something so extraordinary, so secret, that few on the surface could even imagine it. You feel as if you’ve been let in on the universe’s greatest mystery, and it fills you with a giddy excitement that hums like electricity in your veins. 

“Are there cities or kingdoms beneath the waves? What are they like?” you ask, your voice soft with curiosity, eager to glimpse the world he calls home.

Namjoon’s eyes light up with a quiet pride. “Naraeum is a vast kingdom,” he begins, his words gentle yet full of wonder. “There’s pink coral stretching as far as the eye can see, ancient golden buildings weathered by time, and bright green kelp that sways like dancers in the currents. Dark caves hide beneath the surface, teeming with life—fish, crabs, creatures of every kind. And at night, everything glows with bioluminescent light, turning the ocean into a dreamscape.” A faint blush rises on his cheeks as he adds, “Maybe I can show you one day.”

Your breath catches in your throat, the thought of seeing an underwater kingdom beyond anything you’ve ever imagined. “That sounds unbelievable. I’d love to see Naraeum,” you say, barely able to contain the excitement bubbling within you. The idea of diving so deep, into a world untouched by human hands, feels too surreal to grasp.

“There are other cities too,” Namjoon continues, a smile tugging at his lips. “Some are smaller, some are larger, but Naraeum is like the heart of our region, the capital of sorts,” he adds, the pride in his voice unmistakable.

Your mind whirls with possibilities, questions tumbling out before you can stop them. “Do you have art? Music? Stories? How do you create them underwater?”

Namjoon laughs, a full-bodied sound that echoes across the waves. “We do,” he replies with a sparkle in his eyes. “Human books, for one—we’ve learned to preserve them so they don’t dissolve. Otherwise, we etch our stories on stone, carving our history into the bones of the sea. For music, we use instruments that echo your drums, flutes, and strings, but they’re crafted from merfolk hair, delicate yet strong.”

He pauses, a wistful look crossing his face. “Naraeum is ancient, filled with art and stories older than any of us. But,” he adds, adjusting the heavy bag on his back, “I fear I don’t have enough time to share them all right now. This bag,” he says with a light grin, “is starting to weigh me down.”

“Oh right, the bag!” you exclaim, snapping back to reality as a wave of panic ripples through you. You mentally scold yourself for letting the moment sweep you away, your feet kicking gently against the water as you make your way toward the boat. Namjoon swims by your side, effortlessly graceful, his shimmering tail flickering beneath the surface. 

Hae is there, waiting with a patient smile, and as she pulls you aboard, you reach out to take the heavy bag from Namjoon’s hands. “Thank you so much,” you say, a warm smile spreading across your face despite the unspoken whirlpool of questions still swirling in your mind. You wish you could ask him everything, but those wonders will have to wait.

“It’s no trouble at all,” Namjoon replies, his voice soft like the lull of the ocean. His own smile is tender, a quiet acknowledgment that leaves you feeling light despite the weight of the bag. 

Hae chimes in with a grin, “So, you’re the famous merman,” she teases, still a little wide-eyed as Namjoon flashes his bright blue tail above the surface, the sight leaving her speechless. The tail vanishes just as quickly, a flicker of the magic below.

“I’ll have to go now,” Namjoon says, his voice carrying a gentle farewell as he begins to swim backward, his gaze lingering on yours. “But I’ll see you again soon, ___.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, and despite yourself, you smile and wave, heart fluttering in a way that’s both exhilarating and unsettling. You watch him dip beneath the waves, his form disappearing into the deep blue, leaving the water still and the air quiet.

Hae turns to you with a knowing look. “You’ve got a crush on the merman, don’t you?”

You can’t deny the warmth spreading through you, but you push the thought aside, the reality of it sinking in. He’s a merman. You’re human. It feels impossible, like something from a dream. But maybe—just maybe—being friends isn’t out of reach. Friends, you think, as if convincing yourself. That can’t hurt... right?

In the following weeks, you find yourself swept into a world beyond imagination—each adventure with Namjoon feels like diving into a storybook of magic and wonder. He takes you to hidden underwater realms where gems glimmer like stars, and schools of fish, dolphins, and whales glide by as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. It’s as though the ocean has opened up just for you, revealing its secrets with every dive. The more time you spend with him, the stronger your heart tugs, pulling you deeper into your feelings. You try, futilely, to convince yourself you’re just friends, but every shared laugh, every meaningful glance, makes that harder to believe. 

Namjoon is an incredible friend, one who listens to your ramblings with genuine interest. His conversation is as vast and deep as the ocean itself, leading you into existential tangents that leave you pondering life and its mysteries long after the talks are over. You wish for more—there’s an ache that grows inside you—but how could that even be possible? He’s a merman, you’re human. It feels like some impossible fairy tale. Yet, you’ve caught him stealing glances, his cheeks tinged with blush, and sometimes he gazes at you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter in ways you can’t ignore. But does that mean anything? How do merfolk even love? You wonder if their hearts beat the same as yours.

One quiet afternoon, as you sit with the sun lazily dipping below the horizon on the boat, you find yourself asking the question that’s been gnawing at your mind. “Are there any consequences if a merman falls in love with a human?” The words tumble out before you can stop them. 

Namjoon, floating beside the boat, nearly chokes on the beer you brought him, his laughter turning into a cough as he searches for air. When he finally speaks, his voice is quieter, more careful. “There aren’t really... any consequences,” he murmurs, the tips of his ears turning pink. His eyes flicker nervously to your lips, then meet your eyes again, a quiet vulnerability swimming in their depths.

Good to know, you think, your heart skipping a beat. But before the blush overtakes you, you scramble to change the subject, your curiosity pulling you in another direction. “Is there magic in the ocean, like the old legends say? Can you control it?”

He laughs softly, the sound like the ebb and flow of waves. “There is magic, but no, I can’t control it. None of us can. There’s a Sea Witch, though—she’s the only one with that kind of power, as far as I know.” His words are laced with mystery, and your mind spins with possibilities.

“Can merfolk live forever?” you ask, half-dreaming of a life that stretches beyond the boundaries of time.

“Yes and no,” he replies, his voice thoughtful. “We can live for so long it feels like forever, but we’re not truly immortal.” His gaze drifts across the water, as if pondering the weight of time itself. 

“Interesting,” you murmur, your thoughts swirling. “What happens when a merperson dies, then? Is there an afterlife?”

Namjoon’s smile is wistful as he explains, “When a merperson dies, we hold a celebration—a spiritual send-off, really. There’s singing, dancing, it’s more of a party than a funeral. We celebrate their journey into the afterlife.” You must look puzzled because he quickly adds, “In the afterlife, we become ghosts. But if friends and family don’t send you off properly, there’s a chance the spirit might come back to haunt them.” He chuckles lightly, and you gasp, wide-eyed at the thought.

A cool breeze dances over the water, and for a moment, the world feels suspended between reality and the dreamlike expanse of the sea. You sit there, awed by the depth of his world, your heart both heavy with questions and light with wonder. And in that moment, despite the impossible distance between your two worlds, something seems to shift—something delicate and unspoken. You don’t know what the future holds, but maybe, just maybe, there’s magic enough to bridge the divide.

He passes the beer back to you, and you take a gentle sip, letting the taste linger without wanting the haze of drunkenness to settle in. Out here, in the middle of the endless ocean, everything feels both vast and intimate. A small taste is enough.

“Do you ever feel lonely in the vastness of the sea?” you ask, a quiet melancholy softening your voice as you gaze out at the seemingly endless horizon. The sea is breathtaking, yes, but the weight of its endlessness stirs something in you—a humbling reminder of how small one can feel in such a world.

“Sometimes,” Namjoon admits, his head dipping as his gaze finds the water. “There are moments when the ocean feels too big, too quiet.” His voice is soft, vulnerable. “But I have good friends,” he continues with a faint smile, “and I have my books when the solitude feels too heavy.” He looks at you with eyes warm and reassuring, as if to say that the sea might be vast, but he’s found beauty in its stillness.

“Oh, what books do you like?” you chuckle lightly, trying to brighten the mood, though his quiet sincerity tugs at your heart.

“Human books,” he replies with a gentle grin. “I love historical tales, but fiction is my favorite—stories that let me dream of other worlds.”

You smile, curiosity dancing on your lips. “What kind of fiction? Should I bring you some next time?” The words tumble out before you can catch them, your eagerness spilling over into the space between you.

A blush blooms across his cheeks, so deep it even colors the tips of his ears. In a shy, almost bashful voice, he says, “I... I like romance.” His admission is soft, as if he’s unsure of how it will land.

You can’t help but smile, your heart swelling with affection. There’s no shame in it, not to you—if anything, it’s endearing. “I have some romance books I can bring next time, if you’d like,” you offer, your voice gentle, feeling the warmth of your words fill the space between you.

Namjoon’s eyes sparkle, a soft wonder lighting them up as his blush deepens. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he murmurs, his voice as tender as the evening breeze.

The sun has begun to sink lower, casting a golden glow over the water. Namjoon glances at the sky, then back at you with a smile that feels like the closing of a chapter. “It’s getting late. I was thinking... next time, I could show you Naraeum.” His voice is proud, almost glowing with the thought. “If we go at night, the whole kingdom shines,” he adds, a spark of excitement in his eyes as he recalls the bioluminescent beauty he once described to you.

Your heart leaps at the thought. “I’d love that,” you say, feeling the pull of the ocean’s magic once more. “I’ll ask Hae to man the boat, so I’m not alone when it’s time to head back.”

Namjoon nods, his smile softening as the sun dips lower, its light casting golden hues over both the water and his blue hair. “See you soon,” he says, waving as he begins to slip beneath the surface.

You wave back, feeling the warmth of his presence linger, even as you sail toward the shore, the fading sunlight a reminder that the ocean holds many mysteries yet to be uncovered. And with each adventure, your connection to him deepens, like a current pulling you both to something inevitable.

"I’m telling you, you’re totally whipped, man," Yoongi says with a playful eye roll, his voice teasing but laced with truth.

“I’m not,” Namjoon protests, crossing his arms defensively, but deep down, he knows resistance is futile. His friends have been relentless, teasing him ever since you entered his life—how his smile stretches wider, brighter, after spending time with you, how your name slips into conversations that have nothing to do with the human world. It’s like you’ve seeped into his very soul. He knows he’s fallen, and fallen hard, but the weight of his feelings confuses him. He has no idea how to navigate them, unsure of your heart, or if you could even feel the same pull toward him. And how could it ever work between you two? The thought of venturing onto land to be with you dances through his mind like a fragile dream, but there’s a storm of questions swirling beneath the surface—questions he’s too afraid to ask, too scared to drown in all the unknowns.

“Just don’t get your heart broken,” Yoongi mutters, his voice softer now, tinged with caution. Namjoon nods, the words settling heavily in his chest like stones sinking to the ocean floor.

“Hey man, don’t throw your past experiences at Joonie like that!” Jimin chimes in, smacking Yoongi’s shoulder, a little too forcefully judging by Yoongi’s wince. “If he’s in love, he should go for it. Take the dive, see where the current leads him,” the blonde merman insists, eyes sparkling with mischief and optimism, trying to fill Namjoon’s heart with hope, pushing away the shadows Yoongi’s cynicism casts.

Namjoon, though, can only sigh. “I just don’t know…,” he mumbles, fingers trailing along the spines of his beloved books, rearranging them in some futile attempt to quiet the storm inside him. Anything to busy himself, anything to keep thoughts of you from consuming him. But it’s hopeless—why does his mind keep drifting back to you, like the tide, relentless and unyielding?

“It will never work,” Yoongi shrugs with a quiet scoff, his voice carrying the weight of someone who’s seen too many relationships slip away. His words linger in the air, heavy like the deep sea.

Jimin, unphased, shoots him a scolding glare. “You never know that,” he says firmly. “Just because your love life’s been a shipwreck doesn’t mean it’s the same for everyone else.” There’s a sharp edge to his words, a flicker of irritation.

“And look at Seokjin and Soo-ah!” Jimin adds, his voice lifting again, the gleam of an idea flickering in his eyes. “Soo-ah was human once too, remember? She turned mermaid for love. Maybe ___ would want to become a mermaid as well? Who knows what fate has in store,” he grins, ever the romantic, eager to plant seeds of possibility in Namjoon’s mind.

Namjoon’s heart stirs at the thought, but even the idea feels like a dream too distant, too fragile to reach. Could you really be part of his world? Could love, like the sea, find a way to bridge the impossible distance between you?

“I would never put that on her. She has a life—one she’s likely content with on land. I couldn’t ask her to leave it behind,” Namjoon says, his voice laced with breathless resignation, as though the weight of his own feelings has left him deflated, crushed beneath the impossibility of it all. 

“She’s a good friend. I’ll just... enjoy what we have for now,” he adds softly, placing the book you’d given him gently on his nightstand, his fingers lingering on the cover. He already treasures it, not for the words it contains, but because it came from you. Though he hasn’t yet reached the end, he finds himself lost in the pages, immersed in the tale of a woman struggling with feelings for her best friend—torn between preserving their friendship or risking everything for love. If Namjoon sees a reflection of his own heart in those pages, he’ll never admit it, not even to himself.

“Love sucks anyway,” Yoongi mutters, his voice sharp and bitter, like a wound still raw and bleeding.

“You’re killing the vibe, Yoon,” Jimin sighs, shaking his head as he swims closer to Namjoon, his energy warm and comforting. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Jimin adds, draping an arm around Namjoon’s broad shoulders, trying to lift the weight that presses down on his friend. “He’s the last person you want advice from when it comes to love. He’s forgotten what it means to believe in it.” Jimin shoots another glare at Yoongi, who merely shrugs, unmoved.

Namjoon lets out a weary sigh. He likes you—no, more than likes you. Perhaps he’s even in love, but he’s still learning to come to terms with that revelation. What if telling you his feelings drives you away? What if, in confessing his heart, he loses the precious friendship you’ve built together? You, who’ve brought laughter and life into his days. He’s never been close to a human before, not like this, and the thought of losing you weighs heavier than the ocean above him. 

It’s not like he hasn’t ventured to land before, tasted fleeting moments with humans—flings that flickered out as quickly as they began. But this, you, feel different. And he’s in deep water now, uncertain of the way forward. It doesn’t matter to him that you’re human. If you were a mermaid, he doubts it would make things easier. What draws him to you isn’t your species, it’s your soul. 

It’s the way your hair dances in the wind, or how it clings to your skin when it’s soaked from the sea. The way your cheeks flush red, that soft blush that dusts even the bridge of your nose. The way bubbles rise and swirl around you when you dive beneath the waves, how your lashes flutter like the wings of a butterfly. The way your presence calms the storm inside him, as though you carry the quiet strength of the sea itself.

Yes, Namjoon thinks, his heart heavy with the undeniable truth. He’s got it bad.

“Hae, I don’t know what to do,” you sigh, the weight of indecision pressing down on you as you sit at the coffee shop, staring at the steam rising from your untouched cup. You feel like you could pull your hair out, frustration boiling inside as you wait for the coffee to cool, though it’s really your emotions that need calming.

The midday sunlight filters through the window, casting soft golden light over your table, but you can’t appreciate the warmth. Your mind is too restless. What are you supposed to do with these feelings?

“It’s actually quite simple,” Hae says, her tone far too casual for the magnitude of what you’re feeling. She takes a sip of her coffee—how does she drink it so scalding hot?—and you scoff softly, half out of envy, half in disbelief at how calm she seems. “You just have to talk to him.”

You groan, the sound louder than you intended, pulling curious glances from the tables around you. Embarrassed, you lower your voice, but the frustration lingers, tugging at your insides like a tangled knot. 

“It’s not that easy,” you say, pushing your coffee aside. “What if he doesn’t like me? What if I ruin everything between us?” Your voice drops to a whisper as your hands fall to your lap, palms sweaty and clammy. “How would it even work? He’s a merman, Hae. I... I’m just me.”

Hae raises an eyebrow, amused. “Girl—have you seriously not noticed the way he looks at you?”

You blink. “What do you mean? He looks at me... normal.”

She gives you a look that suggests you might be the most oblivious person on the planet. “Nah. He looks at you like he’s ready to drown in your eyes—like you’re his whole world.”

Her words hit you like a sudden wave, stealing your breath for a moment. Could she be right? You’ve never seen Namjoon look at you like that, at least not in a way you could recognize. 

“Really?” you whisper, unsure, heart fluttering with both hope and fear.

“Yes,” she emphasizes, laughing a little as she sets her cup down. “You’re kinda stupid for not noticing.”

You finally take a tentative sip of your now-warm coffee, trying to hide the way her words unravel you. As the warmth settles in your chest, your mind starts racing, replaying all the moments you’ve shared with Namjoon, all the times he’s looked at you, spoken to you with that gentle smile. Had there been something more in those glances? Had you been too blind to see it?

“You should confess your feelings,” Hae says, matter-of-fact, sipping her coffee like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

But it’s not that simple, not for you. The thought of baring your heart feels like standing at the edge of a precipice, with no way of knowing if there’s solid ground beneath you—or a fall. What if she’s wrong? What if you’re wrong? 

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t know if I can. What if I ruin our friendship? What if he doesn’t feel the same?”

Hae gives you a knowing look, but you’re already spiraling, lost in your own thoughts. Maybe... maybe you could watch him a little longer, try to see what she’s seeing, catch more evidence that there’s something there, something more. 

Because the risk of losing him over your feelings—that terrifies you more than anything.

It’s a few nights later, and the sea is a blanket of darkness as you and Hae venture out into its endless expanse. The sky above is nearly pitch black, save for the delicate shimmer of stars scattered like diamonds, casting faint light upon the inky water. The moon hangs low, its pale glow mirrored perfectly on the surface, creating a fragile bridge between the heavens and the sea. You pull Hae into a hug, murmuring your gratitude for her being here, for her unwavering companionship on this strange, otherworldly journey. She laughs softly, her voice breaking the silence of the night, and tells you she wouldn’t let you drown—not when she’s here to keep you safe. Her words bring a smile to your face, easing the quiet tension in your chest as you pull on your gear in the dark.

You slip into the water, the sea swallowing you whole. Beneath the surface, it’s as black as ink, the deep blue fading into a near-impenetrable navy that borders on oblivion. But there is no fear, only the pull of the unknown as you dive deeper, surrendering to the quiet pull of the ocean. Your breath is steady, your heartbeat louder in your ears than the sound of the waves above.

And then, there he is—Namjoon, his gentle smile waiting for you like a beacon in the depths, dimples carving softness into the darkness. His presence is steady, grounding, and for a moment, you forget you can’t speak, forgetting that the words you wish to say—I’m glad I’m here, thank you for this—are trapped behind the mask of your breathing gear.

Suddenly, his hand reaches for yours. The touch surprises you at first, a flicker of warmth against the cold of the sea, sending a soft spark up your arm, a silent current that makes your heart stutter. But then you relax into it, realizing how right it feels—his hand in yours, the silent understanding between you. It’s just a hand, you remind yourself, but even the smallest gesture carries weight in the depths of the sea.

“It’s dark,” he gestures to your joined hands, his voice a whisper through the water. “I’ll guide you.” You notice, even in the dim light, how his eyes shift nervously, and if the ocean weren’t so dark, you’d swear there was a blush creeping across his cheeks.

Together, you swim deeper, your hand still clasped in his as the world around you begins to change. In the distance, something gleams—a glint of gold, faint but unmistakable. As you draw closer, it becomes more defined, taking shape as towering structures rise from the seafloor like monuments from another world. Tall, ancient buildings glitter beneath the water, their surfaces gleaming with gold, adorned in intricate lettering and symbols you can’t begin to decipher. The curves and arches remind you of something familiar, some echo of human architecture, though far grander and more ancient than anything you’ve ever seen. These aren’t just buildings—they’re castles, palaces from a forgotten fairy tale. Everything is bathed in the ethereal glow of bioluminescent light, soft blues and yellows emanating from plants that pulse like stars, making the entire city shimmer as if alive with magic. It’s breathtaking—otherworldly in its beauty—and you feel your breath catch in your throat, mesmerized by the impossible splendor before you. 

How many wonders exist beneath the surface, hidden from the world above? you think, the weight of it all is almost too much to grasp. That such a place could exist, a vast city of gold and light, thriving in the deep—how could you have never known?

“Welcome to Naraeum,” Namjoon says, his voice soft, gesturing toward the city center that teems with life. Merpeople of all shapes, colors, and ages drift through the streets, some lost in their own rhythms, others laughing and chatting, and children darting through the water in playful games. The whole scene is alive, vibrant, and full of warmth, and the sight of it fills you with something indescribable—joy, wonder, perhaps even belonging.

A smile spreads across your face, unbidden, as the reality of this magical place settles over you. For the first time, you feel like you’ve truly discovered something beyond the world you’ve known, something boundless and beautiful. And with Namjoon beside you, it feels like you’ve only just begun to understand its depths.

“This is the city hall,” Namjoon gestures toward the tallest of the castles, its golden spires reaching upward like fingers trying to touch the ocean’s surface. “The royal family lives there too.” His voice is soft, but there’s a weight to his words, something ancient and significant about the building that looms over the city like a silent guardian.

You glance at him, blinking, wishing you could ask more, the curiosity burning inside you. If only you could speak, but the water and the mouthpiece keep your questions trapped behind your lips. The tug of his hand interrupts your thoughts, and once again you’re being gently pulled deeper into the heart of Naraeum, where the city unfolds like a dream in slow motion.

The water sways with life—delicate kale and other greens move in rhythm with the gentle currents, shells glint beneath the sandy floor, and tiny crabs scuttle between the rocks, oblivious to your presence. Shoals of fish—bright yellow, orange, and black—dart past, their quicksilver bodies flashing through the twilight water. And now, the eyes of the merpeople are on you. Their gazes, curious and shimmering, follow you as you move through their world, and for the first time, you feel like a true visitor in a land not your own.

Three merpeople approach, their figures graceful and effortless in the water. One, a striking merman with a pink tail that shimmers like rose quartz in the dim light, looks you over with an intensity that makes you feel seen in a way both comforting and unfamiliar. You notice his hand intertwined with a mermaid beside him, her tail a stunning shade of purple that gleams like amethyst. Together, they are radiant, like a pair of jewels. They look perfect together, you think, a bit in awe of how seamlessly they belong to this world.

“This is ___?” the pink-tailed merman asks, his voice smooth, his eyes darting to Namjoon for confirmation.

Namjoon nods, and the mermaid smiles, her face brightening with warmth. “Pleased to meet you,” she says, her voice light like a melody. “I’m Soo-ah, and this is my fiancé, Seokjin.” You nod in response, acknowledging them with a smile behind your mouthpiece, feeling a sense of camaraderie in their presence.

But before you can speak—or even think of what to say—your eyes catch on the third figure. A dark-haired merman with a tail the color of midnight, streaked with gold that glimmers like starlight. His aura is different—colder, detached. His black eyes flicker over you briefly, then, with a dismissive scoff, he turns away, arms crossed over his chest as if to close himself off from the world. 

Namjoon sighs, his voice edged with irritation, “That’s Yoongi.” The name comes out rough, almost an apology. “He forgot to take the stick out of his ass today.”

You can’t help but chuckle, bubbles escaping from your mouthpiece, rising toward the surface like tiny pieces of joy. Even in this underwater kingdom, humor survives, softening the tension. But Yoongi, unmoved, swims off into the shadows, his figure disappearing into the vastness of the sea. 

“Don’t mind him,” Namjoon mutters, squeezing your hand a little tighter. “Come on, I want to show you the rest.”

Soo-ah and Seokjin swim alongside you as Namjoon leads you through the winding streets of the marketplace, stalls lined up like sentinels, though empty now in the quiet of night. The architecture is both foreign and familiar, illuminated by the soft glow of bioluminescent plants. Everything feels untouched by time, and yet alive with history. You pass the grand library next, its shelves filled with tomes both ancient and new, merfolk stories and human books resting side by side. You can almost feel the weight of untold stories and hidden lore that fills the space, waiting to be discovered.

Namjoon’s excitement builds as he takes you to a fitness center unlike anything you’ve ever seen—massive bars with stones at either end, weights crafted from various-sized rocks, and machines clearly designed for strength and agility in the water. It’s a glimpse into the life of these beings, how they build themselves in this weightless world.

After a while, Soo-ah and Seokjin bid you farewell, their presence a quiet comfort as they swim off together, leaving you alone with Namjoon. Your pulse quickens. His hand, still clasped in yours, feels warm even in the cold depths of the sea. The way he glances at you—those fleeting, secretive looks that you’ve caught out of the corner of your eye—makes your heart race even more. Hae’s words echo in your mind, whispering truths you’re not sure you’re ready to admit. 

Could it be? you wonder, as the two of you drift toward his home.

“This is my place,” he says softly, his voice reverberating through the water as he turns on the light—an iridescent seashell hanging from the ceiling that casts a gentle, pearlescent glow throughout the space. His home is carved into the heart of a cave, the walls smooth and cool to the touch, like the sea itself has shaped them over countless years. Your eyes fall on his bed, draped in what looks like a soft, inviting duvet, but as you get closer, you realize it’s woven from delicate strands of kelp, swaying ever so slightly in the currents. It’s an unexpected beauty, intricate and organic, like everything in this underwater world.

The longest wall is dominated by a towering bookshelf, its shelves lined with books, arranged meticulously by color and size. It’s mesmerizing, this ocean of stories he’s collected, and you can’t help but wonder what worlds and lives he’s explored within these pages. You want to tell him, to say how beautiful it all is—his home, his soul, him. But your words are trapped beneath the weight of the sea, tangled with the breathlessness of being in his presence. 

Your fingertips brush the spines of the books, imagining all the narratives they contain, each one another layer of who Namjoon is. You glance down at your joined hands—his fingers laced with yours, and in that quiet moment, you swear you can feel something electric passing between you. A pulse of warmth, a silent exchange of emotions you can’t speak. You want to kiss him, more than anything. The way he’s gazing at you, his eyes soft and full of something unspoken, the gentle curve of his lips hiding a blush you wish you could see more clearly.

But here, in this quiet cavern beneath the sea, there’s nothing you can do. You can’t ask him what you’re dying to know, can’t lean in and feel the warmth of his lips against yours, can’t tell him that you’re falling, deeply, helplessly. All you can do is float here, heart aching with the weight of everything unsaid. 

He clears his throat, nervously scratching the back of his head. His mouth opens as if he’s about to speak, then closes again. There’s something he wants to say, you can feel it, lingering in the air between you. He tries again, and this time his voice, soft and hesitant, finally breaks the silence. 

“Thank you for letting me show you my world.”

You squeeze his hand gently, pouring all the gratitude and affection you can’t voice into that single touch. You hope he feels it—the appreciation, the awe, the quiet longing you carry for him. And in that touch, you wish you could invite him into your world, share everything that you are with him, even though he’s been on land before. But you don’t know if he’d want that. You’ve never asked, never dared to imagine what it might be like to share your lives across these two worlds. You’re afraid to impose, afraid to hope too much.

The moment hangs fragile between you, but like all perfect moments, it begins to fade as reality presses in. You feel the pull of time, the reminder that you need to return to the surface. Namjoon feels it too. His eyes flicker with understanding as he leads you back out into the city, guiding you through the soft glow of bioluminescent lights, past the merpeople still moving gracefully through their midnight routines. 

The silence between you stretches as you swim toward the boat where Hae waits, but it’s not the kind of silence that weighs heavy. It’s filled with possibility, thick with everything you haven’t said. Your heart beats faster as you realize that, once you’re back above the water, you’ll have the chance to speak. To ask. The thought of it sends your pulse racing, a swirl of excitement and terror mixing in your chest. 

What if he doesn’t feel the same? The question spins through your mind, gnawing at the edges of your courage. But the way he looked at you, the way his hand feels in yours, gives you hope. And maybe—just maybe—that will be enough.

As you break the surface of the water, you push your goggles up to rest like a headband, feeling the cool night air kiss your damp skin. It’s crisp, almost electric, filling your lungs with a freshness that makes the world above feel more alive than ever. Namjoon surfaces beside you, offering you a soft smile, but your attention is caught by the subtle blush dusting his cheeks, a faint rose bloom in the moonlight. He seems hesitant, his uncertainty mirroring your own, as if you’re both standing on the edge of something vast and uncharted, too afraid to take that first leap.

For a heartbeat, he swims closer, his presence looming gently in your space. You hold your breath, your pulse quickening with the thought that he might—maybe—kiss you. Instinctively, you close your eyes, ready to surrender to that moment, but instead, his fingers brush your cheek, and he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear with such tenderness it sends a wave of warmth through your body. His touch lingers, delicate and deliberate, and though it wasn’t the kiss you imagined, it makes you blush all the same. The heat rises to your cheeks, flooding you with a mixture of longing and disappointment.

But then something stirs within you—some reckless courage sparked by his closeness—and before you can think it through, you lean in. Your lips find his, a soft, quick kiss, almost like a whisper. It’s gentle, just a peck, but his lips are warm, softer than you ever imagined, like the sea breeze caressing your skin on a summer evening. 

When you pull away, you see the surprise flicker in his eyes for just a moment before his features soften into something tender and full of quiet affection. His ears burn red in the moonlight, and his dimples deepen as he gazes at you with a look that leaves you breathless. His brown eyes—dark and shimmering, like polished amber—glow with something more, something deeper. You think, just for a second, it’s desire, simmering beneath his calm exterior.

“Thank you for tonight,” you whisper, your voice barely carrying over the soft lapping of the waves. You squeeze his hand, feeling the warmth and strength of him, and smile. “It was so beautiful.”

Namjoon doesn’t speak; he simply looks at you, his dragon-like eyes full of quiet intensity, his dimples softening the tension in the air. It’s a look that makes your heart skip, that holds a thousand unsaid words between you. And as you reluctantly pull away, swimming toward the boat, your mind is still spinning from the kiss, from the closeness, from everything left unspoken.

Hae pulls you up into the boat, and as you sit, catching your breath, you catch her sly grin. You know she saw everything—the kiss, the blush, the way Namjoon looked at you—but for now, she stays silent, letting the moment hang in the air. You wave to Namjoon, watching as he offers one last gentle smile before disappearing back into the deep, dark waters, the night swallowing him whole.

And even as the waves settle, your heart still swells, full of the hope and mystery that the night—and Namjoon—left behind.

The days pass in a blur of anxious thoughts, your heart heavy with doubt. Every dive into the ocean feels colder without a trace of Namjoon, and the silence is deafening. Each time you resurface alone, your mind spirals further into uncertainty. Did you overstep? The kiss lingers on your lips, but now you wonder if it was a mistake. It feels as if he’s vanished into the depths, leaving you adrift. Is he avoiding me? The question gnaws at you, twisting your insides. Maybe this is his way of saying he doesn’t feel the same, that he wants nothing more to do with you.

Hae, ever the caring friend, drags you to a fancy restaurant in an attempt to soothe your restless mind, insisting that you’re worrying yourself to death. You look like a dog that’s been kicked, she had said with a shake of her head, trying to make you laugh. But now, as you sit across from her, poking at the salad you barely have the appetite to eat, the weight of your uncertainty presses down even harder. Your stomach twists with every bite, the anxiety clinging to you like a shadow.

“Maybe he’s just busy, or caught up in merfolk stuff?" Hae suggests, her voice light, trying to pry you from the dark corners of your thoughts. But your mind won’t let you escape. Busy? No, your treacherous thoughts whisper, he’s avoiding you—he’s forgotten you, and the kiss meant nothing.

You say nothing, only stabbing your fork into the salad with a kind of quiet fury, each jab into the leaves an outlet for the storm brewing inside you.

“Uh, ___?” Hae’s voice breaks the tension, but you barely lift your head. She stumbles over her words, clearly uneasy, her tone cautious as she leans in closer. “There’s a man—blue hair—he’s looking at us.”

At her words, something stirs in you, curiosity overriding the anger for just a moment. Blue hair? Your heart skips a beat, and before you can stop yourself, you turn around, almost instinctively, as though drawn by an invisible thread. Your gaze collides with a pair of deep, brown eyes that hold all the mystery of the ocean. Namjoon.

His eyes glisten like the sea at dawn, reflecting both depth and tenderness, swirling with something unspoken—regret, maybe even desire. You swallow hard, feeling the magnetic pull that has always existed between you, but this time, it’s stronger. The air around you thickens as he walks toward the table, his presence unmistakable, sending your pulse into a wild rhythm.

“Hi, Y/N,” he says, his voice soft, laced with an apology that doesn’t need to be spoken yet. The smile he offers is gentle, almost shy, and you can see the guilt in the way his eyes search yours. He knows. He knows he shouldn’t have disappeared without a word.

“Hi, Namjoon,” you manage to reply, the sound of his name on your lips stirring something deep inside you—something that’s a mixture of relief and frustration. You’re a little mad, of course you are. But as your heart races, you know you can’t stay angry with him, not when he’s standing there with that look in his eyes. He’s here now. And that’s enough for your heart to forgive him.

Your eyes travel down to his legs—strong, toned, perfectly human. He’s traded the water for the land, just for you, standing there in beige shorts like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And yet, your mind spins with the impossibility of it all, as if he’s a dream made flesh, and part of you still can’t believe he’s really here.

The air between you is thick with unspoken words, a tension that seems to ripple like the sea itself. Namjoon scratches the back of his head, his eyes shifting with uncertainty. “I’m sorry I’ve been gone,” he begins, his voice low and sincere. “I didn’t mean to disappear like that, but something happened in Naraeum—”

Before he can finish, the weight of your own anxiety breaks through, forcing the words from your chest. “I thought you didn’t like me, or just forgot about me.” The admission tumbles out, raw and trembling, the very fear that has haunted you for days finally taking shape between you. As soon as the words leave your lips, you feel exposed, vulnerable. You brace yourself for his response.

For a moment, he just stares, his expression frozen in disbelief, like your words have knocked the wind out of him. Then, his face softens, eyes wide with something close to shock. “Baby, no,” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand, the nickname slipping from his lips so naturally that it sends a flutter of warmth through your chest. He steps closer, worry etched in every line of his face as his gaze falls on you, sitting there with your heart in your throat.

Baby?

“I’d never forget about you,” he continues, his voice trembling slightly as he bites his lower lip, as if trying to hold something back. The intimacy of that small gesture makes your breath catch.

Hae clears her throat opposite you, breaking the charged moment. She rises from her seat, her chair scraping loudly against the floor, drawing both your gazes toward her flushed face. “Namjoon, please, take my seat and talk. I’ll go home and shower this tension off,” she says, her tone teasing but kind.

You open your mouth to protest, but then close it, realizing she’s right. The tension is palpable, thick as the ocean depths, and part of you is grateful for the space she’s offering. Even though nerves twist inside you like a storm, you know this is a conversation you need to have.

As Hae leaves, Namjoon sits down across from you, his eyes soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry I worried you, baby,” he murmurs, leaning forward slightly. His hands rest on the table, inching closer to yours, like he’s afraid to cross that final distance too soon.

There’s that word again—baby—and it stirs something deep inside you, butterflies rising in your chest, fluttering wildly, desperate to escape. It’s more than just a nickname; it’s a promise, a reassurance that melts the cold fear that has been gnawing at you for days.

“It’s okay,” you reply, your voice softer now, the storm inside you beginning to calm. “My mind just... got the better of me.” Your gaze flickers to where his fingers hover near yours, and your heart beats wildly at the nearness of him.

Namjoon is here, in front of you, and you realize with a quiet, overwhelming relief—he’s never really been gone.

“I could never not like you,” Namjoon murmurs, his voice dipping lower, softer, as if the truth is too delicate to be spoken aloud. “I think I... love you,” he finishes, the last words barely audible, yet they linger in the air between you like a fragile secret.

Did he just say love? Your heart stumbles, and for a moment, you forget to breathe. “You do?” you ask, your voice trembling with disbelief, your pulse fluttering wildly in your chest. Could it be real? Could he feel the same way?

A flicker of uncertainty dances across your mind, and you can’t help but press further, needing clarity. “Wait—do you think, or do you know?” Your question is gentle, but it carries the weight of hope, a hope that has been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Namjoon smiles at himself, a soft laugh escaping his lips. “Sorry,” he says, the sincerity in his eyes unmistakable. “I know. I know I love you.”

Time seems to slow, the world slipping into a dreamlike state where everything feels soft, suspended, as if wrapped in the warm glow of your shared confession. The air between you feels charged, but also tender, like the fragile moment before the first petal falls. You can feel it now—he’s there with you, and this love, this real thing, is finally mutual.

You reach out, taking his hands in yours, and lean in closer. “I love you too, Namjoon,” you whisper, the words feeling both daring and true.

For a moment, silence settles between you, but it’s a comfortable silence—one filled with the weight of what’s just been said. His hazel eyes, flecked with warmth and softness, hold yours, and you swear you could drown in them. Drown and never wish to come up for air.

The pull between you is magnetic, and before you can stop yourself, the words slip out, unfiltered and bold. “Do you... want to come see my place?” The second the words leave your mouth, heat rushes to your cheeks. The invitation is brazen, filled with unspoken implications, but you know it’s what you want—all of him, not just this moment, but something more, something deeper.

Namjoon’s breath catches, and he stands, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yes, baby,” he replies in a voice that is almost a whisper, but carries the weight of everything he feels. That one word—baby—sends shivers spiraling down your spine, and you bite your lip, holding back a smile.

Hand in hand, you walk together through the quiet night, the cool air a stark contrast to the warmth building between you. You don’t need words now; the simple contact of his hand in yours is enough, grounding you as you lean into his strong frame. It feels so natural, as if you’ve always been walking beside him, as if this was always meant to happen.

When you reach your apartment, you fumble for the keys, unlocking the door with a nervous flutter in your chest. As the door swings open, you flick on the light, and for a moment, you glance around, hoping he won’t find your space too cluttered or small. You’d cleaned just the day before, but still, anxiety lingers.

Namjoon steps inside, his eyes roaming the space, but he doesn’t say a word. Instead, he looks at you, his gaze heavy with something unspoken, something that makes your heart race. His hand tightens around yours, and you feel yourself being pulled further into his orbit, like gravity drawing you closer.

You look up at him, studying the moles that dot his skin, noticing the way his features are softened by the low light. He’s so close, and in this moment, with his warm eyes on yours and his hand gently holding yours, you think—this is what it means to truly be seen, to truly be wanted. And God, does he look so handsome.

Then, without hesitation, he dives in, his lips crashing into yours with a desperate, urgent need. The moment you let out a soft moan against his mouth, he releases your hand, now free to explore you. Both of his hands cup your cheeks tenderly, yet with a fierceness that pulls you deeper into him. The kiss consumes you, leaving you feeling like water melting in his palms—soft, fluid, and utterly surrendered. His lips tease yours, grazing them in a way that demands more, and when he seeks entrance, you grant it willingly. Your tongues meet in a slow, intoxicating rhythm, moving like waves crashing together under a moonlit sea.

Another moan escapes you, and you feel heat pooling deep inside, a yearning that’s overwhelming. And it’s only a kiss—yet it has you unraveling like a ribbon coming loose.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze locks onto yours, desire simmering in the air between you, thick and electric. “Baby, I want you so bad,” he breathes, his lips curling into a soft pout that makes your heart melt. How does he look both fierce and endearing at once?

You can’t help but smile, your own need burning just as fiercely. “Me too... Please call me ‘baby’ more,” you whisper, fluttering your lashes as you cling to the warmth in his eyes. “I love it.”

He chuckles, the sound like a low rumble of thunder. “Oh, I’ve noticed,” he says, amused. “Every time I call you ‘baby,’ your eyes dilate.”

You didn’t know that, but you feel the truth of it—the way that simple word makes your heart race, how it draws you even closer to him, making you crave more.

“I want you...” You pause, feeling the boldness rise within you, “I want you to fuck me.” Your voice is breathless, your gaze holding his with an unspoken plea.

Namjoon grins, a softness creeping into his eyes. “Oh, baby, I’m going to make love to you,” he whispers, and the words are like honey dripping slow and thick. “Don’t you worry,” he adds, his lips capturing yours again with a hunger that makes your head spin.

Each kiss sends you spiraling further into him, your sanity slipping, but God, you love every second of it. It strikes you then how much of a romantic he is, how the passion in his touch mirrors the stories he loves in his books.

He pulls back, his breath hot against your lips. “Where’s your bedroom?” he asks with a playful chuckle.

You point, and before you can say another word, his strong hands find your waist, lifting you effortlessly. You wrap your legs around him, straddling his hips as he carries you across the room. He opens the bedroom door with a sweep of his foot, not bothering with the light, and gently lowers you onto the bed. Laughter bubbles between you, soft and sweet, as his lips claim yours again in a kiss that is both feverish and tender.

Your fingers tangle in his blue hair, tugging at the strands, and he hisses in pleasure, the sound sending shivers racing down your spine. He grinds against you, his erection pressing firmly against your core, and you feel yourself unraveling again, melting beneath him. God, he feels big, you think, your body aching to know him, to feel him completely.

Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, your fingers brushing against his skin as you tug the fabric upward, longing to see his bare chest again. You know what lies beneath—his broad, muscular frame, every inch of him beautifully sculpted, chest rising and falling with each breath. And you need to touch him, to feel his strength beneath your hands.

In this moment, nothing else matters—just him, you, and the gravity of everything that has led you here.

He pulls away, sensing exactly what you want, and in one fluid motion, grabs the hem of his shirt, peeling it off in a way that feels almost sinful. The sight of him should be illegal—holy hell, the way his muscles flex as he undresses is enough to take your breath away.

Your hands move instinctively, drawn to the expanse of his chest, a perfect blend of softness and strength. The skin beneath your fingers is warm, and the way he feels—solid, yet yielding—is intoxicating.

“Like what you see?” he teases, his voice low and full of that gentle confidence, and you can only gape at him, feeling the warmth of your admiration blossom into something deeper.

“God, Namjoon, you’ve always been beautiful... inside and out,” you murmur, your voice filled with reverence, because while his looks are striking, it’s his soul that captivates you.

His lips curve into a soft smile, his gaze tender as he leans down, brushing light kisses along the curve of your neck. The sensation sends waves of laughter bubbling out of you, light and breathless, as the tickle of his lips spreads joy and heat all at once. He keeps moving lower, trailing kisses down your body like a map only he knows how to navigate.

When he reaches the waistband of your pants, he pauses, eyes flicking up to meet yours, his breath warm against your skin. “Can I?” he asks, his voice both eager and gentle.

“Yes,” you whisper, and as he unbuttons your pants, you arch your back to help him slide them off, heart racing. He pauses again, staring for a moment, captivated by the sight of you, the evidence of your desire already showing.

“You’re so wet, baby,” he says, his voice hushed and full of wonder. “All for me?”

You nod, breath hitching, your body already trembling with need. “Yes, Joon. You make me so damn wet,” you pant, writhing beneath him, desperate for more. “Please, just touch me.”

His gaze darkens with lust as he licks his lips, then dips his head lower, trailing kisses across your stomach, inching closer to where you need him most. Every touch sends sparks of pleasure through you, and you giggle softly, unable to contain the lightness you feel even as desire coils tighter within you. His lips press against the hem of your lace panties, nothing extravagant, yet he looks at you like you’re the most exquisite thing he’s ever seen.

With agonizing slowness, he hooks his fingers into the waistband, pulling them down with deliberate care. The cool air of your apartment contrasts sharply with the warmth between your thighs, and you gasp, aching for him. You feel exposed, vulnerable, but in the most delicious way—his gaze heavy with desire as he takes you in.

“Joonie…” you moan softly, voice trembling, as his eyes linger on your glistening pussy, admiring you. You wonder if he finds you beautiful like this, spread bare before him, and his awestruck expression tells you everything.

“Damn,” he whispers, voice thick with astonishment. “You’re so pretty… already dripping with need.”

Your breath catches as his words wash over you, and when he asks, “Can I taste you? Can I touch you?” you can barely manage a nod as you spread your legs wider, inviting him in.

“Please,” you beg, feeling delirious with want, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation.

His touch is featherlight at first, a single finger brushing over your swollen clit, sending a sharp jolt of pleasure through you. You flinch, already overly sensitive, a gasp falling from your lips as your body responds immediately.

“More,” you plead, rolling your hips into his hand, urging him to press harder, to give you what you crave.

His fingers glide over you, warm and sure, stroking your slick skin with precision. Every movement sets off another spark, and a moan escapes you—high-pitched, breathy, and filled with need. His touch is both tender and demanding, and with every stroke, you feel yourself unraveling, caught in the storm of pleasure.

His fingers continue their rhythm, rolling over your sensitive clit with perfect precision, each movement making it throb with want. Your body reacts instinctively, hips rising to meet his touch, chasing more—chasing everything. You need all of him, and the craving is almost unbearable.

Namjoon watches you with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken, his eyes filled with both desire and wonder as he works you with his fingers, and then, slowly, his lips find the tender skin of your inner thigh. His kisses are featherlight, but they leave a trail of fire in their wake, and you tremble under his touch. With each kiss, he moves closer, until finally, his mouth finds your pussy, his warm tongue lapping at your slick folds, tasting you with reverence.

He groans, the sound vibrating against your core, and your hands instinctively tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you want him to drown in your pleasure. His tongue flicks over your sensitive nub, teasing, tasting, and the sensation makes your whole body tense in anticipation. His fingers slide to your entrance, probing gently before slipping inside, one at a time. The stretch feels divine, his fingers curling to reach deeper, and soon two, then three fill you, stretching you in the most perfect, delicious way.

Your toes curl, your breath comes in ragged gasps as you feel the wave of your climax building, rising with every flick of his tongue, every stroke of his fingers. “Joon,” you gasp, a warning, but he only sucks harder, his lips and tongue working in tandem as his fingers thrust deeper, hitting that spot inside you that sends you spiraling.

The world tilts, and your back arches as the orgasm crashes through you, white-hot and electric. You thrash beneath him, pulling at his hair as pleasure floods your body, and all you can do is moan his name in a broken, breathless whisper. Even as your body shudders, he doesn’t stop, his mouth still on your clit, drawing out every last wave until you’re trembling with overstimulation. You tap his shoulder weakly, and finally, he pulls back, his face glistening with your slick, eyes dark with satisfaction.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, his hand brushing softly over your thigh, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His touch is light, reverent, and though you’re still floating in the bliss of your release, you feel the need to return the favor rise within you.

“Let me take care of you,” you whisper, your voice thick with desire as you shift, pushing him down beside you. He opens his mouth to protest, but the words are swallowed by a low groan as you straddle his lap, feeling the hard bulge of his cock press against your wet core. You grind down on him, teasing him with the friction, and he lets out a ragged moan that makes your pulse quicken.

“I just want to make you feel good,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his lips, tasting yourself on him. “I don’t know how mermen make love, but as humans—I want you to feel good too.”

He chuckles softly, his hands resting on your hips, eyes dark with hunger. “It’s definitely not the same,” he admits, voice low and breathless, and that’s all the encouragement you need. You slide down his lap to the floor, your eyes locked on his, your intentions clear.

Your fingers find the waistband of his shorts, and he helps you pull them down, revealing his muscular thighs. When you see the thick outline of his cock straining against his boxers, your mouth waters, anticipation making your pulse quicken. Tugging down the last barrier, you free him, and his cock springs forward, thick and long, the head flushed red with need. A bead of precum glistens at the tip, and your breath hitches at the sight of him, hunger twisting deep inside you.

You lick your lips, your hands moving with purpose—one resting on his thigh, the other wrapping around the thick base of his shaft, feeling the weight of him in your palm. Slowly, you begin to pump, your fingers sliding over the velvety skin as you build a steady rhythm.

Namjoon groans, the sound so deep it reverberates through your core, and you can feel him tense beneath your touch, his body reacting to every stroke. His groans are like music, deep and sinful, and they make you want to push him further, to hear more of those primal, desperate sounds spill from his lips.

Damn, you need more of him.

You glance up at him, mischief in your eyes as you give a playful wink before taking him into your mouth. The taste is salty, a mix of his precum and something else, something almost elemental, as if the sea still clings to him. It sends a shiver down your spine, urging you to lose yourself in the act. You move with intent, your lips and tongue working in unison, breathing deeply through your nose as you take him deeper, each stroke making his body tremble beneath you.

He gasps your name, his voice barely a whisper, like it’s the only thing tethering him to the moment. His hands find their way to your hair, gentle, not controlling—just resting there as if he’s entranced by the sight of you. He glances down, watching the way your mouth moves over him, and his breath quickens, as if the very air has become too thin.

“Fuck,” he groans, voice strained, “you’re so damn good at this.”

You smirk inwardly, already knowing, but the praise sends a thrill through you. There’s something intoxicating about the way he fills your mouth, the way you feel him pulse against your tongue. It makes you wonder how your pussy will take him, how it’ll feel when he’s buried deep inside you, stretching you wide.

You’re making a mess of him—your saliva slicks his length, dripping down onto the sheets—but you don’t care. Not when he’s like this, writhing beneath you, his muscles taut with need. Your hand moves lower, cupping his balls, rolling them gently in your palm, and you feel them tighten as he draws closer to the edge.

“Damn,” he rasps, voice rough with desire, “you look and feel so fucking amazing.”

The sound of his praise sends another wave of heat rushing through you, making you wetter, a needy ache building low in your belly. You take him deeper, determined, your throat tightening as you try to swallow him down. But your gag reflex protests, and you pull back slightly, not wanting to push too far. Instead, you focus on teasing the head, your tongue circling slowly before flicking across his sensitive frenulum. He groans sharply, his hips jerking, and you can’t help the soft giggle that escapes you.

He’s unraveling, his control slipping, and you love it—love the power you hold over him in this moment, love seeing him lost in you.

Suddenly, his hands come to your cheeks, stilling your movements as he looks down at you with hooded eyes, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. “Baby,” he rasps, his voice thick with both lust and affection, “you’re dangerous with that mouth. If you keep going, I’m going to come right down your throat… and I want to make love and come inside you.”

You release him with a soft pop, a teasing smirk playing on your lips as you lick them slowly, savoring the taste of him. “You can always come down my throat later,” you murmur, your voice low and sultry. Rising to your feet, you peel off your shirt, followed by the clasp of your bra, letting it fall to the floor. Your breasts spill free, and the heat in Namjoon’s gaze intensifies as his hands instinctively find your hips, his grip firm yet tender.

“Is every inch of you just perfect?” he breathes, awe in his voice. The compliment sends a flush of warmth to your cheeks, and you chuckle softly, not answering because his words feel rhetorical, like they’re part of the worship that’s building between you.

Instead, you lean down to kiss him, pouring every bit of your desire into it. His cock twitches beneath you, hard and throbbing against your thighs, but you take your time, savoring the kiss—long, slow, and tender. You straddle him, hovering just above his cock, your body aching to sink down, to feel him inside you. But instead, you pause, letting yourself get lost in the depth of his gaze, his eyes like molten gold, swirling with emotion.

He kisses you again, his lips soft but insistent, and in that moment, you feel weightless. Like you’re floating, caught in a current, drifting between pleasure and affection. You feel cherished, like a treasure he’s unearthed from the depths of the ocean—glimmering, precious, and adored like the gems you’ve been collecting.

He groans, a deep, feral sound vibrating from his chest, and his hands tighten around your hips, the pressure promising bruises that’ll bloom as tender reminders of this moment. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me, baby,” he pants, his eyes dark and hooded with lust, as if he’s trying to memorize every curve of your face. His lips search for yours, hungry, desperate to close the space between you again.

“Likewise,” you breathe out, your voice shaky, your pulse racing. One of your hands trails down his body, fingers grazing his taut abdomen before wrapping around the thick length of him. You lift yourself slightly, feeling the heat of him against you. Just as you’re about to guide him inside, his deep voice cuts through the haze of desire.

“Should we use a condom?” he asks, his words momentarily shattering the tension, leaving the air thick but still.

You blink, slightly caught off guard, but quickly recover. “We don’t have to,” you murmur, sensing his hesitation. His brow furrows, so you add, “I have an IUD, and I’m clean. It’s… it’s been a long time for me.” Your words taper off, embarrassment creeping into your cheeks, suddenly feeling vulnerable beneath his gaze.

He studies you for a second, his expression softening before that same, dark hunger returns. “Okay, I just wanted to make sure,” he rumbles, his voice like molten velvet, sending shivers racing down your spine. The sound of him, the depth of his tone, makes your body respond instinctively—your pussy clenches with anticipation, aching for him to fill the emptiness inside you. “It’s been a long time for me, too. So, I’m sorry if I don’t last long…”

You shake your head, silencing his concern with a gaze that speaks louder than words. You need him, now. The heat between you both is unbearable, every second a sweet kind of torture. You guide the head of his cock to your entrance, teasing yourself by gliding him along your folds, feeling his hardness slick against your wetness, sending delicious tremors through your body.

Slowly, you position him at your opening and sink down.

The stretch is exquisite—a burn that ignites every nerve as he fills you inch by glorious inch. He’s thick, and the sensation of him sliding deeper feels like nothing you’ve ever known. Your breath catches in your throat, and you swear you hear him curse under his breath, his grip on your hips tightening as he savors the feel of your walls closing around him.

“Fuck…,” he groans, his voice wrecked, vibrating through you like a shockwave. “So damn tight.”

“Yeah…” you pant, your head spinning, your body adjusting to his size. Inch by agonizing inch, until finally, he’s fully seated inside you. You pause, trembling, your insides fluttering as he twitches deep within. You let out a soft moan, your lips searching for his in a fevered kiss, one that feels more like a collision than anything tender.

When you pull away, your gaze locks with his, your voice barely above a whisper. “You feel so fucking good… like you’ve always belonged there.”

He hums in response, his eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he traces your body with his hands, unable to take in enough of you. “You’re perfect,” he breathes, the words low and reverent.

Bracing your hands on his broad shoulders, you lift yourself slowly, your body trembling with anticipation. Then, with a burst of need, you slam down, impaling yourself on his cock, a scream of pleasure ripping from your throat. Namjoon moans, the sound guttural and raw, as you ride him with renewed vigor, losing yourself in the rhythm.

Your breasts bounce with each thrust, catching his attention, and without hesitation, his hands move to cup them. His lips trail down to one nipple, his mouth warm and eager as he takes it between his lips. You gasp at the sensation, a surge of heat flooding your core, and you feel a gush of wetness coat him as your body responds to his touch. You didn’t realize you’d come until the tremors hit, your pussy clenching tightly around him, your body quivering in waves of pleasure.

His tongue circles your nipple, flicking it gently before his teeth graze the sensitive bud, and the sensation sends you spiraling. Your breath stutters as he switches to your other breast, his hands roaming, kneading your skin, every touch heightening the electricity between you. Just as his mouth closes around your other nipple, his teeth accidentally bite down harder than intended, and a sharp cry escapes your lips—his name, ripped from your throat like a plea and a curse all at once.

He freezes, eyes wide, concern flashing across his face. But the look you give him—wild, consumed with lust—tells him everything he needs to know.

“I’m so fucking sorry—,” he gasps, but his words barely register through the haze of pleasure clouding your mind. Your gaze softens, your eyes half-lidded with desire, a gentle delirium swirling in their depths.

“No, no, it was good, Joonie,” you whisper, your voice a breathy melody. Your hand drifts to the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in the damp strands of his hair, tugging lightly. “I loved it.”

He pauses, a chuckle rumbling from deep within his chest, and you feel the twitch of his cock still buried inside you, a silent promise of more. His lips descend to your chest again, worshipping your skin with slow, languid kisses. His tongue finds your nipple, teasing it with a delicate flick before sucking, nipping just enough to make you moan his name, the sound a song on your lips.

Your body trembles, another orgasm crashing over you like a summer storm, your walls tightening around him in waves of bliss. He groans, a low, primal sound vibrating through your entire being. “Fuck, you—” His voice breaks with need as he rises from the bed, lifting you effortlessly, his body still entwined with yours. In one swift motion, he turns and lays you back down, pressing you into the sheets, his hips surging forward with raw intensity.

“This fucking pussy,” he growls, the words so feral, so laced with hunger that it sends a jolt of heat through you, your toes curling as your body responds to the deep, relentless thrusts. You moan, overwhelmed by the sensation of being pushed up the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets in desperation. Could you come again? Already, your body is teetering on the edge, caught in the rhythm of his passion.

He leans down, his breath hot against your ear. “You look so gorgeous, baby,” he rasps, each word dripping with lust as his hips drive into you again, leaving you breathless, your chest heaving as though all the air has been stolen from your lungs.

“Are you gonna come again?” he asks, his voice rough with need. You bite your lip, uncertain if you can, but the fire in your core tells you otherwise. Your hand slips between your bodies, fingers seeking out your clit. Everything is so slick, so impossibly wet, but you manage to find that perfect rhythm, circling the sensitive nub as your breath hitches in your throat.

It’s like the tide pulling you under—a tidal wave of pleasure crashing over you with blinding force. Your orgasm overtakes you, your body shaking beneath him as you cry out his name, each syllable a desperate plea, a prayer to the god of ecstasy. You thrash beneath him, lost in the throes of release, and still, he keeps thrusting, deep and deliberate, as your body flutters around him, the aftershocks rippling through you.

“Fuck, that was so hot,” he groans, his voice thick with desire as his cock twitches inside you, on the edge of release. “I’m not gonna last much longer.” With a final, powerful thrust, he spills into you, his warm seed filling you as his orgasm hits him hard, his body trembling with the force of it. His face—god, it’s beautiful in this moment—the way his lips part, how his brow furrows in pleasure, how he keeps moving, riding out the last waves of his climax until he begins to soften inside you.

Both of you are left panting, gasping for air like you’ve surfaced from the depths of the sea. He collapses beside you, pulling you close, your bodies still warm, still trembling. Your chests rise and fall in sync, the silence between you heavy with shared satisfaction.

“That was amazing,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rasp against your ear.

You chuckle, cheeks flushed and glowing. “Yes… we should definitely do that again.”

He turns on his side, his fingers brushing your arm tenderly as he gazes at you, eyes filled with warmth. “We really should.”

But then, out of nowhere, a ripple of anxiety courses through you, tightening your chest. You turn to him, your heart suddenly heavy. “Can we really make this work?” you ask, your voice small, vulnerable. “You, being a merman… and me, human?”

Namjoon’s expression softens, his gaze tender as he leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose. His hands trace soothing circles along your back, grounding you in the moment. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice filled with quiet certainty. “Don’t worry, baby. We’ll make it work. We have to.”

In his arms, wrapped in the warmth of his embrace, the world feels possible again.

→ Requested taglist: @allie-is-a-panda @jeonsbabygirlsworld @bangtannie7 @suker4angst

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle @pjmxxjm @ajoonniice @kookiewithluv @mikrokookiex @rapmonjoon94 @parkitrighthere

→ Author’s endnote: Only four mermaid stories left now! 🥳I hope you’ll like the other ones as well, and please let me know what you liked; you’re always welcome to leave me a comment, a reblog or an ask 🥰 Thank you so much for reading, love you 💜

© @/kingofbodyrolls 2024 // Please don’t copy or repost! You are more than welcome to reblog it, leave a comment or ask me anything about the story 🥰

[mirclealignr]

Omg hiiii could you do “no, don’t stop. i like the sound of your voice.” from your prompt list 4? I believe? Idk the one you just reblogged with anyone from Pirates of the Caribbean pretty pls :3

a pirate’s life for me | will turner

will turner x fem!reader

my first time writing will properly so eek!

nights could be agonisingly slow aboard the black pearl. aboard any ship, y/n thought. tedious nights anchored to something so deep within the ocean that no one knew what might be floating about down below. a dark abyss surrounded y/n, the ship and the crew, and sometimes it felt as if one night it might swallow the lot of them up whole, perhaps damning them, or perhaps relieving them. more often than not it felt as if they were already damned.

it had become routine for y/n to sit at the ship's bow, watching the stars, listening to the gentle lap of the ocean against the wooden base of the ship, watching the clouds move over the moon. for a long while she did it alone, but for a short time now someone else had been joining her.

at the beginning they didn't speak much to one another, enjoying the natural sounds of the earth and ocean rather than their voices. but soon enough, their voices became each other's favourite sound. their faces became each other's favourite sight.

will turner had never thought he could fall for a pirate. he could get involved when he had no other choice, when there was nothing but choosing the lesser of two evils, but to become intertwined with a pirate and that type of life forever was never something he imagined happening.

y/n had showed him a side to piracy that he knew was akin to freedom. the freedom he had always craved. freedom that he felt woven into his bones, something he was always seeking. she was the spirit of the sea, will thought. the way the wind tussled her hair, the way the sun shone through her, the way the stars strained to catch a glimpse of her through the clouds.

how could he let her go? not for something as trivial as propriety, decorum. something as vague and indistinct as what is right.

y/n had been talking a while now, about her childhood at sea. the places she saw, the people she met was something will could never have imagined. he watched her for a while, the way her mouth moved, the way her jaw softened when she smiled, reminiscing. but after a while he tuned in only to her voice, the sweet silvery tone of it.

but unexpectedly, the sound had stopped. he looked over to her, she was smiling but silent.

“no, don’t stop. i like the sound of your voice," complimented will.

"i'm not boring you," laughed y/n.

"no not at all. i just like listening."

something told will she was not convinced. the only thing that felt natural in the small, intimate moment was to lean over, cup her chin and turn her towards him. her eyes were dark in the dim light, but it didn't matter, he knew she was full of light. tenderly, he leaned in and placed his cool lips onto hers, which were warm and delicate despite the bitterness of the air. when he pulled away, she was smiling.

after bowing her head and collecting herself, she continued as she had before. and will, as he had done, fell back into his reverie, knowing their routine had altered only to allow for more intimacies.

[sec0nd-breakfast]

okayokay, so here's the lore to my lil dragon hybrid

so I kinda cooked up this hc that giant spiders exist on southern islands, right on the edge of the map.

Hidden in tunnels below the earth and spread between enormous trees are rows and rows of webs, thick as ropes.

It is not unusual for dragons to get trapped between these webs, tangling their wings and tails in those deadly strands of silk, their spikes and claws and teeth unable to save them from their gruesome fate once they got caught.

But

It is also not unusual, as we all know, for species to adapt to their environment over the course of many generations, thanks to coincidental mutations and recombination that change their genepool, causing variation in their Geno-and Phenotypes, which gets single individuals to be better fit for a new environment and then reproduce and hand those certain advantageous characteristics over to their offspring.

(so much for my side quest about evolution)

Now, let's say a certain dragon, or a small group of that dragon species, got abducted by a storm or a nature catastrophe, or vikings suddenly inhabiting their living space, sent off to this island with the giant spiders. (This process is called gene-drift, specifically founder effect, if I translated that correctly). So of course they had to adapt, using the now reduced variety of gene variants in their genepool.

And now let's say, that this tiny population of, in this case, Deathsongs, had a few individuals who had a row of claws down each of their wings, which helped them fly between the spiderwebs by cutting through them.

These individuals survived because they had a stronger biological fitness, and maybe they even reproduced with the spiders, who knows, nature is crazy.

So that's how, thanks to biology, this little Spidersong (it's what I call the hybrids, ehehe) managed to survive and learn from the spiders, using those techniques of building tunnels and making webs, once it was back on the mainland.

I like to think that only few actually survived this process of evolution, and that they're now scattered across the southern lands because the original island they inhabited with the spiders got swallowed by the ocean

Maybe I'll come up with a story on how our Spidersong handles humans, who knows.

@noxspider this is for you, cuz you gave me motivation to actually come up with something, lol

[natalievoncatte]

“Your son just kicked me, Miss Luthor-Danvers.”

Kara looked over to the couch, where Lena bad stopped reading her book, which now lay propped on the dome of her stomach. She looked absolutely exhausted, with dark circles beneath her eyes, marring paler than usual skin.

The pregnancy was taking its toll on Lena, but just as difficult for Lena was the order to remain on pelvic rest, as were the Herculean caloric requirements of gestating a Kryptonian child on Earth. Lena Luthor was the type of woman who grew more fatigued from orders to lay up in bed, and Kara had to practically bat her phone out of her hand to stop her from answering emails at all hours of the night.

Kara swung out from behind the kitchen island, carrying another smoothie with a carefully selected mix of fruits, vegetables, and protein powder.

“Blegh,” Lena said, as she choked down a gulp of the stuff. Does it have to be so sweet?”

Kara didn’t answer. Lena looked haggard by her own usual standards, but to Kara, she was the most gorgeous thing she’d ever seen. Yes, she was pale, but there as a rosy glow in her cheeks and though she sighed and complained and groused, rarely had there been such joy in her eyes. One of Kara’s new favorite things was catching Lena unawares, finding her smiling at nothing and cradling protective arms around the new life coming to being within her.

After she gulped down the last of the thick, gloppy shake -which Lena had given the appetizing name of ‘nutrient slurry mark one’, she turned halfway on the couch.

“There he goes again,” said Lena, sighing.

Kara reached out with a trembling hand, resting it gently on the warm curve of Lena’s skin. She went quiet for a moment, forcing back the tears. Thinking about this overwhelmed her. She’d never dreamed she’d really have this, much less with the most beautiful and kind woman she’d ever known. A soft twitch against her palm made her grin from ear to ear.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying this. I’d like to get some sleep.”

Kara chewed at her lip for a moment.

“What if I try singing to him?”

Lena raised a sharp eyebrow.

“Alex gave me an article that says that babies can hear us while they’re in the womb.”

Lena’s head fell back against the cushions.

“Do you know any lullabies?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“Yes.”

There was a pause, as Kara worked herself up, pulling the words from the lost days of her youth, across an ocean of stars beneath a far distant sun.

She more spoke than sang at first, until her voice grew into something soft and light, like a rare flower opening its petals to greet the sun. By the time she really began to sing, Lena was smiling, listening intently.

Kara dug deep in her memory for the words to the traditional Kryptonian lullaby, a promise from a young mother to her child lost in the wilderness, an invocation to come home safe to loving arms before the reunited in the final verses.

When Kara finished she looked up and saw that Lena was fast asleep, her hand now resting atop Kara’s as it rested on Lena’s belly. Tenderly, Kara drew her hand back and, with practiced ease, raised Lena in her arms and carried her back to the bedroom, another Kryptonian verse flowing softly from old memories, and the eventually they slept, until sunrise.

[strawberrystepmom]

gojo x f!reader. cw: food mentions and suggestive theming. he refers to reader as sunshine.

this is a bit of a love language exploration. reader’s giving love language is acts of service (😔 never beating those allegations) and gojo’s is giving physical touch with a dose of words of affirmation. wc 1.3k

divider thanks to @/cafekitsune

There are times when the simple daily acts of taking care of Satoru feel like the sole thing you were put on earth to do.

Not in the fashion of the maids he was raised by, tutting over his wrinkled yukatas and forcing him to eat the slimy natto he’d swallow through a pout with eyes as watery as the oceans that color them, but as if you’re the well from which his energy springs. He wouldn’t think about little things like slowing down to eat, rest, drink, and enjoy without someone there to remind him to do it. The curse and blessing of being as close to otherworldly as one can be without entering the uncanny valley.

This realization came to you long before you admitted to anyone that you were enamored with him. Back when you were a pair of bratty teenagers and you’d only ever seen him munch on konpeito with a hand wrapped around a bottle of melon soda to wash the scratchy sugar crystals down. You were appalled at how little he cared about himself (you didn’t take excellent care of yourself either in those days, judgmental one…) but you took it upon yourself to start taking better care of yourself and him by proxy in the process. A small act of compassion for a friend would never hurt, you reasoned easily at 17.

At that point, your role was merely sharing bentos or onigiri you made for yourself with him, trading a bite of your tuna filled rice for a sip of his soda - the indirect kiss aspect of this ritual made him giddy for more years than he’d like to admit aloud - or some of the star shaped sugar crystals in his palm that he’d toss between your lips and teeth when you’d open your mouth wide enough to catch them.

(You’d stick your tongue out far enough to allow him to watch the sugar melt away and turn into a colorful splotch. His big eyes, animated as ever, widened further with each bright green and orange spot that appeared and washed away in a flash. This little ritual is also how both of you learned to French kiss but that’s a memory to reminisce upon another morning.)

The two of you experienced some terrible things your first year and his second year of high school. A certain part of you felt bad for how unapproachable and closed off he seemed after Suguru’s departure and you know now that the acts of kindness had a larger impact than intended. A stray cat that gets fed always returns, after all.

He keeps returning. You thank the stars above morning, noon, and night.

Now, caring for him is as steady and effortless as the click, click, click of the knob thay controls the flow of gas on your stove as a flame ignites beneath your rectangle shaped tamagoyaki pan. Oil sizzles and the sound of it mingles with the shower running across the apartment and Gojo’s singing that is somehow louder than both of these happenings.

No wonder the neighbors hate you.

Whatever off key song he has come up with at least makes you giggle while pouring enough egg into the pan to start the process of making breakfast. Some days you are both too busy to sit down and share these moments but you still make sure he eats, a bento always tucked into his bag that matches the one in yours. Thankfully you are both off today so you get to enjoy the process rather than rush through it.

“It smells amazing.”

You didn’t hear him shut off the shower, too busy pouring and positioning egg to notice wet footsteps across the floor and heading directly toward you. A towel is slung carelessly over his hips and you giggle when he drapes himself over your shoulder, his hands dangling down the front of you. Shifting your face, you meet his with a smile and pretend to frown when water droplets fall out of his hair and onto your shirt.

“Whatever happened to good morning?”

He looks up at you from the corner of his eye and then feigns a bright idea coming into his head, shaking it and making more droplets fall on you at the same time. Giggling, you try to simultaneously monitor your eggs and him at the same time.

“You’re so right, how could I forget!” He clears his throat dramatically and stands up, hands wrapping around your waist. He bends to whisper in your ear. “Good morning, sunshine.”

You glance up at him with a too fond smile. When did you become so soft? You’re no better than the sugar that used to melt on your tongue, more than charmed by his sweet words and tender touches. It may be written all over your face but you do your best to hide it, raising your brows and sighing dramatically.

“That’s better.”

Clicking off the heat and shooing him as much as you possibly can, you pull the hot pan off of the stove and deposit your eggs onto a cutting board. Even a few seconds of time apart makes Satoru antsy so he’s by your side long before you can miss him, an arm draped around your shoulder and a hand on his hip.

“Thank you for doing this. I know the sun makes you hiss before 10 so it means a lot.”

Rolling your eyes, you slice the tamagoyaki and he hums his approval immediately. Steam wafts through the air and you have to admit that it’s making your mouth water, too.

“You’re the only person I’d do it for,” you mutter under your breath and he laughs, leaning to kiss your cheek. “You’re a liar. You’d do this for anyone who needed it.”

You continue slicing and he removes his hand from his hip, reaching to grab one of the already cooling slices off of the cutting board and stuffing it into his mouth. It’s still too hot and whatever he was going to say next is lost completely when he burns his tongue. He breathes through his mouth for a second to cool the eggs down the rest of the way and you groan.

“Mouth closed. You’re an adult, I shouldn’t have to tell you this.”

Now that it has been sufficiently cooled down, he chews the mouthful and swallows. He knows you’re joking so there’s no hurt feelings, just a cheeky grin and a dramatic eye roll.

“I was going to say, before your breakfast tried to murder me, that I’m grateful you do it for me and not just because we live together.”

The way he beams down at you is all the thanks you need, his smile as big as he is, but the words make you squirm. You’ve never been good at accepting praise or compliments no matter the amount of them you’ve been given.

“Yeah, yeah. I did it willingly when I was just your late night call too, I know.” He scoffs and shakes his head, reaching for another piece of egg. You slap his hand away playfully. “You’ve never been just a late night call to me, you know that.”

This is true and you lean into his side, aware again that he’s naked except for that damn towel. Wrapping your arm around his waist, you tickle his side and he whines.

“Go get dressed. I’m feeding you natto this morning.”

Satoru Gojo, alleged grown man, whines again. Loudly, childishly, pathetically. You giggle at his dramatics and slump when he puts most of his weight on your shoulder, drooping.

“Really?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, we’re having salmon. Go get dressed.”

He shakes his hips and the towel wrapped around them threatens to fall right in the kitchen and you tap his side with a coy smile.

“Goooooo,” you urge. “The sooner you do the sooner we can eat and then our day can really begin.”

Raising your eyebrows suggestively, he picks up on your meaning immediately and holds the knot of the towel against him while he hurries to your room to pull on some sweatpants. They’re his favorite for easy access and he’s more than prepared to give you his thanks in the form of as many orgasms as you want as soon as you’ve both fueled up.

[bustybounty]

Hyperspermitis is already a very rare condition to begin with, but in a futanari like you it's practically unheard of. The condition causes sperm to grow to the size of peas over the course of a week, increasing ballsize accordingly, while keeping the penis practically the same size though dilated. You surpassed the size of peas within the first few hours of becoming symptomatic and it didn't stop at the car-sized cells at the end of the week. A constant flow of fluids lubricate your ever gaping urethra as an endless horde of sperm escape your city dwarfing balls, wriggling towards any unfertilized pussy in the viscinity. You're cumming oceans as your own womb is also being stretched with the hyper sperm. By the time you're floating in a white ocean filled with sperm the size of, well, spermwhales, you wonder if they'll ever stop growing (and secretly hope they won't)

(Everything is stored in the balls for those who might not know, it's the smut version of 'ignore air resistance and friction' from physics)

The ball expansion was something I wasn't sure about at first, with the way they didn't grow smoothly at all, but instead, had quite the bumpy texture from all the visible sperm swelling and swimming around, which also made it a bit inconvenient to get dressed, with any pair of pants being stretched from the sudden movements my balls would make...though it also felt pretty good, anytime I actually managed to rub them to orgasm, my cock had to stretch and distend according to the sheer size of my overgrown sperm...

Hyperspermitis was very rare, and I looked it up online, finding only a few records of it and people talking about it, though it seemed that no one ever went beyond pea sized sperm... at least not online... as the weekend approached, I had to move due to the room sized balls carrying gigantic sperm inside them, and they showed no signs of stopping. It seemed impossible to prevent myself from orgasming as the very bumpy, active sperm would want to force their way out through my unchanged cock... though the floods were incredible, with a lot of semen flowing everywhere, the sperm smashing through walls in search of eggs to fertilize...even if it was more like the sperm would devour the egg for fertilization, instead of the other way around...

Oceans of the world, replaced in white, with spermwhale sized sperm causing mayhem in the 'water' but also on land, raw destruction was happening everywhere I looked...though my vision was mostly obscured by my over stretched cock spewing out more and more of these gigantic sperm...the condition was still advancing, and I imagined myself growing so big that the Earth itself got fertilized by just a single sperm that could swallow it whole...though at this rate it wasn't a matter of if, but when.

[aziraphales-library]

Hello lovelies! Do you have any fics in which Aziraphale just breaks or snaps and Crowley is there to help deal with the fallout?

Also, thank you for all the work you do for the fandom, I love coming on here every couple days and finding a new fic.

Hi! You can check our #aziraphale's trauma, #protective crowley, #mental health, #emotional hurt/comfort, and #bamf aziraphale for fics to enjoy. Now, breaks and snaps have different connotations, I feel. So here are a couple where Aziraphale breaks down and struggles, and a couple where he snaps and gets angry. Mind the tags on some of these!...

The consequences of averting the apocalypse by Whovian_holmes (G)

Aziraphale hasn't been feeling himself since the whole business with Armageddon, and he can't hold it back any longer.

Flaming Like Anything by Sunglasses_In_The_Bentley (NR)

Aziraphale misses Crowley terribly. Heaven is a miserable place to be and all this talk about the Second Coming is making Aziraphale nervous. Can he stand the pressure? And what will happen when he snaps?

Fear Not by EdosianOrchids901 (E)

When Aziraphale is attacked by a group of humans, he struggles against his desire to harm them. Finally, he snaps and unleashes righteous fury. Can Crowley help him find his way back?

The Angels Don't Fly Down Here, Prove Yourself and RISE by VariantLoki (M)

A rush of all different emotions flooded into Aziraphale’s head, swirling together violently like a hurricane in the middle of the ocean. He sank to the floor, shutting his eyes and clenching his fists together so much that his nails were digging into his palms. His body started to shake, and he could feel the tears beginning to form. He sat there like that for who knows how long, trembling in what he could only assume was a panic attack. Emotions continued to clash within him. Fear, Despair, Guilt, Pain, and countless other extremes all fought inside his mind until one came out victorious in their war and took over. Rage.

Appendange by midnightdragons (T)

“It is unangelic to act the way humans do, Aziraphale. Did the Lord not craft you to be an angel?" When coming back from a meeting in Hell, Crowley runs into Aziraphale, who is returning from a respective meeting with Heaven. However, the demon soon realizes that something is very, very wrong, as Aziraphale is acting less like an ethereal being, and more like an innocent child whose parent had screamed in their face for no reason at all.

a moment's silence by viperinz (T)

Crowley rubs a hand down his face, sighing. “Then you know that you shouldn’t have done that.” “It was the only choice I had. If you got smitten—” Aziraphale swallows, feeling his back throb in pain. “You would have died right where you stood. I could not allow that.” Crowley’s mouth turns into a thin line, his fury radiating through the room. “So, what? It was better if it was you rather than me that took the hit?” “Yes!” Aziraphale exclaims, sitting up in bed. He winces as his back protests the movement, but he needs Crowley to understand. “You deserve better than what I was able to ever give you, and you need to help Muriel and the Messiah. If I ceased to exist, nothing would change the outcome of stopping all of this.” “No, you don’t get to say that.” Crowley walks up to the bed. “If you think I’ll ever stand to lose you again, then you’re bloody wrong. The outcome would be different because I wouldn’t have you, you daft thing.”

After everything is said and done, Aziraphale has to learn to adjust to life on Earth after seven years of being in Heaven. Luckily, Crowley is there to help him heal, and to give him the love that he feels he's lost.

- Mod D

[aneurinallday]

2099

The Brain is deeper than the sea For hold them blue to blue The one the other will absorb As sponges, buckets, do

~ Emily Dickinson (1862)

1.3 = THE DEEP

“I still don’t understand.”

“Hmm?”

“The whole thing. The simulations. I still don’t get it.”

Maura looks around the interior of the small submersible, confused. It’s a scene not dissimilar to the one she just left behind - another grey metal room, dark and cramped and uncomfortable, with a single port-hole and an array of control panels. Several screens display a live feed of the ocean floor from various angles.

“I’m sorry,” she says, “I was far away. What were we talking about?”

It’s around lunchtime, and the submersible Kerberos is on an excursion to the Erebus Point - the deepest pit of the deepest trench of Earth’s deepest ocean, lying eleven kilometres below the surface. The submersible’s slow, gentle descent has been an exercise in patience, as the vessel and its two-person crew require time to acclimate themselves to ever-increasing depths. Somewhere above them floats their mother ship, the Prometheus, basking in the warmth of the sunny Pacific.

“You were talking about your family’s company,” Davy prompts her. “You said you created a brand-new brain-computer interface.”

“Oh, yes. It’s completely non-invasive and poses no risk to the brain tissue. My father and brother and I, we created it together. My husband helped too.”

“And people will be able to use it to…dream?”

“That’s right. The original idea was that people who’d suffered psychotraumatic experiences would be able to use it to process their trauma, find closure, relive suppressed memories…anything that might help them on their journey to recovery. An elderly person would be able to revisit their childhood home exactly as it used to be…a bereaved family member would be able to hold their loved one again…But the possibilities are broader than that.”

“I see.”

They are distracted by a loud beep - the depth gauge notifying them that they have just passed ten-and-a-half kilometres.

“A cause for celebration, I think,” Davy says, “Shall we crack open the last can?”

“It’s too precious to waste. Let’s save it for when we reach the bottom.”

Maura tries not to think about the extreme pressure outside, ready to crush their little submersible like a tin-can, waiting for the smallest weakness in their armour to present itself. She consoles herself with the knowledge that her death will be so swift, she won’t even realise it’s happening.

She sits at the port-hole, rests her head against the thick acrylic pane, and stares into the black nothingness outside. The Kerberos’s lamps are dimmed to preserve power, and the only external lights come from bioluminescent jellyfish, which drift like glowing symbols through the blackness. It both frightens and fascinates her to contemplate that uncharted abyss, a part of the world as mysterious as Outer Space, where the temperatures are frigid and the darkness is absolute.

Far from the tropical, teeming waters of the sunlit zone, the ocean has become barren. Before, they would see plenty of fish passing by - predators taking advantage of the night-time by migrating vertically upwards through the water column in search of prey. But now, there is nothing. Down here, the sun is just a distant dream, and these creatures have never seen daylight in their lives.

Here, fish are slow-moving and lethargic, hiding among the rocks or burying themselves in sand until prey come within easy reach. They’re globose in shape, with soft, supple skeletons housed inside gelatinous, translucent flesh. Their enormous, bulging, upward-facing eyes stare forever in the direction of a sun they will never see; and some have no eyes whatsoever. Their loosely hinged jaws and distensible sac-like stomachs enable them to swallow each other whole.

Down here, cannibalism is a necessity - the only other source of sustenance is the microscopic benthos which colonise the edges of tectonic plates, where cracks and fissures in the planetary crust spew forth super-heated, sulfide-rich water which microorganisms can feed off. Once in a while, a decomposing whale carcass, heavy enough to sink, might rot its way to the bottom of the ocean, to be immediately set upon by big and small feeders alike; but such banquets are rare.

One such fish swims past the port-hole.

“Look at that little fellow,” says Davy. “Isn’t he sweet? What a smile he has.”

He grins at the fish.

Maura smiles. As ugly and bizarre as the creatures are, she likes them. It’s comforting to know that even in one of the world’s most hostile environments, life can still thrive.

“Do you think they know about the sky?” Davy muses. “Somewhere in their DNA, do they remember a time when their ancestors swam in the sunlight? Or have they always lived down here?”

“Does it matter if they know?” she counters, “Even if they were somehow transported to the surface, they don’t have the capacity to feel surprise or amazement. There’s nothing going on inside those heads.”

The fish swims slowly away. Their gazes follow it until it has disappeared into the blackness.

“This feels wrong, don’t you think?” Davy says.

“Wrong in what way?”

“Well, doesn’t it feel like we’re somewhere we’re not supposed to be? Like we’re intruders? No human was ever meant to experience this depth. It’s not what mother nature intended.”

“It’s a little late to start having second thoughts. The point of no return was a week ago.”

“I know. It just feels…odd.”

Davy does a routine check of the live camera feed, tapping buttons to adjust the angles by a few degrees. He hums tunelessly to himself. For a while, neither of them speak.

“Are you feeling alright?” he finally breaks the silence.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. You haven’t been yourself lately.”

“Well, floating around in a metal box at the bottom of the ocean will do that to a woman.”

“You’re dodging the question.”

Maura sits back, stretches her limbs, and exhales.

“I’ve been having strange dreams lately,” she admits. “Dreams about my family.”

“That’s perfectly normal. Everyone gets homesick sometimes, even the mighty Maura Franklin.”

“No, that’s what’s strange about it. I don’t feel homesick at all.”

“Well, the brain is a weird and wonderful place, as you’ve often told me. How are they, anyway? Your family?”

“They’re fine.”

“You said your brother had graduated from university and started working at your company. What did he major in?”

“Neurotechnology.”

“He must be clever, then.”

“He is. He’s a good boy,” Maura says fondly. “Whatever I can build, my brother will improve upon it. His ambition surpasses all of ours. He wants to build the world’s largest and most spectacular Virtual Reality program, the simulation to end all simulations. It’ll enable us to visit any historical era we want, whether it’s a front-row seat to the first Summer Olympics or a visit to the Cretaceous Period.”

“That sounds incredible.”

“It is. He says the scope of our lives shouldn’t be limited by something as trivial as what year we’re born in, and we should be able to experience things outside the limits of our generation. As crazy as it is, there’s part of me that agrees with him.”

“So we’d be like time travellers?”

“Yes. Or time tourists, I suppose. It’ll mostly be for entertainment, not self-improvement. He also wants to include fictional universes, like the Discworld and Eä, but that’s a can of copyright worms I’m trying to discourage him from.”

“I’d fucking love to be Sherlock Holmes for a weekend, and he’s royalty free.”

“That’s true.”

“And the possibilities are limitless? If we wanted, we could close our eyes, live an entire lifetime in another world, and then open our eyes to be the same age as before?”

“In theory. The technology isn’t there yet, though. Once the program hits the upper limit of how much information it can retain, it automatically starts to shut down parts of itself to try and keep other processes running. A sort of self-destruct protocol, if you will.”

“And what does your father think of all this?”

“He thinks it’s a waste of time and talent. He thinks the simulation should primarily be a tool for studying human behaviour, specifically in regards to memory and the grief cycle. He thinks it should be a form of neuropsychological research, not a glorified computer game.”

“There are benefits to that, just like there are benefits to your brother’s idea. Why not do both?”

“Because both ideas have already cost the company millions of dollars. I admire my brother’s ambition, but there isn’t enough money in the world for him to build a Virtual Reality as big as what he envisions.”

“It must be a headache for you to be caught in the middle.”

“Oh, trust me, I stay out of it. My father has a will of iron, but so does my brother. Growing up, he was a sweet boy, but once he’d set his mind on something, he couldn’t be dissuaded.”

“What’s your brother’s name, anyway? I need to look him up once we get Internet again.”

“His name is - ” Maura stops suddenly. She thinks long and hard, then lets out a laugh, shaking her head in amazement. “It’s the strangest thing. I can’t remember.”

“You can’t remember your own brother’s name? The sea must be getting to you.”

“It must be…”

“Are you sure you even have a brother?” Davy teases her.

“Yes. Yes, I’m sure. He has freckles and blue eyes. I used to carry him around in my arms when he was little. I used to dress up in silly costumes and re-enact stories for him. On Christmas Eve, he would come to my room because he was scared of Santa Claus coming down the chimney.”

Maura’s tone grows more serious by the second. She’s no longer amused at her own forgetfulness, but worried.

“I remember his face, I remember his voice, I even remember the smell of his hair. But I can’t remember his bloody name.”

“It’s fine. We all have funny moments,” Davy comforts her, “We’ve been sitting in this box for too long. Once we get back to the surface, you’ll feel just fine.”

“What’s his name?” she demands, slapping her forehead, “What’s his fucking name?”

“Try to relax. Why don’t you tell me something else instead?”

“Like what?”

“Like a random anecdote. Maybe that’ll help jog your memory.”

“I can’t think of any anecdotes.”

“Okay, well…What made you decide to become an oceanographer? It’s quite a career switch from neurologist.”

Maura stops moving and stares wide-eyed at the floor.

“I…I didn’t,” she utters.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I didn’t. I’m Doctor Maura Franklin. I’m a neurologist. I’m not an oceanographer. I have no idea how I got here. I don’t remember getting into this submersible and I don’t remember signing up for this mission. I’ve never studied oceanography. I’ve never even gone SCUBA diving.”

Davy looks worried now.

“Okay,” he says, “Okay, how about we just take a breather? Maybe you need to rest.”

A sudden beeping alerts them to the fact that they are approaching solid ground. A proximity warning. Instantly, they put their conversation aside. They take up positions at the controls, and with trained precision, steer the Kerberos towards a safe landing spot.

Their gazes swivel between the screens and the port-hole. Davy turns up the brightness on the submersible’s lamps, illuminating an alien landscape of rocks and sand. There are no fish here. The only things that can survive at this depth are simple, soft, boneless life-forms such as tiny worms, and single-celled organisms such as algae.

“Easy does it,” Maura says.

Gently, the submersible comes to a halt on the ocean floor, sending up a cloud of sand. For a moment, the pair of them simply sit there, waiting for the water to clear, coming to terms with the fact that they have reached the bottom of the known world - the first humans ever to do so. The dislodged sediment settles around them.

Davy looks at her askance.

“Who’s going to contact the mother ship? You or me?”

“You.”

He hugs her. Jumping out of his seat, he returns to the port-hole and looks out eagerly, basking in his sense of achievement. Maura busies herself with conducting routine safety checks, taking readings of the ground’s stability and the sediment’s composition.

Behind her, Davy speaks.

“There’s a person out there.”

“What?”

“A person. Outside.”

“Good one, Davy.”

“No, I’m serious. There’s somebody out there.”

Maura joins him at the port-hole and peers out. Sure enough, she sees a silhouette. The unmistakeable, bulbous, humanoid shape of an atmospheric diving suit. It stands upright and motionless at the bottom of the Deep, facing towards them.

“Oh my God,” Maura breathes in disbelief.

Davy is the first to volunteer a theory.

“Perhaps it’s empty,” he suggests, “Perhaps it fell from one of the shipwrecks up above, and just…landed like that.”

But before he’s even finished speaking, the silhouette raises its right arm and waves at them, as if trying to catch their attention. Completely at a loss, they wave back.

“That’s not possible,” Maura says, “It’s simply not possible. That technology doesn’t exist yet. Is there another research mission going on that we don’t know about?”

Then, impossibly, they hear a voice. A man’s voice, muffled and fuzzy, penetrating water and metal.

“Hello? Hello?” it says.

Maura and Davy look at each other, both seeking reassurance that they are not going insane.

“Hello?” Maura replies tentatively, “Who is this?”

The man, whoever he is, seems unable to hear them. He repeats his greeting with increased desperation.

“Please answer,” he says, “Hello?”

“We can hear you. This is Maura Franklin of the Kerberos. We’re on a research mission to explore the Erebus Point. We’re not aware of any other vessels operating in this area. Identify yourself, please.”

“Maura?” the man exclaims. “Maura, it’s you! I’ve found you! Thank God!”

The silhouette takes a slow step forward, and begins to walk towards them.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” Davy says quietly. “Maybe this man died at sea…”

The silhouette steps directly into the bright beams of the submersible’s lamps. She realises it’s not a diving suit, but a spacesuit.

Suddenly, Davy cries out. Black veins are appearing in the acrylic disc in front of them, spreading rapidly until the whole port-hole is blackened, blotting their view of the outside. The metal walls of the submersible begin to shift and distort, transforming into a smooth, gleaming, crystalline material, pitch-black in colour.

“What’s happening?” Davy exclaims.

“I don’t know.”

The darkness is becoming solid. As the world warps and ripples around them, Maura grabs their diving equipment. She knows it’s absolutely useless - in a few moments, the submersible is going to implode and they’re both going to be crushed - but she wants to make sure that Davy dies with a glimmer of hope.

“Here, put this on,” she says, handing him an oxygen tank and a breathing mask, “I’m going to contact the ship.”

He obeys, his hands shaking. Maura heads for the communications panel, about to send a distress signal to the ship miles above them; but before she can reach it, the panel disappears. She looks down at her hands, but instead of flesh and bone, sees only black crystals. She wonders if she followed Davy’s advice to take a nap, and this is all just a nonsensical dream, a manifestation of her anxiety.

Bracing herself for the pain, she squeezes her eyes shut; and opens them to the stasis room of the Prometheus. Daniel is in front of her, his face stained with dirt and twisted with terror as he frantically wrenches the electrode headset from her head.

“Thank God,” he exclaims, kissing her forehead desperately, “Thank God I found you. I wasn’t sure where he sent you.”

The side of her neck hurts; she touches it and her fingers come away stained with liquid, black mixed with blood. Still reeling from having an ocean collapse upon her, her knees feel weak - she slumps into his arms.

“You got me out,” she mumbles.

“I’m here. I promise I’ll stay with you this time. I promise.”

He pulls her out of the pod and lays her gently down.

“I remembered,” she says, “I remembered things. Things from my life…How is that possible?”

“Certain triggers can bring back memories, even without a white syringe. Davy must’ve said or done something that jogged your memory...” He kisses her forehead, brushing away her hair. “I’m sorry I took so long. There wasn’t much I could do without a Shell, so it took me ages to hack into the program. But eventually, I managed to create a backdoor to introduce the virus.”

Maura’s eyes focus, and she realises Sebastian is gone.

“What happened?”

“Once you were unconscious, Sebastian told me to come with him. He said he was going to take me to Ciaran.” Daniel glances around, still alert for danger. “I’m not sure where he was leading me to exactly, but I managed to get away. I followed the pipes until I found a utility chase, and then I crawled around inside the hull until he lost track of me. Then I found my way back here, to you...He came back a few times, so I had to keep hiding. But listen, we have to leave. He could show up again any second.”

He helps her to her feet and ushers her out of the chamber, into the shadowy passages of the module.

“This way,” he says. “I think Sebastian already searched for me in this direction, so it should be clear…”

“Where are we going?”

“Anywhere. We can try the cargo hold. It’s huge and full of hiding spots.”

“Okay…”

Suddenly, like an angry phantom, Sebastian races out of the darkness. With frightening speed but without a word, he attacks. Daniel pushes Maura to safety, but before he can defend himself, the First Mate has already lifted him up and slammed him against the wall. The back of Daniel’s head rebounds off the metal, dazing him; Sebastian throws him to the floor, where he lies stunned.

“Stop!” Maura shouts.

She grabs Sebastian’s arm, but he elbows her aside, causing her to fall painfully against the door-frame.

Sebastian kneels on top of Daniel, straddling his midsection. His left hand pins Daniel to the ground by the neck, and his right hand clenches into his fist. His neat ginger hair is awry, and the boyish face hiding behind the beard is twisted with anger.

“I could’ve just pressed a button and shut you down,” he says, “But that’d be too quick. You’ve been such a thorn in my side. You need to suffer.”

He begins to beat Daniel’s face viciously.

“Du bist wertlos.” His voice raises in anger for the first time, “Wertlos und unerwünscht. Du bist nichts!”

Daniel paws weakly at him, letting out a strangled whimper through a mouth full of blood. His legs struggle uselessly, boots scraping against the floor.

Behind them, Maura rises to her feet. She flings herself onto Sebastian’s back, grabbing his hair and face, wrenching his head backwards in an attempt to pry him off Daniel. With her fingers, she tries to gouge out his eyes. He reaches around, grasps her, and yanks her off his back.

Pinned down by the throat, Daniel is beginning to pass out. He can’t breathe, can’t see, can’t do anything but lie there while Sebastian continues to pummel his face.

“Nichts!” Sebastian repeats. “Nichts!”

Maura looks desperately around for a weapon. She spies another computer interface nearby, and a bundle of thick cables trailing from the back of it. She crawls quickly towards it and grabs a fistful of the cables. Bracing her feet against the computer, she begins to wrestle the cables out of their sockets. Some are fixed into place with metal screws, but others are merely plugged in and can be yanked free. Finally, she finds what she is looking for: a male connector with a long, protruding prong.

She stands up. Lifting the connector above her head, she gathers all her strength and rams the metal prong into the back of the First Mate’s neck, directly into his spine. Sebastian falters; the punches cease. Maura wrenches the connector up, and drives it down again, a wordless cry tearing from her throat.

Sebastian releases Daniel, and rises. With a look of bewilderment, he turns to face Maura. Faced with his looming size, she backs away, still clutching the cable in both hands.

Sebastian opens his mouth to speak, and coughs up a spurt of black blood. He takes a step towards her, falls face-first to the floor, and disintegrates. Dark pixels scatter into nothingness. Something clatters to the floor - the Shell that he was carrying in his pocket. Within seconds, he is gone.

“What?” Maura gasps.

Daniel lies on the floor, choking for air. His lips are bleeding, and the skin of his forehead has split. Maura helps him to sit up, their anxious hands clasping together.

“Are you hurt?” Daniel wheezes, “Did he hurt you?”

“No.” Maura is staring wide-eyed at the fallen Shell, at the patch of floor where Sebastian vanished. “He wasn’t real? He was just…nothing?”

“Fuck,” Daniel mutters, rubbing his throat, “Ciaran must’ve created him - controlled him. That whole time we were in 1899...he must’ve been Ciaran’s eyes and ears, manipulating your father.”

“Wait…” Maura is still struggling to wrap her head around the sight of a living, talking, breathing human dissolving into pixels. She sinks against the nearest wall. “So the messages I’ve been getting on the computers…it was Sebastian writing them, not Ciaran? If my brother can’t actually do anything by himself…”

“No, let’s not underestimate him,” Daniel stands up unsteadily, his voice still quavering. “He must have precautions in place. He might even be here personally, running things from elsewhere on the ship. You know what they say - if you want something done right, do it yourself.”

Seeing the Shell, Daniel scrambles towards it, his face lighting up with hope. Clutching it in both hands, he presses a few buttons.

“It’s working!” he almost kisses it. “Now we have a chance. Now we can wake up the others.”

Life is a fear of falling Life is a fear of falling through all the cracks

Wait around here long enough, you’ll see Another junction, line up and lay down for me You fall wonderfully If I question everything you say Another answer crumbles; the birth of my day Is when you appear

You calling out a name You swimming to me through a dream Life is a fear of falling Life is a fear of falling through all the cracks

Every siren often my lullaby Every heartbeat functioning thrown to the night I’m quenched in your light See the floor rising through a dream Forgotten thoughts lost in a memorable theme And soaked to the skin

You calling out a name You swimming to me through a dream Life is a fear of falling Life is a fear of falling through all the cracks

And I wanted life to be that