#(I won't but I will let the existential dread kick in and I cannot do that until this book draft is done)

[essektheylyss]

I definitely could've watched this series at a reasonable pace but instead I watched five episodes of acoc today and have four episodes left to watch tomorrow and I will be finishing it all by 4pm, goddammit.

[morgana-ren]

Come Down to the Black Sea III

Summary: The sea seems to call to you, but it’s not the tumultuous clash of the waves you should fear. Something lurks deep beneath the black waters, something sinister with a piqued interest and ill intent.

Rating: Explicit 

Warnings: Siren!Shigaraki, graphic depictions of violence, heavy sexual innuendo, implied noncon, foul language, sexual tension you can cut with a knife, and just general sexual grossness. Joking daddy kink also, if you count that. 

PART I, PART II

Here you go! The third installment. Your seafaring friend finds your hot button and decides to plant some lovely ideas in your brain. Listening to them probably is not the smartest idea in regards to keeping your heart beating, but it certainly gets your thighs clenching. 

Taglist: @lemonzoey​, @babayaga67​

You know, it's really rough to explain to your superiors at work why you're so distracted when it happens to be because a mythical being is giving you the cold shoulder. 

You’re not entirely certain why it bothers you so much that your last encounter with him ended rather sour. He had made it perfectly plain from the get-go that his intent with you was far from pure. Murderous, in fact. He had almost drowned you on your first meeting and insulted you incessantly during your second. Not exactly a friendly track record. 

Regardless, he’s made a permanent home crawling beneath your human skin, like some itch you can’t scratch away. You can try to justify it however you’d like, but you can’t ignore the truth. In a word full of mundane existence, you’ve found an oddity and as much as you’d like to pretend you aren’t, you’re drawn to it. It’s part of why you returned to the beach despite the clear and present danger. You’d found a living, breathing mermaid. Even more impressive, you’d managed to piss him off.

Mermaid? Is that accurate? He’s so sensitive to being classified wrongly, but still never told you what he was. Considering the circumstances, maybe you should be a little bit more concerned about other things rather than offending him, but it still bothers you. 

Your ignorance isn’t due to lack of trying. You’ve done extensive research in the spare moments you have during the day, but nothing quite matches his description no matter how deeply you delve into the weirder parts of the internet, even going so far as to browse around on conspiracy sites on the darknet. Mermaid? Merman? Siren? Fish-guy? Some distantly related offspring to that Ripley’s Believe it or Not monkey fish? Relentless searching proved fruitless. Plenty of old sun-crazed fishermen claim to have seen merfolk in the waters or sirens on the rocks, but more often than not, it was a walrus or stage 4 sea madness. No one had a legitimate account of meeting with a real, intelligent creature of the deep. Nothing that came remotely close to him, anyway.

Despite being unable to focus at your job, getting home only doubles the anxiety. Restlessly sitting and twitching on the sofa, repeatedly trying and failing to read or watch some vapid TV show. You’re unable to keep your mind from returning to the ocean, to him no matter how hard you try. 

Over the course of time, you become acutely aware that staying home clearly isn't an option, but you're not really sure what to say to him if you see him again. Why do you even care? Aren't you supposed to be ignoring him? You can excuse your obsessive thoughts about him since most people would have the same reaction to seeing something supernatural not once, but twice in front of their very eyes, but a lot of people wouldn’t continuously return to see it especially if it was malevolent. 

You love that preemptively planning what to say to a sentient supernatural sea dweller is a part of your day. That's awesome. Can't look that one up on google. 

You’ll compromise with your compulsiveness instead. Go a little early and watch the sun set down over the horizon instead of watching the moon rise. Most parents won't allow their children near your rock because it’s slippery and dangerous, and frankly, you don't think he'll show up when others can see him. He’s deadly, but a mob of terrified parents and curious beach goers has few rivals. 

Maybe you can get your fill before he appears. It's better to keep away from him anyway. He wants you dead. 

He wants you dead, you remind yourself.

And so you do. Tread the sandy trail down to your favorite little hideyhole and plop down on the hard surface. You kick your feet absentmindedly on the rock beneath you, watching the small particles of sand splay and regather with every motion of your foot. The crash of the waves, still tumultuous and ornery, slap the side of your makeshift perch and splash you with speckles of water every few moments. You don't mind. You needed to shower anyway.

You can't help but feel a bit more lonely than normal, even surrounded by so many more people than you usually are. Flustered moms urge their children in from the shore to wipe them down with towels and flighty young twentysomethings hoot and holler, laughing loudly as they pile into their cars to find their next big spot for the night. The moon rises and the beach empties, leaving you alone again. The ocean settles, and even though it feels better, you feel alone.

You close your eyes, resting your head sideways on your knees with your arms buckled around your legs. You're close to the edge, precariously so. You just want to be close to the water. You should move back.

In. out. in. out. in. out. in. out.

The waves seem to move in line with the beating of your own heart, a tranquil feeling that dulls your restless thoughts and engulfs you in quiet solace. The hum of the ocean resonating deep within you with each breath you take of the briny air.

You're aware enough to recognize that the sound of the sea is luring you into a false sense of comfort. The darkness seeping over the horizon doesn't make it easier, and soon your slowly wandering mind is on the brink of unconsciousness. You're dangerously close to falling asleep, and given the circumstances, that probably isn't the best idea, especially since you're precariously close to the water. 

You can't help it, it's been one hell of a week. You haven’t slept. Haven’t relaxed. Haven’t felt at home in so long...

Listen, there's no guide online to look at that can help you through what to do when a malevolent fish-man hybrid has decided he wants to drown you. You can imagine it would say something along the lines of 'Stop going near the water then, dumbass' but that's like asking a religious person to stay away from church. It's the one place where you feel any semblance of peace, and you'll be damned if you're going to let the moonlight water marauder take that from you. 

Still, it makes things in your life exponentially more difficult when you can't explain to anyone what's on your mind. 

'Yeah, I met a mer...thing, and he's decided that he hates me and he wants to drown me, and that makes me sad. The one supernatural creature I get to meet and he doesn't like me. Bummer.'

They'd probably have you committed. That’s a bit much even for your eccentric proclivities. 

Your body occasionally jerks you awake, probably its way of saying 'You cannot sleep when there are enemies nearby', but it feels like it's been weeks since you've had a decent night's sleep. The endless procession of days marked by existential crisis with the tacked on bonus of being aware of the existence of a nefarious fairy tale creature makes everything feel awfully surreal. It feels as if you've been running on pure adrenaline and are about to crash. Hard.

If you were smart, you'd go home and try to bank on the feeling of sleepiness currently plaguing you, but you just can't bring yourself to move. Even barring the flaxen haired fish dude just chomping at the bit to drag you under, napping this close to the sea is a bad idea in general. Tides change rapidly and all it would take is a few minutes of you being unaware for the waves to snag you and haul you off to a watery grave. They'd probably never find you, just like the others who disappear here at night. 

But that's probably his doing, isn't it?

What does he do with the bodies exactly?

You really wish he wasn't trying to kill you, cause you have an endless list of questions you'd like to ask. What does he eat? Where does he live? Does he sleep at all?

Musing on all the things you'd like to know about him and his life leads you into fantasizing about being a talk show host interviewing him, and one thing leads to another and before you know it, you're conked out cold. You've managed to find an extremely awkward position to slump into, but even the horrid crick in your neck isn't enough to shake you from the dreamless slumber. Your body doesn't even have the energy needed to produce a dream, so instead, you just float through an endless void.

It could have been minutes, or even hours, really. You're not sure. The only thing strong enough to jar you awake is a sudden and intense feeling of dread that blooms in your stomach and gives you a form and sentience again. Your eyes snap open instinctively, and you're greeted with a pair of spiteful red eyes far too close to you for comfort.

"Jumping jesus-!" 

Surprised is a nice word for what you feel, an ugly screech emanating from your throat as you kick out your feet, knocking yourself over and almost falling in the water in the process. You hit your head nice and hard on a particularly jagged portion of the rocks, and by the time your vision undoubles, the danger is just barely settling in. 

Except danger is too busy cackling to be a threat.

You try to grapple with the panic in your chest and get a grasp on reality again after your literal rude awakening, but it's a bit rough when the sadistic jackass who perpetuated it in the first place won't stop laughing. Apparently he's too amused to take the opportunity to seize you, so you take the moment to scoot much further back and out of his reach, resisting the urge to plant your foot right on his stupid face.

Eventually he quiets down, but the grin never leaves his face. Much like everything about him, it's hostile somehow, mocking and disingenuous. 

"Humans really are so stupid."

"Joke is on you, tunabreath. You wasted the perfect opportunity to actually grab me." 

He shakes his head, tutting you. "I couldn’t resist. We like to play with our food too, sometimes. Scared ones taste better."

Is he implying he eats people? Okay, you know what? You don't wanna know. You doubt he'd be honest about it anyway, and would probably say whatever unnerves you the most. He seems a prick like that.

"I thought the entire point was to drown me and get it over with. You’re borderline obsessed with it."

He scoffs, little head fins twitching as he waves you off. "If I’m going to waste my time, don't make it so easy. It's less fun."

Okay cool, this is all a game to him; your life is a game to him. Nice. Fun. Great. 

Something on your face must have given away your ire, because he simpers at you and another raspy laugh bubbles in his chest. 

"It's not my fault you're stupid. You're the idiot sleeping next to the ocean when you know what's waiting for you when you get too close. It’s like you want me to devour you." 

"I thought after your little tantrum last night, you were gone for good. You really can throw a fantastic hissy fit."

That wipes the smile from his face.

“Little brat.” He taps a claw on the rock, narrowing his eyes at you. “Tough talk from someone afraid of getting a little wet.” He drags out the final word with a mocking tone, clicking his tongue against his fangs with the final syllable.

“For the last time, I’m not afraid of getting wet-” It takes it a second to sink in but wow this all sounds so wrong. Your face darkens and a familiar tingle worms itself in your gut. Are you really that lonely? “And don’t say it like that!”

His brows furrow and he studies you with a slightly quizzical expression. “Like what?” 

How do you explain to a dude who presumably has no cock and no human sexual experience about the sexual insinuations of human expressions? Wow. This is not a talk you thought you’d be having. The entire situation is weird, but this really sets the bar. 

“I know you’re probably not familiar with it, but that sounds... weird. It just sounds weird, okay?” 

“I don’t understand.” His lips curl downward in annoyance, arching a pale brow in your direction. 

“Look, when a human and another human... do stuff, things happen to their bodies and-“ a twisted sense of shame curdles your stomach and you go to scratch the back of your head, avoiding his eyes. Your words trail off somewhere mid sentence. If you were looking, you could practically see the gears turning in his head, but a few seconds later, his face pops in realization. 

“I’m fully aware of your human mating habits.”

“Don’t say it like that either! Jesus, you’re so awkward.”

A slow smile spreads over his face and he leans closer to you, tail swishing in a steady rhythm beneath the water. “Why? You’re over the ‘age of consent’, as it’s put, right? A sexually mature human female? Does it make you uncomfortable when I say things like that? Or does it make you something else?” 

He trails his claws in a walking motion towards your out of reach leg, and embarrassment isn’t a strong enough word for the emotion that colors your face as you recoil from his wandering fingers. “Knock it off!”

“Has it been a while since someone touched you, little human?”

“None of your business! You’re such a creep! And what do you know about it anyway? Don’t you fuckin’ lay eggs or something?”

He ignores your pointed jab, licking at his chapped lips as he runs his piercing eyes over you a bit too invasively for your liking. “You wanna know, huh? I can show you.” He reaches towards you again and you wiggle back a few more inches, caught between his words and the friction igniting feelings you’re desperately trying to ignore between your thighs.

“I’m getting mixed signals here. Are you trying to drown me or fuck me?” 

“Who says I can’t do both?” He tilts his head, gaze lingering on your lips before drifting down to your chest without shame. His attention still feels utterly predatory, but for a different form of predator entirely. “Your death doesn’t have to be entirely painful, you know.” 

“S-stop it.” 

He’s giving you whiplash with his intense mood swings, but you can’t deny the less than appropriate places his words drag your mind to. Heat ignites inside you, warmth spreading through your navel as your cheeks burn deeper than they did before. You will it away, trying to shake loose the thoughts from your mind. No fucking way are you even considering this.

“Look, even if our bodies were compatible, which they aren’t, it’s not like you wanting to kill me is a turn on.” 

He gives you another lilting grin, flicking his tongue and hissing in a foreign laugh. “Are you sure? I know that some of your kind are into that sort of thing. Hard. Rough. Dangerous. And judging by your face-“ 

Another bout of blood colors your cheeks so intensely that you can literally feel it. Oh God, make it stop. 

“-You might be.” 

“Shut it, shark bait!” 

“And who’s to say we’re not compatible? I know plenty. Something about the beach is an aphrodisiac to you humans. Not to mention~” Another grin, but this one gives off the undeniable air of ‘I know something you don’t know.’ “You have no idea what I can do.”

You can’t help but look back at him as he says it and you can tell he means every word. The unnatural scarlet glow of his eyes seems far too welcoming, calling to you like some sort of beacon in the darkness. The soft gleam of his silvery hair in the moonlight far too inviting. You want to touch it, wonder what it would feel like entwined between your fingers, what it smells like and how those claws would feel like scratching against the sensitive skin of your ass as he holds you steady against his hips.

You bet those fangs aren’t just for show, and judging by his attitude, he’s probably not afraid to use them. You bet they’d feel all sorts of nice scraping and digging into your flesh, biting you and licking that thick tongue up and over your neck, maybe even a bit lower if you asked him nicely. He’s so lithe, so strong, he’d have no problem fucking you against the rock even with the water resistance. His slick skin rubbing against yours, webbed hands squeezing your waist, kneading your tits, pressing the rounds of your neck until you gave yourself over to him completely and the taste of him is the last thing you ever knew.

Okay, you admit it. You are really curious to see just what it is he can do. You’d probably be the first human in history to find out, the first girl to be fucked to literal death by a siren. Would it really be such a terrible way to die? Being dragged under metaphorically and physically and spending your last moments in pleasure wholly unknown to the moral realm?

He smiles softly, watching you toss it around in your mind as he cradles his head in his palm. He’s beautiful, and you loathe it. You hate that you’re even considering this, even toying with the thought as if it’s really an option. What the hell are you doing? This is complete madness!

“You aren’t serious, are you?” 

He gestures you forward seductively, nibbling gently on his scarred bottom lip, keeping your eyes squarely trained on his mouth. “Come a little closer and find out. I promise I bite. Extra hard if you beg.”

Another clench between your legs. Shake it loose, shake it loose! “Look, even if I believed for a split second you wanted to seduce me, you really think I’m going to literally die for the chance?”

“What else are you going to die for?” 

Oddly deep. Not a thought you wanted to ponder right now. Expertly deflect it with sarcasm and ignore the fact that he has a very good point.

“Of old age, in my bed, surrounded by loved ones and piles of money I didn’t get the chance to spend yet.” 

He scoffs, blowing air through his nose. “Sure.”

“Just what is that supposed to mean?” 

He shrugs, shucking aside your irritation. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to.” 

“Prick.” 

He giggles, finding your crass human mouth oddly endearing. “Well, the offer stands. I told you I’m not going anywhere until you're under the water with me.” He pauses, considering you for a moment before grinning darkly. “I might just do it anyway, but it’s better if you’re willing. Not that I’ve ever been averse to a little struggle.”

“What?”

“It’s hard to say no when you can’t speak. I could easily bypass this little game of playing hard to get, but I want to see you squirm.” He eyes between your legs and you pray to the Gods that he thinks the dampness residing there is because of the watery environment. “I want to see you beg before the light goes out in those pretty eyes.”

“You’re a fucking perv!”

“I told you I’m going to watch you drown, you really put it past me to not take other forms of satisfaction from you while I’m at it?”

He presents a good point. You resent the fact that you don’t entirely feel repulsed by the thought. You should. You should be mortified and terrified and other words that end in ‘fied’. You should run and never come back. You know you should. 

You lean forward. 

“I’d like to see you try, fish boy.” 

A strangely genuine smile spreads across his lips and his face seems to light up at your words. It's still menacing, but oddly cute; like a child getting ready and excited to play their favorite game. 

"You really think you can win this, huh?" He muses, looking up at you through those pale lashes. "You sure are something, little girl." 

"What do I have to lose? If you win, you kill me, and whatever else, but I won't care, because I'll be dead. If I win, I get to see that arrogant smarminess wiped off your face when you don't get what you want. You'll have wasted all this time for nothing, and I guess that's a small consolation prize alongside my life."

“Time means nothing to me, but if it makes you feel better about the situation.”

From the way he says it, you don't deny it. It dawns on you that you really know nothing about his people. Do they age like you? Do they age at all? 

“How old are you?” 

"Older than you by far, I promise. What a rude question. How old are you?" 

“Old enough. But that doesn’t answer my question. Don’t deflect.”

"No manners, you humans." He ponders it for a minute. "You count the passing of time in revolutions around the sun, right? I'd bet I had been an adult for a very long time while you were still learning to walk on wobbly little legs." 

It's your turn to laugh now, and he doesn't seem amused. "You're an old man! Ew! You're an interspecies cradle robber!"

"I'm not old! We live exponentially longer than you! I'll still be in my prime when you're an elder!" His pallid face is dusted slightly red in frustration, and it's almost funnier than his reaction. 

"Whatever you say, grandpa! Do you have an undersea walker? Drink sea prune juice? Is that why your hair is silver? Cause you're old?"

Self consciously, he strokes the front of his long bangs between his fingers. "No! You're an immature little brat!" 

"Back in my day~" You barely dodge a swipe from one of his claws as he jumps as far forward as he can and swings at you. "Careful gramps, you don't wanna hurt yourself. You’ll break a hip or whatever it is you have."

He sneers at you and you bask in the minor victory.

You sit in silence; him with a scowl tightly pulled across his thin lips, and you with a smug little grin. So it’s not impossible to get under his scales. 

He’s a world class pouter, you’ll give him that. He doesn’t strike you as vain, but this is probably uncharted territory for him; actually talking to a human and subsequently being made fun of for his age. He’s probably not used to being mocked in any sense of the word, seeing as he’s a ‘non existent’ mythical creature. Maybe his kind are prideful, if a little childish. He claims to have existed for ages, but he still has the mannerisms you’d attribute to a male around your age. Maybe a tad immature and explosive himself. You guess some things don’t change with the species. Aggression, domination, and sex. And murder, in his case. 

Some things are universal, it seems. 

He’s making a show of ignoring you now, clicking his claws together in a subconscious attempt to threaten you. They are awfully sharp. You swear looking at them makes the gashes on your arm start to ache all over again. Occasionally the fins on the side of his head twitch in an almost catlike manner, turning toward whatever source of sound can be heard. It’s so strange to you, you can’t help but stare. He looks ethereal, even as impudent as he’s acting. With the backdrop of the ocean and the moon behind him, he looks like a painting that belongs in a gallery. You can’t stop yourself from leering at him.

You’re trying to ignore the fact that he definitely takes notice. 

He's angry at you, displeasure still slightly evident in his face, but a small smile crooks his lips. You've clearly offended him but your leering goes a little way towards soothing the hairs you've rubbed the wrong way. For whatever reason, knowing you find him attractive puffs his feathers- er, scales- with pride. Body language relaxes between the two of you and a few minutes of quiet follows. 

Yet, it's difficult to keep a pleasant silence when the company you keep is far from familiar. This isn't two friends relaxing on a beach; at least unless most friends are malevolent ocean dwelling creatures with an end goal of filling the other's lung with sea water. 

The lack of noise makes you antsy, almost like you're anticipating something but you're unsure of what. It feels false somehow, like you're trying to turn this isn't something it isn't; comfortable. No matter how his casual demeanor tries to lull you into a false sense of security, you have to remain vigilant. One little slip and he'll drag you into a watery grave- among other things if he was serious. 

“So… What do you eat?”

He slow blinks at you a few times before grinning, light glinting off his all-too-sharp fangs. “You mean besides you?”

There’s multiple implications to that, neither one of which you want to ponder for various reasons. Your panties are already uncomfortably damp.

“Yes. Besides us.”

Shrugging, he flicks at a small pebble on the rocks edge and plunks it into the water. "Same thing you would if you were one of us. There's plenty of fish down here, only difference is I can eat them raw." 

Your nose crumples and you stick your tongue out slightly, imagining him taking a bite out of a still-twitching fish. "Ew."

He rolls his eyes, brushing your obvious disgust aside. "If I recall, don't you humans have multiple dishes you eat raw?"

"Well, I mean, yeah, but it's different. We actually prepare it."

"Sounds like a whole lot of fuss over nothing. Your weak stomach just can't handle it and mine can, and you seem to find that to be some sort of bragging point. Also, don't you humans have a tendency to put things in your mouth that don't belong there?" 

“Didn’t I already tell you to shut up about that?” 

"I don't know, I'd say the occasional raw fish is a lot less dirty than a human male c-"

“Oh my god! I am so sorry I fucking asked!”

He cackles loudly and you realize that he's officially found your hot button. Even worse is he knows it. "I mean that's not to say we don't have our own filthy habits, but you guys are inspiring-"

"Dude! Make like a tunafish and can it! I don't want to hear any of this!"

"Oh? Is that so? Because around 10 minutes ago, you were half ready to rip your clothes off and jump in here and let me try you even if it meant your death."

"Momentary lapse in judgement. Don't get too excited, grandpa." 

He frowns again but seems less offended now that the initial moment had passed. "If you insist upon calling me a nickname pertaining to my age, I'd prefer daddy."

All humor drops from your face. How the fuck does he even know about that? 

As if he can read your mind, he responds. "A lot of you humans like to reproduce here. I've seen quite a bit and heard even more. Like I said, you’re absolutely filthy creatures.” 

“Ah. Yeah. That makes sense.”

“My offer stands. Come a little closer and I’ll show you just what I learned.”

“Creep.”

“That makes two of us, now doesn’t it?”

"I'm not the one bringing up sex every 3 seconds."

Hey, do you know how awkward it is to be having this conversation? With him? Right now? Do you know how utterly surreal this is?

“No, but you’re thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Your cheeks burn and you know it doesn't matter what you say. Your face is a dead giveaway. He knows it too, crossing his arm and arching a cocky brow at you. 

“And I’m the pervert, huh?”

You wrap your arms around your legs again in a subconscious show of defense. "Yes, you are. This is a natural response to embarrassing topics. Topics you keep coming back to." 

He shrugs again, his head fins twitching a few times. "I don't deny my nature. If I feel lustful, I act on it. Another reason you humans are inferior. You deny what comes naturally in the name of some form of... shame, is it? I have no bonds holding me back, while yours are pointless and dictated by some invisible and shallow form of ‘morality’ and ‘purity." 

He’s… technically right. Still.

"You realize you're saying this to the person you're trying to kill, right?" 

"I'm aware. Consider it a parting gift. You can feel what it's like to be untethered before I end you."

You roll your eyes so deeply that you’re almost certain you’ve detached the retina. “Oh, how very kind of you. So thoughtful.” 

"It’s not entirely altruistic, but it's better than I was originally planning. I was just going to rip you apart the second I pulled you in. Of course, that was before I got a good look at you. It'd be a shame to waste such a pretty thing without getting a taste first.”

It's a twisted compliment, but you appreciate it, at least as much as the circumstances allow. 

“Thanks…  I think?” 

"It's a good thing, I promise. I won't just touch anyone, you know. Most of your kind repulses me. I'm not an easy please." 

"Oh." Another awkward silence. "What makes me so special, anyways?"

His face blanks over, eyes hardening and mouth pursing in a tight line. He opens his lips a few times to speak, but seemingly stops himself. His expression flashes confusion, then rage, then apathy in quick succession. "I don't know. It won't matter for long anyways, soon you'll be dead and I can move on." 

“Not if I win.”

"You won't. I don't lose. Besides, I've already almost gotten you twice. It's only a matter of time before you slip up again, and I'll be there to catch you when you do."

"Put it like that and it almost sounds sweet." A smile tugs at your lips despite yourself. 

His face flushes and he looks away from you, expression contorting. “It’s not. Don’t twist my words.” 

“Spoilsport. Go eat a mackerel or something. You’re not yourself when you’re hungry. Or maybe you are. Either way, you’re cranky.”

"It's hard not to be cranky when there's a meal right in front of me and I can't indulge."

"Quit threatening to eat me. I get the point, it's just weird.”

His thick tongue flicks out and runs across those glimmering teeth and he just smiles. "Who said anything about eating?" 

“Give it a rest.”

He swipes a small amount of water at you with his thumb and forefinger. "Deny it all you'd like, you enjoy the attention." 

"Definitely. I love being the first human to be hit on by the world's first mermaid fuckboy."

A hybrid mix of a groan and a growl rumbles from his chest. "I'm not a fucking mermaid!" 

"Oh, sorry!" The sarcasm is palpable, and he scowls at you again. You love the fact he doesn't deny the secondary insult. "I meant merman." 

"Don't insult me. As if your petty, unimaginative fairytales could even come close." 

"You have a tail, you live underwater, and you're half human. Sounds pretty damn close to me." 

The look on his face is as if you just forced him to swallow something extraordinarily disgusting. "You have no idea what I'm capable of. And I'm not half human. You're half us."

Now that takes you off guard. 

“What did you say? What do you mean?”

"It doesn't matter." He pushes himself away from the rocks, his tail slightly flapping above the surface. "Besides, you were right. I am hungry. I should probably find something to eat for tonight, unless you’ve changed your mind." He doesn’t bother waiting for you to retort before skillfully diving down back beneath the waves.

You want to stop him, but he’s gone before you can think of a creative way to say ‘hell no’. The slight dash of silver hair makes out towards the horizon and before long, he's gone. As always, he leaves you feeling more frustrated than anything. 

You want to stay, to enjoy the ocean like you used to before he barged his way into your life, but it all just feels too strange now. He won't return tonight, you know that much. 

Heaving yourself off your asleep butt, you begin your bowlegged walk back to civilization, left with nothing but the ache of a cramp in your hips and a strangely heavy feeling in your gut.