#Sea Breeze Fish Bar

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[naffeclipse]

naff plz, I'm weak and and I hunger 👀

Turns out I am too. This was supposed to only be 500 words. Now we're here smh

Minnow

Reader x Shark!Eclipse

Content Warning for suggestive themes.

———

You have a problem on your hands.

Sitting on the edge of a sea-salt slick rock in your dark wetsuit, the ocean breeze sweeping your hair into tangles, you stare. A whale carcass sits heavy and rotting. The edges of the waves roll up on the flat, tan sand of your seaside home and tug at the giant, dead beast, but one fin is only loosened slightly before the water returns without its passenger. The scent of a festering body hangs in the air and coats the back of your throat.

A sharp fin cuts through the wave farther from shore. You glance at it, but whatever fish swims near dives below, out of sight.

You turn back to the very big problem. It will ruin the beach for the tourists. You’re a council member only in name—more of a glorified intern, despite your best efforts to not only fetch coffee. Whenever there’s a job that doesn’t involve sitting inside around a table, away from the heat and humidity of a summery, oceanic day, it’s pushed into your lap to fix.

You have no idea how to remove a 40-ton whale from the sands.

Your right leg slips off of the rock and your foot splashes into the sea. Before you can fix your stance, tug your knees up to balance on the rock while the tide splashes at the base of your little watery perch, a clawed hand seizes your ankle.

A sharp gasp rips from you. Ripped downwards, you brace yourself, screwing your eyes shut as the ocean water rushes up your body, but something plants itself on either side of you. Pinned to the rock, you shiver at the fresh touch of the sea lapping at your ribs. Your feet barely find the purchase of sand. A shadow falls over your eyelids, and a soft hum spins through the breeze.

“Hello,” a voice growls deep, rumbling through the air and brushing against it. “Might I ask why you’re frowning so much?”

You slowly pry open one eye, then the other before your jaw loosens in wonder and fear. 

A creature looms above you. His head is wide and flat, colored a dark gray. Strange cartilaginous fins frame his head in a crown of sharp, red, and black spikes. The moment you gawk, he flashes a dangerous row of curved teeth with serrated edges. The very breath catches in your throat while his arms, sleek and barred with burnt red stripes, hold you against the sleek rock. 

Your eyes fall down his body. His lithe frame melts from a very human torso into the body of a predatory fishtail—a shark. His underside is pale gray while his back is dark, bearing a wicked dorsal fin with the same barred patterns down his sides in burnt red. Just below the surface, you catch a swishing of a caudal fin. Long and pointed, it cuts through the ocean as if it were mere seafoam.

“What—who are you?” you sputter. Your hands hold defensively to your chest while you return to his unearthly but memorizing face. His eyes burn low in a sharp orange light. 

“I am Eclipse.” He lifts one hand from the rock. A dark talon tips his long, thin finger before he hooks your chin, tilting your head up. The sharp edge teases your skin with how easily it can slice you. You swallow apprehension. His eyes fall to your throat, his teeth flashing in the sunlight. “And I asked you a question.”

Your pulse picks up in your ears, beating double time against the tide. What did he ask you? The echo of his words returns. You slowly form an ‘O’ with your lips.

“I’m not, um, frowning?” Certainly not now, if the terror you hide behind says anything. You curl your fingers into tight balls. “Were you watching me?”

The strange man-fish chuckles a low sound—as if you’re very silly. “I was. You’re quite a lovely sight, perched on this rock like a seabird. But you seemed troubled. You still do.”

He slowly forces your head to tilt this way and that, moving you under the sunlight while he examines you with his piercing gaze. You let him, utterly, horribly confused about how this all came to be. Does he intend to devour you like a tiger shark? Or is it a very strange ‘hello’?

A hum of satisfaction arises, but he is no less intrigued by what he’s captured in his hand. You try to turn away but he holds firm and clicks his tongue.

“There is still something vexing you” he concludes, “Tell me, so I might make it right.”

You almost level a look at him, as if the very interesting occurrence of a fish-man grabbing you and pulling you into the water isn’t vexing enough, but mind your manners. His claws press along your mouthbone. Your heart beats heavy in your chest, against the splashing waters, but your eyes flick towards the beach. Eclipse follows your gaze with narrowed eyes.

“Dead whale,” you say, hoping he doesn’t decide to cut your face with his claws, “I need it off the beach, but, um, I’m not sure how to do that.”

“Oh,” he laughs, and you stop to soak in the echo of his shoulder, melodic and growling. “Is that all? A simple solution, minnow, but I do ask for a small token in return for my help.”

You stiffen. A skip in your chest sends a coldness into your legs and fingertips. You look down, staring at the thin corded strength of his chest, the lissom power of his tail, and how easily he could drag you out to sea should you not give an answer he wants to hear.

How could a herculean task be so easy in his eyes? You almost don’t believe him.

“Minnow,” he rumbles softly and forces your head up higher to capture your gaze. You shiver in the brine. “It’s nothing to be afraid of. I will help you, and you will give me what I desire.”

Desire can be very, very dangerous.

“I’m not giving you people’s souls or whatever,” you say firmly, even if your eyes grow wet with terror. 

Eclipse swipes a thumb along your cheek, wetting it with sea salt and foam. His grin stretches wide until you see into his massive jaws.

“What use would I have of souls?” His tongue swipes over his row of serrated teeth. “No, I want something much more tangible.”

He squeezes your mouth softly until your lips are pushed into a pout, and realization jolts straight into your stomach. A dreaded blood rush fills your cheeks. You burn. Eclipse tilts his head, his eyes widening, flashing with the hunger of a shark in the depths.

“What do you want?” you whisper, your eyelids trembling as you nearly squeeze them shut again.

He leans in closer. You smell the sharp tang of iron and salt upon his breath.

“Seven kisses.”

Your eyes fly open, relieved and mortified. Unfurling your fingers, you try to shake your head but your jaw remains caught in the vice of his grips.

“Seven?” You sputter before spewing, “That’s—that’s a lot!”

“It’s a perfectly natural amount for the task I will undertake for you.” He draws the pad of his finger down the line of your jaw. A shiver overtakes your shoulders as you close your eyes for a heartbeat.

“And if I say no?” you ask quietly, watching him in the way you fear a minnow might watch a shark. 

He leans back. The corners of his mouth pull down.

“Then we shall both be disappointed, and I will leave.”

Your mind whirls at the thought—an easy ‘no’, but you don’t know if you trust him. Why would he do such a task? Why kisses of all things? Will he turn you into a fish after the seventh one? Will he devour you when you get too close? 

“How do I know you’re not going to eat me or down me or something?” you ask, pushing past the rattle in your throat.

Eclipse chuckles but there’s much less mirth in the echo, and your gut twists within you.

“If I wanted to take a bite out of you, I would have forgone the introductions.” His smile spreads wide. 

A cold, unflinching intuition within you agrees.

“Got it,” you murmur. “Just, uh, no biting, okay?”

He looms over you. His claws take you by the shoulders and hold you tighter to the rock. Your lungs freeze. Your rapid pulse fills your head in the same way you hear ocean waves when you hold a seashell up to your ear. 

“Minnow, do you accept my price?” Eclipse’s thumbs rub circles into your wetsuit.

He did not agree to your no-biting rule. Still, you swallow roughly and try to find some sensibility in agreeing to give a fish man kisses. The dead whale will be gone if Eclipse is true to his word. And it’s only a kiss—seven of them.

You press your lips together and close your eyes.

“I do,” you say. You open them again. “How do you want to do this? All at once or—”

A sharp flick of a tail pushes Eclipse against you. A bleeding blush takes over your face, pinned between him and the rock as he gathers your face in his hands. He holds your gaze, orange eyes blazing like a sunset. Your chest heaves. Water laps up against you as his pinky finger brushes against your throat. 

“Slowly,” he answers, voice lowering into a husky growl, “One by one.”

Your insides bubble at the sight of his teeth. A tumble of your heart knocks into your ribs. He lowers himself closer until you close your eyes. The ocean tugs at both of you but he keeps you firmly in place. His lips touch yours. A taste of something sharp and brackish spills into your mouth and you make a soft sound in the back of your throat. He purrs. The vibration touches you before he gently pushes and pulls against your lips like the tide. He gives and he takes, swallowing your affection. A hungry touch of his tongue swipes the inside of your mouth. You find your hands falling to his shoulders and holding on as if upon a lifesaver, lost out at sea.

Then he unhooks his jaws and frees you. A taste of sea salt remains on your tongue. You gasp softly, realizing how much fresh air you crave after his kiss. Your head falls back against the rock as your lungs heave. He still holds above you, tall and towering, but content.

Eclipse's eyes are half-lidded, gentle in his gaze as his claw gently brushes your bottom lip. His tongue swipes back over his own teeth as if savoring the taste of your flesh.

“Thank you for the kiss,” he rasps. “The whale carcass will be gone come morning light.”

“Okay,” you give, still lost in the salty haze the impression of his mouth left on you, “What about the other kisses?”

“Soon, minnow,” he gives with a sharp grin. “I will call upon you soon.”

He takes you by the hips. You gasp, your hands flying to his arms as he lifts you effortlessly out of the water and sets you back upon the rock. You sit, dripping in your stupor, eyes wide at how easily his palms fit over your waist. He rests his talons on the slick edge. His orange eyes upturn as he smiles one last time.

“Goodbye,” he growls gently. His teeth flash as he slips down, and you catch the full length of his impressive tail and sharp, pointed fins. A sharp flip of his body turns him in an instant, the water bending to his whim, and he slowly swims. The tip of his dorsal carries over the waves until at last, he disappears into the depth.

And you are left sitting with a pink heat in your face and a ghostly tang behind your teeth. His kiss leaves you spellbound.

You have an entirely new problem on your hands.

[hashbrowpn]

──★ ˙WHAT ARE YOU? ̟ !?

YOU WEREN'T AWARE that mermaids, sirens, all those, truly existed. After all, you spent nearly all your years at sea, so it was only right you could assume so ... but he certainly proved you wrong.

NOTES: dont mind me just walking by .. *accidentally drops my bag full of pirate!reader x merman!muichiro*

You stand with your heart beating fast, you can hear it in your ears. Waves crash over the deck, wracking the ship. Rain pelts down like stones, accompanied by lightning that lights the gray  and stormy night up like an explosion. 

You reach into your pocket for a bar of chocolate to compose yourself.

You see something in the corner of your eye.

Whipping your head around, you lean over at the railings, and you catch sight of it again.

It was no fish, you were sure. Because no fish had eyes so... 

...human.

 It gazes up at you with suspicion, and dives off.

"Hey!" inclining yourself further, you desperately search for this divine creature.

You nearly fall over the ledge, but someone catches your wrist.

"Careful," Shinobu warned, her voice both a whisper and a yell over the noise. You stopped to look at her, her crisp white shirt, adorned with intricate lace at the cuffs, frayed brown trousers and heavy black boots. She gives you a thin smile that didn't reach her eyes. You nod, swallowing, and mutter a "Thank you,"

You slip out of her grasp and your eyes rove over the raging sea, but your train of thought is broken with a shout.

"Guys! there's a leak!" Mitsuri cries as she scrambles to look for something to patch up the giant hole in the wooden floors. 

You swear under your breath as you try to desperately wrack your brains for something to help, glancing over at the three little girls and Aoi whimpering in the corner as Shinobu consoles them, heart wrenching.

Kanao comes to help as her hands fumble clumsily at the makeshift she had crafted to patch it up, but water still seeped through. As your chest tightens with anxiety, there came an ear-splitting crack. The three little girls screamed. Overhead, the lightning still roars, and below, the waves still crash. 

You turn to Mitsuri in panic. "Did you hear that?"

Mitsuri looked at you slowly, green eyes as big as saucers, but before she could even open her mouth to speak, the floorboards beneath you gives away, and you fall into the icy embrace of the sea.

The sea breeze is cold, and it leaves a taste of salt in your mouth. The sand tickles your feet as you kick your way around it. 

You look around. Ah, you're dreaming.

The ocean's surface shimmers like a canvas painted with the liquid gold of the sun. It's so tranquil, so peaceful. You let out a relieved sigh.

The sea washes a few shells at the shore. As you take one, it's beauty so enchanting, you pocket it and trudge through the sand and into the peaceful waters.

But it isn't as expected.

The water is cold, too cold for your liking. But as you try to get out, you find the seaweeds beneath you had found their way up your feet and shackled your ankles.

The sky turns gray again.

The seaweeds drag you back, and you cry out for help, screaming until your throat gives out, until the water in up to your neck—

"Hey."

"Aah!" you wake up cold but sweating, shaking, covered in sea weed, sand, and God knows what. "Eugh!" you wail after eyeing an odd looking thing stuck to your finger, and shaking it off violently, before your eyes settled on...

what in the world?

"What the-?" you shuffle backwards, realizing you were on shore. The sunkissed sand sticks to you as you back away. 

It gazed at you. Hypnotizing eyes, eyes the color of the sea on a beautiful afternoon. And oh, hair like a black canvas fading into the same color as his wonderous eyes. Your eyes drifed to his body... a tail instead of two human legs. He was leaning on his arm, his other half in the water.

You stammer, "What... What are you? are you what i think you are...?"

He squints his eyes in annoyance, and merely plops back into the sea. 

"Hey! Hey wait!" you scurry to reach for him— and grab his wrist. You struggle to hold on, but he struggles to escape.

"Let go of me," he hisses, pulling harder. "You can talk," you say, flabbergasted.

"Are you underestimating me, human?" he seethes, then lets his head dip underwater and dives. You yelp, refusing to let go of him, even if that meant getting dragged into the sea.

It wasn't exactly a refreshing experience. 

Being drenched in sweat and being in ice cold water. You were sure to catch a cold after this, well, if there even was an after this.

You're losing air, but as soon as you plan to let go, he brings you back to shore again, pushing you into the sand. "Go." he says, irritation obvious as he shakes your hand off. "If you bug me one more time, i'm drowning you."

You're simply awestruck, at loss of words. He's beautiful.

You lean forward to touch his face, but he turns away forcibly. "What do you think you're doing?" he grouses. "I should have never saved you. I knew humans were stupid."

You try to speak. You can't speak.

It didn't quite matter where you were right now. You were focused on him.

He shakes his head and turns to leave, but you shout, "Wait!"

You undid the button of your pocket, and was ever so relieved when you took the chocolate bar in your hand. "U-uh, do you eat-?"

He eyed it just like how he eyed you when you were on the ship. "What's that?"

Before you could even answer, he snatched it from you and began chewing at the wrapper. "No wait, you have to..." you gestured to him to peel it off.

He took a bite into the chocolate and looked simply taken aback. "What is this?"

"Uhm... chocolate."

In a few seconds, he had already eaten the whole thing. "Do you have more?" he leaned in and began to search your trousers, palming at the pockets. "No, wait," you swatted his hand away. He looked at you, offended.

"I'll give you another if..." you swallowed, head spinning. Clearly, you weren't thinking straight. "If you tell me what you are, and who you are."

He raised a brow. "What I am?... Who I am?..." 

"Yes."

"...I don't quite remember."

You just look at him with several questions. But another more important one pops up. You swear under your breath. "Oh no, the ship, the others!"

You stand up, and you immediately almost fall over from dizziness. "Where even am I?" 

"I've forgotten too." 

You shake your head at him, annoyed. "Whatever. Now I'm stuck in God knows where with some Ariel asking me for my only food."

Massaging your temples, you sit down at the shore where the water washes away at your leather boots, and you reach into the cuffs of your sleeves, stained with dirt and sand, for a small piece of chocolate. You peel off the wrapper and bite on it, staring off distantly.

"Hey!" The merman calls, looking ever so photogenic in the water. He swims over to you, but before he could, you eat the last small piece of chocolate. His brows furrow as he looks at you as if it were the end of the world when you popped the last piece in your mouth. "How greedy," he muses. "I have to take it from you forcefully, then."

He leans over and takes your chin, and presses his lips against yours. 

It breaks your train of thought, and you yelp and try to pull him away, tangling your fingers in his wet locks, but he pushes you closer to him. 

Finally, he pulls away from you, licking his lips discreetly. He savours the chocolate he stole from you, and his brows lift a little as if having a realization. "I remember my name now," he says, gaze drifting off. "Tokito Muichiro. You've asked me that, yes?" 

[theclairvoyage]

Mermaid Purse - Part 1 of 3

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Marine Biologist!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: Summertime in Clearwater, Florida means no school, which means instead of teaching Marine Biology at a local university, you're bartending at The Rusty Sawfish, a bar located on the marina of Clearwater Beach. The owner's friend, who happens to be a sexy, suarthy Texan contractor, moves to town to start over and help his friend with a project, stumbling across you in the process... and you thought summer in Florida couldn't get hotter.

Warnings for Part 1: Minors DNI! adult language, alcohol consumption, sexual tension, reader is female, reader is able-bodied, unspecified age gap, allusions to smut, kissing, groping, mentions of threesomes. Please lmk if I missed anything!

WC: 9k

If Florida was good at one thing besides starring in strange headlines, it was bringing the heat.

Summer had its bags packed and was ready to leave Clearwater Beach. Not soon enough, you thought, as the humid, subtropical heat of late July in Southern Florida drenched your skin in sticky sweat. The salty breeze from the Gulf of Mexico made it bearable, as did the marine life.

You had loved animals as long as you can remember.  Growing up in the Midwest, you became acclimated to the four-legged ruminates and vast birds of the region. The closest thing you had to the ocean were stinky, dirt-sand beaches tucked away near state parks and curled highways. Oh, and the occasional zoo. Then grew your zeal for the ocean and the creatures that called it home.

That is, until you moved to Florida to study marine biology at the University of Florida, when that zeal exploded into full-on wonderment.

Some of your fondest memories of university were spending innumerable mornings out on the open sea, tagging sharks, rays, and skates for research. As you learned more about these gorgeous creatures, known in the scholarly world as the elasmobranchs, a feeling of protection grew.

And as always, the more you learned about animals, the more you learned about humans.  Some species of sharks have been fished to near-extinction, and over the course of your four years in undergrad, you bore witness to and swore to change that.

Now, as a Professor of Marine Biology at a new college in Clearwater devoted exclusively to the study of marine life, you do your best to imprint that mindset in your students.  Though in summertime, when the students are absent, you’re a full-time bartender at a local marina.  The double income in the summer is cushy, and it’s a nice change from teaching—not to mention the people watching.

That’s where you’re headed now, at 3:00 PM on a Friday—The Rusty Sawfish.  The name is what drew you in, obviously, but the ease and satisfaction of the job are what keep you.  The owner, Gil—another marine pun-slash-name—loves having you around, even if it’s only in the summertime.  He calls you during the school year to see how life is, and if you can pick up a random shift here and there.  A former Air Force pilot from Chicago, Gil spent a good chunk of his midlife in Southern Florida and opened The Rusty Sawfish after retired life bored him.

You turn onto Clearwater Memorial Causeway, a long bridge that connects mainland Florida to Clearwater Beach Island, where the bar is located.  You’ve not once grown tired of the view—beautiful, blue-green waters, white sand beaches, swaying palm trees, and endless sunshine.  Sometimes, you’ll catch an occasional shark dorsal fin cruising along calmer waters or a bottlenose dolphin breaching at the surface.

The Rusty Sawfish lies in Clearwater Municipal Marina, surrounded by several restaurants, hotels, other bars, and tourist spots.  Like many Southern Florida beach cities, the population is a revolving door.  You don’t mind it, though it’s not the same close-knit community as your hometown in Nebraska.

You park on the street and stroll up to the bar, shooing some laughing gulls from the sidewalk.  The tourists here love to feed them, and they feel comfortable in human spaces.  You check your watch—two minutes to spare before you’re “late”, though Gil would never call you out.  He’s just happy you’re there.

The bar is one of the few out here that has large, glass garage doors that can open and enclose the place, which gives it an advantage in case of bad weather.  The inside is modern, unlike many marina bars that are filled with worn wooden floors and hut-like roofs.  The natural lighting inside is beautiful, no thanks to the big windows flanking the front.  The long u-shaped bar has enough comfortable space for 4-5 bartenders at once, which is sometimes doubled on busy summer days.

You step in and walk directly to the back office to drop your purse and clock in.  Gil, perched in his old desk chair and staring at his ancient computer in the stuffy office, looks up from the screen, readers glasses threatening to slip from the edge of his nose.  You chuckle.

“Afternoon, kiddo,” he greets you, smile crinkling his tan, leathery face.

“Afternoon, Gil.  How’s it been today?”

“Same shit.  Big group of fishermen stopped here earlier and are still here.  May need to cut ‘em off soon if they haven’t started laying off the booze,” he groans, scribbling something on his legal pad.  A pencil and paper guy, Gil would still be using an old-fashioned book balance if it weren’t for you.  Though he understands that electronic bookkeeping is a lifesaver, he’s skeptical of computers—and terrible at using them.

“Sounds good.  Just me for a while?” You ask, setting your things in one of the desk drawers and punching in on the time clock.  You can’t remember who was at the bar when you walked in.

“Georgia is here, and we got 2 more coming in for the evening.  Shaping up to be a great night,” he says, returning to stare dead-faced at the computer.  Stifling a chuckle, you nod and exit the office.

Georgia, the lone bartender, is quite happy to see you as she wipes off the countertop of the bar.  She’s a close friend of yours—you two met here at the bar several years ago and share a love for the ocean and its creatures.  She’s a fresh college graduate and a few years your junior.

“Hey! So glad you’re here!” She squeaks, giving you a quick hug.  She’s always been a touchy-feely girl, unlike you—though it doesn’t bother you.

“Rough lunch shift?” You tease, checking the ice bins and refrigerators for stock.  She comes up close to your ear and lowers her voice.

“Those fucking old men have been ruthless.  I made Gil take care of their last couple rounds because I can’t deal with the catcalling,” she hisses.  Before you can scan the bar to eye the table, she stops you.

“Don’t,” she warns, “They had a field day when you walked in.  I’m shocked you didn’t notice!”

Curbing the urge to roll your eyes, you nod.  “Where are they seated?  Maybe we should just give Gil the entire table,” you suggest.

“Underneath the big TV.  They insisted on sitting there so they could play Keno and watch baseball,” she groans.

“Ah, yes.  America’s favorite pastimes,” you quip.  Georgia cackles.

“I’ll stock quick.  Need any of the taps changed?” you ask her, grabbing a sticky note and pen by the POS system.  Bar preference is to have each new shift stock everything once they clock in, which makes the rest of the day a breeze.  Georgia nods.

“I know we’re running low on Miller—that damn table has been guzzling it all day,” she gripes.  You giggle.

“I’ll be back shortly,” you say, heading to the back to grab bottles, cans, and change the Miller tap.  It’s quick work for you and you’re back behind the counter in ten minutes.

“You ready for a break, Georg?” You ask her, preparing your side of the bar with clean glasses and towels.

“Not yet, maybe in about an hour once Gil is done trying to fill a single spreadsheet on Excel,” she jokes, making both of you laugh.  “Plus, I am not leaving you out here alone with those weirdos.”

“Is that one coming up here now?” You tilt your head toward a pudgy, middle-aged, sunburnt man with a ratty Budweiser shirt and an awful sunglasses tan approaching the bar.  He’s not stumbling, but the dumb grin on his face indicates that he’s feeling pretty good.  Georgia confirms with an annoyed grunt.

“Lovely ladies, can I get a refill of Miller?” He chirps, leaning against the bar countertop and propping his glass up.

“Sure.  I’m gonna give you a new glass, though,” Georgia responds, taking the dirty one and putting it in the black bin for used dishes.  Budweiser Man groans.

“Aw, I was tryin’ to help you, sweetie,” he says, loud voice enough to curdle cold milk.  He snaps his eyes to you.

“Wow.  Two gorgeous girls running the bar?  I think we’re in trouble,” he jokes, punctuating his sentence with a belly laugh.  The urge to rip his ratty shirt off his potbelly and embarrass him floods your system momentarily.  You settle for a fake smile instead.

“Sounds like you could use some water,” you joke, still fake smiling at him.  Languidly, he tries to pout at you, but the buzz makes the shift in facial expressions difficult.

“Trust me, sir—a day out in this sun, you’ll want water with each drink,” you add, getting a glass ready for him.

“Then what’s the point of the beer, hunny?” he whines.  Pet names drive you mad, especially from drunk old men.  Patience diminishing by the second, you inhale deeply and fill the glass with water with the soda gun.

“Just making sure our patrons are safe, sir.  Want to make sure you’re able to come back,” you respond, handing him a water as Georgia hands him a full pint of Miller.

“Sure thing, gorgeous,” he says, winking at you.  Gross.  The number of middle-aged men that have flirted with Georgia and you from the other side of the bar is probably pretty high, but most don’t give you the creeps.  Georgia waits until he’s back at the table before sneering.

“Jesus, what a fucking creep,” she seethes.  “I’d love to spit in his drink.”

“Easy, Georg.  Don’t lose it over Porky Pig,” you quip, followed by a boisterous laugh from her.

The night is busy, but smooth.  A weekend fishing tournament at the beach brings in tons of salty, sunburnt folks.  Two other bartenders, Mike and Rand, come in around 7:00 PM to help with the dinner rush.  They’re college kids that double as bouncers, which would’ve been helpful earlier.  The annoying table of anglers left around 5:00 PM after Gil warned them that he’d give them the boot if they didn’t start drinking water.  Porky and his crew left reluctantly, though not before coming up to give you and Georgia big tips and his phone number scrawled on a receipt.

Just in case you two like to tag team, it said.  Both of you suppressed a wave of nausea after reading that.

The bar closes at 2:00 AM most nights during the summer, and from 10 PM-1:30 AM, the bar is hopping.  Lots of anglers and tourists flock to the bar for the big TVs and fancy drinks, many of which you helped Gil curate.  Around 11:00, you finally get a chance to take a break.  Feeling sluggish, you walk over to the nearby convenience store to grab a coffee—caffeine doesn’t do much for you, but it’ll give you the boost you need to reach close.

A can of double shot espresso with cream calls your name, and you’re eager to crack it open.  Forgetting to look before leaving the aisle, you bump into something tall and hard.  The can falls and busts open on the floor, spraying coffee everywhere.  Fuck.

“Oh shit,” you say, realizing that you slammed into some guy.  “I’m so sorry!”  Quickly, you crouch to pick up the fallen can from the cold linoleum floor.

The voice that responds wakes you up more than any espresso could.  “S’alright, miss.  You alright?”

You look up from the puddle of coffee and see a good-sized, handsome-as-fuck stranger standing above you.  Middle-aged; curly, brown hair with flecks of gray; tan, muscled arms; big hands; warm, calming chocolate eyes.  He looks so good that you’re frozen, unable to reply.  He cocks an eyebrow at you before a small grin etches his face.

“Uh, yeah—sorry.  I’m in a hurry, I didn’t mean to bump into you.  I should’ve paid attention,” you respond, panicked.  You scan the aisle for paper towels or something to clean up the mess.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll go get an employee to clean this up,” the man assures you, his silky, Southern voice placating you.  You stand slowly, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.  A slow burn creeps up your neck and cheeks as his gaze sweeps over you.

“I’ll be right back,” he promises, and you look up at him just before he turns away.  Fuck, he’s gorgeous.  His irises are lined with specks of amber, like gold flakes.  He almost looks worried.

A few moments later, he returns with an older lady dressed in a convenience store uniform, sporting a fluffy white towel.  She smiles warmly at you.  Hyper focused on not looking at the handsome stranger, you smile back at her and hold your hand out.

“I’ll clean it, I made the mess.  I’d want the same if someone made a mess where I worked,” you offer.  Both the employee and the man laugh.  She tilts her head at you as if she’s trying to recognize you.

“You work at The Rusty Sawfish, don’t you?” She asks, watching you wipe up the puddle of coffee.

“Guilty.  I’m on my break right now, though I seem to have wasted it being an idiot,” you say, and the two strangers chuckle again.  The man’s deep, rumbly laugh makes your stomach flip.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, sweetie.  You deserve a break!  Let me finish and take a can on the house,” she says.  Her kindness mirrors that of most residents here—always helping others, stranger or not.

“Oh, I couldn’t.  Unless you came to the bar for a free drink.  Both of you,” you add, forcing yourself to make eye contact with the handsome stranger.

The way he stares at you makes you writhe.  His gaze is captivating.  His eyes circle around your eyes and your lips, unmoving—like you’re the only person in the room.  Time pauses as you both exchange stares.  He’s the first to speak.

“I’ll be there,” he says, half-smirking at you.  You forgot about the convenience store employee until she speaks again.

“Late night here for me, but I’ll stop by this weekend!  Have a great night, sweetie!”

“Thank you both,” you say, grabbing a new can and waving as you walk backward toward the exit.  You don’t miss the way Sexy Stranger watches you leave, but you miss the way his eyes traverse your frame when you turn around.

Shivers blitz your spine as you walk back to work, thinking of how he looked at you.  He was one of the most attractive men you’d seen here, which says a lot.  Southern Florida beach cities are ripe with hot men from all walks of life.  His accent was Southern, but not Floridian—more mainland, like Oklahoma or Texas.  Before you can think on it further, you trot back into the bar.

Thankfully, there isn’t a huge rush of patrons.  Georgia, Mike, and Rand are moving around behind the bar.  You hurry and step behind the u-shaped area, smoothing your hair out of your face.  Georgia approaches you, grinning.

“Sorry—I made a complete fool of myself at the convenience store and spilled coffee everywhere, even ran into this sexy guy in the aisle,” You lament, redoing your now sweaty and frizzy updo. She laughs.

“Did you get his number, though?” Georgia asks. “Also, how sexy are we talking?”

You widen your eyes and whistle lowly.  “Georg—I’m telling you, he was sexy as fuck.  Southern type—tall, dark, and handsome.  He said he was coming here.”

She claps her hands together giddily.  “Hell yes.  Surprised he didn’t follow you right then and there,” she adds with a wink.  You roll your eyes.

“Nah, but I’m sure he’ll do that to you when he sees you,” you hypothesize.  Georgia is beautiful—typical tan, blonde Florida beach babe with a killer body.  She’s bubbly, too, with a personality that matches the Clearwater sunshine, and she’s smart.  She shushes you, frowning.

“Um… have you seen yourself?  You’re a fucking knockout. How many guys have tried to get us to do a threesome with them? That should tell you everything,” Georgia reminds you. You shrug, unsure how to answer—she’s right.

“That’s what I thought, Miss I Don’t Know I’m Beautiful.  Now shut up and help me get the drinks ready for this table,” she says, giving you an air kiss on the cheek.  Georg knows how to cheer you up—her sunshine personality is contagious.

Several cocktails and minutes later, you head back to the cooler to restock the bar fridges.  When you return, a seat at the bar is occupied with a familiar curly-haired man peering up at the television behind the bar.  He’s not facing you, thankfully—the way you froze was embarrassing enough.  Coolly, you hoist the bin of alcohol on your shoulder and stride toward the bar.  The fridge you need to restock doesn’t face him, so you have some time to plan a greeting while you refill the beers.  Georgia pokes your side as she walks up to him, informing you that she knows it’s your sexy mystery man.

“Welcome in!  Have you been here before?” She chirps, handing him a menu.  He shakes his head and scans the sheets quickly before folding it up and handing it back to her.

“No, ma’am.  Was advised to come here by one of the employees,” he croons.  You feel his stare boring a hole in your head and decide it’s time to acknowledge him.

Standing up, you face him and hope your cheeks don’t burn bright red.  He’s smiling at you, and fuck, that smile is something you won’t forget.  Pearly whites on full display, crinkled but twinkling eyes, a salt and pepper beard, and tan skin complement the face staring at yours.

Speak, you idiot.

“Hi again.  Glad you made it.  I wondered where the coffee smell came from.”  Your wit pulls a boisterous laugh from him, one that does something tingly to your insides.  Georgia interrupts.

“I’ll take over the stocking while you help this gentleman,” she says, pinching your side as she walks away.  The man’s eyes don’t follow her, which surprises you—they’re glued to you.  Words exit your mouth before you can ruminate further.

“What can I get you? I take it you’re not a fruity cocktail kind of guy,” you tease, smirking at him.  He shakes his head and chuckles.

“Correct, ma’am.  Is the whiskey here all you’ve got?” He nods to the shelves behind you.

“Not quite.  The owner is a whiskey aficionado and has some reserve bottles in the back that he saves for special customers,” you say, putting a hand next to your mouth as you fake whisper.  The lopsided grin returns on his face, sending your pulse into overdrive.

“Would gettin’ spilled on by an employee qualify me as a special customer?” He wisecracks, arching a brow at you.  You slump your shoulders in mock defeat.

“I suppose. What’s your favorite?” His jaw ticks back and forth as he ponders.

“Too hard to say.  Not a picky guy. Been cravin’ some Eagle Rare,” his velvet voice replies, the soundwaves tickling the hair on your ears.

“I’ll go ask the boss.  Be right back.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sexy Stranger replies, watching you leave.  Undiscovered by you, he’s turned to watch you walk to Gil’s office, his pulse picking up at what he sees.

He won’t lie to himself—he’s drabbled in some younger women over the years, many of whom were nothing but a one-night stand, a pretty young thing to slip inside and make him feel younger for a few hours.  But you’re different.  Stunning, yes.  Charming, funny, and mysterious, too—like you’re looking at the world from a different dimension.  He senses a force field around you, though, one he worries you won’t let him invade.

You step out of Gil’s office with a dusty bottle of Eagle Rare, aged ten years.  Gil was astounded that someone requested this, and had he not been contemplating ways to destroy his computer, he’d have joined the Sexy Stranger for a glass.

As you return to the bar, you admire the man’s full head of brunette curls, and the random spots kissed with gray locks.  His shoulders are brawny and expansive, pulling taut the flannel fabric between his scapulas.  Atop them is a thick, ropy neck, with a jutting Adam’s apple and tan flesh you’d like to sink your teeth into.  He was tall, but not overtly so—just enough to complement his muscly build.

The way he leans back in the chair and sees his surroundings exudes a calm tenacity, but the way his eyes smolder suggests a tendency to be ravenous.  You wonder if that duality is something he wants to show you.  Warmth surges through your veins as you fantasize about a complete stranger, wracking your core and igniting thoughts and feelings you haven’t had in a long time.

Certainly, you’d been with men since moving to Clearwater, and though the options were vast, the likelihood of something lasting was minimal.  Thus, you chose to keep interactions with men somewhat superficial, an imaginary arm constantly protruding from you to forbid anything further than flirtatious banter.  This attractive, swarthy man, however, had his wrist wrapped around that arm and was threatening to rip it from you—the thought frightened and excited you.

Momentarily, you ignore the rush of adrenaline as you return behind the bar and into his view.  Like  a magnet, he latches onto you at once, eyes burning your face and figure.  Using a damp towel behind the counter, you swipe dust off the bottle and set it in front of him.

“Here you are, sir.  One dusty bottle of Eagle Rare.”  Sexy Stranger smiles at the bottle, wrapping a large hand around the base and examining the label.

“’S the good stuff,” he murmurs, voice dropping deeper than you thought possible. The pitch twists your insides.  In an effort to subdue your racing mind and pulse, you force a smirk and start wiping off the counter.

You feel the man’s eyes snap to you, melting your resolve with a fiery intensity.  Suddenly, you’re unable to continue moving the towel, and resign to meeting his eyes.  Smoldering is the only way to describe the way he’s looking at you.

That familiar rush of heat wraps around the base of your throat and underneath the fabric of your now-suffocating, loose tee shirt.  Instinctively, you fiddle with the collar and pull it down slightly, trying to let out some of the hot air trapped inside, unaware of the fact that you’ve exposed some skin to him.  In any other situation, it would’ve been a harmless gesture, but here, it only spurs on his imagination.  His pupils dilate ever so slightly at the sight of your collarbone, complemented with a silver pendant necklace.

“What’s that necklace you got there?” Sexy Stranger asks.  Involuntarily, your fingers latch onto the shark charm and twiddle it back and forth.  He’s still watching.

“Oh, it’s a shark.  Can’t remember the last time I took this thing off—I forget about it,” you say, surprised that you can form coherent sentences right now under his hot gaze.

He makes eye contact with you and raises an eyebrow.  “Why a shark?”

“The short version is that it’s my favorite animal.”

He tilts his head at you, jaw ticking again.  Your eyes latch onto the strong muscles moving it back and forth, flexing underneath his temples.

“And the long version?”

You cock an eyebrow, mirroring him, and grab a short glass, placing it on a coaster in front of him.  “Before I delve into that, how do you like your whiskey?”

He chuckles, deep and rumbly.  “Neat, sweetheart.”

The pet name eviscerates your stomach.  You gulp without meeting his gaze, aware that he’s staring at you still.  You pour him a perfect glass of bourbon neat and push the coaster toward him.  As you let go, he reaches for the glass, fingertips brushing the tops of your fingers.

As if you touched the metal prongs of a plug, you whip your hand back.  The feeling of his skin on yours was nothing short of electric.  He misreads your reaction.

“Sorry ‘bout that, didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he says, brown eyes no longer smoldering but concerned.

“Oh no, it’s not that, just wasn’t expecting it,” you stammer, not wanting to give him the wrong idea.  Ironic.  He lets it pass, for now.

“So—the long story?” He takes a generous sip of the amber liquid, swishing it around his mouth as he watches you.  You place your palms down on the counter and smile at him.

“Long story is I’m a Professor of Marine Biology at a local university here.  I’ve been studying sharks for a long time now.  They are beautiful, brilliant creatures that have evolved to near perfection.  I do what I can to protect them—they have been fished relentlessly.”

Sexy Stranger is in awe of you, struck by your eloquence, intelligence, and beauty.  He takes another sip, never dragging his eyes from yours.

“Wow,” he says, raising both eyebrows as he sets the glass down.  “Just one question.”

You raise an eyebrow at him.  The two of you are getting good at this nonverbal communication.

“You consider that the long version?”

His humor catches you off guard and a goofy, boisterous laugh escapes you.  For the second time now, he flashes a full smile at you.  He likes that sound.

Suddenly, a phone rings nearby.  He frowns and fishes a small, old iPhone from his front jeans pocket and squints at the screen.  He grimaces as he stuffs it back, shifting uncomfortably in the chair to make it fit.

“Sweetheart, I need to run.  Lemme settle up for the glass,” he says, the pet name stimulating your pulse again.

“Sure thing.  Gil said to come back any time—the bottle is basically yours,” you say, winking at him as you print his receipt.  His heartbeat does some racing of its own at the gesture.  He tears his eyes from you to fish for his wallet and throw some bills on top of the receipt.

“Will do.  I’ll see you around, darlin’,” Sexy Stranger says as he stands, giving you a small wink as he leaves.  You watch him leave before realizing you didn’t cash him out.  You grab the cash and receipt, noticing what looks like writing on the back side.

A phone number is scrawled on the back.  Underneath is his name.  Joel.

Your heart stops as you stare at the small white paper.  When did I even give him a pen?  I didn’t notice him writing.  Georgia startles you with an elbow to the side.

“That was quick,” she teases.  Bashful, you fold the receipt up and shove it in the pocket of your jean shorts.

“Shut up, Georg.  He was just being nice. Probably wants tips for shark watching or something.”

She stares at you incredulously.  “Girl… he’s so fucking into you.  Everybody in this building felt that tension.”

Heat creeps up your spine once again.  You check the POS system for the time and see that it’s almost 2:00 AM.  Time to close and do it all again tomorrow.

“Let’s get something to eat.  Wanna crash at my place?” Georgia asks.  You nod, finding that you’re hungry—but something tells you it’s not food you’re craving.

Sunlight bounces off the white walls of Georgia’s apartment just before 7:00 AM.  A light groan escapes you as you stretch out on the plush sectional in her living room before settling back into the burrow of blankets.

Georgia lives a quick five-minute drive from the marina, in a lofty one-bedroom apartment with an ocean view.  Her family is generationally wealthy and based in Sarasota, Florida—hence the high-rise apartment and a nice Mercedes SUV.  She escaped the clutches of her uptight family to explore her passion—surfing.  She got a job at The Rusty Sawfish to supplement her allowance and pay for surfing gear and tournaments, something her parents refused to do.  You two clicked immediately and have been friends since.

Pulling your hoodie up over your head, you check your phone quickly before deciding whether to go back to sleep.  It’s still early, and you didn’t get to sleep until after 3:00 AM.  Your stomach backflips when you see a message from an unknown number pop up.  The nerves turn to giddiness as you remember that the number belongs to Joel, the sexy stranger you met at the convenience store last night.  You messaged him when you got to Georgia’s apartment last night asking if he made it home alright, certain he wouldn’t be awake to respond.  You swipe down to read the message.

Joel: Morning sweetheart.  I made it home just fine.  Was hoping you’d text sooner so I could ask the same.  :)

Kicking your feet like a child, you contemplate a response.

You: Sorry I texted so late!  I didn’t make it back to my friend’s place until close to 3.

Joel is quick to respond.

Joel: Surprised you’re up.  Figured someone as pretty as you would need at least 8 hours of beauty sleep.  By the way—your friend told me your name.  I hope that’s OK.

Grinning at your phone, you shake your head slowly.  The man is as charming over text as he is in person.

You: You flatter me.  I was just going to go back to sleep given that I currently look like a hobbit—guess 8 hours is exactly what I need ;)

You: And yes, that’s okay.  Sounds a lot like my friend.  She’s a good wingman.

Joel: I highly doubt you look anything less than gorgeous.  Get some rest.  We’ll talk later today.

Pretty.  Gorgeous.

The grin doesn’t leave your face as you drift back to sleep.

Later that evening, you’re behind the familiar u-shaped counter of the bar with paper-thin patience and a penchant for kicking out a rowdy group of college age anglers from the tournament.

“Look, I have a legit ID and I’m an adult, I can drink however many beers I want!” A gangly blonde trust fund-looking kid from the group whines at you.  You narrow your eyes at him briefly before responding, like a snake ready to strike its prey.

“Not how it works.  It’s the bar’s best practice to avoid overserving and keep this a safe place for everybody.  Drink some water and we’ll revisit,” you reply, voice stern.  You squeeze the towel in your hand for stress relief.

Though Florida has a dram shop law that prevents bars from being sued by an intoxicated patron that ends up drunk driving and getting hurt, Gil has always mandated a no overserving policy.  Spending all day out in the ocean and then drinking heavily is a dangerous combo.  The older patrons have no qualms about it, but the younger, rowdier crowds differ.  Blonde kid sticks his index finger on the counter and leans in close to you, bloodshot eyes fixated on yours.

“I want your manager,” he spits, breath reeking of booze.  Still somewhat level-headed, you stare directly in his eyes.

“You got it,” you respond, emotionless.  Gil’s not one for overserving, and he’s not one for rude patrons harassing his bartenders.  This dumb kid has a lesson coming.

Stone faced, you drop your towel and tell Georgia you’ll be right back before cruising to Gil’s office.  The door is wide open, and to your surprise, Joel’s sitting in the chair next to Gil, the two of them chuckling and conversing.  Your heart falters momentarily before you remember why you came back here.  You knock lightly on the open door and both men look up at you.

Gil frowns immediately.  He’s seen that look before.

“Not a good sign when my best employee has that look on her face.  Where is he?” Gil asks, standing and removing his readers.  Feeling Joel’s eyes burning holes in you, you do your best to ignore them right now.

“Up front.  Blonde kid with the frat group.  Pissed off that I won’t pour him a 5th vodka red bull.  I told him about our policy, and he asked for the manager,” you recite, tight-lipped.  Gil nods, squeezing your shoulder lightly as he walks past you to the bar.

Thankful that Gil is handling it, you close your eyes and exhale heavily before remembering you’re not alone.  Your eyes open quickly to find Joel staring at you.  His eyes look concerned, though there’s that damned lopsided smile on his face.

“Guy’s got some balls on him,” he jokes, standing and taking a step closer to you.  Your pulse quickens.  Laughing, you roll your eyes and wave him off.

“Everybody does when they’re drunk.”

Joel rakes a hand through his stubble and nods, studying your face.

“I reckon I wasn’t totally honest with you last night,” he says, face falling slightly.  Raising an eyebrow, you try to quiet the thousand thoughts that rush through your mind—is he going to say that he’s married?  Fresh out of prison?  Gay?  Well… the last one is unlikely.  He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck as he continues.

“I’ve known Gil for a long, long time.  S’why I knew there’d be Eagle Rare here,” he says.

Relief rushes through you.  “Jesus, Joel.  I thought you were gonna tell me you were married.”

A hearty laugh escapes him as he shakes his head fervently, throwing his hands up in surrender.  “Hell no.  Haven’t been married since I was in my early 20s, which was about a million years ago.”

You wipe your brow exaggeratedly, signaling your relief.  Joel chuckles again.

“So, what brings you to Clearwater, then?  Or have you always been here?”

“No, no.  I’m from Texas.  Been here several times but moved here last month.  I’m a contractor and Gil and I have worked on some projects together.  He wants my help f’another one.”

It all makes sense—the flannel shirt, the muscles, the demeanor, the accent.  A question pops up in your mind.

“Does he know you gave me your number last night?” You ask him, tilting your head inquisitively.

“Yes, ma’am.  We’re good friends.  He’s protective of you, but I made it clear t’him that I ain’t tryin’ any funny business with you,” he admits, smoldering eyes affixed to yours.  His expression and tone gives you the impression that he’s telling the truth, like lying to you would be worse than anything.

“Are you saying… you don’t often give your number to bartenders that spill coffee all over you?” You chide, flashing a smile at him.  His pupils dilate imperceptibly.

“No, ma’am.  Don’t make that kinda thing a habit,” he responds, taking a step closer to you.  Your breath catches in your throat at his proximity.  He’s within arm’s reach, and the magnetic field between the two of you is sending your internal compass off the rails.  He opens his mouth to say something, but Gil interrupts the moment, oblivious to the two of you.

“He’s taken care of.  Thanks for dealing with him,” he sing-songs, saying your name warmly.

Still staring at Joel, you reply to Gil.  “Appreciate it, Gil.  I’ll return to my post.”

Joel laughs quietly, eyes twinkling at you.  You smile coyly at him before leaving the office, needing to cool off before you explode internally.  The sexual tension between the two of you is almost too much to handle.

Before you can check if he’s following you, Georgia flags you down behind the bar.  A devilish smile plays on her tan, freckled face.

“So… he’s back,” she teases, waggling her eyebrows. “You taking him home tonight or what?”

Jaw dropping in mock shock, you tilt your head at her.

“Are you suggesting that I sleep with him?  Georg—I don’t know him!”

She guffaws.  “Gil knows him very well, though.  Isn’t that enough to tell you he’s safe? I bet they watch boring carpenter shows together and spend all their money on fancy old man bourbon.”

Good point.  Joel seems safe—for now.  But you’ve been out of the game far too long to half-ass a night with a man like him.  He seems… experienced.  And the glint in his eyes when he sees you is enough to make your heart jump out of your chest.

“I don’t know.  I’m interested.  I’ll keep an open mind.  Sounds like he’s in Clearwater for good… plenty of old beach babes to take him on,” you joke, winking at her.  She punches your arm.

“He doesn’t even look at anybody but you, dipshit.  If you say something like that one more time, I’m gonna tell him,” she threatens half-jokingly, pointing a polished finger in your face.

“Fine.  We’ll see where it ends up,” you surrender, checking the fridges for a routine restock.

The remainder of Saturday night at The Rusty Sawfish is busy, but not overwhelmingly so.

Georgia, Mike, Rand, and you man the bar, which had no empty chairs the entire evening.  Business was booming from the fishing tournament, and even Gil stepped out of the office to pour some drinks.

Joel made himself comfortable at the end of the bar.  Gil dumped stacks of blueprints in front of him, and he got busy reviewing them while nursing glasses of neat bourbon.  You couldn’t count the number of times you two exchanged glances and shy smiles, and he couldn’t count the number of times he caught himself staring at you.  He was entranced by the way you moved at the bar—commanding the flow of customers, making drinks at lightning speed, being friendly with the customers, and looking damn good while you do it.

Closing time rolls around yet again, and he’s still scanning blueprints, sketching on pages here and there with his carpenter’s pencil.  Every so often, he’d tuck it behind one of his ears, mussing some of his curls in the process.  You found yourself studying his mannerisms, trying to get to know him without speaking.  He’d tick his jaw back and forth as he read, and the corner of his lips would twitch each time he marked the page with his pencil, salt and pepper mustache hairs grooving along with them.

You learn from the way he holds the page out three feet in front of him to read small text, brow furrowing as he deciphers the letters, that he’s stubborn and not ready to buy reader’s glasses.  You catch yourself giggling at it, making damn sure he doesn’t see.

You learn that he was likely a former athlete by the way his hips sway when he walks to the bathroom, his gait controlled yet energetic and limber, the denim of his very-worn jeans hugging his strong legs.  The jeans indicate that he’s not much of a shopper and is loyal to what makes him feel comfortable, like a pair of faded, almost-torn bootcut Wranglers molded to his frame and creased leather cowboy boots.

You learn that his body is still in wonderful shape as he folds his arms behind his head and arches his back to stretch his aching body, revealing a sliver of soft-looking skin above the denim waistband and a trail of dark hair leading from his belly button down beneath.

You learn that he enjoys hearing your laugh with each time he tries to prod it out of you with a silly joke or a wisecrack about one of the customers.  Given the manner and frequency with which his eyes travel up and down your frame, he also likes your body—from the subtle shelf of your breasts underneath your tank top, to the shape of your ass in your frayed jean shorts, to your smooth legs.  But he likes your face, too—evident by the way his amber eyes travel over your features, landing frequently at your eyes and lips.

Now, you can tell Georgia she’s right—that he fancies you, more so than any other woman that glanced at him twice during the night.  And boy, there were plenty.

Most of all, though—you learn how much you want him.  If not obvious by the butterflies bouncing off the walls of your abdomen and chest as he speaks to you, it is clear when you take a bathroom break of your own and find dampness in your panties.  Your nerves are in overdrive at the possibility of finding out what his hands feel like on your skin, what his lips feel like meshed with yours, what his strong frame feels like flush against yours.

Needing cool relief, you soak a paper towel in cold water and place it on the back of your neck, shivering at the stray droplets that roll down your spine.  You stare at yourself in the mirror and start to realize that maybe Georgia is right about you, that you are beautiful and worthy of feeling that way.

You exit the bathroom to find that it’s now past 2:00 AM, and customers have left—all but Joel.  He’s standing now, elbows leaning against the counter.  He notices the air pressure change from the bathroom door opening and turns to stare at you as you approach him, eyes sweeping up and down your figure once again.

“Sir, we’re closed.  Have you paid your tab?” You ask, half-smiling at him.  He laughs as he fishes his wallet out of his jeans pocket.

“Gettin’ there, sweetheart,” he says, grunting as it finally comes out of its enclosure.  The wallet is about as worn as the jeans, faded and bent at the corners.  He hands you several twenty-dollar bills, a few too many for his sixty-dollar tab.

“I’ll get your change,” you say, muscle memory taking over.  He puts a hand up.

“No, keep it.  You deserve it,” he murmurs, tucking the wallet back in his pocket and gathering the blueprints for Gil.

“Joel, it’s too much for what little work I did tonight,” you protest.  He looks at you, eyes smoldering once again.

“No, darlin’—you did a lot more than you think.”  The tone suggests he’d been imagining you the same way you did him, sending a zing of shivers up your spine.  You know your cheeks are reddening, but you ignore it as you balance the drawer for the evening.  Joel trots back to Gil’s office to return the papers, resurfacing after a few minutes.

Georgia, Mike, and Rand have finished cleaning and their closing duties.  They stop by the register to check in on you.

“Hey—there’s a party at Mike’s neighbor’s house.  You in?” Georgia asks, knowing full well you’re not going to agree.  You can tell she’s trying not to smirk.

“No, thanks.  I’m exhausted,” you reply, dividing up the tips.  “Here you go, tips for tonight.  Great job.”

“Well, you better come to the one next week—you can’t use this excuse again,” Mike teases you, elbowing you lightly.

“I’ll be there, just not feeling it tonight.  Thanks, guys,” you say warmly, hugging Georgia as they prepare to leave.

“Oh, we rode together—are you good taking an Uber?  I was going to ride with these guys,” she asks, loud enough for Joel to hear.

“I can walk to my car.  It’s only a few minutes.”

Joel interrupts.  “I’ll take ya.  I’m sure y’feel safe out here, but it’s late and dark.”

Georgia takes this as her cue to leave.  “See you tomorrow, love!”  You wave as the three exit, leaving Joel, you, and the magnetic sexual tension between you.

“You sure about this?  Really, it’s not that bad of a trek,” you ask him, not wanting to be a bother.  He raises an eyebrow at you.

“I’d feel better f’you let me make sure you’re safe, and y’just said y’were tired,” he says lowly, voice dropping in decibels to match the now-quiet atmosphere of the bar.

“If it helps you sleep at night, sure,” you joke, winking at him.  A yawn interrupts your comedic routine, to which Joel raises his eyebrows.

“How ‘bout I just drive you home, sweetheart?” He suggests.  A wave of fatigue hits you as you finish yawning, and you surrender.

“Good idea.  Let me get my stuff.”

You emerge from the office after retrieving your purse and saying goodbye to Gil, who has resumed trying to figure out Excel.  Joel watches you approach him, rubbing his beard distractedly.

You lead him out of the bar, the nervous energy between you making your legs feel restless.  Joel places a hand on your lower back as you push the doors open.  Once outside, you expect him to move it, but he doesn’t.  It stays warm and firm on your back as you two walk down the marina to the street parking area.

The sound of the waves crashing into the shore placates your nerves a bit.  You peer at them as you walk, bewitched by the rays of moonlight dancing on the subtle peaks.

“S’a beautiful night,” Joel murmurs, closer to your ear than you realized.  You jump a bit, and he chuckles quietly, rubbing his hand softly on your lower back.

“Sorry, didn’t mean t’scare ya,” he apologizes.  The cool beach breeze blows by, and goosebumps grow on your bare skin.  You rub your arms instinctively.  A few moments later, Joel places his flannel over your shoulders, squeezing the tops lightly before letting go.  The warm gesture makes those butterflies in your stomach ricochet like pinballs.

“Thanks.  It’s cooler than normal this evening,” you say, watching your feet as you continue walking.  The scent of his shirt engulfs your senses, slowing your pace momentarily.  It’s an alluring mix of earthy and musky, like sandalwood, pine, and sweet bourbon.

“This is me,” Joel says, stopping next to an older, beatdown Chevy truck.  He opens the passenger door for you.

“Didn’t realize you were such a gentleman, Joel,” you tease him.  He shuts the door lightly, smirking and shaking his head at you through the window.  You glance at your surroundings.

His truck is spotless, save for some stains on the floor.  There’s a cup of carpenter’s pencils in one of the cupholders, which makes you smile.  The radio is ancient, with a small, thin screen for the time and big black buttons, which are a bit dusty.  The only button that’s clean is the power button/volume knob duo.  Not much of a music guy, you think.

The driver’s door squeaks open, and Joel plops down on the seat with a grunt. He shoves the key in the ignition and turns it over a few times before the engine roars on.

“Where to?” he asks, cranking the truck into reverse and pulling out of the spot.  You direct him to your apartment, which is 10 minutes from the marina.

The ride to your place is quiet, but not awkwardly so.  Joel turned on the music and kept the volume low, asking you questions here and there about Clearwater and you.

“Your family here?”

“Nope.  I’m from the Midwest.  They’re all in Nebraska and Iowa.”  He whistles lowly.

“Bit of a drive.  Why Florida?  Lemme guess—the ocean?”

“That’s part of it,” you reply, staring out the window, watching the palm trees flash by.

“Take it y’also wanted to get away from your family,” he says, tone rhetorical.  You snort and turn to face him.  He’s got one hand on the wheel, the other perched on the back of your seat.  There’s a half-smirk on his moonlight-painted face.

“Am I that obvious?” Your tone is half-incredulous, half-rhetorical. He chuckles in place of responding.

Soon, you arrive at your apartment complex.  Joel opens your door and follows you to the building.  Hesitant, you stop just before entering and turn to him.  The tension is thick, like a hazy cloud between the two of you.

“Do you want to come inside?”

He clenches his jaw, staring at you before replying.

“Sure.  Y’gonna take advantage of me?” The witty remark catches you off guard.  You burst out laughing and the contagious, melodic sound makes him laugh.

“Only if you want me to,” you reply, holding your keys up to the pad and opening the door.  You swear you hear him growl behind you, but he doesn’t reply.

Luckily, you’re on the first floor.  You don’t think you could stomach walking up the stairs in your daisy dukes with Joel behind you.

Once inside your place, you open the fridge and grab two bottles of beer as Joel surveys the apartment.  You place one on his bare forearm, the sudden chill startling him.  He swipes the bottle from your hand as you giggle, giving you a threatening look.

“Want to sit outside?  I have a little futon out there,” you offer, realizing you still have his flannel on.  The sleeves are a little long, touching the base of your knuckles.  He nods.  You grab a blanket from the couch and lead him to the sliding glass door in the kitchen.

Your patio is small, but it’s your favorite spot, overlooking the beach.  The apartment building is on a small hill, which is great for days when the sea level rises.  The waves are still crashing quietly onto the shore, bathed in silky moonlight.

You sit first, crossing your legs underneath the warm blanket.  It’s chilly without it.  Joel sits next to you with what you now know is his trademark old man grunt, denim-clad leg touching your knee.  He takes a swig and brings the base of the bottle to eye level to study the label.

“Sorry—no bourbon,” you lament jokingly, taking a swig of your own.  He smirks and takes another sip.

“Didn’t strike you as the type, anyway.”

“Is it the lack of facial hair?” Joel spits out his beer laughing.

“Jesus, you’re somethin’ else,” he coughs, wiping his mouth and beard with the back of his hand.

“In Joel speak, I think that’s a compliment, yes?”

He laughs again, staring at you as you watch the ocean.  His hand moves to rest on your kneecap, thumb circling the soft skin lightly.  Your heartbeat picks up twofold.

“Gil was right about you,” he murmurs.  Confused, you look at him, surprised to see a wanton expression on his face.

“What about me?”

He scoots closer.  Your hands squeeze the beer bottle nervously.

“Don’t remember exactly what he said,” he croons, face getting closer to yours, “somethin’ about you bein’ a special person.”

The sexual tension between the two of you has reached a new level of heavy, sucking the air out of your lungs and igniting your core.  Joel grabs your beer from your hand, setting it and his down on the concrete floor of the patio.  He stares into your eyes, looking for hesitation as he leans closer to you.

Clearly, he finds none, because his lips are on yours, light and soft.  The hand that was on your knee is on the back of your neck, thumb pressed against your cheek.  His other hand grips your hip and pulls you closer to him.  You take the opportunity to climb on his lap, pulling a surprised yet satisfied grunt from him.

His lips move slowly, gently against yours.  Rough, warm hands caress the tops of your thighs, leaving goosebumps in their path.  He tastes smooth, like the Eagle Rare he sipped on this evening, a rich contrast from the rough scratch of his mustache and beard against your face.  You comb fingers through his thick curls, tugging lightly at the base of his head. Another satisfied grunt travels from his throat to your mouth.

The passion overheats you, and like he’s reading your mind, he pushes his shirt off your shoulders, mouth still latched to yours.  His hands slip under your tank top and caress your abdomen, fingertips dancing along the underside of your breast.  He groans again when he realizes you don’t have a bra on.  You tilt your head back and his lips caress your neck, nipping softly at your pulse.  The soft moan that leaves your lips spurs him on, and his teeth move higher, tugging on the flesh of your earlobe.

He reaches for the hem of your tank top and slowly lifts the fabric over your head.  His eyes burn holes in your skin, pupils dilated so much so that his eyes look black.  He reaches up and palms both of your breasts, kneading the flesh and rolling your nipples between his fingertips as he admires your body.

“Christ, you’re perfect,” he breathes before sucking a nipple into his mouth.  You wrap your arms around his strong neck and tug his curls back to envelope his mouth with yours.  He lifts you from his lap effortlessly and stands, murmuring something about going back inside into your mouth.

Still kissing you, he carries you to your bedroom and tosses you on the bed before caging you in his arms, continuing what you started on the patio as the sound of the ocean and the cicadas fill the background.

Taglist: @burntheedges, @tuquoquebrute, @syd-djarin, @danaispunk, @anoverwhelmingdin

Read Part 2 here!

[freesia-writes]

Ch 22: Departure

~ Master List ~ Previous Chapter ~ WC: 2.2k

Song: Where Is My Mind? by Pixies

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“Will I see you at the Fish Dance? I know those hips do more than I’ve seen,” Luciana said, swaying her own with a little snicker as she stood across the bar from Hunter. It was a balmy day, the warm rays of sun tempered by a gentle sea breeze, yet the slump of his shoulders remained.

“Fish Dance?” he echoed, brows lowering at the name.

“I know… Who came up with that?” she giggled with a shrug, polishing a glass as she gave Hunter a wink.

“Since it takes place immediately following the annual Fishing Derby, I suppose it would be the simplest and most natural option,” Tech observed, not taking his eyes from his datapad where it lay on the counter beside his brother. He paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Although it does conjure imagery of the fish being the ones dancing, which is as humorous as it is physically impossible. Perhaps that adds to the tongue-in-cheek element…”

“Not really my scene,” Hunter interrupted, shaking his head at Luciana as Tech drifted off. 

“Aw, come on. You’ve been moping for months, Xyrgio. We all get our hearts broken sometimes. It gives us a chance to build up our love for ourselves instead of relying on receiving it from others, and we move on with more confidence and fortitude. Live and learn, baby. But don’t let it keep you down.” She put the glass down and placed a warm palm over his fist, which clenched slightly beneath her grasp. He hated how it made him feel, but was distracted when she leaned a bit closer, soft green eyes intent on his as she patted his hand. “You’re too delicious for that. So have a little fun. Find yourself again, you know? It’ll be like a breath of fresh air.”

He didn’t know what to do with that. Her life had clearly been so different from his own that it felt entirely alien. Self-love? Heartbreak? All this relational stuff wasn’t part of his engineering, and the whole ordeal with Lyra had shown him why. But still, he was expected to continue living this civilian life, to continue trying to act normal in a world that wasn’t made for him. He leaned back and rubbed his forehead. He’d thought he was doing better, losing himself in extra hunting time. He and Wrecker had completed an entire project on his cabin that expanded Omega’s room to provide her a space to work in a cozy room made of windows where she could enjoy the view. He’d cleaned the butcher shop from corner to corner and had experimented with new ways of cutting the meat. But the last few days had felt increasingly restless, and the repeated sleepless nights spent tossing and turning had given him enough brain fog that he didn’t feel like he cared much about anything anymore. 

“Alright,” he said with a sigh of surrender.

“Really?” Luciana asked, brightening considerably after a moment of utter shock.

“Why not,” he grumbled with a shrug, running a hand through his hair and ignoring Tech’s blatant stare at the side of his face. 

“Well alright!” she said, beaming at him. “It’s a date!” she exclaimed before rushing off to answer a rowdy customer at the other end.

“A curious choice in rebound options,” Tech observed, and now it was Hunter who was staring at him. 

“Rebound?” he said in disbelief.

“Most commonly used as a literal term where an item bounces back after hitting another object, usually in a sports context, ‘rebound’ is also frequently applied to relationships where an individual is still affected by the emotional distress caused by the termination of a romantic or sexual engagement. It is often characterized by unusual choices or atypical behavior.”

“That’s not–”

“It is an entirely human response, I assure you. In fact, it’s fascinatingly nuanced in the psychological sense because it reveals the various layers of one’s concept of self–”

“No, I… Nevermind.”

He felt truly lost.

* * * 

The Fishing Derby was a hit, drawing people from multiple islands to enjoy a spirited day on the beaches and seas nearby. Wrecker had joined enthusiastically, bringing Omega and Crosshair along, and as the sun set on the horizon, everyone was reclined together in one of the large seating areas on the beach outside the bar. The tables and chairs had been moved out onto the sand to clear an area for dancing beneath the string lights on the tiki patio, and additional cushions and pillows were thrown together under gazebos made of wooden frames and a light, gauzy material that fluttered gently in the breeze. 

“You nailed that big one!” Wrecker declared jubilantly, clapping Crosshair on the back so hard that his toothpick shot out of his mouth. “That was a great shot!”

“A fortunate twist of fate,” the sniper muttered, staring at his forlorn little piece of wood now nestled in the sand.

“That was pretty fun,” Omega admitted, a content smile on her face as she nursed a fruity little drink.

“We should have figured out a way to promote the Academy here,” Echo said, noting the large crowds milling all around. 

“You’ve got enough on your hands, no?” Hunter muttered, staring at the sky from his messily flopped position across a corner seat, his own liquor bottle dangling from a hand thrown over the back of the cushions. It was an uncharacteristically careless position for him, and Phee squinted slightly from her seat beside Tech.

“Enough on his hand, you mean,” came Crosshair’s little jab, quickly answered by a wadded-up paper wrapper hitting him in the face from Echo’s finished ronto wrap. 

“Only need one to kick your ass, egghead,” Echo began, suddenly cut off by a new arrival.

“Sounds like he knows my move,” Luciana announced, winking at Crosshair as she appeared from the buildings with a large pitcher and a stack of cups in her hands. She was wearing a dusty blue dress with dainty white dots that hugged her curves from her chest to her thighs, and its ruched top was framed by frilly sleeves that hung off her shoulders. Her hair was down for once, rippling in rich red waves to her collarbone where a few small gold chains dangled above her cleavage. “Now who needs a refill?”

“I thought you weren’t working today!” Wrecker said as she sat the goods down on the low table in the middle of their space and invited others to help themselves.

“I’m not! For once!” she said triumphantly, pushing her way toward Hunter’s corner and perching herself neatly right on top of one of his spread thighs. His head jerked up, surprised, and he scooted to sit upright, nudging her off his leg onto the seat beside him. Nonplussed, she poured herself a glass of the brightly-colored cocktail, then pulled her legs up onto the cushion beside her, leaning onto the backrest. 

“Make yourself at home,” Crosshair muttered, smirking as he caught sight of Tech and Phee both staring at her with unfettered curiosity.

“Thanks babe,” she returned, pursing her lips at the sniper and lifting her glass toward him. “So. How’s the week been for everyone?”

It was silent for a beat, then Echo offered something. “Got a batch graduating from the Academy tomorrow. We’ll see how many are hung over after tonight…”

Luciana laughed, casting a glance back toward the patio where the music was growing louder and the dancers were in full swing. “Yeah, any excuse to cut loose these days, eh?” 

“Hey, fishing is an important part of island life!” Wrecker exclaimed with a grin.

“No argument there!” she answered, flashing him a bright smile of her own. “Tell me all about your catches!”

He needed no encouragement, immediately launching into a blow-by-blow recollection of the day’s escapade. Luciana sipped her drink, punctuating her active listening with occasional small glances to Hunter that were filled with a warmth and subtlety that seemed reserved only for him. The conversation wore on, the group settling around her presence as she navigated effortlessly between each of them, asking thoughtful questions and genuinely delighting in their answers. 

Some eventually broke off into their own little conversations, dissolving into a contented hubbub, and Hunter was struck by the general sense of peace. Luciana was enraptured by Omega’s recount of her most recent internship, and he’d been surprised at some of the insightful suggestions the bartender offered as Omega shared her ongoing insecurities about her friend group. The music from the patio quieted to give way to the DJ’s announcement of the party “officially” starting, inviting everyone to come dance and be merry, then the persistent beat resumed, louder now as the shouts of the enthusiastic attendees accompanied it. 

“Care to dance?” Luciana asked Hunter, once Omega had turned back to Wrecker. He regarded her impassively as though trying to discern her motive, then he shook his head, leaning forward to drop his empty bottle on the table. 

“Don’t know how.” 

She caught the tiniest slur in his speech, smirking at the slight detour from his typically stoic and borderline uptight behavior. “There isn’t a ‘right’ way,” she nudged, leaning into him a bit more with a satisfied smile as he allowed it. “You deserve some fun.” Her voice was softer now, as was her fond gaze. “Consider it exercise,” she offered with a laugh, pinching his muffin top that had grown slightly after the previous months of Lyra’s savory cooking. “Then it’s a good and responsible and disciplined thing to do. Right?”

His brows dropped into a bit of a glare, then he surprised her with a laugh of his own, shaking his head. The motion combined with the pleasant buzz of the liquor sent a flurry of dizziness through him. Some of his plight was starting to make sense, if he were honest with himself. His entire life had been a heavy, burdensome plod through struggle after struggle. Now that he was free, what was keeping him from throwing caution to the wind and seeing what he’d missed? His family was thriving, happy, and safe. Things had settled into a predictable, reassuring rhythm. Perhaps he was holding too tightly to the past instead of accepting life as it was now. And he’d seen, repeatedly, where his frantic need to ensure safety and responsibility had gotten him. 

A gentle tug on his shirt brought him back to the present, as Luciana’s small fingers toyed with his hem where it was buttoned together. Her doe eyes activated a little burst of tingles in his gut and he relented, rising to his feet as she pulled him by the hand. As he stood, stretching for a moment before following her toward the patio, it felt as though he were shedding the weight of a million regrets that had haunted him for far too long, and he felt a bubbly lightness, watching her slender form weave through the crowd in front of him as he left the curious and confused glances of his family behind.

“It’s about time,” she purred, turning to face him as they reached the corner of the dance floor. She took both his hands, inviting him to join her, and he did, leaning closer. 

“What?”

“It’s about time!” she yelled, still nearly drowned out by the music. 

“For what?” Hunter said, clearly a bit foggy as she stepped in close, staggering her legs between his and wrapping her arms around his shoulders. A wave of heat rushed from his head to his toes.

“For us to have some fun!” She pressed her body against his, shifting side to side in time with the music, and he tentatively placed his own hands on her waist, still unable to shake the suspicion from his face despite the waves of pleasant buzz. “Hunter,” she said, giving him a serious look from a few inches away. Her use of his actual name, instead of the litany of pet names she typically employed, struck him to the core, and he pulled back a little to see her whole face, which was both earnest and profound. “I’m not playing games. In case it hasn’t been obvious, I think you’re amazing.” She smiled, brushing a few stray hairs out of his face before resting her hand on the back of his neck, emanating an adoration that was simultaneously confident and sheepish. “I’ve had a fat crush on you for ages. Not hiding anything, no sneaky motives, just… you’re frickin hot and I think we’d have a blast if you’d let your hair down a bit and stop holding back out of fear or duty or whatever it is. If you’re not into it, that’s alright, but if it’s just your own martyr tendencies stopping you, I think you should let go of that for just a little bit and see what life could be like.” 

He stared at her, reeling from the sheer overload of her admission, the pounding music, the cacophony of voices, the faint tipsiness, the myriad of smells punctuated by her sweet perfume, and the evocative sensation of her lithe body against his own. Closing his eyes for a moment, he sought any kind of guidance, anything that could ground him… but found none. 

“Alright Salentino,” he murmured, feeling his body loosening up at his acceptance. “Show me what I’ve been missing.” 

She beamed at him, tapped the tip of his nose, then leaned into him, losing herself in the rhythm and the pure joy of the festivities as she danced freely against him. Hunter felt fragmented for a moment, confused and frustrated, then closed his eyes too, departing from himself in an inexplicable way.

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Author's Note: The story takes a turn, as you've seen, and I think there may be elements that seem out of character for Hunter. But I was operating under the perspective that he's just been through so much, that past failures rest so heavily on his shoulders, and that he was so betrayed/shocked/hurt when he was just thinking he could do this whole civilian life thing... That it kind of drives him to just say "F it all" in a way. Is it not a super smart or responsible response? Yes. Is he being more emotionally reactive than strategic? Yes. We've all been there, let's be honest. ;)

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[tadpolesonalgae]

Mer!Azriel x reader: The Dregs of Tragedy - Part 2

A/N: We’re going H2O Just Add Water here

Warnings: drowning

Word Count: 4,143

-Part 1- -Part 3-

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Tendrils of mist curl before you, cooling breath icing with the freezing temperature of the cave. Death is seeping into your bones—you can feel it. Life is steadily draining from your numbing limbs, alone and cold in a subterranean cave. What you wouldn’t give for a fire, or some other clothes, having discarded the sodden fabric in attempts to dry faster.

How long has passed since the mer left the tunnels? You never even learned his name—if the mer have names your tongue could pronounce. How do fish even communicate? You’ve never considered it before, having grown up with the screech of seagulls and the squeak of vermin. Sea-creatures have always had this innate connection to one another, shoals of fish automatically moving in synchronised rhythm.

It would be nice to have something like that, you think. To be so connected to other life forms communication isn’t entirely necessary, just being able to understand that movement is relentless and to know there is no wrong turn. To have absolute trust that everything will seamlessly connect.

A spasm wracks your lungs, briny sea-water dripping from your hair down onto numb shoulders. Death is coming swiftly, time ticking like the drip-drop of water to the slick stone beneath you. Either you stay here and die, or you venture the caves. He’d left with a warning; he had promised he’d return. But you’re not so disillusioned to trust the word of a mer, even if there’s a life connection between you now. You’d saved his life and he had protected yours, but there’s no trust. He has no reason to return, unless it’s once you’ve morphed to a corpse, where then cold hands will wrap around equally cold ankles, dragging your lifeless body into the icy pool to feast upon.

Warm-blooded animals like yourself like their food heated. Maybe his kind prefer theirs to be still. Cold, and stiff.

Throat rolls, and you get to your feet, nearly tripping over from being unable to move the frozen limbs. Ease deep breaths into your lungs—movement will be key to your survival. Having grown up on fish, your blood will take longer to freeze than an inlanders, fluid and thin in your veins. Yet the extra minutes or hours you’re spared will mean nothing if you don’t put them to good use.

Slowly and with great pains, you unstick your fingers, stretching hard, frozen toes, preparing for the dive. At least you can be thankful for the stagnant air—a breeze would have only catalysed your death. Breathe steadily, keeping a regular pace as you stretch aching limbs, hoping to get the blood flowing again to stand a chance of surviving the stormy seas.

If you even make it back to open ocean.

Stretch out the muscle, shaking out limbs, curling toes and fingers. Jump stiffly on your feet, staring into the icy water. You wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it froze over the moment you dive in. But you can’t stay here, trapped on the whim of a mer. Your life is on your conditions, and you won’t wait around for someone else to dictate its end.

With a deep breath, you stare at the tunnels. Remembering which one the mer had taken to escape, but not which one he came in from. What are the odds he took the one that would lead back to the ocean? What if the one he took simply guides further into his layer? What if—?

Click your tongue. You won’t get anywhere examining these possibilities. What if, what if. Stand and stare into the water, eyeing up an opponent. The three dark entrances that lie submerged in icy water. There’s a good chance that diving in will result in your death, but it will be better to go in head first rather than wait for death to come to you. Pray to the gods for any aid they can spare before glancing at the heavy pile of clothes. They’ll only weigh you down, but the idea of diving into mer infested water so utterly bare…

Turn back to the lagoon, sea lit by that strange luminescent glow. It would be nice if you weren’t in such a dire predicament.

Slow your breaths, calming your heart rate. Sinking into a quiet headspace. Prepare for the shock of water.

And step into the pool.

Head pounds as the ice swallows you whole, burning at your eyelids, ears popping. Pressure squeezes at your ribs but you hold the breath tight, reaching for the edge of the rock, hoping you find the right tunnel. Flip onto your back once you locate the lip, pulling yourself along the ceiling by the ridge of your fingernails, as though climbing.

Heart picks up the beat, adrenaline kicking in as you propel yourself through the tunnel. Dread begins creeping in when you feel the downward slant of the cave ceiling, being ushered deeper instead out outward. But you can’t turn back now. All you can do is continue on the route you’ve picked, even as your lungs ache and knees catches on the rough rock. Jagged in places, as though designed to be cruel to human skin. Prickling and barbed as it scrapes and grazes.

Throat and eyes burn, air bubbling from your lips as you force yourself onward, muscles screaming and pounding, head being crushed beneath the insane pressure of the ocean. You won’t last longer. Even if you make it out of the cave, you know their layers are constructed far beneath the surface. You would have to swim to the top, and you hardly have enough energy to make it forward any longer.

Tears prick beneath your lids, limbs slowing as nostrils sting, salt water pressing in. Something stabs beneath your lungs, lips parting on a mandatory inhale, body demanding breath. Icy water gushes in, and you convulse, fingers trembling as you reach forward.

So this is what dying feels like.

Eyes crack open, but the scene is blurred no matter how much you blink, the heaviness is weighing you down. Sinking your cooling body.

Dropping like a millstone through ice.

————

Heavy eyes struggle to crack open, as if held shut by sticky salt.

Breath is flowing into your lungs, skin fresh and soft, as if bathed in milk and honey. Dried by tender hands. Fingers and toes move with ease, no longer cracking and numb from cold, warm cotton brushing against lovely bare skin, able to breathe freely.

Inhale deeply, looking around, but all you can make out is the faint glow of yellow-orange light, as if cast by an unmoving flame. Rock is above you, far up in the heights, and you realise you’re in yet another cave. Sigh heavily, resting back into the— Brows narrow, groaning quietly as you make to sit up, but your bones are still aching, lungs sore and tender. It must not have been a dream, the drowning.

Swallow heavily as you sit upright, keeping the thin cotton blanket to your chest, but the air is warm without being cloying. Around the floor of the cave lie soft blankets, spongey bed padding, and pillows. Your hair is wrapped in some soft material, a few still-damp strands curling at the nape. A few balls of light are dotted throughout the cave, like floating candles, suspended by nothing visible. In the centre of the cavern’s floor is a pool similar to the one in your last confinement, the beds thickly covering the stone surrounding the rock around it. You can’t even see the cave’s floor through all the padded bedspreads.

“You’re awake,” a familiar voice rasps.

Muscle tenses, clutching the cotton tighter to bare and tender skin, littered with small scrapes. Find the mer at the pool’s edge, half out of the water, droplets trickling down blue-tinted skin. His long tail sways idly in the water, lazing about as it swishes slowly from left to right. Powerful arms lay crossed over the lip of the lagoon, yet the fabric beneath him is dry. Brow tightens as you shift away from the edge, keeping the thin blanket close.

“What…Where am I?” You ask, voice scratchy from the salt-water. Charcoal eyes bore into you, lashes thick, inky hair curling at the ends as water drips from the strands. “You’re in the incubation chamber,” he rasps, resting his jaw on the pronounced muscle of his forearm. “Where all humans are brought that we wish to keep.”

You just stare at him for a moment, reeling. Wish to keep? “What do you mean?” You manage to mumble shakily, fingers tightening on the blanket. “All humans? What’s going on?” That translucent film slides across his large, onyx eyes, glittering beneath the warm lights. “You left the sacred caves and drowned, like I warned. You died, and now you’re here, changing,” he explains succinctly. Too succinctly.

“I… What?” You manage, scrambling to catch up. “What do you mean I drowned? Why am I changing? Tell me what’s happening.”

His tail flickers behind him, but his features remain neutral. The indentations on his neck seem to be healing already, only faint lines remaining where light incisions once lay. “You went into the caves,” he repeats, slower this time, as if speed was the problem. “And you drowned. Then I brought you here, to incubate. And now you’re changing.” You’re afraid to ask what into.

“I’m alive…” you say quietly, questioningly. Voicing your thoughts. He nods in confirmation anyway. “I died,” you say, in that same hushed voice. Again the mer nods. “And you brought me here, once I was dead,” you ask, beginning to loose the string of events. “To incubate,” he finishes.

Silence passes, and you lay back into the padded sheets, staring up at the ceiling.

“You said I’m changing,” you manage, hoarsely. “What into?”

“A mer,” he answers, voice soft and rasping. “One of my kind.” You just nod absently, taking in his words. Transformation is impossible, but they’re creatures of magic. A horrible thought dawns, and you fight off nausea. “Am I going to have to eat humans now?” You ask shakily, fingers trembling as you ease in calming breaths, staring up at the rocky ceiling far above. Shake your head. “I can’t eat humans,” you declare decisively, “I’ll starve.”

“We don’t eat humans,” he rasps, the swish of his tail through the water like a hushing lullaby. “Yes you do,” you breathe. “I saw you bite at my—… You bit Alaric’s neck. Bodies wash up on the shore half-eaten. I’ve seen what you do.”

“We don’t eat humans,” he repeats. “Or at least, we avoid it. They don’t taste nice.”

“We don’t taste nice,” you echo, picturing the half-eaten bodies of stolen sailors.

“They don’t taste nice,” he reminds quietly, “you aren’t entirely human anymore.”

You have nothing to say to that, so you lay there silently, listening to the steady swish of his tail as it waves idly through the lagoon. Water splashes with slow movement, then a wet hand touches your arm. You recoil, muscle tensing as you squirm onto your side, curling away from the— He’s warm.

Large, onyx eyes watch you quietly, fingers lightly brushing the skin of your upper arm. He notes your stare, pressing his hand closer to you, palm flat. “You’re changing,” he reminds, “you’re becoming more like us.” His lithe tail flicks behind him, then he retreats back to the waters lapping at the edge. A soft breath shudders from your lips. “So I’m…” You trail off, unable to form the words. “I’m becoming a mer?” You ask, voice trembling.

He nods. “That’s right.”

Slowly, warily, you relax back into the padded bed-spread, keeping the cotton over your chest. “I’m turning into a mer,” you repeat to yourself, hardly even a whisper. Mind catches on what he’d said earlier, a small part he’d mentioned. “You said—” Swallow thickly, trying not to think too hard about it. “You said all the humans are brought here. Who you wish to keep.” Hands ball tight, keeping out the tremors. “Keep for what? And what others?”

“Humans hate us for taking their workers,” the mer explains quietly. “Their hatred is learned from those who came before them. Ours is in response to their cruel methods of torture and mutilation.”

He pauses, and you wonder if it pains him. If he knows the extent of the pain inflicted upon them in your town. “Still, there are occasions, rare occasions, where a human will show their-self to be compassionate, and with our dwindling numbers, and struggles with reproducing, we take who we can,” he finishes. Silence stretches as you comprehend the information. Raise your palm to your forehead, feeling the beginnings of an ache. Release a heavy breath. “My husband’s going to kill me,” you whisper.

The mer’s tail flicks suddenly, and then his hand is again around your upper arm, drawing your attention. Dark, large eyes locking with fear-filled irises, not yet fully changed. “He won’t,” the mer rasps firmly. “And you won’t return to the town you came from. Not at least while they would be able to identify you.” You shift uncomfortably, but the mer holds still, not quite a grip, but his touch lacks the softness you’d like. “You take me from my home,” you say quietly, “leave me in a freezing cave, allow me to drown, and now I can’t even return to the place I grew up? Tell people I’m okay?”

Something passes through his gaze, almost like sorrow, but it’s gone too quickly for you to place. His touch lightens, but he doesn’t fully release you. “They kill us. You haven’t even fully changed, and will have no idea of how to swim. It will take weeks before your muscles fully form, and at least a dozen days before you can learn our ways of movement,” he explains calmly. “The young take mere hours, but you’ve spent decades as a human who walks. It won’t be simple to unlearn those habits.”

You’re poised to argue back, that it’s your home and you can’t just drop everything and leave—though it had kind of already ended the moment your husband saw you free him, but… “Decades?” You snap, sitting upright, turning to him. His hand falls away, and he remains peering up at you silently. Outrage is replaced by infantile concern, “do I look decades old?” You ask, one hand holding the thin blanket to your chest while the other traces the skin of your cheek. The sea air can be harsh to humans.

“Forgive me,” he hedges, noting your worry. “It’s polite to err on the side of caution when speaking of someone’s age.”

“I look older than decades?” You fret, staring at him with wide, horrified eyes. The mer are devastatingly beautiful…maybe humans are just ugly to them. That translucent film slides back and forth across his large, onyx gaze, the only sign of his comprehending he allows. “I forget humans prefer to be seen as younger,” he mutters, “so backward.”

Your brows narrow. “Is that not the case with your kind?” He gives you a look that reads you’re part of our kind now, but says nothing, instead answering your question. “Life experience is sought after, yes. Naiveté and innocence, while not inherently negative, are not attractive qualities like they sometimes are for humans,” he answers. You blink, vaguely surprised. Dangerously interested. “Humans do have a strange fixation on their young,” the mer mutters, as an afterthought.

“How old are you?” You ask, eyeing him warily. Dark eyes lift to your own, tail returning to idle swishes. “Thirty-three,” he answers. Brows raise with open surprise this time. You had expected centuries. The mer notes your expression. “In mer years,” he adds on. Suspicion coils in your belly as you shift, legs crossing as you turn to face him, keeping a little out of his reach. “And in human years?” You ask, cautiously. “Around five-hundred,” he answers simply, “give or take a few decades.”

Lips part in surprise, staring at him. The mer doesn’t budge beneath your stare, tail swaying calmly at his back, as if it’s nothing out of the ordinary. You suppose it wouldn’t be for him. “And me?” You manage to get out. “How old would I be in mer years?”

“If you had grown up as a mer?” He asks. You nod your confirmation, feeling a little silly for having your interest so easily captured. “How old are you?” He asks, peering up from the edge of the pool. Your lips purse, but answer him anyway. “Twenty-eight,” you reply, somewhat reluctantly.

“You’d be around four and a half centuries,” he says. You blink—the idea of making it past fifty…

“Having grown up as a human though,” he says, pulling your attention back down to him. “Their bodies mature faster than ours do, much more rapidly, and so they have shorter life spans. Arguably, physically, you are four and a half centuries old, simply lacking the experience of it all.”

“Oh,” you say, unsure how to respond. You’d known they were immortal, but it’s only really hitting you now.

Wince as your legs throb dully, the bones aching. Jaw tightens to keep the sound of pain in, eyes flicking to your concealed lower body. He’d said you were changing…how does that even work? Is it going to hurt? Fear prickles at your skin, concern etching itself into your features.

The mer at your side shifts, beginning to push away from the rock. “You should come in,” he says quietly, raspy voice slightly muffled by the wash of water rippling. “It will help with the ache.” Hesitantly, you raise the blanket, allowing you to peek beneath the cover. They seem fine, no tail in sight, yet the skin looks more lifeless than before. Drained of the warmth of daylight. What’s going to happen to you?

“Your bones will ache for a little. It’s how your body shows it’s changing. Think of it like growing pains,” he says, drawing closer to the edge again when he sees you aren’t immediately coming in. “Is it going to hurt?” You whisper, lowering the blanket, still pressing the cloth to your chest. The mer blinks quietly with those large, onyx eyes. “Temporarily,” he says at last, your heart sinking in your chest, a cool sweat breaking across your skin. “Badly?” You ask, unable to keep the fear from your voice.

He sighs. “It won’t be pleasant,” he answers. “Had this happened closer to the quarters of the moon’s cycle, it would be easier for you.” You turn to look at him then, brows scrunched in confusion. “During a new moon is when we are closer to humans, while during a full moon we are at our strongest, most primal selves. Tonight we are approaching a waning crescent—days from a new moon—so you will not be in unbearable pain, but neither will you be free of it.”

“You couldn’t have waited?” You ask quietly, but it lacks the bite you want to put in. Too exhausted from the events to be angry. “Where would I have stored you?” He asks, seemingly sincerely. “Our citadel is beneath the waters, where you would be unable to breathe. Had I left you…” He pauses, dark eyes glittering. “You tell me what they would have done.”

Throat rolls, but you remain silent.

The mer nods, then pushes off from the lip again, floating out into the water. Gestures for you to enter, “the water will help. Come in.” Your eyes flick to the pool, remembering its icy bite. How it had made your head pound. But your legs are aching more now, and you would like it to stop. “Do you have names?” You ask quietly, heartbeat picking up. He blinks once, then nods. Tongue flicks out to wet your lips, “what’s yours?” But he doesn’t answer, instead beckoning you in.

Warily, you move toward the lip of the pool, eyeing the water and keeping the blanket to your body. Dip your toes in, preparing for the icy shock, but to your surprise, it’s gentle. Verging on warm. A blink betrays your emotions, one he doesn’t miss. “You’re cold-blooded now,” he rasps, keeping his distance, “your perception of temperature has already begun to shift.”

Your brow narrows, hesitantly lowering your feet into the pool, hanging your legs over the rim of the rock, sitting at the edge. “What do you mean?” You ask, feeling some of the pressure in your bones wash away, as if soothed by the lull of the ocean. “The sea feels cold to humans, because they are accustomed to a higher temperature,” he answers, waiting for you to come deeper. You remain at the lip. “Our skin feels icy to human hands, because of our different heat levels. Now that you are changing, human hands will feel like burning coals, while fire will be unbearable.”

You take in the information dutifully, helping to keep your mind off the ache in your knees and thighs. The slight twinge in your hips and abdomen. He raises his hand again, goading you deeper. “Come in,” he rasps, “once you’re submerged, you’ll feel better.”

“But I’m…I have no clothes,” you reply, pulling the thin cotton sheet closer. He blinks again, at last swimming closer. Muscles tense, but you don’t pull away. He means no harm to you anymore—you’re unsure if he ever did.

“Does that bother you?” He asks, floating a little way from your feet. You watch him quietly, assessing his presence. Dip your head, “do mer not…” Fumble your words, struggling to articulate the weight of nudity. “It’s…very private,” you settle on, eyes lifting to his.

“But does it bother you?” He repeats, swimming closer still. You blink, readjusting your hold on the thin blanket. “Do you know what humans look like?” You divert.

The mer nods his head, “when the new moon comes, we can…” Shakes his head, sighing quietly. Gleaming onyx eyes latch gently with yours, expression softening. “yes, I know what a woman looks like.”

You don’t know why that sets your pulse racing.

He shakes his head, soft-looking mouth tugging upward at the edges. “Humans always have been so bizarre about clothing,” he murmurs to himself. Eyes again lift to yours, features neutral, verging on bland, yet there’s a tenderness there. It’s more of a shock than the icy water—a mer displaying care.

A blue-tinted hand raises from the water, and you tense when he sets it atop your knee, skin tingling at the brush of such a dangerous creature. “Put the sheet away,” he rasps, “the water’s lovely.” If you hadn’t known his throat was damaged from the wire, you would think he had put you under a spell, so easily coaxing you into desiring the raging ocean.

Heartbeat spikes, fingers tightening on the soft cotton, before loosening.

His eyes remain on yours, not even appearing tempted to stray. Simply holding your gaze as he floats in the pool, waiting for you to ready. Throat rolls as the air touches your skin—suddenly feeling hot and dry. Yearning for the soothing lap of the sea to wash and saturate. You push the blanket to the side, fully discarding the thin sheet, before raising your hands to your hair, letting it free of its binding.

Slowly, you easy toward the edge, the mer’s large palms rising higher to help you slide in, making sure the rock doesn’t catch on your tender skin. Especially when it’s already littered with small scratches and marks. Teeth push against your lower lip, tensing as you slide into the pool, the rough flat of his palms spanning your waist to keep you above the surface.

Automatically, you set your hands on the solid width of his shoulders, feet moving with the same idle movements as his tail. Inhale sharply at the proximity, not having anticipated how your heart would beat so wildly, being so close to such a dangerous creature.

Almost terrifying enough to be exhilarating.

The mer doesn’t smile, but the edges of his mouth soften ever so slightly, and you realise the aches along your bones have begun to recede, just as he’d said. Limbs remain a little stiff in places, but simply by being in the water, the pain has lessened. Breathe in softly, dipping your head ever so slightly, confused with the unfamiliar grounds. “Thank you…” you murmur, keeping your eyes on his, unable to shake the feelings of wariness that have been ingrained since a young age.

He’s supposed to be a vicious, flesh-shredding beast, and yet…

“Azriel,” he supplies. “My name is Azriel.”

You nod again. “Thank you, Azriel.”

——————————————————————————————————————————————

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[blossomwritesthings]

𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐞. | 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

pairing: felix x fem!reader (afab) // chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: nonidol/collegegrad!felix. waitress!reader. college au. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. friends to enemies to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining. cheating. abusive boyfriend/ex. drama galore. the sexual tension is REAL in this one.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. felix is reader's estranged childhood bestie. chan is low-key an asshole in this ngl. heavy topics are mentioned such as: abusive/toxic relationships, cheating, and pathological lying. the summer vibes are real in this one. there will be humor/fluff throughout to balance everything. and ofc smut too because who am i if not a whore for filthy felix smut. 😉

word count: 4.7k

summary: ever since you were born, all you've ever known is living a simple life in the small australian coastal town of bridgeport bay. you're content with working at your parent's beachside restaurant angel waves for the rest of your life, and you're happy with your place in the world - you have good friends and an even better boyfriend. that is, until everything comes to a standstill when a familiar face from the past visits town for the summer. and in the wake of his return, lee felix upturns everything you thought you were content with here in your comforting little beach town.

a/n: ugh I'm FINALLY starting to write/post this... it feels like I've been stewing over this single idea for MONTHS lmao!! 😩😭 a big thanks to all of my amazing stay writer friends in the writer's club... ya'll are so fucking lovely and I adore you're continual support of my work!! 🥹 I have no idea how many parts this will be, but I'm anticipating for it to be at least 20.k words so... there's that haha! hope ya'll enjoy, and lmk what you think - your thoughts are always welcome! 💞

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛ��ᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

“Hey Y/N, can you please get the next table? I think Jordan just seated another customer.” Your best friend Yeji asked you in a light, cheery voice. She was walking past you into the kitchens, both hands full of dirty dishes, her midnight black hair blowing in the breeze that rushed into the restaurant from the open windows that lined the entire place. 

 “Sure thing babe!” You gave her a playful wink, offering up a faint smile before you finished helping ring up another customer’s order. 

 Just like every other weekend, your parent's restaurant - Angel Waves - was bustling with activity, as a solid line formed outside the doors with patrons waiting to snag a seat in the popular joint. A mix between a tropical tiki bar and a fish shack, Angel Waves - or AW for short - was located just off of the beach. With a wrap-around porch and huge bay windows that offered stunning views of the beautiful cerulean sea just a few feet away, AW had been a critically-acclaimed restaurant by the locals for decades. 

 Initially, it had been your father’s dream to open up a restaurant. But then he married your mother, and things took off soon after the wedding. In no time at all, she was pregnant with you while simultaneously helping your father build the restaurant from the ground up. To date, he had added three more parts to the place, making it rather expansive. With the bright neon signs and fire-burning torches that lined the perimeter of it, AW could be spotted on the shoreline from miles away. The inside was decorated rather plainly, with bright pops of tropical colors here and there and wooden chairs lined throughout the area. 

 But at night, the vibes of the restaurant came to life. As the patrons at the seated bar grew louder, the tropical music increased in volume and added to the overall atmosphere of laid-back tourists and locals alike. 

 Having grown up in Bridgeport Bay, which was a small seaside town in the East part of Australia, you were used to the leisurely way of things. But to some, it would seem like everyone around was just lazy. When in fact, people knew how to have a good time - and that was all that mattered to a lot of locals. 

 Including yourself. 

 Your parents had raised you in the small house that was just off the backside of the restaurant, so the tropical way of life had always been the only thing you had known. You didn’t mind living the same daily routine - waking up early to help with chores, then attending classes at the local university, before arriving back at the restaurant in time to help with the night shifts. Plus, it helped that one of your best friends, Yeji, had been working with you at the restaurant since she was a young teenager. 

 Now, at the tender age of twenty-two, you were well acquainted with your surroundings. You were set in stone about what you wanted to do with your life. And after you finished getting your degree in Environmental Science, you hoped to aid in the environmental impact of Bridgeport Bay, since environmental efforts were one of your biggest passions in life.

 As you stared around the dimly lit restaurant that was busy with customers and servers alike, you felt yourself come alive under the energy of it all. And getting a hint of the salty sea breeze on your tongue, you made to help the newest customer in placing their order. 

 The early June sun was just beginning to set over the horizon of the ocean, painting the brilliant light blue sky in shades of violets and fuchsias. Your attention was momentarily pulled away from your task at hand, as you were completely captivated by the look of the rippling water shining underneath the fading sunlight. 

 But you quickly snapped yourself out of your daze, already grabbing hold of your notepad and pen as you came up to the new table you were waiting on. Without looking up, you began to write down the time and your name on the top corner of the paper, like you always did before taking an order. “Hi, welcome to Angel Waves. My name’s Y/N and I’ll be your server. What can I get started for you tonight?” 

 There was a pause on the customer’s end, and the noise of the restaurant overtook all of your senses for a few moments, but then everything dimmed out into a faint hum as the customer spoke. 

 “Hi… Y/N.” 

 Immediately, without even giving it a second thought, your head shot up from the piece of paper on your notepad that you had been previously staring at. 

 Heart hammering in your chest, throat constricting in anxiety, with the flush already clawing up your neck and pooling in either of your cheeks. 

 All at the sight of… 

Him. 

 Lee Felix. 

 The boy that you had grown up with. The one that had moved in next door to your restaurant when you were five years old. The one who had attended preschool, middle school, and high school with you. 

 The boy who had been your best friend in the entire world for over a decade. 

 And also, the single most person whom you hadn’t talked to in over four years. 

 But no- he was no longer a boy. 

 No- as he sat there, peering up at you with that familiar face of his, you suddenly came to acknowledge the years that had passed between the two of you. 

 Evidently, his time away at university for four years in South Korea changed him. Drastically. 

 From the long, sandy bleached-blonde locks that fell across his forehead, to the milky, blemish-free skin. His eyes were darker, too. More intense. And the sharp lines of his face were almost startling - with a jaw that could cut through steel, a proud nose, and prominent cheekbones. 

 He was no longer the awkward and geeky boy he had grown up with. The boy who had short, cropped black hair in his senior year of high school and braces for three years, and cystic acne that lasted well into his junior year of high school. 

 He looked… 

 Like a fully grown man. 

 And you didn’t know how to feel about that. 

 It made your stomach turn in a sickening kind of way. Made your heart pound against your ribcage painfully. 

 He was staring up at you, watching your blatant perusal of him in silence with a ticked-up, perfectly manicured dark eyebrow. 

 But some things hadn’t changed, at least, as he flashed you that tiny, easy smile he always seemed to have plastered on his face. 

 “F-Felix- wow, hi. I-” You began, stammering over your words in your utter surprise. You felt your eyes widen from your stupid blubbering, and the panic chilled down your spine from the way that he laughed heartily at your reaction to him sitting in front of you. “It’s uh- good to see you again, holy fuck.” 

 “Yeah, you too…” He finally pulled his gaze from yours, offering you some respite from the intensity of his matured eyes. You took in a deep breath as his focus scanned over the restaurant all around you. “Glad to see this place hasn’t changed one bit since the last time I came around these parts.” 

 “What brings you back to the coast?” You asked, rocking onto the backs of your heels like you always did when you were nervous. Bridgeport Bay was a small town that was connected to a set of other ones similar to it, which all lined the same coast of Eastern Australia. 

 After all, soon before he left to study in South Korea, he had vowed to you that he’d never step foot in ‘this hellish beach town’ ever again. 

 Obviously, he had proven himself wrong. 

 He shrugged broad shoulders, making you realize how much his physique had changed too. He was fitted in a loose t-shirt and faded jeans, but you could just barely make out the outlines of muscles underneath the baggy fabric. His back was proud and he sat up completely straight in his chair, the opposite of how he used to be in your childhood - always slouched and with thin, frail limbs. He was still petite in stature, but now made up for his lack of height with muscle. Even so, he still outranked you in height by a good three inches. 

 He was acting like it was no big deal - like none of it was a big deal. Not him coming back to Bridgeport after such a long time and looking so different from how you had known him as. “I just graduated, so I decided to spend the summer back at my parent’s place before I decide what I wanna do with my life.” Felix leaned over in his seat then, leveling you with that stare he always gave whenever he was trying to get a read on your feelings. “What about you? I see you’re still working for your folks…” 

 His voice trailed off. And if you didn’t know him any better, you’d assume that he had a pretentious air about him. Sure, he was the scrawny boy that had shipped off to South Korea, only to come back four years later looking hot as hell with a solid education and most-likely loads of crazy stories to tell to everyone who’d listen. 

 You, on the other hand, were still stuck in the same position that you had always been in. Living in Bridgeport Bay, in your parent's house, and helping work the restaurant while attending school at a nearby university. 

 It was comforting, in a sense, to have the same daily routine. But you could also acknowledge the fact that Bridgeport Bay was a fairly quiet place - in other words, not much happened. Most people your age had already moved away as soon as they graduated from high school, either traveling to the big city of Sydney to get a degree or going overseas to bigger and better places.

 And there you were… still stuck in the same turquoise-walled bedroom from your childhood, with the same group of three friends, and waking to the same view every single morning. The brilliant pinks and oranges of the sunrise against the ocean water got old in about… two days. 

 Folding your arms across your chest, you almost felt like you were trying to protect yourself from him. Lee Felix, who had been your childhood best friend. But who, unbeknownst to you, had turned into this ethereal, untouchable beast of a man in the absence of your friendship. It felt foreign and odd, to have him studying you so intently with those dark eyes. “Yeah, I’m still living here in Bridge… same friends, same habits, you know how it is around these parts.” You tried to laugh off the awkwardness you suddenly felt, but your tone came out all flat and warbled. 

 Felix was still staring up at you, but this time, his gaze melted exponentially. So much so, that it suddenly felt like you were the one staring into his soul - picking apart his emotions as he sat there in front of you, head tilted up in curiosity. And the feelings you saw dance across his eyes, for just a split second, made your heart tumble in the pit of your chest. 

 “Same friends, huh?” He asked, but it wasn’t a question he was seeking an answer for. After that, his focus was yanking away from you, as he looked down at the menu before him on the table. You watched his adam’s apple bob up and down, throat constricting as he took in a sharp breath. 

 You could feel the air shift around you as soon as you mentioned friends. Because besides Yeji and Felix, the only other person you had truly had a connection with in Bridgeport Bay was… Christopher Bang. The two of you had met during your freshman year of high school and had been quite inseparable ever since. You had a raging crush on him, and apparently, he had one on you too - since he had asked you out on your first-ever date at the start of your final year in high school. 

 By the time you all were graduating from Bridgeport Bay High, you and Chris were the it couple. With him being the popular soccer jock, it was only right that you started to get popular as well - since you were the ‘hot girlfriend’ who was always hanging on his arm. Chris was nice and funny and was friends with literally all of the high schoolers in the area, so you liked being around him. 

 But the more time you spent with him, the less you spent with Felix. And by the time graduation rolled around, your friendship had suffered big time from your new relationship with Chris. Felix didn’t approve at all of the two of you guys dating. He had always waved off your swooning throughout the years as ‘hormonal imbalances,’ but as soon as the two of you became official, his entire tune changed. 

 All of a sudden, he was getting angry at you. With such a short temper, he would have outbursts during most of your hangouts. And it wasn’t until the night of your graduation that all of the building tension finally broke, like a pinprick to a fragile balloon full of water. 

 The night had ended in a colossal blow-up on both of your ends - with Felix’s anger exploding in your face and making him out to be some ugly, dark boy. And definitely, not the kid you had grown up to love and care for. During the argument, he had finally admitted that he hated Chris' guts - that he saw right through his little scheme, and he thought the guy was a horrible match for you. 

 Of course, you retaliated tenfold by throwing his singleness in his face. Since, during the entirety of your high school years, he had never once dated any girl. That insult was low for even you, and soon had him storming off the scene, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat from your stubbornness. You hadn’t listened to him the whole time, only registering the fact that he didn’t approve of you and Chris being together. Like he was your fucking dad and he needed to give his consent to every man you loved and dated. 

 And that turned out to be the last time the two of you ever saw or talked to each other for the next four years. Since just a week after graduation, Felix had completely vanished from Bridgeport Bay. When you went over to his house to make things up, his parents informed you that he’d already left for South Korea earlier than expected. 

 His absence didn’t fully register until you tried to call and text him that night, only to be left with an error message in return. Since he was moving to a different country, he needed to change his phone number. He had already informed you of such a thing weeks earlier, and the two of you had planned on setting up a special app where you could text. But the two of you had forgotten about such a detail in the business of graduation season, so there was no way to contact him. 

 Instead, you were faced with living in the wake of his departure - you were forced to relive the big fight between the two of you for months after that, rehashing things and stewing over all of the feelings again and again. And finally, after a year of being heartbroken over the shattered friendship with your best friend in the entire world, you decided to move on. 

 To bigger, and better things. 

 Like the friends you still had in Bridgeport Bay, going to university, and working at the restaurant. 

 And, Chris too. 

 Since your relationship had only blossomed from there, having quickly turned into a four-year ordeal of fun dates and long night chats and walks along the sandy beachside in the late afternoon sunset. 

 “I’ll have the salmon bowl with brown rice, please.” Felix’s deep timbre pulled you out of your daze of thought, shocking you back into the present. You were still standing there at his table, in the middle of a busy dinner rush, waiting for his order. “Oh, and a side of fried pineapple rings too.” 

 “Okay, and what kind of drink would you like with all of that?” You asked, mind turning off and zoning into work mode as you wrote down his order. “We have all kinds of-”

 “I know what you guys serve, Y/N. I’m not a complete idiot.” 

 His deadpan retort came out in that unfamiliar voice of his, automatically ripping your eyes away from your notepad. 

 And there he was, peering up at you again. 

 But this time, his eyes were a lot more hooded - darker, even. Swimming with tension, his sharp jaw pulled taut in what appeared to be annoyance. 

 Before you could even get another word out, he was speaking again. In that raspy, deep tone, and you had no idea how you could get used to all of the changes at once. “I’ll take a coke- if that’s okay.” 

 You nodded, once, your tongue feeling like lead in your mouth. It was heavy and hard to move to form any more words, so you decided against talking and just flitted away from his table altogether with his order. 

 As you were passing by the open bar, you tossed Jordan, one of your coworkers, a pointed look. “Take care of table seven for me, will ya?” You motioned with a slight tilt of your head to where Felix was sitting across from the window. 

 Jordan frowned, eyes turning to slits as soon as he registered who was sitting at the table. The two of you had never been particularly friends, since he was a few years older than you. But he had been working as a waiter/bartender at AW for the past seven years and knew all of the regulars who came by. He also knew who Felix was, and what he meant to you. 

 “The little bastard giving you any trouble, darling?” He asked in a low voice as he slid a full glass of craft beer across the porcelain countertop to a waiting elderly man. “I can take care of him if you-”

 “What? No, no,” you said frantically, waving your hands in the air to stop him from going any further. Eyes shifting back to Felix, you registered the way that he was sitting there, shoulders slightly slumped in his seat, as he stared out the large window to his left side, examining the lapping waves of the seashore. “No- I just… I can’t handle all of… that tonight.” 

 Jordan gave you a soft smile, flashing a wink your way before he was back mixing another cocktail for a new customer. “You know I’ll always cover for your ass, baby girl.” 

 You giggled quietly at his absurd pet names. You knew that he was never seriously calling you any of them, but it was more in an affectionate, brotherly kind of way. Plus, he was viscerally gay, so you never had to worry that the nicknames were ever alluding to more than just a coworker-to-coworker friendship. 

 By the time you left the bar where Jordan was busily working and filed into the kitchen, you were once again swept up in the chaos of it all. Servers and managers bustling about, chefs shouting orders out at each other. And in no time at all, your mind was drowned in your work and you no longer could hold any space for the thought of him. 

 Yeji failed to catch sight of him in her busyness, which you were thankful for. She and Felix had been friends in high school, but no one had been as close to him as you had. At least, until your colossal fight on graduation night. Then, even you weren't close to Lee Felix.

 The night passed by rather quickly, as you heeded your parent's commands and helped out with the dinner rush as best as you could - taking orders, scrubbing dishes in the back of the kitchen, and cleaning up tables after customers had left their spots. 

 By the time closing hour was nearing at eleven o'clock, most of the customers had left for the night - save for a few couples dispersed throughout the place and a rowdy group of men who had steadily gotten drunker on their liquor as the hours passed. Jordan was somehow managing them swimmingly, playing into their flirtations and pouring them drinks that were ‘on the house,’ but really, just made a bigger cut in his tip paycheck.

 You were so invested and focused on your work at the register, as you sorted through all of the orders from that night, that you failed to notice the shadow that was slinking across the wall, coming towards you steadily. 

 But finally, the dark figure was upon you and snaking two strong arms around your waist, pulling you away from the front counter and pressing your back against a chiseled chest. 

 Already sensing who it was, you giggled softly and turned your head up to look into the eyes of your boyfriend, Chris, whom you had been dating for the past five years. He had always said that he didn’t want anything ‘too serious’ and that he was happy with just dating you until the last of his days. And to be honest, you weren’t complaining all that much. 

 Although, you sometimes got bothered by the thought of never getting to marry the man you had loved for so long. Once in a while, you’d get into this odd annoying spell where you’d be angry that he never wanted to make a complete and solid life with you - and instead wanted to continue dating happily like the two of you were still in high school. 

 But in the end, you always managed to push those frustrated thoughts away, deeming everything to be alright since you could do anything if it meant living the rest of your days out with the love of your life, Chris. 

 “When did you get here?” You asked, as you reached up and twisted a few fingers through his midnight coils. They were curly and stood up at all different ends, something you had always loved about him. That, and his killer body. 

 “Just a second ago- thought I’d surprise you and take you out to dinner after your long, hard day at work…” His voice trailed off, as his hands squeezed down on your shoulders, long fingers massaging the aches and pains away. 

 You felt a sly smirk already starting to spread across your mouth as you leaned into him and pressed a wanting kiss to his lips. When you pulled away, you were talking in a quiet voice. “Give me a few minutes, I’m almost done with my sorting.” 

 Just as you tried to escape from his grasp, Chris tightened his hold over you, arms encircling your waist and pressing your ass into the front of his sweatpants. You could feel the hardness there, just through the line of the thin fabric. 

 Oh, so we wanted the night to result in that kind of date. 

“Nah- I’m not letting you go,” he mumbled in a deep voice, mouth coming close to your ear as he whispered into it, warm breath fanning against the exposed span of your neck. “Been thinking about you all day baby, want you so bad tonight…” 

 He let the rest of his words trail off, forcing an ugly blush to bleed into either of your cheeks. Then he was spinning around so that he was completely facing you. The darkness of the restaurant cast a shaded glow over his broad shoulders, as he pressed into you with a sardonic smile plastered across his face. 

 “What’s so funny, mister?” You asked, tracing a finger over the line of his jaw as he tilted down into you and gave your nose a light peck. 

 “Nothing, just… I love riling you up like this when you’re at work. Feels… exhilarating.” 

 Then you had no time to react, as his face was moving and capturing your lips up in a lustful kiss. His mouth was plush and familiar against yours, and immediately, you were melting into his firm grasp, moaning softly at the way that one of his hands trailed down the curve of your ass, squeezing the covered skin there. 

 You guys were practically making out at the front counter of the restaurant, for everyone else to see. And in most normal circumstances, you’d feel embarrassed. But at the moment, you just felt overwhelmed with love and desire for your amazing, handsome boyfriend Chris. 

 As your fingers carded through his curly locks, bringing his face closer to yours as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, asking for entrance, your eyes shot open. Scanning the entire room, your focus caught on the front door, and the person who was slipping out of it in silence. 

 And there he was, once again.

 Lee Felix. 

 Your once-best friend, 

 Your once long-time neighbor, 

 Your once-classmate for more than ten years. 

He was standing there at the front door, halfway stepping through it. But his body was turned around so that he was staring straight at… you. As you were practically getting groped by your boyfriend in the middle of Angel Waves, as your mouth was getting absolutely devoured by Chris’ lips. 

 And the look he gave you then, as your gazes locked in a shocking bout of tension, left you feeling both furious and confused all at the same time. 

 His eyes studied your form, which was so tangled up with your boyfriend’s at the moment. And even from across the room, you could see the feelings that crossed his coffee-brown irises as he watched you in silence. 

 There was sadness there, 

 And pain, too. 

 But also… 

 An irrevocable amount of… ire too. 

 The heat of jealousy that you found there burned like fire in the back of your throat, making your heart tumble around in your chest and the butterflies to flicker around in a frenzy just inside your stomach. 

 The sight of it all forced an agonizing zap of energy to course through your veins, rising your spine and causing gooseflesh to erupt across your skin. 

 Then, as quickly as you had registered it, it was all gone. 

 And he was leaving out the front door, the bell at the top of the glass jingling in the remaining trace of his departure. 

 There you stood, having to deal with the confusion that bled through your mind and the anxious jumbling that floated around your entire body. 

 And the worst part about it? 

 Was that the entire time, you had never stopped kissing Chris. 

 Never stopped yanking on his locks, allowing Chris to take parts of you in front of everyone else. 

 In front of… him. 

 You had continued to feverishly make out with your boyfriend, all the while your attention had been distracted on Lee Felix, and the way that he had stared at you so wholly and starkly. 

 Almost like, the two of you were playing in a silent battle of the wits. 

 With him, having always disapproved of your relationship with Christopher Bang. 

 And you, having been in love with Chris for the past eight years. 

 In the end, you had chosen your respective sides - what with you dating the love of your life, and Felix sitting on the sidelines, giving you an air of rebuttal as he stared on in barely masked disgust. 

 But you didn’t care what he thought. You weren’t living for him and you didn’t give two shits about any of his opinions. Especially after everything that had happened and from the way that you hadn’t spoken in literal years. 

 Yeah, you definitely didn’t care about what he thought. 

 So why, then, did the look he give you just before he left the restaurant, cause your heart to race so much? 

 Why did it cause a cold sweat to break out across your brow?

 Why did it flood your mind so much, that you could no longer focus on anything else? 

 Like an intoxicating drug, like the most lethal of poisons, he was infecting your entire being. 

 With his changed physique and persona and voice and… everything. 

 But especially, the way that he had glanced at you so sardonically. 

 So darkly. 

 So painfully. 

 So… 

 Sinfully. 

To be continued...

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[rea-grimm]

Merman Edward Kenway

It was already late and you were still sitting at the bar drinking from your glass. You should have met Edward some time ago. Unfortunately for you, Ed wrote to you at the last minute that he wouldn't be able to make it.

You thought it would just be a small delay, but a few minutes turned into hours. You finally paid and bought a bottle for the trip before slowly making your way home.

Even if you didn't want to go there. Instead, you decided to go for a little walk. The weather was pleasant and you slowly headed to the beach. You kicked off your shoes and waded through the sand.

Slowly but surely you headed towards the pier where you first met Edward. This place held a lot of memories for the two of you. This is where he first took you on his boat and it was also where he first told you how much he loved you.

You sat on the edge of the pier, propped up on one leg while the other was down. You drank from the bottle before setting it down and watching the sea and the stars reflecting off the waves.

Something like that always managed to calm you down. Everything fit together perfectly. Beautiful view, soft sound of waves, pleasant sea breeze. Now all you needed was a shoulder to lean on.

You were thinking about trying to call him again when something wet and cold grabbed your leg. Before you could react, it forcefully pulled you off the pier and into the sea. All you managed was to squeal in shock.

You didn't even have time to inhale and hold your breath. The impact took your breath away anyway, and as the water surrounded you, you began to drown. Panic began to surround you and even though you tried to get above the water, you were sinking to the bottom.

You felt someone touch you again. This time, strange arms wrapped around your waist and a figure that reminded you of Edward approached you and kissed you. At that moment, you stopped drowning and felt like you could breathe freely. Which was quite a strange feeling when you were underwater.

Your saviour smiled contentedly at you before he began to carry you upwards like an angel. You slowly gave up hope that you could make it and slowly it started to feel like just a dream.

A dream that fell apart as soon as your head was above water. You immediately began to gasp as you realized that you had been able to breathe freely this entire time. The amount of alcohol and this strange experience didn't allow you to get to the bottom of it all.

The hands that saved you let you go and now you had the impression that you were completely alone in the water. However, this feeling didn't last long when you heard a warm laugh behind you that you would recognize anywhere. You turned to see Edward laughing heartily.

"What the hell was that supposed to mean?" you asked him angrily. You knew he was a great swimmer and now that you saw him, you realized that it had been him all along.

“Sorry lass,” he smiled like nothing and swam closer to you. You wanted to punch him the most, but he was much faster and more agile in the water than you. Instead, he hugged you so he was now holding you above the water and kissed your neck.

“Sorry, my love, darling…” he showered you with sweet words between kisses. You were still mad at him though, and more than that, you were now wondering what kind of big fish had brushed against your leg.

Perhaps a giant sea snake or barracuda. It was a strange feeling that together with the unknown made you nervous. You would prefer to get out of the water already.

“We should go back to shore,” you said with concern in your voice, trying to push him away. Now you didn't feel like playing his games. Besides, you were getting colder and colder.

"Are you afraid of deep water?" he joked and kissed you on the mouth, lightly nipping your bottom lip.

"This is no fun!" you protested, pushing him away from you. As you got a better look at him now, you noticed a few changes in him. He had fins instead of ears, scars on his neck that reminded you of gills, and a few blue scales on his face.

You had the impression that alcohol and the cold sea were not exactly a great combination for your brain.

“Hey love are you okay? I'll take you ashore, don't worry,” he said when he noticed your expression and how your teeth were chattering in the cold. He swam over to you and hugged you much more gently than before and headed towards the beach.

Edward took you to the beach, which was hidden from the surroundings by tall rocks and vegetation. You saw a blanket spread out on the beach, along with a picnic basket, all lit by a couple of torches.

When you were shallow enough he released you and you immediately headed for the blanket when you noticed he was still in the water. He scrambled ashore and now you could clearly see the blue tail he had instead of legs.

This was a little too much for you. You shook your head and instead took off your wet clothes and wrapped yourself in a blanket. When you finally sat up, Edward appeared next to you, completely naked. He quickly slipped into his shorts and shirt before wrapping his arms around you through the blanket.

“Feeling better, love?” he asked you resting his head on your shoulder. You leaned against him and closed your eyes.

"Did it really happen or was it just a drunken dream?" you asked him instead.

"What do you think?" he asked you innocently and even with your eyes closed you could picture him smiling.

“That I hate you,” you muttered. Edward just laughed heartily at that.

"Do not say that. I know you can't resist me," he said jokingly and he nuzzled your cheek with his, scratching you with his beard. He was right about this, though. Despite all that, you loved him. However, you planned to forgive him later.

Assassin's Creed Masterlist

[novemberhope]

Soooo… guess here are my current obsessions One Piece OCs

@auxiliarydetective I did give it a try… not everything is final yet. Might not be a great introduction like this but it was fun to do and if anyone has different questionaires (or whatever they're called) just tag me.^^

Ideas, criticism, inspiration, all is welcome :) I've never so openly done this tbh

Animal Resemblances Neri: Betta Fish Niara: Emerald Swallowtail Azura: Arctic Fox Cordelia: Bombay Cat Ellaria: Splendid Fairy Wren (Not 100% sold on that yet but it will be a beautiful bird) Ginny: Leopard Seal (looks cute but could actually kill you)

Specific Numbers Neri: 5/1/4 (ka – i - yo) (her last name) Niara: 22 (ni - a) Azura: 26 (a - tsu - ra) (eh, close enough^^) Cordelia: 5 10 0 2 (Ko - da - lei - a) (lol again close enough - but the many numbers look weird, this one might definitely change in the future?) Ellaria: 3-6-1 (Mirai = future) (it's a vision thing - but might also change if her name happens to fit better when she eventually gets one) Ginny: undefined yet

Specific Colors Neri: turquoise, light blue Niara: pale green, pale pink Azura: white, gold Cordelia: black, red Ellaria: white, grey, silver, very pale colors Ginny: a fiercy, angry red

Specific Smells Neri: ocean breeze, salt water Niara: apple & honeysuckle Azura: citron Cordelia: amber Ellaria: jasmine Ginny: honey & rose

Favourite Type of Island and Season Neri: summer on a spring island Niara: spring on a summer island Azura: winter on an autumn island Cordelia: autumn on an autumn island Ellaria: spring on a winter island Ginny: spring on a spring island

Favourite Food Neri: Seafood Niara: icecream, watermelon, blueberry pancakes, cupcakes Azura: oysters, shellfish, salad, filet mignon Cordelia: sunday roast, fried shrimp, spicy food Ellaria: Mushrooms, coffee, asian cuisine Ginny: strawberries, meat, soup

Least Favourite Food Neri: greasy food, meat, alcohol Niara: most vegetables Azura: fast food, cheap food, candy, cake Cordelia: lentils, fish sandwiches, anything with pumpkin Ellaria: fried foods, asparagus, ketchup Ginny: rhubarb, olives, brussels sprouts, eggplant

As a Family Neri: the adopted sister that comes from an entirely different culture Niara: cheerful youngest sister, always getting into mieschief Azura: the wine aunt Cordelia: oldest sister, often annoyed at her younger siblings but quick to defend them/come to their rescue Ellaria: the mother Ginny: (distant?) cousin

Real-World Nationalities Neri: Danish (as Denmark is associated with the little mermaid) Niara: Dutch (the Netherlands are described as the country of flowers and her devil fruit power is flower-based, so…) Azura: English-Irish (the latter shines through when she's drunk…) Cordelia: Italian Ellaria: Japanese Ginny: Scottish

Inner Brain Neri: probably lot's of excitement over various things that are happening around her or that she wants to give a try Niara: having fun with her friends, pretty things she likes, crushes (well one crush in particular) Azura: is annoyed at stuff and/or people half of the time so that's in her head a lot. Also, training. Cordelia: work hard, party harder, looking hot while doing both Ellaria: the fate of the world, secrets Ginny: training, anger, distrust, more anger

Suited Flower Neri: water iris Niara: sunflower Azura: white lily Cordelia: amaryllis Ellaria: tall garden larkspur Ginny:

Are they Strawhats? Neri: yes Niara: joins after the timeskip The others: no Azura: is a warlord of the sea Cordelia: works at a bar - it would be a different bar in cannon but she could keep her overall story I guess - might have to join a crew at some point though otherwise the characters would move on without her Ellaria: is with the revolutinary army (at least for some part of her story) Ginny: is with the revolutinary army

Ideas that first popped into my mind when certain OCs came to exist… Neri: it's a show about pirates, there's GOT to be a mermaid Niara: I want a character that uses a devil fruit mmmh what about plants/flowers (strangely enough, none of my pokemon oc's ever cared much about the grass type lol) Azura: I want a cool sword fighting lady Cordelia: I want a hot fierce type of character that looks good in black and that doesn't take anyone's crap Ellaria: came into the picture much later, I only recently decided somewhat on her looks, only things I know for sure is pale green eyes and can sort of see the future. Might never make it into any kind of story but she popped into my mind so here we go. Ginny: falls into the category "looks cute but can probably kill you".

Made some Picrew of them coz I saw other creators doing that

Neri:

Niara: (fun fact, she's currently one of my favorites)

Azura:

Cordelia:

Ellaria: (I'm almost certain I'm gonna keep the color palette and probably the hair...)

Ginny: (not her final look probably but I kinda want to keep the scars idk)

I took her pictures out because I decided on a different look for her. She will be a redhead now. She definitely has a scar or two on her face.

Bonus: A picture drawn by @indig0pearl featuring Neri and her own OC, Sora, as well as Nami, Robin, Chopper, and three of our friends (here also draw as OCs - yes the alpaka is one of them, she ate a devil fruit^^)

[tripthelightfandomtastic]

This is the longest thing I’ve submitted to WW so far. I present to you a daydream that wouldn’t leave me alone while I was in Greece last week. Boyfriend Danny has my heart!

——

You were napping in the afternoon sun on the sun loungers you’d rented for the day. Enjoying the warm breeze, head still a little fuzzy from the heat and the mojitos you and Danny had from the beach bar with lunch.

Slowly fluttering your eyes open you notice him missing from the bed next to you. You sit up and turn around just as he’s coming out of the sea James Bond style, looking like a literal Greek god. You watch him walk back to you as he casually throws his hair up in a high bun. God you love him.

“Hey baby, you enjoy your nap?” He leans down net to you placing a salty kiss on your lips, droplets of sea water falling off of him.

“You should have woken me up, we could’ve swam together” you pout a little

“I know beautiful but you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to disturb” another salty kiss.

As he pulls away you see a mischievous smirk appear on his face “you do seem like you need to cool off though”

He whips the hair tie out of his hair and shakes his soaked curls out over your sun baked skin and you gasp sharply “Daniel that’s so cold!” bolting upright on the sun bed you go to tickle his sides in retaliation and he easily dodges you, chuckling as a playful frown crosses your face.

“You are so dead”

“So come at me bro” he taunts.

He shoots off in the direction of the Mediterranean and you chase after him over the hot sand. You catch him once the sea slows him down and tackle him into the shallow waters, finally getting a chance to tickle his sides.

“Okay okay you got me now quit it!”

You relent and you both try to catch your breath between laughter.

“Oh babe I forgot, I got us something!” You run out of the water back to your beds, pull out 2 snorkels and speed back to the ocean full of playful excitement.

“(Y/n) these are perfect!” He grabs a snorkel, pulls you into a hug and presses even saltier kisses all over your face while you both go into fits of giggles.

You spend a while bobbing around wearing your snorkels, spotting fish and shining rocks on the sea bed in the crystal clear waters. After a while Danny taps you on the shoulder and you both come back above the water with red rings on your faces from where the snorkels had been.

You’re floating on your back now with your eyes shut, rolling gently over the waves. But what you don’t see is how Danny is looking at you. He admires your sun kissed beauty and can’t believe his luck that you met, that you agreed to go on a date with him, that you’re celebrating your 1 year anniversary in paradise.

You feel his eyes on you and crack one eye open, his gaze never falters as the biggest smile spreads across your face at your gorgeous boyfriend. You swim over to him and wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him to the sweetest kiss. He hums against your mouth as you deepen the kiss and brings your legs to wrap around his waist. Knowing you could easily get carried away, you both pull away, pupils blown, smiles wide. He runs his knuckles over your pink cheekbones and sighs “I love you so much baby”

“Not as much as I love you” taking that hand in yours and kissing his knuckles. Breaking out of his spell you take a glance back at the beach “Danny I think we scared everyone away” you whispered, noticing that it’s almost empty of people. “Naa they just don’t know how to have fun like we do. You wanna go find some cool rocks before we go?”

Satisfied with your haul of colourful rocks safely in the pocket of Danny’s trunks, you take up your spots on the sun beds and dry off in the last of the evening sun. The car journey back to your rented apartment is spent singing Cat Stevens and Fleetwood Mac at the top of your lungs with his hand in its favourite spot on your thigh.

[takeawaysbarrowukco]

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[buggy-dclown]

The mysterious invitation only said a few words: "Meet me at the Baratie."

Buggy had pondered if he should go, was this a trap by the Marines? Or something else?

As much as he examined the piece of parchment he couldn't figure out who had send it, there were no clues, seals or anything, just a small pass to get into the floating restaurant. But, of course, his curiosity had won over his cowardice, and he decided to bite.

The Baratie hadn't change a lot from the last time he had been there, perhaps they had made the bar larger, still, the place looked as busier and fancy as ever. Although, the clown, wondered if they had forgotten he was banned last time he brought his crew to the restaurant. Clearing his throat, he waited in line, impatiently, until it was his turn. He didn't wait a second a shoved the pass on the host, who did nothing but sigh and allow the pirate in.

He looked around, not finding any familiar faces or suspicious ones; just the rich and pirates, sailors and fish-men, enjoying a meal. "Alright…" Buggy whispered, shoving his hands on his pockets as he made his way to the bar, the amber lights that decorated the ceiling shining on top of him, giving a cozy and warm ambience to the place. It was then when he saw it, down there, on the furthest corner of the bar area, standing on the view to the sea: the one arm man, with the bright red locks waving against the sea breeze.

"Shanks?!" He exclaimed, a grin quickly tugging on his lips, hurrying his steps to meet the other who had already heard the loud voice of his boyfriend. He turned around, his arm and back resting against the wooden railing, "My Buggy…"

[cherrythepuppet]

Part Of Your World is out!

This is the link to the story but under the cut is the chapter in case You don't want to read it on Quotev

The quiet sounds of the ocean washing hitting up against the shore and the feeling of the breeze through Your hair was enough to make You sigh

"LOOK OUT BELOW!" Your captain, Vinnie, shouted as she swung from the upper deck on a rope and crashed into one of the outposts

You winced slightly "That's gotta sting..." You muttered to nobody in particular while Vinnie sat up and spit out one of her teeth

She blinked and grabbed it before putting it in her bag as if nothing had happen. You however, ignored it and leaned over the edge of the boat

"Isn't this great?" Vinnie asked walking up and standing beside You "The salty sea air, the wind blowing in your face... a perfect day to be at sea!" She grinned

"You say that everyday..." You replied looking down into the water watching the fish Swim up only to be startled by the ship and swim down again "But it's true" Vinnie shrugged as she turned around and leaned her back against the railing along with resting her elbows on it

You sighed and looked at her "Don't you ever wonder what it's like down there?" You asked to which Vinnie blinked and said "I don't follow"

"I mean actually be a fish... Swimming around and finding the most beautiful treasures in the water, Seeing coral reefs and-" "And getting stuck in a net then being fried up and killed?"

You shot a glare at her and rolled Your eyes before She playfully punch Your shoulder

"C'mon, Don't be such a downer tonight of all nights!" She exclaimed "Reese somehow managed to snag a shit load of booze from that bar at the last joint we visted" She grinned showing off her missing tooth

"Im not going to celebrate you and your werid holiday, Vin" You told her making her frown "N/n, As your best and only friend... I'll be honest" She began

You perked up a bit and turned Your gaze to her "Your a loser" Vinnie chuckled causing the slightly hopeful look on Your face to crack

"Jeez. Soften the blow next time, won't ya?" You scoffed looking back at the sea while Vinnie's expression softened

"Y'know... Losers like us?" She mumbled "We're all we got left on this bitch of an earth" She added. You didn't look at her but Your felt a small smile grace Your lips

"Well! Sun sets in fifteen, and no offense but I ain't spendin' with your mopey ass" Vinnie joked standing up straight "Fine, fine. Go drink with the rest of the crew" You replied

"I'll be the sober one watching the ship tonight" You said pushing Yourself off the railing and stretchingJust as Your back made the 'Pop' sound, Vinnie punched You on the back

"Spider." She explained although You didn't believe her

You turned around and began walking to the upper deck unaware of a large spider laying on Your back

Your hands rested on the steering wheel listening go the sounds of laughter and glasses clinking together from the crew below

You could also hear Vinnie stumbling Around along with her drunken laughs, You looked over the wheel and saw Vinnie leaning against the outpost

"Vinnie!" You called out "Wha- God??" Vinnie asked before looking up and noticing You "Y/n!" She exclaimed with a hiccup

You had the second most sober crew member take over the wheel as You walked down to where Vinnie and the others where You gently grabbed Vinnie's hand and lead her away from everyone else "How much did you drink?" You asked helping her steady herself

"Like..." Vinnie paused then held up six fingers "Socks..." She giggled "Okay, no more drinks for you" You told her attempting to grab the beverage from her hand

"Bruh... I'm fine" Vinnie said putting her hands on the railing once You took away her beer "Vin-" You were cut off due to the ship shaking slightly

You blinked and suddenly heard a splash in the water, You looked over to where Vinnie was standing only to see that she wasn't there anymore

Your eyes went wide as You rushed to look over the edge watching in horror as Vinnie's body sunk deeper into the water

"Vinnie!" You screamed catching the rest of the crew's attention "Stop the boat!" You demanded taking off ant accessories and giving them to Reese

You took in a deep breath then grabbed the railing before hopping over it and jumping into the cold ocean below

You narrowed Your eyes desperately trying to find Vinnie in the dark water but no luck so far while You held Your breath for as long as You could

But just as You needed Air is when You spotted her, You gasped accidently letting water into Your system yet You ignored it

You swam over to Vinnie's unconscious body however the more You swam, the more You needed air You still didn't go up for air out of fear of losing her if You did so You kept swimming even when You felt Your eyes closing and water fill up Your lungs

You reached a hand out being so close to getting to her but Your body gave out and You found Yourself slowly blacking out, The last hing You saw was a figure swimming over to You...

.

.

.

.

.

You groaned in pain as the sun's light hit Your face momentarily blinding You "I don't what they are... But they look hurt" "They're kinda ugly..."

You could hear two voices but they were the last thing on Your mind when You corced Yourself to sit up and heard the sound of a familiar feral growl

You looked beside You to see Vinnie coughing violently "Vinnie!" You sighed out of relief before Crawling over to her and patting her on the back as she kept coughing

"Fuckin' hell..." Vinnie grumbled while she wiped the remaining water from her mouth After she got all the water out of her system, She turned to look at You where she noticed the figures of the two voices

"Y/n-" She muttered causing You to turn around and look back with wide eyes upon seeing the two figures... That had fish tails

"Uhm-... Hello?" The orange waved white the Gray one just stared "IS THAT A FUCKING TALKING FISH?!" You shouted...

[afticxs]

DEAD MEN TELL NO TALES chapter 1

it was weird. being alone in an unknown country. michael had time on his hands. a lot. and he didn’t know what to do with that time.

currently, he sat on the end of his bed and watched the seagulls mount on the docks through the gap of the curtains. his father’s men, including william, were downstairs ‘planning’ whatever heist they were about to go through with.

michael would love join in, find treasure in an abandoned cave only told about in stories, find women that he could mess around with every now and again, tell stories how his father did, to be included in those stories. he wanted to be a legend, like blackbeard or calico jack.

with a sigh, he flopped backwards however wincing when he felt the springs. bed and breakfasts don’t have the best furniture. michael’s mind directed him back to the creature he met down by the bay. you were beautiful. undoubtedly. even with the intent to kill him, he couldn’t deny that you were gifted in the face.

he thought about your last words to him, will you be back tomorrow? it gave michael hope. hope that his trip would be interesting enough for him to remember it until he’s aged and ready for the weeds to take him. did you really want to see him?

michael wasn’t a ladies man per se, but he did get attention now and again. it was nothing other than simple flirting here and there, but there wasn’t anyone he saw a future with necessarily. it was never the case that one would make him aware that they wanted to see him again.

would you be waiting for him right now? so early in the morning? he pulled out his pocket watch, groaning dramatically when the time read half past ten. but on the flip side, it would make the meetings more mysterious, secretive, cryptic. seeing each other only when the moon is at her highest peak in the dark sky.

if he walked around enough, michael could tire himself out enough to have a nap later into the afternoon. if he had a nap, which he hoped he did, time would go past faster until he woke up where he could sneak away to see you.

that was definitely a plan.

getting up off the painfully small bed with a creak, michael twisted his feet into his boots. the floorboards caved underneath his steps towards the door and once it opened, michael could now hear the merry yells of enthusiastic men.

he sighed, keeping himself steady with his hand on the rickety stair banister. there was a thickness that michael was made aware of halfway down the steps, now getting a very strong waft of tobacco and rum. when he finally mounted the bottom step, he could see the remnants of smoke.

lined up on the bar were his father’s men, minus henry. they were nowhere in sight. michael’s brows scrunched in curiosity, but his face soon relaxed once the sea breeze carded through his hatless hair.

he mulled over the sight of the docks not even half a mile infront of him, mostly hidden away by the small hill directly infront of the row of hospitalities. how blades of grass turned into grains of sand. and if he looked carefully enough, michael could see the slight rock of the boats.

once his gaze finally let him leave the horizon, michael began his leisurely stroll deeper into port royal.

it was sandy. that’s for sure.

he could feel it building up in the soles of his boots. even with the grass and cobblestones, sand seemed to be everywhere. but of course it was, its an island.

there were stalls set up like a marketplace, probably selling fish and fresh fruits. michael could confirm his thoughts as he walked through the street. smoke came from the firepits used to cook and sell food ready to eat, like the previously mentioned fish. bananas and mangos were hung in nets above the fruit stalls like decoration while anything else was stored in crates presenting to any potential buyers.

it smelled nice, though. nice in an organic way because fish never smelt good unless it was cooked. better than in england where everything was probably out of date from where a lot of the country’s supply was shipped in from places like right where michael was.

the people were pleasant to look at: full of life.

no surprise there, he thought while closing his eyes as the breeze cruised through him. the sun was beating down on him, yet he wasn’t overheating how he would back in england. michael could feel his tan burning into his skin.

when he got to the end of the street, michael got to a junction leading to all directions. in the centre was a fountain and around it was carriage wheel marks going around, to and fro and lead down all the different streets. there was laughter of the children playing in and around the fountain, running under the gargoyles like they were sprinklers.

michael smiled, the sight reminding him of evan and lizzy. it encaptured them perfectly, anywhere was a playpen for them. there were girls playing jump rope and boys roughhousing in the sand that they know they’ll find in a crevice somewhere down the week.

with a blissful hum, he walked past the fountain while doing his best not to interfere with his surroundings. however, a young girl, maybe thirteen, splashed him by flicking water up with her feet. he made a noise of surprise, turning around to look at the giggling girl with a shiver.

she trudged as best as she could through the water, but michael took off his boots and stepped into the water in enough time to kick water back and get his retaliation in. they both chuckled until unknowingly behind him, a trio of boys all got him from behind. michael’s back arched due to the cold. with a grit of his grinning teeth, michael bent down and used both of his arms to spatter the three with a mini wave.

gradually, surrounding children chose to join in attacking michael because who didn’t want to play with the big kid? they were all laughter and giggles with time until they all had to leave. the sun began to tilt to the west, indicating that it was some point in the afternoon.

now he could take his nap!

and honestly, he was tired. and with his beyond damp clothing dragging him down, michael’s sluggishness would wear him down quicker than it could.

his foot prints dried in the sands behind him, leaving no trace of him behind. the sun pounded on his form, tiring him out to the brink of exhaustion by the time michael got back to the inn. his father was downstairs by the bar, probably sipping on tea with henry when the door chimed to signal his son’s arrival. michael yawned as they made eye contact. a look of disapproval yet relief made its way onto william’s face.

apart from his father’s decent sized crew, there was probably only ten people who he didn’t recognise, not including the servers behind the counter. with a particularly loud sigh, michael’s father shook his head, “that’s the second time in a row you’ve come in sopping wet!”

he tutted and michael nodded, “sorry, father, got a bit sidetracked is all..” he didn’t wait for a response before he dragged himself to the staircase and made a prompt move to his and his father’s shared room.

michael was quick to strip down into nakedness, not caring about the ‘what ifs’ as he was too tired. he flopped down onto the stiff bed, practically dozing off as soon as his head hit the pillow.

it didn’t feel that long ago that michael had fallen asleep, but like he had hoped earlier that day, the moon was high in the sky. he sat up, cringing now that he realised he was naked and his father had walked past him to get to his bed that he was loudly snoring away in.

with a silent hiss and a fist pump, michael carefully slipped off of his bed and looked through his bag to pull out underwear and a quick change of clothes. he found a top and trousers that barely fit his waist. whatever though.

as silently as he could, michael slipped the articles on with as minimal rustling he could muster. his father stirred a few times, even cursing in his sleep every now and then. michael thought he was clear as he slipped on his satchel.

then, he slipped on his right boot.

boots that still had water sucked into the sole. the squelch was immaculate. michael cringed as he slipped the boot off as quickly as he could, keeping them in his hand. michael turned around to see if his father had even rolled to the sound.

the boy watched as he rolled onto his side, facing the wall. michael almost let out a sigh of relief until william started grumbling about the floorboards. grimacing, michael crouched down just behind the bedside cabinet. the bed creaked as william turned around and made up a noise of disinterest, “where? where’s that boy gone?” after a few seconds of silence, michael’s father tutted and got comfortable back into his bed, “probably gone for a piss..”

with a straight face, michael remained crouched for what he assumed was fifteen minutes before william’s snoring resumed. his joints popped as he stood up from his cramped position. without hesitation, he opened the door and stepped out into the hall. there, he slipped on the squelchy boots and walked away from the door.

merry chatter remained downstairs, very few voices. maybe four or five. michael jogged down the stairs in anticipation and marched headstrong for the door, uninterested in chatter.

the breeze was good as it always was. it filtered between the strings of his v cut shirt, hydrating his sleep struck skin. michael maintained an even pace as he jogged down the bay and down the rocks where you had first met.

michael was careful, this time, as he trekked down the rocks to where you had draped him across in such an disgraceful manner.

he didn’t even get to sit down and make himself comfortable before you emerged from the sea with a shy smile, “i didn’t think you’d come..”

“i didn’t think i’d make it out of my room for a few moments,” michael joked, crossing his legs on the rock and readjusting his satchel, “would you of been sad if i didn’t?”

you shrugged, “i don’t know. there’s never a case where you just come back,” you giggled, implying that you had a successful man hunt before him. michael shuddered.

“so i’m the first?” you nodded, pulling your hands out from the confines of the ocean and resting your chin on your arms ontop of the rock.

“you mentioned you were with your dad yesterday?” you began, “how long are you here for?”

michael made a noise of uncertainty, “i’m not sure.. not that long, we’re supposed to go to america soon and then back home.”

“where’s home?” you asked, shuffling to get comfortable.

“england, just before hastings.”

you nodded, “that’s quite far. must’ve been a long trip and america is also just as far. i’ve visited a few times in the past before the great sea war started..”

michael tilted his head, “the great sea war?”

“yes, the great sea war,” you confirmed, “want me to tell you about it?”

when michael said yes, you began to go into detail about the ongoing war between the seven seas. you explained how poseidon felt threatened by oceanus, a direct descendant of the titans, when he made claim over the aegean sees. ruled by tyranny which caused a lot of creatures to flee, including yourself. many of your people migrated towards these areas, but it seemed that it was only you in this area specifically.

“there’s more under there?” michael exclaimed, astonished and quite frankly, scared. you nodded enthusiastically, “mhm!”

“does the kraken exist?” his face went deathly pale once you confirmed with a more than happy yes!

“there is only one, as far as i’m aware..” you admitted in thought, “i’ve only met one.. either way there’s more creatures on land then the sea.”

“oh lord..” michael gulped as you continued!

“hydra exists too, there’s one body and plenty of heads, i can tell you that! very aggressive, pretty sure my great uncle got eaten by it..”

“i thought sirens were exclusively girls?” michael raised a brow, leaning back on his hands. your tail playfully moved back and forward to create waves, “how do you think we reproduce, silly?”

“ah.”

“those are probably the only scary ones to worry about, a lot of them are cute and harmless. just.. odd looking.”

“how are they cute if they look odd?” michael teased with a hum, placing his fingertips in the water and flicking water at your face.

it was scary. watching how your nose twitched and your eyes darted to where his fingers dipped lightly in the water. you had sharp senses and an insatiable hunger.

“hey!” you chuckled, using your tail to flick some droplets back. you shrugged to follow up with his question, “personality, perhaps.”

the two of you broke out into giggles.

it was peaceful. you both conversating without the threat from yesterday. when you both calmed down, you sighed and made eye contact with michael. your eyes glowed again, the moon at a higher peak than yesterday: at its highest. it was probably past midnight.

“it gets lonely out here sometimes,” you admitted with a pouty frown. michael encouraged you to go on, “how?”

“since the war started, everyone’s been.. territorial,” you began, “nobody knows who is on whose side of the war. the trust isn’t there. but it’s fair, i guess. there’s many on the side of oceanus, pretending to be behind poseidon just to infiltrate my people’s territory and kill off anyone who doesn’t believe in them.”

“i could just be passing by and the next second i’m being ripped to shreds because of a potential threat.”

“that’s.. alarming actually,” michael shuddered, “how long’s it been going on for?”

“70 years. just about,” you said matter-of-factly, “my father fought for around 30 of them.”

you exhaled, turning your head so it rested on your arms. your eyes followed the movement of your tail while michael pulled something out of his satchel.

a book. followed by ink and a feather.

silent you remained as michael set up a mini station. the quill dragged across the page in no time, making a satisfying scratching sound. you shuddered, drawing in a breath.

“that’s nice..” you mumbled, now looking at michael, “what’s that?”

“my sketchbook,” michael reiterated, absentmindedly, “can you describe the kraken for me?”

you nodded, going back to looking at your tail however your focus was elsewhere, “well, it’s like a squid but giant. tentacles long enough to stretch for miles. but its legs are more like an octopus. and it’s eyes are huge! they’re one both sides of its head so it can’t see forward, but the eyes are red where the whites should be and black everywhere else. oh! and it’s head is like a pointy hat if it was soft. that’s the only way i could describe it..”

michael hummed, “what’s it like? is it aggressive, dormant even? it’s clearly close to extinction if there’s one. personally, i wouldn’t be an aggressive creature if i was the last of my kind.”

you giggled, “it’s pretty lazy. sits in an underwater cave that just about fits its size. i’m pretty sure it has an easily satuated appetite so it hunts every now and then.”

the drag of quill to paper could’ve lulled you to sleep, but you refused to fall asleep and be so vulnerable infront of a human. gods, you were supposed to drag him down to the deepest depths that you could while you sucked on his bones and ripped through his skin. but gods, was he charismatic and charming and good looking and so easy to be around.

aphrodite’s child himself.

you admired his strong facial features, following the shadow of his jawline to his cheekbone up until you noticed the tiny plait that was in his hair at the front. it fell infront of his face and strangely enough, a black bead was situated at the bottom to keep it from unraveling.

what broke you from your train of thought was his head turning your way. his eyes delayed on his page, going over it one more time before he showed it to you.

it was a fairly accurate sketch of the kraken with neat handwriting surrounding it. at the top it was labelled ‘the kraken.’ you smiled, your eyes skimming over the mini fact file he produced.

“is it good?” michael asked, nervous to hear your opinion. nonetheless, you nodded enthusiastically, “it’s really good! accurate..”

you squinted, going over the sketch, “are you sure you’ve never encountered the kraken before?”

michael chuckled, shaking his head, “no, i have heard stories though. a lot of your people are myths to us.”

you hummed, lifting a finger to drift up and down his knee, “i can describe more for you if you’d like..”

michael agreed to listen to you ramble about sea monsters and creatures.

it must’ve been atleast an hour and a half of his quill scratching the paper and pages turning until he had pages on the sea harpy, hydra, hippocampus, sea spirits, leviathan, selkies, undines and the nix.

however, you refused to give him information on sirens, claiming you’d be giving away your secrets. and he could respect that, he did respect that.

after screwing the lid to his ink pot on, michael tucked his stationary away into his satchel. he flicked through the analysis pages a final time before sliding it in his bag too and sealing it shut.

“i should probably head back. it’s definitely late…” michael didn’t have his pocket watch on him.

with a sad hum, you backed away in understanding, “you’ll definitely come back tomorrow?”

michael nodded, “not like i’d be busy at this time.”

the two of you chuckled into the moonlight, bidding each other a good night before michael turned on his heel and carefully navigated his way back down to the sandy coast.

you watched until his figure disappeared through the inn door. you sighed airily, a small smile on your face before you dipped down into the waters of your territory.

michael looked around the inn. not even the servers were around and the oil lanterns were all put out which left him to take the hand of the moonlight and let her guide him to the staircase. it caved under his weight but his boots no longer squelched with every step. it wasn’t quiet, per se, but he could tell everyone was asleep. there were loud snores coming from every room and michael wondered if he could even get backed to sleep.

the door creaked as michael jiggled the doorknob until he heard the click to indicate it was open. he peered his head in, noting his dad was now sprawled uncomfortably across his bed.

with a silent scoff, michael took his boots off after entering his room. he let his satchel fall onto the bed side table before he layed back down carefully to not alarm his father.

before sleep came to take him, michael thought of you. how your voice was low with sleep, how your finger drew shapes into his knees but also how your instincts kicked in even if you didn’t really intend to use them.

if he remembered, he’d sketch your image into his book and write about the small details of yourself that you displayed.

[stardustedsins]

Gentle love prompts #41. Not letting them go when hugging

Hol Horse/reader (gender neutral reader)

You’re on Texas’s Galveston Island with Hol for a weekend getaway. He’s been showing you around the places he remembers fondly from his past visits: a bar near your hotel, a chocolate shop on the Strand, and his favorite fishing spot. Of course, you’ve spent some time on the beach, too. Now he’s driven you all the way to the east end of the island, past the bridge you’d driven over when you’d arrived.

“Here we are.” He says, pulling into a ferry loading lane.

“Where does the ferry go?” You ask, watching the cars ahead of you pull onto the ferry as you inch forward.

“Port Bolivar. Not much to see there. They’ve got a retired lighthouse and an old fort, but it’s more of a gateway to the rest of the peninsula.”

“Then why are we going there?”

“Just to ride the ferry. We’ll have to turn around and take the next one back too, unless you wanna see the park at the fort.” He says as your turn to board comes, and you pass over the loading ramp with a bump. “It’s nice, it’s free, and sometimes you can see dolphins.”

He pulls up until the reflective-vested workers gesture for him to stop. He turns the car off and pulls the parking brake, following the instructions on the signs scattered around the deck. Then he unbuckles his seat belt.

“Come on, we’re gettin’ out.” He hops out and you follow him, slipping between cars to the walkway near the side of the boat.

“We’re goin’ up to the front, you can see better there.”

“Isn’t the front on a boat called the prow or something?”

“Honey, I’m a cowboy, not a sailor.” He laughs as you come to stand near the chain keeping passengers away from the very front of the boat, which lowers into the loading and unloading ramp. There’s a good view from here, and the sea breeze on your face is nice.

There’s a small jolt as the ferry’s engines start up and it begins to pull away from the dock. You sway into Hol with the motion, looping your arm around his waist in a side hug and not letting go of him.

“It’s not gonna be that rough, you don’t need to hold on to me.” He says, and you smile at him with a wink.

“Maybe I want to.”

“No complaints here.” He grins and throws an arm across your shoulders. The stronger breeze of the boat’s forward motion and the spray from the sea splashing at the side near you are cooling. At the back of the boat, people are throwing scraps of food to noisy gulls. You watch pelicans floating on the water pass by, scanning for the dolphins Hol had said you might see.

The trip isn’t very long, maybe twenty minutes, so it doesn’t take long before you can see the other dock. Hol gives you a squeeze and lets you go.

“Let’s get back to the car. Gotta be ready to get off.”

You follow him back as the engines audibly slow down on approach. You buckle up again, and soon the front ramp has been lowered and the first cars are being waved off. When it’s your turn, Hol has to drive a little ways down the road to find a place to turn around. And then you’re back in the loading line to do it again.

You repeat the whole process from before, standing at the front of the boat again once you’re underway. You keep an eye out again for dolphins. You watch a bird dive and come up with a fish in its beak, and the wind picks up enough that Hol has to tie the strings of his hat in case it blows off his head, but you don’t see any dolphins. Not until-

“Over there.” Hol pulls you close to point at something a ways away from the boat. You look closely, and there they are: the dorsal fins and curved backs of dolphins jumping and playing at the surface. It looks like there are four or five of them, but it’s hard to count when you can’t see them all at one time.

You watch them until you can’t find them again. Maybe they’ve moved on, or maybe the boat has left them behind. Either way, the return trip comes to and end, and you’re soon back in the car driving away from the dock in the direction of your hotel.

“That was pretty cool.” You decide, watching the seawall pass by your window. “Thanks for showing me.”

“Glad you liked it. Tomorrow we can try some of the museums around town. I’ve never been, myself.”

“Not much of a museum-goer in your youth?” You tease, and he shakes his head.

“I’m hardly a museum-goer now, but I think you’ll like ‘em.”

It’s sweet that he’s planned activities just for you. You’re looking forward to it.

[archetypal-archivist]

A Kinder World AU- Part 13

Forever’s House

masterlist

Forever originally had no plans to move to Quesadilla town, having a stable job at a local aquarium and a partner in Brunim, but upon making an ill-fated bet at work and refusing to back down, his life took a rapid spiral for the worst. The topic of the bet? The existence of cryptids like vampires and sirens, of which Forever is an ardent believer in, much like his son Richarlyson. However, discussing such matters with your supervisor and then refusing to back down when questioned doesn't generally lead to being thought of as a credible scientist, keeping your job, or convincing your partner you’re sane. Now VERY divorced and incredibly salty, Forever lives in Quesadilla as a full-time fisherman, a part-time parent, and an occasional cryptid hunter. It works out about as well as one might imagine.

1) Moving across the world to live in a small town isn't cheap, especially when moving on short notice, so Forever pooled his money with Pac, Mike, and Felps to help with the building of the Favela. Having the least to contribute, he got the smallest residency but given how little time he actually spends there, he doesn't care about that much. Most of his time is spent on the water with the fish, but his real hope is to find evidence of a mermaid or something similar. The original bet leveraged his reputation as a marine researcher and oceanic expert against his beliefs in something that the world largely thought to be non-existent. If Forever could find evidence, his supervisor agreed to let him have his old job back but as it stood, his colleagues thought his degree to not be worth the paper it was printed on if it was given to someone with such wild thoughts regarding what species could exist in scientific fact.

2) Forever's routine is simple- wake up early, put on his work boots, check his gear, go fish, return home in time for dinner, put boots back at the door, go to sleep in time to do it all again. At least, he likes to believe it's that simple. But then, no plan survives contact with the hyperactive child and the self-assigned co-parents to said child. Forever's actual routine can include everything from getting drunk at the bar and pining over his lost love to getting roped into testing Pac and Mike's newest invention in sonar technology and no it won't play shitty pop music for four hours this time, we promise. Regardless of how the day is structured, Forever is bound to be horribly busy. He's never been the type to be still or quiet for long but with Quesadilla tending to be both, something about the sleepy small town atmosphere just has him ready to go, go, go.

3) Given how small his home is, much of Forever’s day to day life and relation is spent on the roof of his house, open to the sea breeze and the calling gulls. Much like Pac and Mike, Forever also uses the space for experiments and the construction of new tech that could end up being useful one day, but he tends to work on a much smaller scale. His largest projects are all wrapped up in trying to hunt down cryptids and those involve sachets of lucky herbs and silver wire as much as they do solder and electricity. Not that he’s had much luck with either his projects or the cryptid hunt, of course- for all the hard work that Forever puts into trying to find neat solutions to his problems, things rarely go to plan in his life. Indeed, there’s a small part of him that wishes to give up the hunt for cryptids entirely. Forever wonders at times if maybe he ought to give up on his ex, Brunim, and should find someone else to settle down with. The cute blond across the way seems promising and he just knows that the sunset from his little yellow house is simply gorgeous. 

4) The layout of Forever’s house consists of a combined kitchen and living area, a small single bedroom with a bed and trundle that takes up most of the floor space, a tiny bathroom, and a closet where Forever and Richarlyson fight the laws of three dimensional space to try and fit all there stuff in it. It’s a good thing that Richarlyson loves his dad as much as he does because the two are involved in each other’s lives a lot, sharing a bedroom, meals, and their favorite yellow soccer jersey. Richarlyson is happy enough with the arrangement but Forever is all too aware that his kid deserves better- and so the Favela five have become collective parents. Where Richarlyson’s next meal is coming from, where he’ll be sleeping, who’s turn it is to wrestle into the bathtub... It all varies depending on who is available. It might seem unstable, but if there’s ever a time when a parent can’t step up, there’s always someone to lend a helping hand, just like in the cases of Tilin and Juanaflippa. 

5) Forever knows he’s far from perfect and it itches at him late at night, sometimes to the extent that he can’t sleep. Having to share his child’s time so that Richarlyson is adequately cared for... Being a single parent surrounded by friendly strangers who can parent your kid better than you can... Unable to provide your kid with everything he wants or deserves... There are nights when Forever wishes he could go back in time and give up his longing for something more, something magic. Give up on that special something that would make the world a little less quiet, a little less drab. Wishes that he could be happy in a world that’s still and sleepy and content with every day being the same as the last. But Forever’s mind moves too fast for that kind of life and time travel is wishful thinking. All he has left is the present. But... that’s cold comfort on his darkest nights, so sometimes- sometimes there’s the a shadowy place, the sand, and a bottle. He doesn’t tell anyone about his worst nights, but sometimes, it feels like the sea is judging him for his choices. Forever doesn’t mind it much- it can’t critique him any harder than he critiques himself.