#bts sirens

[lostmo0nchild]

Nostos of the Siren🫧

🌬️Chapter : 02 Normal

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·。°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·。°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·。

word count: 18k

pairings : bts ot7 x female reader

trigger warnings: violence, blood, consumption of alcohol and smoking, car racing, driving under the influence of alcohol, speed driving, mentions of death, mentions of gangs. disclaimer : I do not encourage anyone to recreate scenes from this fanfic. The characters, their actions, and everything that unfolds here exist solely within my imagination — nothing more, nothing beyond that.

synopsis: On a small island where summers hum with tourists and nothing ever happens, Y/N thought she knew every secret the sea held. Working at her grandfather’s bookshop, she expected long nights, cheap beer, and fleeting summer flings. What she didn’t expect was to nearly drown in the cursed Moon Cove—and for her ordinary life to unravel completely when she becomes entwined with seven sirens.

🧿Nostos (νόστος) – noun

Meaning: return home, homecoming (esp. after a long journey).

Origin: from Greek néomai (νέομαι) = to return.

Related: formed the root of nostalgia (nostos = return + algos = pain), meaning longing for home/past.

previous chapter ⋆˚꩜｡ next chapter

🌬️Chapter 2

“Loosen the reins a little—see where it takes you, pretty thing”

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“Some of the older local women used to tell us, back when we were kids, that this was the swimming pool of Nereids—sea nymphs, daughters of the sea-god Nereus. The younger ones loved to swim here under the full moon, and if an innocent soul happened to drown while the nymphs were playing, they would take pity on them and beg their father to save them. In return, it was said they would become half human-half fish, their soul forever be bound to the sea. I guess it’s a mix of folklore and mythology. I haven’t really fact-checked any of this”

“So… like mermaids? Or sirens?”

“I don’t really know the difference, but if I spot one, I’ll be sure to tell them you asked.”

“Ha. Yeah, hilarious, you smartass.”

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The ocean swallowed the sun in slow reverence, the horizon burning with molten gold and orange—its edges set aflame in an intimate last kiss, two elements that should never meet holding one another for a fleeting eternity before parting again.

 It was the hour for Helios—the Titan god of the sun—to reunite with his beloved sister, guiding his shimmering chariot of gold and light, forged by the hands of mighty Hephaestus.

That chariot bore the blazing orb mortals dared to call the sun, drawn by four immortal, fire-breathing steeds, their gilded manes streaming like banners of flame—dazzling, untamed, and nearly impossible to behold. Each dusk, the sun did not set gently but thundered forth on wheels of burning bronze, carried by creatures no mortal hand could ever command.

Across the sky he would ride, coaxing it into blushes of pink and purple before surrendering to the quiet blue of night. And as he descended into the west, sinking back into Oceanus, his sister Eos—the Titan goddess of dawnawaited him—painting the heavens in strokes of rose and gold, standing at the gates of dawn to welcome her brother home.

Taehyung stretched out, his sun-kissed golden skin unfolding lazily like a wild cat basking on a beach towel.

 The setting sun reached for him, spilling warmth across his well-built torso, heat sinking in slow and soothing. His hair, long and curling with salt against his forehead like little wave patterns, while the white sand beside him only deepened the contrast of his caramel tan.

 Wired headphones snug over both ears, he let a playlist of jazz and sunset beach lounge spill through him. His gaze lingered on his brothers splashing in the turquoise water, but his mind drifted far—daydreaming of places he had yet to touch, yet to see.

He felt a gentle tug on his towel and leaned into it, his head falling softly to the right, where Jimin inched closer, carefully applying sunscreen to his face and along his sculpted arms.

His pastel-pink swim trunks, striped in white, matched his own brown pair—pulling him back to the day Jimin had come home from the local market, grinning, thrilled that Miss Rosa had given them for half the price.

Jimin sat up right now, a creamy-white towel draped loosely around him, delicate fingers brushing  away  the last traces of sunscreen from  his honey-warmed abs. His manga comic book resting between his slim legs, pages barely stirring in the salt-soft breeze.

Beside him, a small black net lay open on the faded white sand, cradling seashells, clams, and smooth, sea-worn peculiar stones that glimmered faintly in the soft bleed of sunset gold. He had always searched for treasures along the shore—a tender habit that clung to him since childhood.

Sometimes, Hoseok would dive deep into the reef just for him, resurfacing with luminous clams and gleaming shells cupped carefully in his hands—offerings that found their way into Jimin’s growing collection, tokens of the way Hoseok noticed him, always.

“Here—want some?”Jimin asked, holding out the small red sunscreen bottle that smelled faintly of watermelon and aloe. A gentle smile curved his lips as he brushed the stubborn side strands of his black hair away from his eyes.

“I’ll pass, thank you Chim” Taehyung paused his playlist and set his headphones down. He rose slowly, stretching his arms over his head, muscles popping and flexing along his muscular arms and broad back.

He keeps his gaze fixed ahead —on Namjoon. Stretched out on the wet sand at the water’s edge, waves curling gently around his legs, draping them in sand and brine, the soft rhythm of the surf brushing over him like a quiet lullaby.

 One hand tucked beneath his head, the other holding a book, he lounged with effortless ease. His freshly cut hair bristled into tiny, precise spikes along his skull, catching the light like delicate sea urchin΄s  needles. His blue stripped with white lines trunks drenched with salt, a strip of seaweed curling around his ankle like a bracelet—gift of the sea to a gentle protector of the ocean.

 Namjoon has been feeling restless lately.

Taehyung could tell even if his brother never voiced his worries to them. He always carried the burdens alone, quietly observing and brainstorming solutions or ways to always be one step ahead.

Perhaps growing up looking up to him was what made Taehyung an observant as well, he always felt like the narrators voice in somebody else’s life. The moment Taehyung became aware of the fate he and his brothers were entangled with he knew that he must become someone worthy for them.

If he could not become the guiding light Namjoon was, nor carry destruction in his hands the way Yoongi did, then Taehyung would become something else entirely. He would be the quiet thing lingering between shadows and moonlight—the one who watched. The one who noticed every fracture hidden behind tired smiles, every danger lurking beneath calm waters. And when the darkness finally reached for his family, he would step into it without fear, meeting it head-on with fangs bared and heart wide open.

Was the council throwing him more responsibilities again? Was it the full moon tonight that made him agitated like it did to them? Was Taehyung slacking lately? Did he let his brothers carry all the worries and burdens again while he felt safe under their tails? His fists clenched at his sides.

Jimin rested a hand on his shoulder.

Fully standing now he was watching him with a sad tingle on his eyes. His hand tracing slow circles on his shoulders, soothing him, taking his worries like the hands of a small child that is lost and scared.

Of course Jimin could read him like an open book. No matter how blank his poker face would look, Jimin always knew. Even though he was a Kim and Jimin a Park, they might as well were twins accidentally separated at birth.

“It’s just the full moon tonight, Tae. Don’t let it get to you like that. Come on, help me get Jungkook out of the water before the others get here”

And just like that the dark current of thoughts he was drowning himself with eased out of him with a deep exhale he didn’t know he was holding.

It’s just the stupid moon.

And of course he would blame the moon for everything if he had to, because he would never dare to even think of blaming the sea. The solely reason he was alive today.

Far off, Jungkook balanced gracefully on his blue SUP, the black paddle slicing through the shimmering water as the fading golden light danced across the ripples around him.

Vibrant, colorful tattoos glimmered along his arm and stretched across his muscular back as he faced away from them, eyes fixed on the sunset. His salt-dark hair fell long and messy, curling at the nape of his neck. If Taehyung remembered correctly, he was drifting right over the heart of the reef—a vivid tangle of coral and anemones spread beneath him.

Jungkook had mapped the entire ocean floor surrounding the island—every hidden cove, every shifting current, every flicker of life beneath the surface committed to memory. He knew it the way one knows a familiar heartbeat. Out there now, he moved with an easy rhythm, paddle dipping and pulling as if it were second nature, as if the ocean answered him back. Water lapped at his feet, tracing slow, familiar patterns along his skin—soft, alluring, almost like it was calling him home.

With Jimin leading the way, their feet stopped on the sore, small waves caressing their souls as if welcoming them back, tempting them to walk deeper into a warm embrace.

Namjoon tilted his head facing them, he smiled and rose to a seated position, closing his book and placing it gently like a delicate shell on his beach towel, further away from the waters reach.

“Joon, you need to rinse. They’re on their way back—and you know Jin’s gonna lose it if you stain his new car seats” Jimin added.

 “Ah… I had quite forgotten about that. Thank you, Jimin”

He rose from the beach floor with a sheepilish grin, and Taehyung understood he won’t get away without having an earful from Jin tonight.

His back and legs were still coated in wet sand, his limbs tangled with strands of seaweed that clung stubbornly to his skin. He chuckled low to himself upon the state his brother has ended up, how did he even manage to get sand on his armpit?

“Hyung… I’d suggest you hurry. You seem to have collected half the beach in your hair” Taehyung laughed.

Jimin really wanted to take a photo of him and send it straight to the group chat—just to let Jin see it and watch all hell break loose. That would definitely get him back—especially after Namjoon ate his freshly cooked ramen last week while he was in the shower. But he knew better than to snitch on Joon—Jin would drag his ass just for enabling him in the first place.

“Oh… do I?"

He futilely tried to brush the sand from his back and hair, only for it to spread instead, sticking stubbornly to his palms and settling along his stomach. How in the seven seas did he make it worse? Taehyung laughed, his boxy smile peaking innocently, his eyes curving like silver tides.

Jimin shook his head, sighing as if he were deeply disappointed in the state of the team—but really, he just wanted to laugh and throw himself into the sand, to roll around like he used to as a child, when he’d pretend to be a starfish sprawled out under the sun. Instead he set his eyes on the youngest and smirked.

Getting Jungkook out of the water wasn’t an easy task, but Jimin knew his weakness—the one thing that would send the stubborn man running out like a great white shark was right on his gills.

“Kook! Jin and Yoongi are on their way—you need to get out. Now”

Jimin called after Jungkook, making him turn swiftly to look at them, still balanced effortlessly on the SUP they had bought him for his last birthday. They had all chipped in from their savings, and Jimin had painted a black water dragon for him—his dream tattoo design.

After that, he almost never came to the beach without it. Bless Namjoon’s brain for rationalising why a SUP was better than a surfboard—because Jungkook would absolutely try to surf in a freaking storm if the waves were big enough.

Taehyung was absolutely sure, though, that the only reason Jungkook hadn’t already gotten a surfboard was because he was saving up for a bike—or maybe, knowing him, both.

Really, it was only a matter of time before Jin tipped into that berserk edge again. Times like this made him grateful he wasn’t the oldest of his brothers. He couldn’t deny it—he wanted a bike of his own too, badly enough that it sat in the back of his mind like a constant, growing itch. Especially after Yoongi had sent his off the cliffside—only for it to land perfectly on the road below, like gravity had simply decided it didn’t apply to him. The Hook Syndicate was still somewhere behind them, chasing his tail like a bad omen that refused to stay buried.

“I don’t need to dry, hyung. I’m not coming out yet”

Taehyung  sighed.  Yeah he saw that wave forming from a mile out, they were so doomed. He glanced at Jimin beside him, already smirking with mischief, like a little fox seconds away from getting them all into trouble.

“Okay, Hobi’s gonna be here any minute with food” he said, shrugging slightly. “But I guess… there won’t be any left for you by then. Suit yourself, brother”

Locking eyes with Jimin, Taehyung understood instantly what he was plotting. A smirk tugged at his lips as he hooked an arm over Jimin’s shoulders, turning them both back toward their things as he added, just loud enough for Jungkook to hear.

“Let him be, Chim. More fries for me, then” he said smoothly, almost indulgently. “I could certainly eat for three right now… just the thought of a double smashed burger with extra cheddar—ah” He paused, faintly amused. “My mouth is practically watering.”

“Yah! You better not touch mine! I’m hungry too—no, I’m coming out. I’m coming out!”

“Yahhh, Hobi hyung, don’t let them touch my food!”

Jungook’s cry out made Taehyung lock eyes with Hoseok who was now leaning against the palm tree where they had been lying just moments before.

He was smiling sly at them—probably having heard everything just like the rest of the people around them, well they were never known to be the quiet batch.

His long dark hair curled softly around the nape of his neck, strands tousling lazily in the warm breeze. One strong arm flexed, bicep curling tightly, as he carried his maroon skateboard in one hand, the practically see-through white tank clinging just enough for the sharp lines of his abs to peek through beneath the sunlight.

He was swiftly swinging the two bags of food between his slender fingers in front of their faces, like he was summoning a pack of hungry sharks straight toward him.

And that was all it took.

Taehyung made a run for it, shoving Jimin to the side as he stumbled into motion, nearly tripping over his own feet in the scramble forward.

He heard a dark chuckle behind him, and before he could even process it, he was sprinting toward Hobi—only to let out an “oof” as he was taken down into the sand, Jimin tackling him cleanly to the ground.

They rolled to a stop right in front of Hoseok’s feet, silvered sand clinging to their skin as it swirled around them in a slow, chaotic dance. It looked almost like a game of dominance—neither willing to yield, neither willing to lose.

Taehyung had Jimin locked in a headlock with one arm, grit in his teeth, and still managed to stretch his free hand out toward the bag like it was the only thing that mattered in the world.

“Must I ask—are you five years old?”

Namjoon now stood tall beside them, a quiet chuckle leaving him at the way his brothers were behaving. Water droplets clung to his hair, sliding down the labyrinth of his abs and licking their way down of the carved lines of his torso, tracing a slow path across him before disappearing into the sand beneath his feet.

Jimin tapped Taehyung twice, signaling for release from the choke hold, his expression twisting into clear disdain as he watched Namjoon casually drip water all over them like it was nothing.

Hoseok lay casually on his orange beach towel, his red-and-white striped trunks creasing as he opened the plastic bag and began handing out the hot burgers.

Jungkook emerged jogging toward them, SUP in hand, golden sand clinging to his strong legs as he closed the distance between them.

He let the board drop onto the sand before tossing back his long black hair, sending droplets of saltwater scattering around him in the warm air. His chest rose and fell with each panting breath, abs tightening with the movement as water trailed down his skin, shimmering gold beneath the fading sunset.

His doe-like eyes scanned the group, searching for the rich, savory scent that already had his stomach growling.

Namjoon handed him a wrap, while he sat down on a towel munching on his own food, eyes now casted at the beautiful sunset glowing like a thousand fireflies caught in the sea’s breath.

“Have there been any updates regarding tonight?” Namjoon said between bites, his foot idly sketching patterns in the sand.

 “The usual patrolling. No drama, unfortunately” Hoseok chimed in, his voice light and almost cheerful, though his eyes stayed distant—watching a group of little boys further down the beach, laughing as they dragged small plastic buckets through the sand, building a castle with their father under the sunset.

“They need us at Lava downtown. Isn’t that just charming?” He added.

“Ah, the bar—sweet! Is Leon working tonight?” Jimin wondered, reaching out to steal a fry from Taehyung, who promptly pulled his food out of reach with a grin.

“I believe so” Hoseok mumbled under his breath before fishing a Sprite out of his mint green tote bag. He cracked the can open and took a sip, droplets of condensation sliding down and tracing his biceps, curling around them like a bracelet of water.

“Ah man… I really wanna drink tonight. It’s been so long” Jimin exaggerated, dropping himself in a dramatic flourish onto Jungkook’s side and kicking him lightly on the thigh.

“Beer and fried chicken doesn’t sound bad to me” Taehyung added, shrugging his shoulder as he fed a fry to a stray cat hiding beside the palm tree.

“It has been some time since all seven of us patrolled together. Very well—why not?”

Namjoon said, glancing at Hoseok for any objection—though he already knew his hyung had likely agreed the moment Jimin brought up drinking.

“Family time… and Leon, right?”Jungkook commented, tossing his paper wrapper into the bag as he reached over to collect everyone’s trash.

“Not exactly ‘family time’ if Leon’s missing, Kook” Hoseok replied, already fishing his phone out of his bag to text Yoongi about their whereabouts. They should be here any minute now.

“Hey, hyungs!  Over here!” Jungkook exclaimed, rising from his seat and waving both hands overhead as he spotted Jin and Yoongi walking down the sandy path toward the beach.

“Lovely. Still feels like hell out here” Yoongi muttered as he neared the group, a hand shielding his eyes despite the black sunglasses and baseball cap. He was dressed in an oversized black T-shirt, his sizzled toned abs briefly peaking through as he tugged the hem up to wipe the sweat from his neck.

“You’d survive better as a siren in Antarctica, hyung” Jungkook laughed, his front teeth peeking out like a small bunny , eyes creasing like a clam slowly closing.

“Is there any food left, Hobi?” Jin said, passing by Yoongi as he eyed the bag of food. His broad shoulders briefly blocked out the sun as he crouched down to search through it, veins lightly tracing his muscular back. His white sleeveless shirt did nothing to hide his biceps or his strong, defined build.

“Afraid not.  Jungkook already ate it” Hoseok snickered, while Jungkook gasped, his eyes widening in shock.

 “Wait, I—”

Jin turned around, looking down at Jungkook as his long bangs fell over his eyes. He pointed at him, his features darkening with annoyance.

“Aish you—” He moved closer, trying to yank Jungkook away from Namjoon as Jungkook hid behind his back, using him like a shield against the fury of his older brother. Behind them, Hoseok was laughing so hard he could barely stand, snickering along with Jimin.

“Hyung, here”  Hoseok still laughing between breaths, tossed Jin his wrapped burger as Jin caught it mid-air with a small chuckle.

“Eat it on the way—let’s go already” Yoongi snickered as he slowly turned around, starting down the sandy path leading away from the beach.

“I’m calling shotgun” Namjoon yelled as he hurriedly shoved his towel and book into his backpack, glancing around to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything this time.

Hoseok followed after Yoongi, his skateboard tucked under his arm and a tote bag slung over his shoulder, skimming barefoot across the sand. Further behind, Namjoon walked side by side with Jin, both glancing over their shoulders at the three youngest, who were taking forever to move.

 “I’ll ride with Yoongi” Taehyung exclaimed suddenly, stopping dead in his tracks as he turned to look at Jimin and Jungkook with a serious expression. All at once, the realization of Yoongi’s bike flashed through his mind like a rogue wave crashing without warning.

“No, it’s my turn” Jimin shot back immediately, scoffing at Taehyung.

“Rock,  paper, scissors then?” Jungkook offered with a casual shrug, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he looked between them.

Jin yelled at them from ahead, voice cutting clean through the noise of the beach.

“Get moving”

The trio immediately picked up the pace.

Jungkook, still carrying his SUP in hand, glanced toward Jin as they walked and asked curiously. “How did the mission go?”

“We managed to find the boat the Syndicate will use for their next shipment. We’ve already placed a tracking device” Jin replied casually, almost cheerful in tone despite the weight of it.

“Did you find the warehouse they stock the shipments?” Jimin added, curiosity clearly piqued.

“Well, no” Jin admitted with a small shrug, “but we’re getting closer”

Then his tone shifted, growing more serious as he continued.

“Yoongi said there’ll be an informant at the bar tonight. A man working under them. The council wants us to extract whatever information we can from him”

Taehyung let out a quiet hum of understanding.

“Ah… that’s why we’re all patrolling together then”

They walked along the sandy path of the beach, passing tourists and locals heading toward an afternoon swim, the sunlight soft against the restless shoreline.

Taehyung couldn’t help but think how strange it always felt—walking side by side with them like this, mingling with humans who had no idea what existed just beneath the surface of their reality. They all lived in the same world, and yet it never stopped feeling like two completely separate ones.

Eventually, they reached the main road where Yoongi and Hoseok were already waiting, chatting quietly among themselves. Yoongi had clearly already informed Hobi about tonight, the tension of the upcoming mission sitting comfortably between them.

Jungkook, Jimin, and Taehyung stalled outside the car for a moment, immediately falling into their usual routine.

“Rock, paper, scissors—go!” the trio chanted in unison.

Jimin opened his palm with paper. Taehyung revealed scissors. And Jungkook threw a fist with rock.

A beat of silence.

Jungkook’s face lit up instantly.

“Yes!” he shouted, pumping his fist into the air in victory as the others groaned around him.

Yoongi’s bike roared to life as Hoseok slipped on his helmet and climbed onto the seat behind him with practiced ease.

“Not fair, hyung! I won!” Jungkook immediately sulked.

Hoseok chuckled brightly, settling in behind Yoongi. “Sorry, Kookie—but I came first” he teased.

With that, the bike growled again, and Yoongi pulled away, the engine’s sound fading into the distance as they disappeared down the road.

The trio eventually climbed into the back seats of the car while Jin shifted into the driver’s seat and Namjoon took the passenger side without hesitation.

Jin let out a dramatic sigh almost immediately, leaning slightly forward as he shouted at the traffic ahead.

“Yah, look at this scum—he didn’t even signal before turning!”

Namjoon, unfazed, connected his phone to the Bluetooth, quickly queuing up soft house tracks that filled the car in a steady rhythm.

The drive home settled into something calmer after that.

Outside, the early night sky slowly unfolded above them—stars peeking shyly through pink, honey-stained clouds. Cicadas sang from hidden places along the roadside, and fireflies drifted through the warm August air like scattered embers of light, the world briefly softening around them as they drove on.

Lava was a bar overlooking the beach, where waves crashed endlessly against the shoreline just beyond its edge. A few tables were set outside beneath hanging lanterns and strings of fairy lights, the space decorated with soft bohemian touches and palm trees swaying lazily in the warm evening breeze.

Inside, blue neon signs and totem-inspired artwork covered the walls, bathing the space in an aesthetic, almost hypnotic glow. A dark chocolate-brown wooden bar stretched along one side, lined with shelves of neatly arranged bottles—spirits, liqueurs, and mixers waiting to be turned into cocktails under steady hands.

Chairs and tables were scattered throughout the interior, filled with laughter, movement, and the low hum of conversation. On the far right, a DJ booth pulsed with energy as a staff member queued tracks and mixed beats that carried through the entire space. Deeper inside, a pool table sat under warm, dimmed lighting, the soft clack of balls occasionally cutting through the music and blending back into the atmosphere just as quickly.

As the group neared the bar, Leon—a tall man with a broad, bear-like build and dark hair—stood behind the booth, effortlessly mixing liquors together as he prepared cocktails for the customers.

Dressed in a black Metallica T-shirt, he looked completely at ease in the chaos of the night, the neon lights catching against the glass bottles around him. When he spotted them, a slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

With a dramatic flourish, he folded his hands together and raised an eyebrow.

“You’re late”

Yoongi rested his elbows on the booth, shrugging his shoulders lazily.

“Jimin took forever to get ready” he said flatly.

Jimin smiled innocently at Leon, letting out a soft chuckle as if completely unbothered by the accusation.

Taehyung’s gaze drifted across the bar, slowly scanning the space alive with movement—young people with drinks in hand, lively chatter blending with music and laughter that never seemed to settle.

He picked out a few familiar faces here and there, brief recognitions flashing through the crowd, though most of the bar was filled with Uncalleds.

Jin moved closer to the booth, waiting patiently for Leon to finish speaking with one of the bar staff. When there was a brief pause, he leaned in slightly and added in a low voice.

“Do we know what he looks like?”

Leon eyed the crowd around the bar before answering, his attention briefly flicking between bottles and movement.

“We don’t know if he’s even here yet” he said slowly, turning to grab a bottle of vodka from the shelf, already starting on another cocktail. “All the council gave me was that he’s blond.”

Jin scoffed under his breath, clearly unimpressed.

“It will never fail to amaze me how useless the council is” he muttered, annoyance sharp in his tone at the lack of detail on their target.

Leon shot him a warning look over the rim of a glass.

Jin sighed immediately, rolling his eyes.

“I know, I know—save it for another time”

Jungkook, standing beside Jin, began scanning the crowd more carefully now, eyes narrowing as he tried to match anyone to the vague description they had.

Then he spotted him.

“There’s a blond guy over there—table six” he said quietly, leaning slightly toward Namjoon and Jin. “He’s with a woman though”

He kept his tone low, subtle, while shifting just enough to try and catch a clearer look at the man’s face from where he stood—careful not to make it obvious, his gaze lingering only for a second too long before he looked away again like he was simply lost in the noise of the bar.

Hoseok smirked at that, cracking his knuckles with an almost playful edge.

“Oh, they’re on a date alright”

Namjoon’s gaze shifted subtly toward the table Jungkook had indicated, eyes narrowing as he studied the pair, reading the space between them as carefully as any report.

“Indeed… they are clearly on a date” he muttered under his breath.

A brief pause followed as his expression turned more thoughtful, calculation settling in behind his eyes.

“Maybe we could use that to our advantage” he added quietly, already running through possibilities, his focus sharpening as he considered ways to lure the man outside without drawing attention.

Leon eyed them for a moment longer, then let out a long, dramatic sigh.

“Just mingle around, order a drink if you want. I’ll signal you if it’s him” he said, shaking his head slightly. “You’re all packed in here like sardines—spread out”

A quiet chuckle followed the remark, as he turned back toward the booth, already slipping into the rhythm of the room again.

That was Yoongi’s cue to head toward the pool table, Taehyung and Hoseok falling into step behind him without question. The familiar clack of billiard balls and warm, dim light drew them in as the noise of the bar softened into something almost rhythmic around them.

Meanwhile, Namjoon, Jin, and Jimin drifted toward the booth, weaving through the crowd to order drinks and fix something for the group, slipping easily into the flow of the bar as if they belonged to it.

Jungkook, about to follow the others toward the pool table, paused mid-step.

His attention caught on table six.

The woman there was glancing around now, scanning the bar for a server, clearly ready to order—and for a brief moment, Jungkook’s eyes lingered, calculation flickering behind his expression as the situation subtly shifted in his mind.

Namjoon watched him closely as Jungkook stepped further toward the table. Jungkook caught his eye briefly and mouthed that he had it under control before continuing forward.

He approached table six, where the blond, tall man sat speaking with a young woman about his age. She was beautiful, Jungkook thought absently—and for some reason, strangely familiar. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, trying to place her, but the thought slipped away as he settled into his role.

“Welcome, what can I get for you?” he asked with a polite, easy smile, though his attention stayed subtly fixed on the man beside her.

Y/N turned toward Koen first, speaking gently in English. “Don’t worry, I’ll order for you. What would you like?”

Koen flipped through the menu, leaning back slightly before answering. “Uh… a beer. Do they have Heineken?”

Y/N glanced back to Jungkook. “Do you have Heineken beer?” she translated.

“We do” Jungkook replied smoothly.

She nodded and added. “And I’ll have a Pornstar Martini” handing the menus back after collecting them neatly.

Jungkook gave a small, professional smile as he took them.

“Coming right up”

With that, he turned and headed back, the bar’s noise swallowing the moment as he disappeared into the crowd.

Jungkook walked toward the booth where Marian—a red-haired woman with curls and a familiar, easy smile—was writing down orders for Leon and the rest of the staff.

“A Pornstar Martini and a Heineken beer for table six” he said, placing the menus down for her to collect.

Marian glanced up at him with a grin.

“Okie dokie, Kook! Thanks for helping out. You working tonight?” she chuckled, gathering the menus and jotting the order down before slipping the note behind the others on the counter.

“We all are, noona” Jungkook replied with a warm smile.

His gaze drifted past her then, catching sight of Namjoon and Jin further down the bar near a corner. He tilted his head slightly in their direction and started making his way over, slipping back into the flow of the crowded room.

Namjoon eyed Jungkook as he neared them, handing him a drink.

“So, what’ve you got?” he asked smoothly.

“I don’t think that’s our guy” Jungkook said, scratching the back of his neck as he spoke.

“Why is that?” Namjoon pressed, raising an eyebrow, curiosity clearly piqued.

“He’s not a local. The woman spoke to him in English” Jungkook explained with a small sigh, taking a sip of his drink before immediately grimacing at the strength of it.

“A tourist then, hm… I’ll let Leon know” Jin said, already turning away and walking back toward the booth.

Jungkook glanced at his glass again, then at Namjoon.

“Who made this?” he asked, tone wary as they began moving toward the pool table where the others were—clearly referring to how strong the drink was.

“Jimin did” Namjoon chuckled, fully aware that Jungkook’s drink was less lemonade and significantly more vodka than necessary.

Jungkook and Namjoon made their way toward the pool table where Yoongi was showing Hoseok the proper angle for his shot, guiding the position of the cue with quiet focus so the striped red ball would align perfectly for the white ball to pot.

Taehyung leaned against the wall nearby, cue in one hand and drink in the other, absentmindedly observing the crowds scattered around the bar beneath the blue neon glow.

Marian wandered over to wipe down the table beside him, glancing at him knowingly.

“Why the sulk, Tae?”

Taehyung tilted his head toward her slightly, shrugging one shoulder.

“The bar is full of Uncalleds tonight. How tiresome” he said quietly.

Marian chuckled at that.

“Oh, come on Tae, loosen up! Your fishy subordinate is here too” she teased with a playful wink, giving him an exaggerated salute. “Besides, you know most of the others are out on missions tonight. Being a siren isn’t exactly an easy job”

Taehyung smiled faintly into his drink.

“I know… noona”

Jin walked back toward the others, naturally slipping an arm around Namjoon and Jungkook as he joined the group again, his teasing presence comforting in the familiar way only Jin could manage. Soon enough, chatter and jokes flowed easily between them once more, laughter blending into the noise of the bar as the pool game continued beneath the neon glow.

But slowly, their voices began fading into the background for Jungkook.

Because suddenly, he realised why her face had felt so familiar to him.

It was a memory he hadn’t thought about in a very, very long time.

He couldn’t remember much from that time, and maybe that was natural. He had been so young that most of his early childhood now existed only as scattered fragments—sporadic moments spinning like a carousel in his mind, impossible to place into any clear timeline.

But Jungkook could almost remember this one clearly.

It had been the first time Leon had taken him along during an errand.

He remembered hiding shyly behind Leon’s legs inside a restaurant while his dad spoke business with the owner. Everything had felt too loud, too unfamiliar, and Jungkook had stayed close, fingers curled lightly into the fabric of Leon’s clothes as boredom slowly settled over him.

Then suddenly—

“Dad! Alex hit me! He doesn’t play nice with me!”

A little girl came storming toward the man Leon had been speaking to, stomping her foot dramatically as she pointed an accusing finger toward a young boy standing several steps behind her.

“She started it! And she’s lying—I didn’t hit her, she did!” the boy cried immediately, folding his arms defensively while looking at his father with complete desperation.

The man let out a tired sigh before crouching down in front of his children.

“Dad’s working right now. We’ll talk about this later, okay? Go down to the beach and play for a while”

The little boy huffed but seemed ready to obey—until his attention suddenly landed on Jungkook hiding behind Leon’s legs.

“Who’s that?” he asked immediately, curiosity lighting up his face.

Leon chuckled softly at that, glancing down beside him.

“Jungkook, why don’t you say hello?”

But Jungkook only buried himself further against Leon’s side, trying to disappear completely behind him.

The man’s expression softened instantly.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N and Alex. Do you maybe want to go play with them while I talk to your dad?”

Leon looked down at Jungkook for a moment before speaking carefully.

“He’s a little shy, maybe—”

But before he could finish, Y/N had already marched around Leon, grabbing onto Jungkook’s shirt with determined little hands.

“I want to play. Let’s go” she declared confidently.

And somehow, Jungkook let her drag him away.

The three of them ended up down by the beach where Y/N and her brother had been building sandcastles in the warm sand, the ocean breeze carrying their laughter.

They had started playing tag not long after, little feet kicking sand everywhere as laughter echoed along the beach. Jungkook was running after Y/N through the warm sand, trying his best to catch her while she laughed loudly every time he got close.

Then suddenly she darted toward the shoreline, feet splashing into the shallow water as droplets sprayed toward him.

Jungkook instantly shrieked and stumbled back, running away from the waves as though they would swallow him whole.

“Where are you going?” Y/N called out, tilting her head at him in confusion. “You need to catch me! It’s your turn, Jungkook!”

Jungkook only looked at her with a defeated expression, slowly stepping farther back into the sand.

“I can’t… Leon said I can’t go in the water”

“Who’s Leon?” Y/N asked innocently. “Is he your dad?”

Something in Jungkook’s face shifted immediately.

“He’s not my dad” he muttered quietly. “I don’t have a dad”

And before she could answer, he turned around and started walking away.

Y/N blinked once before quickly hurrying after him.

“Don’t go, Jungkook! It’s okay not to have a dad! We can play another game instead!” Her voice followed after him across the beach just as another voice cut cleanly through the wind.

“Jungkook, let’s go!”

Jungkook’s head snapped up instantly before he broke into a run toward Leon without hesitation, small feet kicking sand behind him. And even when Y/N called out one last soft—“Bye, Jungkook!”—he never turned back.

On the drive back home, it was the first time Jungkook truly realised what he was—why that little girl at the beach had looked at him with confusion instead of understanding.

The inside of the car was quiet except for the hum of the road beneath the tires and the distant sound of waves fading further behind them.

“Jungkook” Leon spoke gently from the driver’s seat, “do you remember when you and your brothers play with your tails and swim in the sea?”

Jungkook nodded quietly from the passenger seat, still small enough for his feet not to touch the floor properly.

Leon glanced at him briefly before continuing.

“Y/N and Alex don’t have tails, Jungkook. When water touches them, their legs don’t become tails”

Jungkook looked at him in disbelief almost instantly.

“But why?” he asked softly. “Why do I have a tail and Y/N doesn’t?”

Leon was quiet for a moment before answering carefully.

“Y/N and Alex—and many other children you’ll meet at school—are Uncalleds, Jungkook. They’re not like us” His voice lowered slightly. “They don’t have tails, and they can never know about our secret”

Jungkook frowned deeply, trying to understand.

“If Uncalleds find out about our tails” Leon continued, “something very bad could happen to us. Do you want that?”

“No” Jungkook answered solemnly.

Leon nodded once.

“So don’t play with children who aren’t with tails, Jungkook. And never, ever tell anyone our secret. You have to promise me that”

The seriousness in Leon’s voice made Jungkook sit up straighter immediately.

“I promise” he said quickly. “I promise I won’t”

Jungkook’s drifting thoughts finally crashed back to shore the moment he spotted Leon making his way toward them through the crowd.

As he neared the group, Leon’s expression turned serious.

“He’s here”

The sharp clank of a ball potting echoed through the space as Yoongi lowered his cue slowly, attention sharpening almost instantly.

“About damn time” Jin muttered, craning his neck until a soft crack echoed from his stiff muscles before pushing himself up from his seat.

Beside him, Hoseok tipped back the last of his rum in one smooth swallow before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Come on, let’s get this over with”

Taehyung, walking ahead of the others, kicked open the back door of the bar. Warm light spilled into the dark alley, cutting through the night where a flickering streetlamp cast a weak golden glow across the pavement.

There, leaning lazily against the alley wall, stood a blond man with the hood of his sweatshirt pulled low over his head. Smoke curled around his figure in the dimness as he finished a cigarette, taking one final drag before tossing it to the ground and crushing it beneath his shoe.

Jin stepped forward first, nearing the man with calm, measured steps.

“You’re late. I was starting to lose patience”

His voice dripped with equal parts irony and irritation.

Slowly, the others spread out around them, circling the blond man until the alley suddenly felt much smaller than before.

The stranger clicked his tongue.

“Tsk. Stinky fish… where’s my money?” he spat out, visibly irritated at finding himself outnumbered.

Hoseok chuckled darkly, the sound low beneath the distant bass spilling from the bar.

“For an Uncalled, you’re awfully dense. I’d start talking if I were you”

The blond man only tilted his head to the side, a smug smile tugging at his lips despite the way he was surrounded.

“All scales and no bite” he mocked carelessly. “Give me the money first, then we can talk”

His gaze dragged across them with open disgust and amusement.

Yoongi reached behind him and pulled out a thick white envelope, waving it lazily in front of the man’s face.

“I’d rethink that tone” Yoongi drawled coldly. “Pretty sure you’re not in any position to be making demands”

The blond man laughed at that, leaning his head further back against the brick wall like he didn’t have a care in the world.

“Funny” he said with a crooked grin, “you think I’m scared because you’re a bunch of mermaids singing songs into the sunset?” His eyes darkened with something sharp and taunting. “I’ve seen worse than that”

Taehyung moved first. One second the blond man was smirking against the wall, and the next Taehyung in a sharp motion, yanked the man’s hoodie forward and drove him straight into the brick wall, the impact echoing through the narrow alley. Without hesitation, he twisted him around by the hood, slamming his face against the stone again before wrenching his arms behind his back and pinning him there.

Jimin didn’t hesitate either—he kicked the back of the man’s legs hard, forcing a low groan out of him as his balance faltered. The guy groaned, knees buckling.

Taehyung tightened his grip, yanking his head back by a fistful of his hair until the man was forced to look at him.

“You’re rather fond of the sound of your own voice” Taehyung spat, coldly, his voice almost deathly in the dim alley. “Pity none of it is useful. Where is the Hook Syndicate’s warehouse?”

The man laughed weakly through bloodied lips, then spat onto the ground.

“I don’t feel any particular need to tell you” he sneered. “The deal was about the boats, not the warehouse.”

Jimin’s patience snapped, eyes darkening instantly.

He kicked the back of the man’s knee hard enough to make him lose balance again, his body lurching forward before Taehyung’s grip on his hair forced him upright once more.

“Deal’s off” Jimin hissed darkly near his ear. “You either start talking, or I swear they’ll be dragging your body up with their anchor tomorrow.”

Yoongi stepped forward without a word, calmly fishing a knife from his pocket as if it were nothing more than an extension of his hand.

“Alright, let’s speed this up” he muttered.

The blade pressed into the man’s back in one smooth motion, dragging downward through fabric with controlled precision. The hoodie tore as the edge carved through it, a thin line of blood beginning to seep into the dark sweatshirt, spreading slowly as Yoongi brought the tip to rest just behind his rib cage.

The air in the alley tightened instantly and Hoseok let out a low, amused chuckle.

“Tick tock, tick tock” he sang lightly, stepping in closer as he grabbed the man’s jaw and forced his head up, making him look directly at the blade.

The blond man tensed, breath uneven now, arrogance starting to crack at the edges.

“Blue Side Street… ninety-eight” he finally grunted through clenched teeth.

 “Good boy” Taehyung said flatly. “Now, was that really so difficult?”

He yanked the man’s hair one last time for emphasis before releasing him entirely, sending him stumbling forward and collapsing onto the ground in a rough heap.

Yoongi wiped the blade clean on the edge of his shirt, the motion slow and unbothered, before tacking it away inside his back pocket again.

Jin tossed the white envelope onto the ground, deliberately far away from his reach.

The man staggered forward, blood still dripping to the ground as he reached for it with shaking hands. He ripped it open—

Only to find crumpled, used napkins stuffed inside.

His head snapped up instantly.

“Where the fuck is my money?” he growled, voice cracking with fury.

“The payment has already been transferred to your account” Namjoon he said flatly. “I trust you understand that if you feel inclined to speak about tonight to anyone associated with the Hook Syndicate, they will handle your betrayal personally”

The man blinked, clearly struggling to process the information.

Namjoon tilted his head slightly, then sighed.

“You might wanna dumb it down—I don’t think this guy’s gonna understand any of that” Jungkook chuckled lightly from where he leaned against the wall, arms crossed like he was watching something mildly entertaining.

“Yeah, well—like we care” Yoongi added darkly, completely unbothered as he adjusted his sleeve.

“It was a pleasure doing business with you. And if you ever need a mermaid to sing you a lullaby… try not to, I’d hate to see you again” Jin added with a dark chuckle, winking at the man as he stepped just out of reach of his trembling fingers on the ground before turning and walking toward the back door.

Namjoon opened the back door, and warm light from the bar spilled into the dark alley, cutting through the night like a welcome breath. One by one, the others slipped inside through the rear entrance, music, loud chatter, and bursts of laughter immediately spilled out from indoors, wrapping around them along with the lingering scent of alcohol and smoke as they disappeared into the warm glow inside.

Hoseok and Jungkook lingered a moment longer outside, holding back in quiet sync, eyes tracking the beaten-up figure until he finally stumbled away into the shadows. Only when they were certain he was gone did the tension ease, the night settling back around them as they turned to follow the others inside.

Yoongi moved smoothly past the lingering crowd around the pool table, blue neon signs washing over his black leather jacket in cold electric light. The bar buzzed around him—music vibrating through the floor, voices overlapping beneath clouds of smoke and dim amber lighting.

As he passed, he gave Leon a brief pat on the back while the other man spoke with the bar manager—Adam.

“The deal’s done” Yoongi murmured lowly near his ear before slipping away behind the bar with effortless familiarity, reaching for a glass and pouring himself whiskey like he belonged there as much as the music did.

Jin stepped closer the moment he spotted Leon through the crowd.

“He said their main warehouse is on Blue Side Street, number ninety-eight. Namjoon made the transaction traceable, so we won’t be dealing with any double-crossing” he informed him, voice low but clear beneath the pulse of the music.

A moment later, Jimin appeared around the corner and discreetly handed back the knife Yoongi had carried earlier. Leon slipped it easily into his back pocket before patting Jin’s shoulder and ruffling Jimin’s hair affectionately.

“My boys… you’ve grown so much” he said, sincerity softening his voice with a rare vulnerable warmth.

Namjoon wandered over at that, already grinning.

“You repeat that line often. Do you truly doubt our competence?”

Leon let out an exaggerated sigh, throwing his hands dramatically into the air.

“Is it really so hard to let a man have a sentimental moment without commentary?”

 “Kids these days” Marian chuckled beside him, amusement coating her words as she shook her head lightly.

“You’re the same age as Hobi hyung, Mar. Why are you acting like a grandma?” Jimin immediately bit back with mischief sparkling in his eyes.

Jin snickered beside him, and Marian gasped dramatically, placing a hand over her chest.

“Hey! At least I’m not as old as Jin is!” she shot back, pointing accusingly at him while laughing under her breath.

Jin let out a long, theatrical sigh.

“Yes, because I’ve aged a thousand years since the last time someone said that” His voice dripped with irony, though there wasn’t a trace of bitterness behind it. At this point, he’d heard the joke so many times he probably couldn’t count them even if his life depended on it.

Leon’s cellphone rang, and he excused himself almost immediately, weaving swiftly around the bar before disappearing through the back door. The boys exchanged knowing glances the moment he left—it was the council calling, most likely wanting updates from tonight’s patrol.

The bar was alive tonight, buzzing with energy and crowded with people from all over the world. Customers gathered around pool tables beneath flickering neon lights, others drank shoulder to shoulder around crowded booths while groups danced recklessly to the music vibrating through the walls. Somewhere beyond it all, faint beneath the bass and chatter, the sound of waves crashing along the beach drifted in through the open windows, warm night air carrying salt and summer deep into the bar.

Jungkook and Hoseok made their way over alongside Taehyung, joining Jin, Jimin, and Marian as small talk quickly erupted between them, chatter and teasing flowing easily through the group beneath the pulse of the music.

Every now and then, Jungkook subtly glanced around the crowded tables, eyes briefly searching for Y/N and the guy from earlier. But their table was occupied now by different people gathered around drinks and loud conversation, laughter rising above the noise as if they had never been there at all.

Leon returned some time later with Yoongi trailing behind him, whiskey glass still in hand.

“Boys, you can head home if you want. I’ll stay here a while longer in case anything happens” Leon said, glancing over the group before turning toward Jin.

 “And tomorrow morning we’re going fishing, so go to sleep early tonight”

Jungkook immediately grinned, patting Jin on the shoulder. “Trust me, by tonight Jin hyung’s gonna sleep like he got hit by a truck”

Taehyung snickered beside him while Jin let out an offended noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.

Leon sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You know, every time you say things like that, I lose another year off my life”

Hoseok slung an arm around Jin’s shoulders with a bright grin, extending his hand expectantly in front of him without a word, silently asking for the car keys.

Yoongi caught onto it immediately, a sly smirk tugging at his lips, while Jimin leaned closer to Hoseok and whispered that he was already claiming the passenger seat—calling shotgun.

Leon tilted his head slowly, eyeing both Jin and Hoseok with open suspicion before turning toward Yoongi.

“Yoongs, don’t let Hobi anywhere near the driver’s seat, so he can’t threaten public safety”

Hoseok gasped dramatically as if deeply betrayed, while Yoongi only responded with a dark chuckle beneath the music.

“And you’re asking me to stop him? Yeah, that’s cute”

Leon let out a long groan, rubbing a hand over his face.

“Why do I even bother” he muttered to himself.

The dark abyss of the sky had enveloped the island beneath a veil of stars and moonlight, the warm night breeze brushing against the skin like a soft caress.

Headlights from passing cars flashed like blade strikes across the road, sharp bursts of white cutting through the dark as the car sped along the asphalt. The faint yellow glow of the streetlights slowly gave way to shadow the faster they drove, the darkness swallowing everything beyond the reach of the road as the speedometer climbed past one-twenty.

The tinted black windows rolled down as a blast of loud music and smoke burst from the car like rocket fire. Tires screeched against the asphalt as the vehicle drifted sharply around the tight turn, the engine roaring through the night.

Sharp cliffs curled around the winding turn of the road, their jagged edges bathed in silver moonlight that painted them with something raw and dangerous. On the other side, the ocean stretched endlessly below, waves crashing violently against the rocks, spraying salt and foam into the night air.

The sound should have been deafening, but it drowned beneath the heavy bass shaking through the speakers, The Weeknd’s voice melting into the roar of the engine as the car sped up the hill. Warm wind rushed through the rolled-down windows, tangling hair and smoke together while headlights carved through the darkness like fleeting strikes of lightning.

When I’m fucked up, that’s the real me, babe

Hills have eyes, the hills have eyes

Who are you to judge?

Who are you to judge?

Yoongi roared past the car, the growl of his bike ripping through the night as he leaned dangerously into the curve, the machine tilting at an angle that nearly kissed the asphalt, black tires skimming like they were seconds away from losing control.

Starlit shimmer flashed over black metal and black gear, headlights streaking across him like flashes of white fire for a split second before he straightened the bike with effortless control.

Then, with another savage roar of the engine, he lifted the front wheel clean into the air.

Behind him, Jungkook shouted into the wind, arms thrown up recklessly as laughter tore from his chest, the warm night breeze tangling through his dark hair and tattooed skin while the ocean crashed far below the cliffs.

 Their helmets caught flashes of silver beneath the stars before melting back into the darkness, like the night was swallowing them whole between every streetlight.

Hoseok let out a dark chuckle. “Might wanna hold on, boys”

His foot pressed harder against the gas pedal like he was flirting with danger itself, the engine roaring beneath them as he guided the wheel through the sharp turn with one hand. The car drifted dangerously close to the cliff’s edge, tires screeching against the asphalt while moonlight flashed across the windshield in silver streaks.

Ahead of them, Yoongi’s bike tore through the night—and Hoseok only smirked wider, pushing faster to match his speed, the challenge hanging heavy between them like a spark seconds away from igniting.

It was an unspoken rule between them that Hoseok only drove when death was breathing down their necks—and tonight, it almost felt like it was.

He slammed harder on the gas, taking the turns sharp and fast, one hand loose on the wheel while something dangerous, almost primal, burned behind his eyes. The car flew parallel to Yoongi’s bike, engines roaring against each other through the night air, neither willing to fall behind.

And the thrill in Hoseok’s gaze had long since turned into hunger.

He glanced sideways at Yoongi, who only let out a lazy chuckle beneath his black helmet, tilting his head slightly as if to say—So it’s a race, then.

The windows were rolled all the way down, warm wind and bass flooding the car as Jimin leaned out from the passenger seat, yelling something wild at Jungkook through his laughter. Without missing a beat, he reached for the console and smoothly switched the song—slipping into his role as the night’s DJ as Tokyo Drift blasted through the speakers from Spotify, the first pulse of bass hitting just as the car surged faster into the dark.

“Drift! Drift!” Taehyung yelled from the back seat, voice swallowed by the music as Jin and Namjoon shouted the lyrics at the top of their lungs beside him, bodies swaying recklessly with every sharp turn and violent curve of the car.

Taehyung, Jin, and Namjoon were crammed into the back seat, singing their hearts out at the top of their lungs while clinging to whatever they could for dear life, still somehow managing to shout song requests forward to Jimin like they weren’t hurtling through chaos.

Up front, Hoseok swerved through the hill roads like a demon let loose, the car carving through darkness and bends as if the night itself had no say in where he went.

Jungkook leaned forward, gripping Yoongi’s shoulder tightly as the bike surged faster beneath them. The engine growled against the roar of Hoseok’s car beside them, both vehicles snarling for dominance as they tore through the dark roads of the night, climbing higher and higher toward the top of the hill.

Below them, the sea crashed violently against the cliffs, howling their names into the wind as if feeding the adrenaline burning through their veins. Salt filled the air, wild and sharp, the waves raging below as if it had been waiting for their return—as though the night itself was summoning its lost sons home, knights born of brine, darkness, and celestial glow.

The car spun in a tight circle, rubber burning against the road as Hoseok brought it to a violent stop, tires biting into asphalt before settling at the edge of the hill. The heavy bass faded into silence, leaving only the ocean breathing beneath the cliffs for a brief moment. Silence lingered for half a heartbeat—then Yoongi’s bike rumbled once more, a low growl cutting through the night as if refusing to fully rest.

He pulled off his helmet. Dark hair spilled out like liquid onyx, catching the faint lunar glow and lifting in the cool ocean breeze that rolled up from below. It moved softly around him, weightless, as waves crashed somewhere far beneath the cliffs, invisible but ever-present—like the night itself breathing around them.

Car doors swung open into the night one after another before slamming shut, the sound echoing against the cliffs. Hoseok stepped out from the driver’s seat, tossing the keys lazily toward Jin, who caught them with ease before locking the car behind them.

Taehyung and Namjoon emerged with bags full of beer in their arms, while Jimin carried the bags of fried chicken close against his chest.

The vast outcrop of the cliff stretched over the ocean like the edge of the world itself, jagged rocks disappearing into the dark waters far below where waves crashed endlessly against the shore in smooth, powerful rhythms. Warm wind rolled through the night carrying the wild scent of thyme, salt, and dry earth, tangling softly through hair and clothes as distant gulls cried somewhere beyond the cliffs.

Above them, the full moon hung enormous in the sky, luminous and watchful beneath a sea of stars. Its lunar glow spilled across the water in trembling silver paths, touching the dark ocean and turning it into shades of deep turquoise wherever the light reached. Sea foam curled along the edges of the waves like brushed pearl, the starlight catching against it so delicately it looked as though the sea itself had been painted with scattered constellations.

And yet, it felt ironic—almost painfully surreal—that beneath those deep turquoise waters and silver-painted waves, countless lives had been taken far too soon.

The sea below, dazzling beneath the starlight and lunar glow, hid a graveyard in its depths. Beneath the warm currents and drifting foam rested the ruins of an old shipwreck, swallowed whole by the ocean long ago. Within its broken bones slept forgotten souls in eternal silence, cradled gently by the sea as if the water itself had chosen to mourn them softly rather than let them disappear entirely.

They walked slowly toward the edge of the cliff, drawn helplessly toward the sight of the full moon spilling silver across the endless ocean below. The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks seemed to sync with their heartbeats, with blood rushing through their veins in the same ancient rhythm as the sea itself.

One by one, they settled near the edge, legs dangling over the cliffside as beer bags rustled open between them. Soft conversations and bursts of laughter drifted into the warm breeze, echoing gently against the cliffs and dissolving into the night air. Music played quietly now from the speaker beside them, songs blending seamlessly with the sounds of nature rather than drowning them out—as though the ocean, the wind, and the melodies had all agreed to breathe together for one perfect moment.

Jimin cracked open his beer can, the sharp hiss swallowed almost immediately by the wind. The playful mischief that had lingered in his eyes moments ago faded slowly, replaced by something quieter—something distant and aching, fixed far below in the vast, dark stretch of water.

Without a word, he tilted the can and let the beer spill over the edge of the cliff, the liquid vanishing into the night as if the ocean itself was taking it in. The breeze carried it away in a soft, melancholic current, tangled with warmth and salt and memory.

“Mom… are you well?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, gentle and caring as it dissolved into the wind.

Namjoon pulled out his lighter, the small spark briefly cutting through the night before the cigarette caught flame. He inhaled slowly, deeply, the smoke filling his lungs before drifting out into the breeze in soft, fading clouds that dissolved into the ocean air.

Beside him, Hoseok reached into his pocket and retrieved something small and delicate—tiny shells that glimmered faintly beneath the moonlight, pale and fragile against his palm. Without a word, he let them fall from his fingers, scattering into the darkness below as they disappeared into the vast, restless waters.

Taehyung tilted his head to the side, long hair slipping across his face and briefly shadowing his eyes. Sometimes, it was hard to forget the loved ones each of them had lost to the waters below—names that still lingered in the salt air like echoes that never fully faded. He brought his hands up to cup around his mouth, leaning slightly toward the edge of the cliff.

“Jimin’s mom!” he called out into the night, voice carried far by the wind. “It’s Taehyung! Jimin passed his driving test! You must be proud of your son!”

The words vanished into the darkness, swallowed by the ocean breeze and the endless sound of waves below.

Jimin chuckled softly, though his throat tightened as tears stung at the corners of his eyes, tears he wouldn’t let them fall.

It never got easier, did it?

The wind lashed around them, threading through the cliffs in hollow echoes, tossing their hair in restless waves like the lingering touch of a parent who was no longer there. It moved between them gently and violently all at once—like memory itself refusing to let go.

“I think your mom is proud of you, Chim” Yoongi said quietly, his voice steady but soft against the wind.

He let his hand fall onto Jimin’s shoulder, lingering there for just a second—grounding.

“Cheers to Jimin!” Jin exclaimed loudly, raising his beer into the air like a command.

“Cheers!” they echoed in unison, voices overlapping and bright against the night as they brought their cans together with a sharp, satisfying clink. Laughter followed immediately after—warm, unrestrained—spilling into the wind and bouncing off the cliffs as the ocean roared quietly beneath them.

The night bloomed around them, time slipping quietly through their fingers as conversation and music wove together like a fragile bubble—one that shielded them from the world and its weight, grounding them instead in the warmth of the moment.

They fought over chicken wings with exaggerated outrage, spilled beer onto rocks and laughed like it meant nothing, like nothing could touch them here. They yelled and cursed like pirates who had lost their ship but never their love for the sea, for chaos, for adventure, for being alive too loudly under the stars.

At some point, Jungkook returned from the car with a half-empty bottle of golden tequila, and the night shifted again—shots passed between them, games of truth or dare beginning and dissolving just as quickly, stories being pulled apart and retold until they were almost worn thin by laughter.

And still they laughed. Still they stayed. Brotherhood stretched endlessly beneath the moonlight, reckless and bright and aching in all the right ways. The sea held its breath as the knights of pearls and salt lived the moment as if youth is never coming back.

Taehyung rose from the ground, turning his back to them as he stepped closer to the edge of the cliff, gaze dropping into the vast darkness below. His cheeks were flushed the color of rose petals, the alcohol in his system quietly taking the reins, feeding into that familiar pull of adrenaline and reckless adventure.

“So… who wants to jump?” he said, laughter already caught at the edge of his voice, trembling there like something just about to break free.

Chuckles and snickers erupted around him.

“Seriously, Tae?”  Yoongi said, though the faint tilt of his voice betrayed that he wasn’t entirely against the idea either.

“Why not ?  I’m jumping. Who’s with me?” Taehyung turned back to face them, boxy smile radiant and unrestrained, laughter bright in his eyes.

Jungkook rose immediately, fist bumping him mid-motion, already sold on the idea as he chugged down the rest of his beer in one go. Jimin laughed, grabbing Hoseok and dragging him up with him as if resistance was never an option in the first place.

“You’re not joking, are you?” Jin chuckled, tilting his head as he looked over them, fully aware—perhaps too aware—that whenever they got like this, reckless decisions were never far behind.

Namjoon sighed, but deep down he already knew he wanted to join too. He patted Jin’s shoulder, urging him up with him.

“You’re not fooling anyone, hyung. Don’t act like it’s your first time” Jungkook exclaimed happily, bunny smile and all, pure excitement spilling from him as he dragged Jin up from the ground.

“Let’s go!”  Hoseok’s cheerful shout followed immediately after as the group rose together, laughter tangled with adrenaline. One by one, they began discarding their clothes around the cliff’s edge, leaving only their underwear as the night air wrapped around them—cold, wild, and alive.

They looked around at each other—rose-tinted cheeks, smiles caught between mischief, playfulness, and a shared hunger for adrenaline—as they took synchronized steps back. With a yell from Namjoon, they ran.

They jumped from the cliff, falling through the August-warm breeze like falling stars until one by one they hit the waters below under the full moon. Their bodies cut through the ocean like bullets of youth and chaos, and the sea seemed to buzz with excitement around them, the current dancing against their skin as sea foam and bubbles engulfed their limbs.

And when their souls finally yielded to the sea’s ancient claim, their souls broke open to the tide, and the ocean rewrote them—legs fading into tails forged from water and moonlight. Legs gave way to long, vibrant tails, iridescent scales catching the lunar glow in shifting colors, gills and fins and fangs awakening with a familiarity older than breath itself. The senses of another world unfolded around them completely—an ancient, sacred home hidden beneath the waves.

Their tails swam through the sea as the world beneath the surface unfolded in iridescent, vibrant colours, shifting with every ripple of the current. They moved around one another, leaping and twirling weightlessly as if the ocean itself were guiding their rhythm.

They were free—it always felt like that. As though freedom only existed in surrender, when their true forms were allowed to rise and their tails disappeared deeper into the ocean’s embrace, leaving only each other and the sea to anchor them in place.

And yet, freedom was a peculiar word. A word hiding deeper meanings than youth, than chaos, than adventure and ancient callings and souls bound to the sea. Something heavier lingered beneath it, unspoken but always present.

Tonight was a full moon, and though they had once been bound to the ocean many full moons ago, they had never fully understood that fate worked in strange, patient ways. They were free—but their freedom would always exist within the will of the sea, as though it had never truly let them go.

Then they heard it—a song rising from the deeper folds of the sea, ancient in the same way their bond to the ocean was, soft and sweet yet heavy with something undeniable. It threaded through the currents like a whisper meant only for them, luring them toward a shifting tide they could no longer resist.

They followed it. Swimming further into the abyss of the sea, pulled by a desperate, almost yearning need. As if something primal inside them had been awakened and could no longer be silenced. The melody wrapped around their thoughts, pulling them deeper and deeper until choice no longer felt like their own. Together, they swam as one, drawn toward the heart of the sound.

Until the ocean opened before them—a cave swallowed in darkness and glowing water—and they slipped inside, where the song echoed endlessly against stone and tide.

And somewhere within its depths, destiny had already begun to close its hand around them, sealing a fate the sea had been waiting to claim.

To my dear Syrena

Damned my soul be bound

The night had thinned to silver when Selene—the Titan goddess of the Moon—stalled  before her opalescent chariot, the tides licking at her feet but never daring to touch her moonlit gown. The fabric gleamed like liquid light, each fold breathing with the rhythm of the sea.

Before her lay the mortal — Y/N — adrift on the sand, half-buried, unconscious, the ocean whispering her name in sighs of foam.

The Nereids had played their tricks again.

Selene could still taste the whisper of it—their laughter lingering in the air like a blessing half-spoken by forgotten gods, shimmering through the atmosphere like moonlight caught on sacred waves. Binding a human soul to the sea beneath the full moon’s gaze, their midnight mercy had turned into something else entirely—a ritual, old as tides and unforgiving as the gods who watched it unfold.

Under the full moon’s pull, the daughters of Nereus begged the sea itself to claim the fallen mortal, to braid her soul into salt and song, and let her rise anew as one of their own. And so the sea took her, not as a corpse, but as a promise — a siren born of moonlight and ocean breath.

She tilted her head, curious. The child carried her light — she could sense it, a fragment of lunar glow pulsing faintly in mortal flesh.

The sea’s claim on her shimmered between them, pulling at the edges of Selene’s smile like an unseen current beneath still water. The Nereids always made their moves under her full moon, weaving illusions of blame into her light — but the mischief thrilled her more than it angered her.

From the horizon, Eos watched, painting the world with rose-gold fingertips, her dawn unfurling in pink and honeyed clouds. Her voice drifted across the fading night: a whisper, soft as wind, carrying the answer Selene had not yet spoken.

So the Moon bent low. She gathered a handful of sea foam, silver bleeding into her palms, and blessed the mortal’s temple with the last light of the fading night.

Then, as dawn unfurled in full bloom, Selene rose — crossing paths with her sister Eos, their meeting a fleeting shimmer where the moon lingered in a pink sky, one yielding gently to the other.

The first light of dawn bled soft across the horizon, staining the August cobalt sky in pale rose and gold, like the world itself had been dipped in honey and fire.

Cicadas hummed a lazy tune while the tide breathed in slow, steady pulses, each wave curling over her body and retreating again, leaving strands of seaweed tangled in her damp hair. Her legs half-submerged in the water, the white sand beneath her contrasting sharply with the soaked hues of her ruined clothes.

Somewhere between sleep and waking, her subconscious stirred, brushed awake by the whispers of the sea, caressing her skin with goosebumps carried on the morning breeze.

She blinked, lids heavy with salt, fingertips curling instinctively around foam and wet sand. A cough shook her, tasting the sharp tang of saltwater trapped in her lungs, and a shiver ran down her spine as cold water slapped her face.

Her mind scrambled desperately, trying to pierce through the fog that had taken hold of her thoughts, hunting for answers to the questions clawing at her chest:

Where am I? Why am I here? What happened to me?

Why couldn’t she remember anything? Why was she laying here, wet and alone, sand clinging to her skin, the cold gnawing into her bones?

Her body trembled, wracked by a storm of fear, adrenaline, and the lingering chill as she rose from the sand, shaky legs barely supporting her.

She scanned the empty beach, no one in sight, and tried to piece together yesterday —had she been drinking? If so, had she been alone, or with someone else? Why this beach, so impossibly far from home?

And then it hit her, deep in her bones, like a pulse she couldn’t ignore: something had happened last night. Something she needed to remember. Something her body already knew, even if her mind refused to say it aloud.

And so, with the realization rooted deep in her gut, Y/N shook the sand from her damp clothes, letting the grains cling briefly to her skin in a vain attempt at warmth and comfort.

Her denim shorts were torn at the edges, her arms and legs bruised and cut, stinging where salt had settled into every scrape. Water sloshed in her shoes with each step, socks soaked and heavy, making every movement a small torment.

Where was her phone? Her wallet? Her keys? The minutes stretched, and with each one, her thoughts tunneled deeper into darkness, spinning out possibilities and fears until her own skin felt like a trap.

 She was losing it, and she knew it.

 Totally freaking out — no joke. Had someone drugged her? Was that why the memory of yesterday had evaporated?

If someone had drugged her, done the unspeakable, why were her clothes still on? Why wasn’t she dead? Why dump her here, alone, with the tide creeping closer and closer? And her belongings  where were they? Was she robbed? None of it made sense. Nothing made sense. She couldn’t remember shit from yesterday, not a single moment, not even the edges of what had led her here.

Maybe it was a trauma response.

Maybe her brain was shielding her from the truth until she was ready. But was it really that? Or was she just tricking herself into peace, because imagining any other possibility made her stomach twist with terror, made her pulse slam like the waves against the shore, and made the world feel sharp and wrong beneath her skin?

Her amygdala was in overdrive, her body caught in a loop of fight, flight, or completely fall apart. Her hands shook so badly she could barely hold them still, the sting behind her eyes warning of tears she didn’t have the energy to stop. That was all it took for her rational brain to shove through the panic, gasping for control.

“And now what?” she muttered to no one, her voice raw in the empty air.

 “Why the fuck is this happening to me?”

Think. Think, brain. Think.

The plan — if you could call it that — formed fast and messy.

Get to the main road. See where she even was. Maybe she’d meet someone — a local heading to work, maybe — and ask for help. Was that smart, though? Everyone knew everyone here. What if they started asking questions  she didn’t even know how to answer?

“For fuck’s sake” she hissed under her breath. “Why would I care what some old man thinks right now?”

Home.

 She needed to get home. From there, she could figure everything else out.

 One step at a time. Just get home.

And with the word home spinning in her head like a fragile mantra, she stole one last look at the shoreline before forcing herself to move further inland. Each step sent sand scattering from her shoes, clinging to the damp skin of her calves. She wrapped her arms around her torso, trying to steal warmth from herself, any warmth she could find.

The sun was rising slowly, spilling pale rose gold across the landscape, and it made her stop dead in her tracks.

She hated it — hated how breathtaking it was. How the world could keep moving, alive and radiant, while she felt trapped in a moment that had stopped entirely for her. And yet, guilt churned in her stomach, sharp and bitter, because even now she couldn’t stop associating the beauty with something tainted, something that left the taste of fear and anxiety on her tongue.

She walked toward the outskirts of the beach, where the white sand slowly gave way to small pebbles, and the scent of sage and sea daffodil mingled with the salt air.

With each step, she wrung the excess water from her clothes and hair, trying to dry faster as she dripped quietly onto the stones beneath her feet. Eventually, she spotted a small passage leading away from the shore, marked by wooden signs for tourists, letting visitors know how far ahead the beach lay.

 Silver Dune, she read, the letters pale against the weathered wood, framed by a lone swaying palm.

Ah, she thought. She knew where she was.

Y/N hadn’t really come back to this beach since she was a kid — the last time her brother had been stung by a jellyfish, his allergic reaction nearly turning the day into a disaster. Her parents had been too careful to risk another visit. That explained why she didn’t recognize the place at first.

 But in a way, it was convenient: she wasn’t nearly as far from home as she’d feared.

She set her mind on moving straight ahead—just follow the road until town, and from there, home. One foot in front of the other, the rhythm of her steps echoing softly on the asphalt.

The sky was slowly painting the clouds blue again, streaked with soft pink hues, as the crickets sang all around her—buzzing in the heat-heavy air while she walked the asphalt road, passing olive trees and wild sage swaying in the late summer hush.

A few cars passed by every now and then, the distant hum fading as quickly as it came, but she didn’t care anymore about directions or turns. Her only goal was to stop thinking—to outrun the fog in her head and the hollow ache sitting in her chest.

But it was so, so hard not to think when walking was all she could do. Her scratches looked minor, thin lines along her arms and legs that maybe came from rocks or shells, or maybe from spending the whole night dragged and tossed by the sand.

 That would make sense, right? The bruises, though—those were different. Deep, uneven, like handprints or impact marks that waves alone couldn’t make. That part didn’t add up.

If she tried to piece things together, she was sure she’d gone to work yesterday. That much she could almost remember. Maybe it happened after that—after she left. What did she usually do? Go home, or maybe a quick swim with her mom when the heat lingered past sunset. Maybe she went alone this time. Maybe she fell asleep. Yeah, she told herself, that could be it.

But amnesia? No. It wasn’t the fog of fatigue or the blur of sleep. This was a gap where something should have been.

Something was wrong—so deeply, horribly wrong.

The tangled mess of her thoughts screeched to a halt when a sudden car horn blared beside her, making her nearly yelp. Her heart jumped to her throat as a silver Jeep Wrangler slowed to a stop, windows already rolled down, the tinny echo of a summer pop tune spilling lazily from the radio. The sound pulled her back to reality, grounding her in the now—the scent of salt and asphalt, the rising heat of early morning.

“Hey, you need a ride back?” the guy in the passenger seat called out.

She blinked.

Who is this guy? She’d never seen him before in her life, but his accent was local, thick with familiarity.

His gaze lingered, sincere and assessing, and Y/N suddenly became hyperaware of how she must look—hair  tangled, clothes clinging damply, sand crusted on her calves. Not exactly the picture of composure. Still, no way in hell she was getting into a stranger’s car.

“Uh, it’s okay! I’m on my morning walk” she said quickly, forcing a small smile.

 Good job, she thought dryly, at least that made sense.

“You sure? It’s a bit far to town—and still chilly” he pressed, voice smooth, honey-warm, like he could talk the tide into calming.

“Yeah, I’m—” she started, already crafting her next polite excuse, when another voice cut through from the driver’s side.

“Wait—are you Stephan’s daughter? Your dad owns the Crimson Pearl downtown, right?”

Her head whipped toward him, eyes widening.

 No way. Of course. The older man behind the wheel wasn’t just anyone—he was one of her dad’s friends—Leon, the fisherman her father always bought his fresh catches from.

“Mr. Leon? Good morning—yeah, I’m Y/N. Stephan’s my dad” she said, the tension in her shoulders loosening just a fraction.

Leon chuckled, waving her closer.

 “Hop in, kid. Your dad will grill me alive if something happens to you on the way back”

And just like that, her pulse slowed—only a little—as she hesitated by opening the door, torn between instinct and relief.

She hopped into the back, deliberately sitting behind the anonymous stranger so he’d have less access to her — and, truthfully, so she could hide just how terrible she must look.

 What a relief, what a welcome distraction from the tide of overthinking rising in her chest.

 Fishing gear leaned against the window seat beside her, and a rugged towel lay crumpled on the floor next to a black toolbox.

“Can I use this towel to sit on so I don’t wet your seats? I’m still damp from a morning swim” she asked, cheeks hot enough to melt sand. She hated asking, but she hated even more the way salt stains would ruin someone’s car seats.

 “Don’t worry about it — I’ll get it to the car wash anyway today” Leon chuckled from the front, hands steady on the wheel.

“You always bicker us on that — I see you’re making an exception now, huh?” the passenger teased, voice thick with mischievous exaggeration.

“If I let you young rascals loose I wouldn’t have a car — it would turn into a biohazard zone” Leon shot back, half-serious, half-laughing. Y/N pressed her lips together to keep from laughing aloud as the younger guy craned his neck to point at Leon.

“Can you believe this guy? For your next birthday I’m gifting you brain-eating amoebas” he said, grinning like the mischief was the point of the morning.

Leon shot him a look— the kind that was equal parts warning and affection— and the young man just laughed to himself, unbothered.

 The sound was smooth, low, and almost contagious. A second later, Leon glanced at Y/N through the rearview mirror.

“This persistent scamp beside me is my son, Jin — he’s a little older than you” he said, tone casual.

Jin twisted in his seat to face her, smile lazy, warm.

 “Hey” he said simply.

“I’m Y/N” she managed, forcing her voice to sound normal.

 “Nice to meet you, Jin”

Leon has a son? What in the divine name of irony—how had she never known this? Worse, how had this hansome face, this eye candy, escaped her radar? That’s literally against the law. A straight-up felony.

Clearly, the deities of fate were in a particularly chaotic mood today—throwing her into a full-on meet-cute while she looked like she’d crawled out of a shipwreck.

Leon kept talking, but Y/N barely registered the words because her brain short-circuited somewhere between Jin’s laugh and his adam’s apple. And okay, suddenly she completely understood Eve’s decision-making process in the garden. Because damn, that neck was divine.

Honestly, who was she kidding? His whole face looked like Aphrodite had sculpted it herself on her ovulation days—fair skin, chocolate-brown eyes, and lips that should honestly come with a warning label.

“He’s my oldest” Leon added, chuckling. “And yes, the other six are just as intense”

By Triton’s trident—six?! Leon had seven kids? She blinked. How did she not know that?

Have I been living under a rock? Am I Patrick Star?

The ride didn’t take much longer before familiar streets began to blur into view, the soft hum of the engine mixing with the early morning quiet. Relief fluttered low in her chest when her neighborhood appeared—home, finally.

 “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Leon. And it was nice meeting you, Jin. Have a good day” Y/N said, forcing a smile as she opened the door.

“Anytime, kid. Say hello to your dad for me” Leon called after her, voice fading as the Jeep rolled forward.

 Jin gave her a smooth wave, lazy grin still playing on his lips, and for a moment, she almost forgot the chaos in her head. Almost.

Damn, he was fine. Like, objectively, cosmically fine. But the second the Jeep disappeared down the road, the reality she’d been running from came crashing back in.

 Right—bigger issues. Huge ones.

Her mom.

She froze on the porch steps, dread crawling up her spine. She’d been out all night. Her phone was missing. Her mom was going to end her.

 She paced the front porch, eyes darting around for divine inspiration—anything that could save her from the inevitable earful.

What could she even say? The truth was off the table—her mom would assume she’d been on drugs or worse. And honestly? Maybe she was, Y/N didn’t even know the truth herself.

Her gaze flicked toward the old oak beside her window, branches brushing against the frame. Maybe… If she climbed up and pretended she’d come home in the night and just fallen asleep—yeah. Yeah, that could work.

Not her proudest plan, but definitely the best idea she’d had all day.

And so Y/N took a few careful steps toward the oak and, quiet as a cat, neared the trunk, mind flicking through possibilities. Falling off the tree would be worse than swallowing her pride and going in through the front door.

 She was oddly relieved their dog hadn’t already barked her head off — knowing her dog, the mutt was probably buried in the couch, full-on couch potato mode. Too early for her majesty to rise, obviously.

Y/N gripped a low branch and planted her feet against the rough bark, mapping the climb like someone who’d always come down trees instead of up. The poor oak had probably taken more of her childhood abuse than it deserved.

 She shifted, reached for the next branch, put weight into her hands, and hauled her foot up a notch. Now to find purchase with the left foot, steady, don’t wobble—

“Good morning, Y/N”

A sweet, meek voice came from behind her. Busted.

Oh for fuck’s sake, today.

 She scrambled down before she could talk herself into embarrassment, wiped sweaty palms on already dirty shorts, and turned with the most innocent smile she could manufacture.

“Ms. Rosa, good morning” she chirped, attempting the charmed, contented grin of someone who totally belonged on a front porch at dawn.

“Y/N dear, what are you doing?” Ms. Rosa asked.

A sweet, elderly woman who usually worked at the clothing stand in the local market, she stood there with quiet curiosity softening her kind gaze. Her white curls were cut into a neat bob, and she wore a flowing floral skirt with a beige buttoned cardigan.

 “I’m practicing my climbing — it’s my gym routine, you know, to stay healthy. Helps with arthritis” She hoped the fib landed somewhere between plausible and ridiculous.

“Ah really? Does it actually help? My knees are killing me. Went to the doctor last Tuesday; he gave me this cream—what’s it called again? Sorry, can’t recall—but I use it twice a day and they still ache”

The island gossip smile warmed her face; the best — and worst — part of living here was that everyone’s business was everyone’s business.

“You should definitely check climbing out, but ask your doctor first, okay?” Y/N offered, playing along.

“Oh okay, okay, my child. I’ll go to the market now— need fresh watermelon for my grandchildren, they eat it like crack” Ms. Rosa laughed, pushing her polka-dot carriage with exaggerated care.

 “Good morning  Tia”

Tia?? Oh. Gods help me. Amen.

Y/N turned slowly. There, framed in the doorway like a domestic portrait, was her mum—magenta satin robe cinched at the waist, black rollers set in her hair, a chipped Christmas mug of coffe cradled in one hand.

 Ms. Rosa’s greeting drifted away as her mum’s eyes skimmed past like a cloud— no second look, no softening.

 Y/N waved the neighbor off with a forced smile; strategic move, she thought bitterly. Let the witnesses disperse. Better to face the storm privately.

“Hey, mommy” she turned around, pulling on the sweetest smile she could manage, batting her eyelashes for good measure.

 Plan B: activated. Coax her into mercy mode. Maybe sprinkle some puppy eyes for effect.

“Inside”

Okay, so that didn’t go as planned. But honestly? She’d had a weird, shitty day.

 Didn’t everyone get one of those at least once a month? She hurried past, stepping inside, where their caramel-furred dog, Nala, stretched with a yawn and tail wag.

 At least someone was happy to see her.

Door closed—slipper flew. Direct hit.

“Owww, mom!” Damn, that hurt. The woman had sniper aim. She should be drafted into the military or something.

“You know what, Y/N, I don’t care that you stay out late. You’re an adult. It’s not like it’s the first time I’ve caught my daughter trying to break into her own home at dawn like a burglar instead of using her actual keys and going to bed. Even Nala didn’t care to check which lunatic was climbing our porch tree at six-thirty in the morning”

“Wait—so you were just standing there and watching me?”

“Well, I’d just made my coffee to head to work, and I decided I didn’t want to deal with that at the moment”

Okay, valid. Honestly, Y/N would’ve done the same.

“What I am mad about, though” her mother continued, voice tightening, “is that your mom called you a thousand times last night—worried sick that something actually happened to her child. That maybe you got into an accident, or someone did something terrible, and my little girl wouldn’t come home”

Y/N wanted to sink through the floor. She’d take another slipper to the head over this. The quiet disappointment hurt worse than anything. Her chest tightened; guilt pooled heavy and hot in her throat. She couldn’t even remember why or how she ended up in that state, but now all she could feel was the slow, gnawing ache of knowing she’d scared the person who loved her most.

“Mom, actually, I— I lost my phone…my wallet and keys, so I— I couldn’t call you. I’m sorry. You know I always call or text” Her voice trembled, threatening to crack, but she swallowed it back.

“You got robbed?”

Her dad’s voice cut through the room—rough with sleep, but threaded with that quiet, unmistakable concern. He padded in, feet dragging in grey slippers, dressed in pastel blue pajamas and a white tank. A golden cross dangling at his throat; dark hair still mussed from sleep as he stalled halfway to the coffee machine, like his body had never quite learned how to belong to the early morning, no matter how many years it had been forced to try.

Nala trailed after him, tail wagging, practically vibrating with the promise of morning pets and scratches. Her father, however—even without his caffeine overdose and somehow fully awake—wore that stern expression, that look in his eyes that always made her stomach drop a little.

“I—I don’t know” she managed, her voice drying up halfway through, her mind racing for a way to say something had happened without actually saying it. She tilted her head, fingers pressing gently to her temple where a migraine was already beginning to bloom, her whole body aching like it had something to confess she couldn’t quite decode.

Her mum set her mug down on the counter, fingers tightening against the granite as her eyes tracked every mark along her body before snapping back to her face, like she was searching for something she was already afraid to find. That look again, the one that came when her anxiety surged like rough water, dragging everything else beneath it.

“Y/N, what-”

“I don’t know…maybe someone stole my stuff, or maybe I just lost them” she said, the lie slipping out sharper than she intended, already annoyed at everything and everyone. “I was out with some friends and when it was time to head back, I couldn’t find them, so… yeah. And these—I was just clumsy and fell”

She knew her parents had every right to be angry, to be upset. But so did she. She didn’t even know what had happened to her, only that her body ached and her thoughts felt scattered and wrong. Right now, she didn’t want questions or tension—just a warm bath, a quiet room, and a hug that didn’t ask for explanations.

 “What friends? You don’t have friends” Alex cut in out of nowhere, leaning back against the staircase leading upstairs, like he had been there the whole time just waiting to strike. His arms were folded loosely over his chest, but the tension in his jaw gave him away—so did the restless tapping of his foot, betraying irritation he wasn’t even trying to hide.

“What’s your problem?” she snapped, the words stinging in her throat like salt on raw blisters.

“I do have friends. You think I’m some kind of loser or something?” Her head was already throbbing now, every pulse of it making her voice cut harder, like anger was the only thing stopping the old wounds from spilling open again.

 “Your words, not mine” he shot back, voice flat. “Why the attitude? I just asked a question”

“You made an assumption” she spat, voice tight. “A pretty rude one, too”

“God, with your bickering!” her mom sighed, stepping between them with a hard glare.

“Stop yelling—you’ll wake your grandpa”

“Well, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ll find my stuff, and that’s that. I’m going to get ready for work” Before anyone could interrogate her further, she rushed upstairs in her bedroom, taking the small staircase two steps at a time, passing by Alex without so much as a glance.

She was greeted by the mess she’d left behind the night before—makeup and eyeshadow palettes left open, scattered carelessly across her desk. Hmm… so she had actually gone somewhere after work. She definitely didn’t do her makeup just to go for a swim. And now that she thought about it, she hadn’t been wearing a bikini under her clothes either. Plus, clothes were scattered across her bed and floor—and she was still in her favorite going-out top. She had met with someone, that much was certain. But who?

Her door creaked open, then shut. She turned her head to find Alex leaning against it, staring daggers at her, arms folded tightly across his chest.

“So?” he said, voice flat and low. “Where were you really last night?”

He moved further into the room, crossing it in slow, deliberate steps before sitting at the edge of her bed like he belonged there.

“This again? Drop it. I’m not in the mood right now” Y/N sighed, already turning away as she started gathering her scattered lip pencils and glosses, sliding them into a pink pouch with floral patterns—busy hands, obvious dismissal, a quiet cue for him to leave her alone.

“So you expect me to just not comment on the bruises on your legs and arms? Right” His voice stayed even, though something sharp was bleeding through it now.

 “Cut the bullshit about going out with friends and tell me who hit you”

“What? No one!” she hissed, voice dropping so it wouldn’t carry beyond the walls. She turned to face him fully now, frustration sharpening into something more brittle, more desperate—annoyed not just that he was pressing, but that he wouldn’t let it go at all.

“Why are you lying to me, Y/N? Just tell me” he said, voice cracking at the edges now. “Who did this to you? I’ll beat them to a pulp—so just tell me”

Y/N sighed. It wasn’t fair to lie to him—she knew that. If it were the other way around, she would’ve gone feral, thrown hands without a second thought if she even suspected someone had touched her brother. So why was it so hard to do the same now?

Was it really so bad, just this once, to not carry it alone? To trust him the way she would’ve wanted him to trust her—with all his worries, all his mess, without hesitation?

“I don’t know what happened last night” she said, shoulders shrugging as she lowered herself onto the small wooden chair at her vanity.

“What? What do you mean you don’t know?” he said, one eyebrow lifting as his brown eyes searched her face, trying to read past her lies and find what she was desperately trying to keep covered.

“I don’t recall anything from yesterday. I don’t even remember going to work. Please don’t tell mom and dad anything” she said, lowering her head slightly, fingers tangling in her hair in a desperate attempt to anchor herself.

Alex stared at her for a long moment, the silence stretching thin and suffocating between them—caught somewhere between anxiety and a fragile kind of understanding—as if the answers were buried in the space between them, just out of reach, just beyond what either of them could say about the night before.

“You did go to work” he said after a moment, dragging a hand through his hair like he needed something to hold onto.

 “Did you drink too much and black out, or did someone drag you?”

“That’s the thing—I don’t know, Alex. I’m as clueless as you are” she said, already exhausted by the way even her own thoughts refused to be lied to anymore.

The pieces were there, scattered and jagged, forming the outline of something she didn’t want to see. The only evidence she had of that night was assembling itself into a picture that wasn’t soft, wasn’t kind. Something had happened to her—something bad—and even though she desperately wanted to know what, it felt like stepping into deep water she couldn’t see the bottom of, not sure if she was ready to sink or swim to the surface.

“Okay. I’ll find out where you were last night—I’ll ask around, the guys might know” Alex replied, pushing himself off her bed. He stood there, staring out at the bright August sun, honey-warm and blinding, pouring into the room with the scent of peach and heat—like the island was stretching awake in quiet beauty, like nothing had shifted beneath the surface overnight.

“No—I don’t need more rumors about me going around”

“Don’t worry about that” he said quietly, still staring out the window.

 “I’ll just say you lost your stuff”

“Thanks, bud” Y/N exhaled, though it came out a little hollow, her heart still hammering like she’d been holding her breath too long—like she’d been sinking deeper and deeper into the abyss of her own thoughts, without ever quite reaching the bottom.

 “I really hope it wasn’t one of them. Whoever it is, they’re so dead” he spat, suddenly turning to look at her.

“One of them? You mean the gang?” she asked, eyebrows lifting slightly as she looked up at him.

“Yeah… they’re all over the place lately. You need to be careful” he said, his voice lower now, the anger from before dimming into something heavier as he took a few steps closer to her.

“Right… like I know who specifically is in the island’s ‘mafia’” she scoffed.

Alex sighed, taking a few slow steps around her room, eyes briefly scanning the scattered mess before he moved back toward the door.

 “I’ll come pick you up after work, okay? Call me if you close up earlier”

“Okay” she murmured, looking up at him with a quiet sincerity that softened her features for just a second. “Thanks”

With that, Alex left, the door clicking shut behind him. His footsteps echoed down the stairs, slowly fading as he descended into the hum of the busy kitchen below, where her father was already making breakfast.

Even though a fraction of the anxiety eased out of her, Y/N’s headache only worsened a dull pressure building behind her eyes. She pushed herself up from the chair and headed straight to the bathroom, craving the quiet, the water—anything that might wash some of it away.

She shut the door behind her, the click of it sealing her off from everything else. Clothes peeled off in a hurry, dropped carelessly into the laundry basket, her movements restless, almost desperate. The need for hot water clawed at her, a quiet urgency building in her chest—the promise of it, of being swallowed whole, of letting it pour over her until the noise in her head softened into something she could finally ignore.

She stepped into the tub, twisting the tap open, but the second the water touched her toes she hissed sharply, jerking back out like it burned.

The pain spread where the water had touched her—sharp and sudden, like it burned deeper than skin. For a second, it felt like her whole body was on fire. Her toes throbbed, raw and pulsing, and nothing about it made sense. Was the water boiling hot or something?

She twisted the tap off too quickly, her breath uneven, then turned it back on again—this time all the way to cold.

She waited a few seconds, sweat starting to bead along her forehead. For the love of the gods, why was it so hot all of a sudden? It felt like the air itself had turned heavy, like she’d stepped into a sauna. She turned the water back on and cautiously slid her hand under the stream to test it—only for the heat to bite instantly, sharp and searing, making her jerk back like it had scorched her on contact.

She yanked her hand back out, hissing sharply, the pain so sudden and intense it made tears prick at her eyes. Her skin was already turning red, hot to the touch where the water had touched her, as if it had left something behind that still burned long after the contact was gone.

 She looked down at her toes, her breath catching—skin already swelling, flushed with a strange reddish hue forming in small, uneven patterns.

Like… scales?

What the fuck was that?

Panic and something like disgust surged up her throat, sharp and immediate. Her left foot was covered in pale red marks now, clustered and overlapping in a way that looked disturbingly close to fish scales, wrong and unfamiliar in a way her body was absolutely not supposed to be.

Oh, that was bad. No clue what it was, but it was absolutely not giving “normal human experience”.

This uneasiness only worsened when she glanced at her arm—her skin was flushed red, blisters beginning to rise beneath the surface, while faint, scaly patterns spread across her arm, like something unseen was marking her, piece by piece.

What skin disease was that? Was she stung by some fish or something and this was just a very delayed, very nonsensical allergic reaction? Had she suddenly become allergic to water?

Her thoughts spiralled faster, grasping at anything that made sense, anything that didn’t feel like her body was turning against her. She prayed—that this wasn’t some nasty STI or something equally horrific and medically unhinged.

What in Poseidon’s emotional instability is happening right now? Amnesia, bruises, burning skin—and now this?

Her head was pounding so hard she thought she might be sick, nausea curling low in her stomach. She reached up unsteadily, fingers brushing through her hair until she found it—a tender spot at the back of her head, where a small bump had formed beneath the skin.

Her grip tightened on the sink with both hands, knuckles going pale as she forced herself to breathe in slow, uneven pulls, trying to steady something that felt like it was slipping further out of control with every second.

She looked through unshed tears at her naked reflection in the mirror. Bruises bloomed across her thighs in ugly green and yellow hues, scratches scattered along her legs and waist like scattered evidence she couldn’t read.

But what drained the colour from her face—what made her stomach drop so violently she thought she might actually collapse—was the mark on her neck.

With trembling hands, she pulled her hair aside and leaned closer to the mirror. At the back of her neck—hidden until now beneath the curtain of her hair—were seven pairs of bite marks, red and swollen, broken skin raised and angry like they’d been left there on purpose.

Tears fell from her eyes, her mind clouding over like a storm breaking across an open sea. She was going to die, wasn’t she? A wild animal bit her—or no. No, it was a vampire. No, that was stupid. She’d been abducted by some mad scientist and was about to turn into a lizard.

Her breaths came out heavy and uneven, too loud in the small, suffocating space, as she paced the bathroom, hands tangled in her hair, caught in a delirium of spiraling thoughts she couldn’t slow down. Gods—this was worse than she thought.

In a haze of panic, bordering on something frantic, she grabbed her clothes from the basket, fingers shaking as she rummaged through the pockets of her jean shorts—desperate to find something, anything she might have missed.

When she turned the pockets inside out and found nothing, hope thinning to something fragile and useless, her fingertips caught on something cold—metal. A small pull tab slipped loose, falling from her grasp and hitting the floor with a sharp, echoing ting—the sound threading through the silence, small but enough to pull her back from the edge.

And Y/N was left there—salt-stained, bruised, her body aching in places she couldn’t explain. Her hand and head throbbed in uneven waves of pain, and those small, red-hued scales continued to form along her skin like something patient and inevitable.

The only thing she had left—her only thread of hope for whatever had happened last night—was that small metallic pull tab resting on the cold tile floor.

｡˚○

Her can ritual was never wrong—coincidence or not. A J was about to show up in her life.

·˚𓆛

Author’s note: it took me a ridiculously long time, i know… but baby, i’m back.

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[colormepurplex2]

The Sirens' Song | Into The Deep

↳ Namjoon x Jimin x f.Reader ⤜ Strangers to Lovers, Merfolk/Sirens, Myth/Legend, Fantasy AU ⤜ Rating: MA🔞 ⤜ WC: 7,688 ⚠️Melancholy thoughts, crass language, shipwreck, mild fear, mentions of death, grief

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon) ◅ Back to story masterlist

In the moon’s glow, where darkness plays, The ocean breathes in rhythmic ways. Against obsidian rocks that are jagged and proud, The tempest whispers secrets, fierce yet loud. Each wave a tale of journeys long gone, Of the briny depth’s roar laced with siren’s song. She foams and crashes, wild and free, A dance of power like a haunting symphony. The salt-kissed air filled with misty spray, Birthing endless nights that will never give way. Watch her still, the tide, relentless; she seeks To carve the stone with her lashing peaks. From rocky cliffs, the sirens wail, Their haunting voices spin a tale. Of sailors lost in the tempest's grip, Drawn to the edge, where they are oft to slip. In Black Rock Bay, the legends doth swell, Of gold and gems that decorate a haunting hell. As storm clouds gather and shadows creep, The restless spirits never sleep. For in this bay where echoes cling, The tempest rages, and the sirens sing.

The song continues, the bard sitting by the fire supporting the mournful words with the harp settled across his lap. His gnarled fingers surprisingly spry on the delicate strings. The dower tune does nothing to bolster your dreary mood. Not even the tankard of sour ale clasped between your palms seems to be working. If anything, the song only proves to darken your heart further.

You’ve heard stories about Black Rock Bay, with the treacherous breaker waves constantly lashing at the jutting obsidian spires that are said to hide untold treasures if one can make it through the squall and ripping current. That is, if you don’t get swindled away into the black abyss enthralled by a siren’s song first.

Just last summer, Miguel, the man you had been sharing your bed with, stole away in the middle of the night with your ship and crew with a course chartered to Black Rock Bay. Fool’s you, you suppose, for letting a man get that close to you. It’s hard enough being a woman, harder still being a woman who is also the captain of a ship. It took you almost a decade to earn your sails and the loyalty of your crew—or so you thought, bunch of mutinous fish guts, the lot of them.

You hope Miguel is somewhere at the bottom of the bay, the sirens using his bones to pick their teeth. The last year has been challenging, trying to rebuild what you once had. But you have enough salt in your veins that it would take more than a stab in the back to see you give up. The hardest part has been gathering a new crew. As it is now, you have the bare minimum of bodies needed to man your new ship. And you’re not sure a few wouldn’t do the same as Miguel did for the right price.

After all, being a pirate comes with its fair share of dangers.

But…maybe… It sits like a lead weight in your belly, the idea of conquering Black Rock Bay out of spite. No one would ever dare to laugh or betray you then, no daggers in your back or sweet smiles slithering their way into your bed only to strike with venom while you’re least expecting it. You’d be a legend. There would be many songs written, stories told far and wide...

“‘Ey, Cap, we off with the sun?” The spritely voice of your best friend, and the only crew member who didn’t take off with Miguel, pipes up from beside you, breaking through your mental wallowing. She slides her petite frame onto the bench beside you, her elbow jostling yours and causing some of the now-luke-warm ale from your tankard to slosh onto your hand. “Oh, sorry,” she adds with a nervous chuckle. “Let me just…” She snatches a handkerchief that has seen better days from her coat pocket and dabs at your hand and the table.

“Ollie, leave it, it’s fine.”

She gives you a gap-toothed grin, her freckled cheeks coloring as she stuffs her soiled handkerchief back into her pocket. Olivia Ramsey has been your friend since you were both urchins on the street fighting over crusts of moldy bread.

You never knew your parents, only that your mother was a flavor that many were partial to, and she indulged for the right amount of coin. It’s supposed that you were begotten on her by one of those men—a pirate, most likely. Once you were old enough to pilfer your own meals, not quite ten, those proverbial apron strings everyone believes mothers possess were indefinitely sheered off at the source. All your memories of her are vague, a hazy figure shooing you away from a darkened doorway...a woman too busy earning her next coin to worry about the ill-gotten welp that she saw as more of a curse than a blessing.

Ollie came from a loving home. Or as loving as an ill-favored family can be. Her father had a gambling problem, and her mother had the spine of a jellyfish. When she was seven, she ended up being the payment of a gambling debt. Servitude to an upper household was her fate. At some point or another—the details are muddled to you as Ollie changes the story just about as many times as she’s told it—she escaped and tried to make her way back to her parents, only to find the house empty when she returned.

It wasn’t long after the two of you became struggling companions that you noticed she sometimes sought answers about her family. You followed her once when she slipped off in the middle of the night, right to the door of a gentlemen’s club. That’s when she discovered she could pass in men’s spaces, thought to be a boy sneaking about. The men would laugh at ‘him’ and be none the wiser to their spilled secrets being consumed by feminine ears.

You look her over now, automatically taking account of her constitution. Curls of her straw-colored hair peek out from under the knit cap pulled low on her head. It’s part of her ploy, continuing to dupe men and cleverly blend in in places where you would be turned away at the door.

“If we leave wi’the sun, there’s a chance we beat Fat Al through the breakers and can hit the reef first.”

You sigh, giving your friend a sidelong look before pushing away your ale and angling your body toward hers. As nice as it would be to put that sniveling pock-marked arse of a wannabe pirate Fat Al in his place…a new plan is formulating in your mind. Slumping slightly, you drape an arm over her shoulders and put your mouth close to her ear.

“I say we let Fat Al have the reef.” Your eyes flick to the bard still crooning about briny ocean air and hauntingly beautiful creatures harboring chests of riches. “There is another place I have set my sights on…”

🌊🌊🌊

Jimin

There is a storm brewing. Jimin can feel it in how the temperature changes in the currents. He’s long since grown used to the drastic changes when the cooler waters from deeper in the ocean surge up into the warmer surface waters. After all, his home has always been this bay, where storms often rage in the skies overhead.

What he isn’t used to is seeing the giant belly of a boat slicing through the water of his bay. More often, the boats that attempt to come to the island of Black Rock Bay come in on the eastern side of the isle where the shore looks smoother and more welcoming—though it is anything but, with its hidden reefs and jagged lava rock just below the surface of the ocean.

“What do you think?” Namjoon’s voice so close startles Jimin out of his vigilant assessment.

“Storms coming on too strong. The ship won’t make it into the bay before the breakers gain height. Most likely, it’ll end up in pieces scattered along the shore,” Jimin murmurs, the frilled gills along the sides of his neck opening and closing, emitting small streamers of bubbles with his words.

“Should we send out the runners and try to steer them clear?”

Jimin thinks on this for a second before shaking his head. “They won’t make it here in time, perhaps if we had asked them before the sun went down just in case this happened. Yoongi would do his best, but…no, my love, we just have to wait and see what grace Calypso may grant these poor souls.”

He knows that even if Yoongi could coax a few of the larger whales to the surface, they’d barely make a difference in causing the boat to change course. As it is, it would be unlikely for whoever’s manning the ship to even see the whales, considering how dark the sky is and how violent the sea is becoming. They’re more likely to accidentally clip one of the gentle beasts than see them.

Namjoon nods, implicitly accepting Jimin’s judgement without question. “We best go deeper; I can already feel the tug of the tide. You’ll be swept away if you linger this close to the surface.”

It’s just as Jimin expects. The sea is angry, thrashing heavy squalls against the shore. Gusts of wind rip through the air, with piercing screams to rival the ocean's own shrill cries. Even from this far down, Jimin can hear the cacophony causing the wood of the boat to groan and creak.

Namjoon’s arms tighten around Jimin. They both watch in horror as the wide berth of the ship rocks violently, getting tossed around like a child’s toy by the turmoil of the sea. “I’ve never seen anything like it,” Namjoon murmurs in Jimin’s ear, the bubbles from his words getting lost in the swift currents moving around them.

They’re both watching from the relative safety of one of the many underwater passageways that zig-zag through the underbelly of the island of Black Rock Bay. Small windows look out into the open water, doubling as entrances to the tunnel systems.

It’s like watching a painting come to life, the edges of the window acting as the frame. The boat daring to chart through the bay must be manned by a demi-god, as they continue to battle and persist against the storm.

Jimin is in awe at the display of sheer will. Despite being tossed around with every crashing wave against its bulwark, it careens ever closer to the jagged rocks along the shore, but somehow, the boat rights itself every time and manages to dodge the deathly peaks.

“Whoever they are…if they can navigate through this storm without breaking their ship on the rocks, I’ll personally give them enough gold to fill their hold,” Jimin tells Namjoon as his eyes stay locked on the vessel overhead.

The rough stone lip of the window makes his fingers ache as he clenches them around it every time the ship comes close to one of the outcroppings of old lava rock hidden by the foaming, swirling sea.

“You think they’ll make it?”

Just as Jimin opens his mouth to respond to Namjoon, the first reverberating impact thunders through the bay. Just as the boat started to swing one way, the raucous waves sent it into a near tail-spin without enough time for correction.

Wood splinters, the ocean roaring its victory as it floods into the bilge of the ship, filling it with far more water than it could hold. Jimin sighs, his chest aching from knowing that this was the inevitable end. Even though he had spoken the truth, maybe this fate might have been avoided if he had kept his mouth shut.

Or better yet, maybe if he had agreed to let Yoongi call for the runners, the souls lost above wouldn’t have been swept away by the ravaging sea. Even a tiny chance would have been better than watching this catastrophe; no matter how fruitful the spoils might be from the wreckage. But it’s too late now.

The boat's keel ruptures as it runs along one of the bigger jagged points of bedrock, like a sharp knife through kelp. With that surrender of wood to rock, Jimin knows there is no hope for the ship; it’s been ripped open from stern to bow. They can only watch…wait, and maybe catch an unfortunate soul or two and try to help.

Just as the thought passes Jimin’s mind, Namjoon gasps. He thrusts a hand out over Jimin’s shoulder. “Do you see that?”

Jimin shakes his head, eyes frantically searching the dark, murky waters. Suddenly, he sees them, a flailing figure struggling through one of the rip currents. Jimin doesn’t think twice, using his grip on the window's ledge to propel himself forward. Namjoon is a second behind him, his powerful pearlescent tail hurtling him past Jimin.

“Go!” Jimin urges when Namjoon glances back at him. He can see the hesitation in Namjoon’s eyes, uncomfortable with the idea of leaving Jimin behind with the waters so turbulent. “Don’t worry about me!”

Namjoon gives him a resolute nod before renewing his efforts upward. Jimin watches, his own tail and muscles straining as he fights the currents, as Namjoon dodges through the debris field where they last saw the figure in the water.

For one harrowing second, Jimin loses sight of Namjoon around a large piece of ship wreckage. A relieved cry catches in Jimin’s throat as Namjoon reappears, his arms cradling a much smaller being.

“A woman,” Namjoon grunts when Jimin reaches him. “I didn’t see any others.”

Jimin uses his arms to push himself backward, trailing slowly after Namjoon, who doubles his efforts to drag the limp woman toward the opening to one of their open-air caves. It’s a short swim, but all the same, Jimin worries for the woman. There is no telling how long she’s been under or when the last time she had a breath of air was.

Worry eats away at the pit of Jimin’s stomach as he watches large swaths of sail and immense sheets of timber sink to litter the bottom of the bay. Something tells him if anyone else was aboard that ship, they’re lost to the sea. With one final sweep of his eyes over the wreckage, he turns and slips into the tunnel, following after Namjoon and the woman he is carrying in his arms with the hope they will be able to help her.

🌊🌊🌊

Chills seep into your body, burrowing all the way down to your bones. Everything aches. You feel like you just went on a two-week bender and fell into the ocean. Your clothes are sodden, and you feel the violent urge to sick up…maybe you had gone on a bender…

The urge becomes too much, and you heave onto your side, emptying briny water and bile from your belly. It burns on the way out, clogging your nose and making your eyes water as you retch onto the sand.

Clarity begins to ebb in, and the fact you’re lying in the sand with the moon and stars twinkling from above makes no sense because the last thing you remember is—Fuck!

You fling yourself up onto your backside, stirring a shower of wet sand into the air, and you have to clamp a hand over your mouth, the sudden movement of sitting up threatening to have you heaving once more.

Swallowing the bile bubbling up, you cough before shouting, “Ollie?!” Your voice is hoarse, the ocean water having stripped your throat raw. “Please, Ollie?!”

The sand shifts beneath your unsteady feet as you struggle to stand. You tilt wildly to the side, your balance off and everything around you showing double. Finally, the shore stops spinning, and you can take in everything around you.

Fat and heavy overhead, the moon illuminates stray bits of what you can only assume is your ship dotting the sand—about thirty feet from the shoreline, a thick jungle stretches in either direction as far as you can see. You wouldn’t have guessed the sky was full of turmoil just…hours ago? Well, you assume it’s only been hours, at least; it’s hard to be sure, but judging by the moon's position, you think you’re right.

You know you should have turned around as soon as the first streak of lightning lit up the horizon. But, with Ollie reassuring you, along with the bolstered attitude from the rest of the crew, you pressed forward, hands tight to the wheel as you steered the bow toward the distant shoreline.

It was with the intent of anchoring just outside the breaker point of the bay, where the reef and lava rock can be seen jutting from the waters. However, the winds were too strong, and the storm tossed the boat about and put you completely off course, right into the path of the old slag tunnels.

You remember how the ship shuddered, the piercing squeal of wood and iron giving in to the relentless power of the rock. Ollie’s alarmed face was the last thing you remember seeing before the whole boat rocked hard to the side, and you were ripped from the helm by the force and sent tumbling into the dark waters of the bay.

Suddenly, you hear voices coming from ahead of you—from the jungle. You stop and listen, holding your breath before exhaling in a rush. “Ollie!” you call, scrambling toward the tree line. “Ollie! Jameson! Red! Anyone?”

Darkness swallows you as you stumble ahead, arms wheeling to keep yourself upright. You shove against trees, using their rough, wet trunks for support as you propel yourself through the underbrush.

“Captain.”

The word shivers down your spine, seeming to come from all directions. You spin in a circle, wet greenery whipping you in the face. The deep emerald greens and rich browns of the jungle are barely perceptible, with the meager moonlight filtering through the dense overhead canopy.

“Ollie!” you scream, the name echoing around you ten-fold. “Where are you? Ollie, can you hear me!?”

“Captain of the shining sea.”

“Looking here, looking there; come to find me.”

“Ollie, this isn’t funny,” you croak. The silence that follows is deafening. Not even insect noise or the hum of wildlife greets you. “Please.” The word falls in a whisper from your trembling lips.

“Captain, Captain of the shining sea. Looking here, looking there; come to find me.”

The words repeat, only this time there is a distinct lilting quality that makes your blood run cold. Ollie isn’t a singer. More so, the entire crew would rather shove nails under their fingernails than belt any sea shanty.

Only one thing comes to mind: a singular possibility as to who—what—it could be.

Sirens. Luring you to your death, enticing the next meal that will fill their bellies.

Foolish, so foolish. And you want legendary songs written about you. You scoff to yourself. The only songs they’ll be writing about you will be the tragic or humorous kind. Everyone will have a good laugh after they toast your memory. No wonder everyone thinks women are bad luck aboard pirate ships. Here you are proving them right.

Turning on your toes, you do your best to hurry back the way you came. Only it’s impossible to tell which way is which in the dark. Everything looks the same. The words continue to haunt you, nipping at your heels no matter how far you manage to go.

“Captain, Captain of the shining sea…”

“Stop! Stop it! Leave me—”

The rest of your plea turns into a shriek as you hurtle down a steep incline. Pain races through your limbs as they smack into trees and bushes, your descent an uncontrollable plummet. 

The ground rises to meet you, the stark reality of your situation flashing before your eyes right before your head meets the unforgiving surface of a rock, and everything goes black.

🌊🌊🌊

Namjoon

“Where did she go? She was right here! You said you’d look after her while I got the stew going.”

Jimin scowls at Namjoon, gesturing to the space where the human woman was just moments ago.

“Simmer down. I’ll go look for her. She can’t have gone far.” In fact, Namjoon is relatively sure he knows exactly where she went.

“No harm better come to her, Namjoon. I mean it!” Jimin’s sour attitude follows Namjoon as he shuffles out into the jungle. It would be better if the sun were out, but as it is, his vision is only mildly impacted by the dark of night. If he were able to assume his mer-form, he’d have no issues at all. Being on two legs only serves as a minor hindrance, mainly in things like hearing and sight.

It’s not like Namjoon intended for the female to wake up and immediately seek to escape. Granted, Namjoon’s knowledge of human females is nearly as limited as Jimin’s, but he at least thought she might wait around to listen to him. He had only stepped away for a second, seeking to put on some acceptable clothing and then bring her some fresh water to drink so it might help clear her head.

“Oh,” Namjoon startles. “What do we have here?” He crouches down next to the crumpled form of a woman. The clothing is similar enough, but the woman is not the same one he rescued from the wreckage.

“Namjoon!” a familiar voice calls a moment before the sound of crunching leaves and soft grunts enters the small clearing at the foot of the incline leading into the heart of the jungle.

“Hoseok? What are you—oh, you found her.”

“Put me down, ya fish-eyed freak! Put me…fuck! Captain, oh seven seas, Captain! Put me down, for salt's sake!”

The small woman Namjoon rescued from the wreckage tumbles from Hoseok’s arms. She scrambles forward on her hands and knees to kneel beside the prone woman at Namjoon’s feet.

“You shouldn’t have wandered off,” Namjoon begins, only to be cut off by the murderous glare thrown up at him.

“What did ya do to ‘er?! I swear to the goddess below, if ya so much as put your slimy hands on ‘er, I’ll gut ya like the fish ya are!”

Namjoon backs away, his very not slimy hands in the air before him. “I only just found her. She was already like that.”

Hoseok shuffles his feet, rubbing at the back of his neck. “It was probably the others. I heard them singing earlier. I was coming to get you when I stumbled upon this one,” he says, gesturing with his other hand at the small woman with freckled cheeks and short blond curls, “trying to climb the cliffs. Nearly went over back into the ocean.”

“You have to help ‘er,” the blond woman says, all the fiery ire gone from her voice. She gently brushes sand from the other woman’s cheeks and hair, her fingers coming away sticky with blood. “Please.”

Namjoon had no intention of not helping the woman from the start. But, to placate the small one, he nods his agreement. “I will do what I can. But I need to pick her up.”

The blond one gives him a lingering look, clearly judging his merit, before sliding back on her knees to provide Namjoon with the space he needs to kneel beside the prone woman.

“Be careful wi’ ‘er head.”

Namjoon’s lips purse into a frown, his brain trying desperately to place the woman’s accent. It’s a mixed jumble, consisting of influence seemingly from multiple places. When the woman waves a frantic hand in Namjoon’s face, he blinks, startling back to the task at hand. There will be plenty of time later to figure out where the humans have come from.

Doing just as instructed, with careful ease, Namjoon takes the unconscious woman into his arms, letting her head rest against his naked chest. The linen trousers he pulled on earlier only come to mid-calf, his feet bare of the shoes he knows humans are partial to. The short pants were the only thing he found in Jimin’s chest of human treasures that remotely fit. It’s been so long since either of them had the company of someone other than their own kind that it hadn’t dawned on Namjoon that greeting the young woman in nothing but his skin wouldn’t be proper.

“Hoseok,” Namjoon says, dismissing his inner thoughts about human propriety surrounding clothing, and nods toward the opening to the cave system where Jimin should be waiting.

Hoseok, who is one of Namjoon’s closest friends, trails his eyes over the blond woman before offering her his hand. “Would you like to come with her?”

With no outward hesitation other than the slight narrowing of her eyes, the small woman slides her hand into Hoseok’s, and he hauls her to her feet. “I’m Ollie, by the way,” she says, her shorter legs keeping pace with Hoseok’s with little issue. “And, you’re Hoseok?” Namjoon has never seen his friend nervous, but right now, he’s pretty confident that’s exactly the emotion coloring his friend’s cheeks. Hoseok nods. “Well, I have a lot o’ questions, Hoseok. Maybe ya can answer some as we walk.”

🌊🌊🌊

You’ve had your fair share of blackouts in your life. What with how sour ale can fill your belly and the enticing bet to drink someone under the table…you’d be remiss in saying you’ve never awoken a time or two in a strange place with only a small inkling of how you ended up there.

However, doing it twice in a row is something new. Your head aches. Differently than it had before when you awoke on the beach. This is a skull-deep pounding, something that only comes when you catch an errant fist in a fight or take a sail boom to the back of the head.

You want to empty your stomach for a whole different reason now. The sickly feeling swirls in your belly, your eyes fluttering open as you dry retch. “Fuck,” you whisper coarsely.

“Captain!”

The relief at hearing Ollie’s voice is second to the splitting pain that ricochets through your head at her volume. “Softer, Ollie.”

“Oh, right.” Her freckled cheeks plump around the sheepish smile she gives you. “Sorry ‘bout that, Cap. I’m jus’ so happy to see ya awake. Ya plum near ended my days, seein’ ya layin’ there on the ground wi’ your head split open like a melon.”

You tenderly probe at the lump forming over your right temple. It’s warm to the touch, the flesh swollen and aching. You can feel the rough humps of stitching crisscrossing over the edge of the lump. You wince as your fingers map across the seven sutures. “I must look a sight. Did you stitch me up?”

“Beautiful as always, Cap. Would take a wonder stronger than’a rock to change that. And I wish I could take credit for ‘at beautiful jab job, but it wasn’t me.”

Gods love this woman; she’s a treasure you don’t deserve. Your eyes focus enough that you can take her in wholly. She sports her own discolored lump on the side of her jaw, and dark circles rim the soft skin under her eyes. There is a split at the corner of her mouth, and her right arm, you realize, is secured in a burlap sling. You’re so overwhelmed with taking her in that you don’t even register that she said she wasn’t the one to stitch you up. “Oh, Ollie,” you whisper softly. “What did I do to you?”

She jerks upright, indignation written all over her face. “This wasn’t you, Cap. This was that surly sea we love so much. Ain’t nothin’ I’ve never had before.” It’s clear she believes that wholeheartedly with the stern look in her eyes. “Besides, ya ought not worry about me. How’s yar head?”

You sit up slowly, your vision narrowing slightly as your world rights itself. Blinking, you let your eyes slide over your surroundings, taking an account of what’s around you. A soft mat and scattered blankets create a nest of comfort under you.

The walls are smooth stone with tiny carved-out nitches that form shelves holding a mix of books, shells, and other small trinkets. There is a homey feel to the sea cave, with a few chests and other odd bits of furniture lining the walls. You’d almost think you were in a bizarrely themed boarding room if it weren’t for the giant opening in the floor some feet away, the soft lap of water nibbling at the hole's edge.

Lichen sticks to the ceiling, its soft blue and green glow giving enough light that your eyes aren’t straining as you continue your perusal. Aside from the large hole in the floor, a narrow doorway leads into darkness on the other side of the room.

“Where are we?” you ask, choosing to focus on finding answers of your own rather than the incessant pounding of your skull.

Ollie rocks back on her heels, wrapping her good arm around her knees. You notice she’s not wearing the same clothes she wore the last time you saw her on the boat. Ugh, the boat…you don’t even want to think about that right now. The faded green tunic and sandy-colored breeches dwarf her tiny frame, the neck of the top hanging off one of her shoulders. You glance down and see her petite toes, her shoes nowhere to be seen.

She wiggles her toes, giggling softly. “Hoseok says bare feet’re better for walkin’ the tunnels. Less likely to slip and split my own noggin’.” She emphasizes the words with a rap of her knuckles against the side of her blond curl-covered head.

“Hoseok?” you ask, your attention catching on that name. It’s familiar, almost like you heard it in a dream, but far too fuzzy for you to be sure.

“Oh, he’s—”

“He’s right here,” chirps a jovial, masculine voice from the passageway across the room. “Nice to see you awake. Think you could stomach some stew? Would do you well to get something in your body.”

Your eyes grow as wide as saucers at the nearly naked man shuffling into the cavernous space. In his hands is a wide wooden board covered in what looks like chunks of bread, sliced fruit, and a bowl of steaming stew. The smell of the luscious, smoky broth hits your nose as he draws closer, and your stomach gives an appreciative gurgle.

“I promise the food is safe ta’ eat,” Ollie whispers, slanting a hand against her mouth in your direction. “It’s smoked fish stew. I had some earlier and even asked after seconds.”

That captures your attention, your eyes swinging in her direction, an incredulous look overtaking your face. “Ollie—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Rule number one: don’t accept food from blokes ya don’t know. But, Cap, I was starvin’, and I knew ya’d be in need of some food when ya woke. So, really, I did it for ya, had to make sure they wasn’t tryin’ to poison ya.”

You take a moment to assess Ollie’s countenance, realizing that aside from the visible bruises from her toss into the ocean, she seems no worse for wear. Her pallor is rosey, a healthy flush beneath her freckles, and her eyes are bright and clear.

“Just some water,” you say, your gaze flicking towards this Hoseok character.

“But, Cap—”

“For now, Ol. Just to be sure my stomach doesn’t sick up from anything more hearty.”

You hate lying to her. Even though she seems to be of her right mind, she almost seems too eager…too trusting. Which is so far removed from the Olivia Ramsey you know, the one who would turn her nose up in suspicion at even the slightest hint of stink. And this has the ripe stench of three-day-old chum all over it.

“Water then.” Hoseok nods, though his lips kick down in a frown as he sets the tray laden with food beside the tangle of blankets and pillows you woke up on. 

“Thank you,” you mutter as Ollie hands you a ceramic cup from the tray. The contents look clear enough and holds no distinct odor as you give it a tentative sniff before putting it to your lips.

The water is crisp and surprisingly cool, tasting faintly earthy like it came directly from a rocky stream. You gulp it down, your aching and raw throat rejoicing with the soothing relief.

Hoseok squats down beside Ollie, your eyes tracking his every movement. His pants are thin, the worn fabric hanging loosely from his frame. It’s clear they’re not new, perhaps aged even further from the constant wear from the briny ocean air. His chest is bare, emphasizing a slender frame with smooth, corded muscles. His trousers might be worse for wear, but his eyes are a clear, beautiful brown, complimenting the shag of black hair on his head…though, there is something off-putting about him…something you can’t quite put your finger on.

“I hope those stitches are okay. I tried not to tie them off too tightly, but it has been quite some time since I last performed such a task.”

Your lips twitch, brows furrowing ever so slightly. In all your years, you’ve had your fair share of stitches with everything from catgut wire to medical-grade thread. With just the brief inspection you gave your sutures, you can tell they’re on the better side. You’d maybe even go so far as to say they’re on par with a medical professional. Perhaps this Hoseok character is a sea-lost doctor washed up on shore once upon a time, the same as you and Ollie. “What is this place?” you ask him, your fingers flexing around the empty cup clasped in your hands.

“A sea cave—”

“No. I mean, what is this whole place? Where are we, exactly?” Your eyes flick away from him, darting across the walls as if you tried hard enough that you could see through the dark stone and figure it out yourself.

“I believe your kind calls this place Black Rock Bay. Though, that’s truly a misnomer, considering the rocks in the bay are more of a dark blue than black, but I can see how one might make that mistake.”

You blink at him, the cogs in your mind trying desperately to lock the details into place. Two things stand out above all the others—your kind and Black Rock Bay. So, clearly not a medical professional, and, wait—

“We truly made it?” you whisper, your lips suddenly feeling numb and your tongue thick like molasses.

“Just you n’me.” Ollie’s voice slices through the silence, landing you harshly back into the very stark reality of what happened. Your eyes meet hers for a brief moment, and she winces, an apology already forming on her cracked lips.

You shake your head, addressing her before she can take back her words. “There were no other survivors?”

The question was addressed to Hoseok, but another voice answers you. “None that we’ve found thus far, but we are still searching the shore and the wreckage.”

You’re better than the sound that rips from your throat. Maybe if you hadn’t taken a knock to the head, you’d have been able to hold your ground and have suppressed the surprise. As it is, the unintelligible squawk you emit echoes around the cavernous chamber as your eyes widen on the figure emerging from the lagoon pool on the other side of the room.

Pearlescent scales ripple along strong arms as hands brace against the lip of the lagoon. The shimmery teardrop shapes spread over an impeccably defined chest, blending into the creamy skin of a toned stomach and narrow hips before ending at the ridged blue and green band of a…tail? The long, flowing appendage slides over the stone as the figure pushes themselves completely out of the lagoon opening.

Water slicks off of them, the soft sloshing sending a gentle spray of misted salt water into the air. You watch in abject shock as the scales slowly recede with every drop of moisture that wicks away as the newcomer quickly brushes a length of fabric they grabbed from a nearby shelf over their body.

You want to reach out and finger the wet lengths of hair that swing with their every movement, like scattered moonlight on ocean waves. You’ve never seen hair quite so bright; it’s even lighter than the wheat-colored curls adorning Ollie’s head.

It’s a mesmerizing sight, watching the way the glittering scales disappear, melting away to reveal smooth and supple skin as if they never existed. Slender legs take shape; flexing toes and taut muscles speak of a delicate grace you’d never have associated with the male form before. And male it is…the very breath in your lungs stills as your eyes catch on the faint outline of a very prominent appendage before it’s covered by the now-damp cloth as he wraps it around his waist. 

Brilliant mocha-colored eyes meet yours, the center of a controlled, measured look that gives absolutely nothing away. “Easy, Cap,” Ollie whispers a moment before you feel her hand grazing along your jaw.

You firmly snap your gaping mouth shut.

“I wish I had better news to share with you. But I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that the storm you attempted to sail through was not a kind one. You’re fortunate to be alive, the both of you.”

“Holy Shining Seas,” Ollie mumbles, her fingers crossing over her chest in a sign meant to ward off evil. It’s an automatic gesture, one she does without thought, ingrained in her from a young age; well before she met the fates of the streets.

Your fingers itch to make their own sign. The few weeks you spent with Sister Agatha in the convent are ones sorely hard to forget, even at the best of times. You’ve never been religious, far from it. But those two weeks made you feel closer to hell than the deepest trench of the ocean ever could.

Clenching your fingers closed in the quilt beneath you, your mouth pops open instead. “Y-you…wait, you—is that? Was that—you, uh, your—your skin,” the last word comes out barely louder than a whisper. 

Hoseok stands and crosses the room, snagging a pair of trousers from an open chest. He tosses them at the newcomer, firmly scolding him, “You know better than to skin shift in front of humans. Why didn’t you come in through the central lagoon?”

At that moment another voice filters through the room, coming from the same direction Hoseok had entered through. Your eyes flick away from the first unknown male to the empty doorway, a second before a tall, silver-haired man wearing pants far too short for him, and nothing else appears. In his hands is a worn red cap.

“I told Jimin it was a bad idea. But, you know how he is, a will stronger than the southern currents.”

The stranger with the calculating gaze—Jimin, it seems—rolls his eyes and huffs out an annoyed breath. “Would rather rip it out like an urchin barb, Namjoon, get it over with. Better that way in the long of it, considering our visitors will be here for quite some time.”

Namjoon. Jimin. Hoseok. Your eyes flick between the three strangers, noting the same sense you got from Hoseok earlier also radiates from the other two. As you watch them exchange heated words, the low timbre of their voices making their words hard to discern, Jimin tugs on the trousers Hoseok threw at him, and you realize what that odd feeling is. They’re…perfect. Too perfect, otherworldly.

It’s unnerving.

And now you’re sure you know why. As plain as the pearlescent scales and tail, the truth screams at you from the smooth skin of their foreheads to the perfectly straight, white teeth behind their rose-hued lips. No mere human could be so pristine. Clearly, the bewitching nature of a siren isn’t just exaggerated prose reserved for their voices.

“Is that Red’s cap?” Ollie asks, her voice low, meant only for your ears.

You force your eyes away from studying their faces to the crumpled lump clasped in Namjoon’s hands. It’s a detail your brain registered earlier but clearly was too muddled to fully comprehend.

“Where did you find that?” you ask, but you are only met with silence in response. The three males are still caught up in their soft bickering. You give Ollie a sidelong look, your face pinched in a frown before demanding louder, “Excuse me!”

Your barked words echo through the chamber, rebounding ten-fold and making even you wince at the sharp, biting sound.

“Where did you find that?” Ollie’s voice fills the sudden silence as she nods her head at the red cap in Namjoon’s grip.

Namjoon loosens his hold on the worn red fabric, the once vibrant carmine faded by the salt and sun to a tawny vermilion. An unmistakable blob of golden thread peeks out from one of the edges where Jory ‘Red’ Meander had haphazardly tried to stitch together a hole put there by a disgruntled card companion.

He had a penchant for gambling, not always with honest intentions, either. A scoundrel with a quick smile and charming hazel eyes. Despite being barely old enough to be let loose from his mother’s skirts, Jory joined your crew mere weeks before you got it in your head to chart a course for Black Rock Bay, demanding with a puffed-out chest that everyone refer to him as ‘Red’, like the color of his hat and the blood spilled at the end of his rapier, from here on out. Said it was a better-suited name for a future pirate mogul than Jory.

A few nights into your journey towards Black Roy Back, as you sat with Red in the crow’s nest watching the moon slip through the sky, he confessed that he actually chose the name Red because it reminded him of his mother with her fiery red hair and spit-fire attitude. But he figured that wouldn’t be a very pirate-like reason. He honestly had no business on your ship…but you were desperate for a full crew and, well—

“I-uh, I found it on the beach…I followed your footsteps back through the jungle.” Namjoon clears his throat before stepping close and offering the cap to you. “There was a man…a boy, really. His body—I’m sorry.”

You hesitantly take the hat. The soft fabric flops over the back of your hand, and a memory flashes through your mind. Red screaming at you, the stupid hat he refused to ever take off, sluicing the stinging water into his eyes, hauling you bodily through the turbulent water. Red forcing you above water, pleading with you to hold on…

Tears fill your eyes, but you don’t let them fall. Anger replaces the hurt pounding away in your chest. You will not fall apart now…not when…fuck. You furiously wipe at your eyes, sniffing back the burn welling in your nose. Red would laugh and waggle his brows at you if he knew you were getting choked up over him.

“Have you found others? Bodies, I mean.”

Jimin and Namjoon share a look, an exchange of words without making a sound.

Red. Jameson. McLaughlin. Straub. Okiro.

From the descriptions provided to you by Namjoon and Jimin, you mentally etch their names into your psyche. Men whose loyalty you once questioned are now forever lost to this world because of your petty grievances and selfish desires. And more yet to be confirmed…

You worry the edge of your thumbnail, fisting the red cap in your other hand over and over.

“Maybe ya should eat somethin’, Cap.”

You can’t bring yourself to look at Ollie right now, lest you might not be able to fight back the tears any longer. “I’m fine, Ol.”

“Some rest then,” Jimin says. “Hoseok, if you take Olivia to the storage room, you might be able to find her something a bit more fitting to wear in the alder chest, the one with the iron straps. You know which I mean?”

Hoseok makes an agreeable sound. You snap out of your stupor enough to realize Ollie stands up without so much as a mutterance of protest. In fact, she almost seemed eager as she took Hoseok’s hand, and he pulled her to her feet. There is a look on her face that you’ve never seen there before…it almost looks like longing. But that can’t be because that’s absolutely absurd. However, there she goes, giving you a girlish wave and mumbling, “Later, Cap. Get some rest, ‘k?”, as she allows Hoseok to lead her from the room.

“Wait, Ol—”

But just like that, Ollie walks out without so much as a backward glance before you can get the protest out of your mouth, her focus now solely on the male at her side. She has that same silly, infatuated look on her face.

And now you’re alone—alone with two strange males who are looking at you like you’re the most interesting thing they’ve ever come across. Perhaps you are…but most likely, they’re trying to come up with the best way to pick your bones clean.

You can feel the heat drain from your face, receding from the tips of your fingers and toes, turning into a wash of icy chills down your spine. You’ve heard enough songs about this…you know what happens next, yet you can’t get your body to do what you want it to. All you can do is stare, your eyes moving between the two males, your fingers holding a death grip on Red’s cap.

“Hungry?” Jimin asks, his eyes flicking to Namjoon.

Something is wrong…something is very wrong.

The taller male tilts his head to the side, eyes sliding up and down your seated form. “Yeah, Jimin, I’m hungry.”

You swallow hard, trying not to let the sudden wave of fear curdling in your belly show. Maybe Red should have just let the sea take you…

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon) ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-12-31 ColorMePurplex2

[lostmo0nchild]

Nostos of the Siren🫧

🌬️Chapter: 01 INTRO Calling

°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·。°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·。°‧ 𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 ·。

word count: 4k

pairings: bts ot7 x female reader

trigger warnings: alcohol, smoking, mentions of death, drowning disclaimer : I do not encourage anyone to recreate scenes from this fanfic. The characters, their actions, and everything that unfolds here exist solely within my imagination — nothing more, nothing beyond that.

synopsis: On a small island where summers hum with tourists and nothing ever happens, Y/N thought she knew every secret the sea held. Working at her grandfather’s bookshop, she expected long nights, cheap beer, and fleeting summer flings. What she didn’t expect was to nearly drown in the cursed Moon Cove—and for her ordinary life to unravel completely when she becomes entwined with seven sirens.

🧿Nostos (νόστος) – noun

Meaning: return home, homecoming (esp. after a long journey).

Origin: from Greek néomai (νέομαι) = to return.

Related: formed the root of nostalgia (nostos = return + algos = pain), meaning longing for home/past.

⋆˚꩜｡ next chapter

🌬️ Chapter 1

August had always carried something strange in the air on the island. Heat clung to the stone walls even after sunset and salt soothed the worries away just a bit longer. The cicadas fell silent just after midnight when the sea turned dark and still, as if holding it’s breath.

 Legend says the tide longs for the full moon’s touch , stalling Poseidon’s summons of turmoil and chaos.

 Moonlight kisses away the worries and lifts the sea’s sunken sorrows, allowing it to dream of countless bright stars. The sea slumbers gently in the moon’s embrace, while the wind hums a lullaby, the same song that once guided sailors home.

 Tourists loved this time of the year. They’d call it magic.

Perhaps it was the warm Libyan breeze that carried spices and red sand. Maybe, it was the legends of mighty gods, their tales scattered across the sea.

 But truth be told, if Mamma Mia enchanted them once, it was pita gyro that won their hearts for good.

 They must have fallen under Kalypso’s spell, or possibly nibbled on the lotus fruit, to believe this island was truly magical.

 The locals, though, knew better.

 They felt it—whatever it was.

 Like that uneasy twinge in your gut when something’s just a little too strange.

 That’s why no local ever went near the Moon Cove after dusk.

Y/N knew better — of course she did. But she had just finished her shift and, tired as she was, the pornstar martinis weren’t really helping, per se.

 She’d been bored out of her fucking mind all summer, wishing on some unlucky star for the days to hurry up so she could return to her beloved uni town and finally escape this forsaken island. If it weren’t for the fact that her parents needed help at the restaurant—and one sibling had to keep Grandpa Nick’s bookstore running for the summer — she would’ve been gone weeks ago. Take a wild guess who got stuck in the shop with  broken AC unit and shelves coated in dust.

 A fan and a paycheck were all she had left. Quite literally, since she was also broke.

 Working a summer job that was nothing more than family business was supposed to be a blessing. It shouldn’t have been that deep. She should’ve moved on by now, healed—or at least tried to—and accept the fact that some things aren’t meant to be.

 A summer ago, she’d been crushed at the thought of leaving. She didn’t even mind that her brother snagged the night shifts while she got stuck opening the store, not after nights of getting repeatedly hammered on Vodka Red Bulls and chocolate tequila shots with her best friends.

Actually, she did mind because Alex was supposed to pick up the slack this year and cover a few shifts now and then. But he had supposedly gotten a girlfriend and was out there chasing love. Allegedly.

 The reality was that summer was almost gone, and with it had gone the people who once made the place she grew up feel alive. Gone were the nights she spent wasted, dancing to Raye’s Escapism with magnetic strangers, running on adrenaline and free shots. Gone were the road trips around the island searching for golden sand, seashells, and natural pools on rocky edges.

 All that was left was an empty void she was desperately filling with work and her third rewatch of The Vampire Diaries.

 Not tonight, however. Tonight she was supposed to be on a date. Maybe “date” was too serious for what it actually was. Summer fling evaluation was probably closer to the truth.

 The sun was setting as she checked the shelves for the next book and supply order she needed to place, when the soft chime of crystals and shells colliding as the door opened made her pause.

 In walked a blond man —tall, handsome. His eyes were cat-shaped, a crystalline blue as sharp as Alaskan waters, and his teeth flashed pearly white when he smiled. Y/N was used to encountering arrestingly beautiful people now and then, but maybe it was the genuine way he smiled at her that made her stare.

 She put on her best work smile to help him, praying to the heavens her cheeks weren’t betraying her by burning red under the weight of his steady eye contact. He got what he needed, and while she rang up his things, he asked if she was single.

 And now here she was—drinking pornstar martinis with Koen (she prayed that was actually his name—because asking again would be mortifying), at a beachside bar called Lava.

It was actually, her first time here. She and her former friends used to be regulars at Kalua Bar near the island’s Chora, but tonight she wasn’t in the mood for judging eyes and listening ears. She wasn’t hiding, exactly, but she didn’t want to be seen either.

 She was supposed to be having fun with her first promising flirtation of the summer. She was definitely not supposed to be overthinking her entire life while Koen—the hottest distraction she’d had in months—kept talking. Right ?

“I think we should probably go see it, ja? I’ve never been to The Moon Cove under a full moon before”

 His eyes bore into hers, intense and unflinching, curiosity and a pleading smile spreading across his well-cut face. His long legs had reached out to touch hers under the table, lingering there, almost tangled. His touch was comforting, his gaze compelling.

She was deprived of romance in a long time, but that wasn’t really what had her thinking about it. If she wanted to get laid that badly, she would have opened Tinder again. But hookups weren’t worth the trauma and disappointment the lonely bachelors out there tended to offer.

Y/N knew better than to hang around the Moon Cave at night. Locals warned of a curse as old as the island and of nymphs who didn’t like to be disturbed on a full moon. Yet, as her dad had explained when she was younger, the cave’s waters were six meters deep, and the only way out if someone accidentally fell from the opening was to swim through the tunnel to the open sea.

 On nights like tonight, the tide was the bigger threat. An uncontrolled force, it could rise from its calm slumber and smash any unfortunate soul against the cave’s rocky pillars . The warnings weren’t for nothing: five years ago, a local tour guide had found a body in the cave. It took time for the police and medical examiner to identify the person. As it turned out, it was Sandra’s father—a mystery even to this day, how a skilled fisherman, who was supposed to be fishing on the southern coast for tuna, ended up inside the Moon Cave with no boat in sight.

“I don’t know, it’s dangerous at night. People have died there” Y/N internally cringed with her heavy accent. She was desperately trying to find a kind way to decline his offer without ruining the vibe. She cursed herself for bringing up the damn cave in the first place.

“C’mon, cutie—do you really think I’d let you die on me now? We’ll just look around, enjoy the stars.” Koen leaned in, closing the space between them. His hands engulfed hers, thumb sketching lazy circles across her fingertips. The touch was maddeningly gentle—soothing and setting her on fire all at once.

“My dad and I have climbed mountains and camped in the woods in Switzerland, with snow and cold. A cave is nothing that would make me worry.” He cupped her face with his right hand, tilting her chin gently, holding her gaze with the kind of patience that felt more like a dare.

She’d never traveled abroad before, never experienced anything close to the stories Koen dropped so casually. The ache for adventure tugged at her chest—a sharp craving for adrenaline, for proof she was still alive. Maybe Koen saw it in her eyes, that restless hunger, and that’s why he said—

 “Loosen the reins a little—see where it takes you, pretty thing”

 Y/N was in turmoil, she knew it was reckless and foolish. But she was already lost, really, the second she wanted to know what adrenaline might carve into her veins.

“Okay, fine, but this is so gonna kill me” she breathed, a thin thread of regret already curling in her chest. Still, tonight felt like a chance to step outside her comfort zone, if only by a little.

“Relax, menace. Worst case, I’ll fish you out” He winked, then, sly as a cat, lifted his hand for the check.

The climb up the rocky hill on the southern shore left her dizzy with exhilaration. Salt and wild thyme rode the breeze, waves whispered softly against the rocks, gulls calling out like they were in on some secret she wasn’t.

It was peaceful, and yet utterly surreal. The sky stretched dark and clear, eerie in its quiet, mysterious way. The moon hung impossibly close, bright and insistent, reflecting on the glassy indigo waters below, leaving a trail of starlight that seemed to brush against the waves like a lover’s whisper.

 They didn’t speak as they climbed the hill, and Y/N was grateful. She knew, instinctively, that this moment would engrave itself into her memory. She didn’t know why yet, but she could feel it: a soft melancholy waltzing with freedom and the thrill of the unknown. The kind of melancholy threaded with awareness and fragile beauty—the ache of moments she hadn’t lived yet but somehow already knew.

 She breathed deeply, hungrily, tasting the pulse of life coursing through her veins, wistful and alive. Koen’s playlist drifted around them, from Softcore by The Neighbourhood to Syrena by Kiki Rockwell, carrying them to the top of the rocky outcrop, where they stopped to marvel at the view.

“Well, would you look at that—the Moon Cave, in all its eerie, glowy, ‘don’t-fall-in’ glory.” With a dramatic flourish, she spread her arms to showcase the massive cliffside chasm, as if announcing the grand opening of the world’s most terrifying hole.

A deep chuckle rumbled out of him.

“Oh, cracking jokes now? Didn’t know you had the energy for both survival and comedy. Adorable.”

His accent was soft, something Northern European—Netherlands maybe. Y/N had already forgotten. But his eyes caught hers with a spark that felt like a provocation, daring her to keep up. He set down the crinkling plastic bag from the convenience store—two canned mojitos and a couple palomas—on a flat rock a few feet from the cave’s mouth.

 “I know, it stings a little… realizing I’m the funny one here.”

Her smile tilted sly, as she stepped closer, shrugging it off like it was nothing.

Koen smirked, leaning in just a little closer now. Their feet nearly touched, and the buzz between them sharpened into something electric. He looked down at her with that infuriating, permanent smirk she was dying to wipe off his face, arms folded across his broad chest.

 “Touché. I’ll let it slide… this once.”

He held out a hand for her to follow him closer. Together they leaned over the opening in the stone. The net the locals had strung across the hole sagged, its edges frayed from years of salt and sand damage. Through the tear, water shimmered in shades of black and indigo under the moonlight. The waves were softly brushing the cave’s teeth of stone, slowly carving it sharper with every tide. It wasn’t just beautiful—it was magnetic, like the place carried a gravity of its own. Deep, dangerous, and still somehow enchanting.Too deep.

Y/N fished out her phone to capture the moment. For once, she was glad she’d gave it a go. The fear had ebbed away. The scenery still hummed with that raw, dangerous edge, but now it felt more breathtaking than threatening. It made her wonder how many other secret gifts the world had been hiding, how many small mercies Mother Nature scattered across the earth.

  “So… any folklore about this place? Gotta know if it’s living up to the hype.”

He asked, crouching a little for a better look as he flicked on his phone flashlight. The beam caught the golden shimmer of the cave’s rocky walls, spilling into the mix of deep blues and turquoise water below, where small ribbons of pearly sea foam clung to the edges like secrets.

 “Some of the older local women used to tell us, back when we were kids, that this was the swimming pool of Nereids—sea nymphs, daughters of the sea-god Nereus. The younger ones loved to swim here under the full moon, and if an innocent soul happened to drown while the nymphs were playing, they would take pity on them and beg their father to save them. In return, it was said they would become half human-half fish, their soul forever be bound to the sea. I guess it’s a mix of folklore and mythology. I haven’t really fact-checked any of this”

“So… like mermaids? Or sirens?”

“I don’t really know the difference, but if I spot one, I’ll be sure to tell them you asked.”

“Ha. Yeah, hilarious, you smartass.”

Y/N took a few steps back, flashlight in hand, carefully avoiding the suspiciously leaning rocks before settling near where they’d left their things. Koen followed, fishing a mojito from the bag and cracking it open, droplets sliding down his Adam’s apple in a way that was dangerously distracting. She queued up their previous playlist softly and pulled out her paloma, twirling the can’s pull tab, lifting it up and down and softly mumbling numbers under her breath.

“What are you doing now cutie?”

The pull tab popped free from the can with a sharp clang. She raised her index finger to her lips to shush him. Ten. She ran through the alphabet in her mind and landed on J. Her can ritual was never wrong—coincidence or not. A J was about to show up in her life.

“So… what was with the can abuse just now? You gonna tell me or not?”

 “You count numbers, follow a letter, and eventually someone with that initial will appear—cross your path, in ways you can’t predict.”

“Was your letter K, by any chance?”

She let out a soft chuckle.

“No. Fate’s warning me that you’re a summer Casanova, probably—here for a good time, not a long one.” She bumped him with her shoulder, and he laughed. She took a swig of her drink, letting it mingle with the lingering sweetness of the previous martinis, creating the perfect symphony of a slow, pleasant buzz. He didn’t deny it.

Koen smiled and pulled her onto his lap, one hand resting at her waist. Her cheeks flared instantly, and her playful grin disappeared. He noticed her shyness and decided to push a little further, leaning in to brush the tip of his nose against her ear, just to whisper.

 “Go ahead, be snarky… you shy little thing.”

Y/N looked away, pretending to search for her lighter and cigarettes, trying—futilely—to hide her burning ears. This man was a very smooth talker. He was way too smooth with his words for it not to be rehearsed—like the kind of charm you only got from breaking hearts for sport.

 She balanced her unlit cigarette between her lips, flicking her dark red, bedazzled lighter to life. She took a deep drag, letting the smoke cloud her lungs—giving her future self lung cancer—and exhaled. Along with the smoke went the illusion of her worries, flying away  and leaving her mind at ease for just a moment. The mix of nicotine and alcohol were crafting a glorious buzz through her head, and with newfound confidence, she held the lit cigarette toward Koen, offering a take. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, lifting it to his lips and inhaling. It shouldn’t have been this seductive—but it was.

He caught her gaze and matched it, and just like that, their lips collided in a messy, urgent kiss. His hands stayed respectful, unsure. It made her like him more. Y/N hadn’t felt this kind of high in months—not just the alcohol, but that weightless thrill that whispered maybe this night meant something, just because it would end. She felt him draw her closer onto his lap, aligning her core with his growing bulge. He deepened the kiss, tongue sliding hot and wet against hers. He tasted like lime, mint and tobacco. He traced the tip of her tongue with his and heat curled low in her stomach. She was so turned on, so ready…only for his tongue to start doing weird shit in her mouth, and her mood dying faster than Katniss volunteering as tribute.

Their lips separated, and Y/N pressed a quick peck to his slightly parted mouth, partly because she felt guilty for dousing the fire of their kiss just moments ago. Whatever had broken the rhythm between them, Koen let it slide. No questions, no comments. They talked for a while. Conversation drifted easy between them, the night wrapping close while they stayed in each other’s arms.

“So, be honest—do you think the Moon Cave was carved out by nature… or by aliens who got bored after finishing the pyramids?” She tilted her head back, resting it lightly on his shoulder.

“Bold of you to assume aliens would waste their time on limestone when they could be building Wi-Fi that actually works on this island.” Her back tingled softly at the sound of his voice, and she laughed—because it was true. The Wi-Fi was lagging, failing to connect in most parts of the island

“For real though, tell me you don’t get X-Files vibes from this place. Like, if a UFO landed right now, I wouldn’t even be surprised.”

“Cool, you’re Mulder then. Which makes me… the hot skeptic?”

“Just skeptic. No hot title necessary.”

A chilling stir of the night shifted the mood. A nipping whisper of wind reminded them to sober up, brush themselves off, and make their way down the cliff. The sky darkened as clouds swallowed the moon, snuffing out its light and casting an eerie shadow over everything.

It wasn’t the romantic encounters of the night she would carry home like a secret teenage kiss. It was the nostalgia of feeling alive, of experiencing moments that stained her soul with sound, color, and texture. After so long, she had almost forgotten the void that clung to her like a leech—the sadness and betrayal that had rooted themselves in the place she had grown to love. She felt homesick for a home she was already living in. A gut-wrenching nostalgia for the memories, the people, the places that had made it home.

She reached to check the time… and realized her phone wasn’t there. Fantastic. Truly, how does one manage to leave a phone behind like a responsible adult?

“Shit” she mattered halfway down the hill, patting her shorts.

”My phone. Koen I need to go back”

“Want me to come?” He tilted his head to the side, flashlight in hand, lighting the way. He asked genuinely, but she could tell he was tired. If Koen had been an old friend, she would have asked him to tag along so she wouldn’t be scared alone in the pitch darkness. But Koen was someone she’d just met—a stranger, really—and she wasn’t going to make him do that just because of her mistake.

“Nah. Go on, we are already half way through. Its late, I’ll just grab it.”

He kissed her again—softly, a little hesitant, as if testing the water—and then slipped back into the shadows. She watched him disappear into the darkness.

Y/N climbed back up the cliff, cursing sweet profanities under her breath, her only guide the flicker of her bedazzled lighter. She stayed mindful of her surroundings and each precarious step. The spot they had hung out in earlier was now swallowed by darkness, the edge of the cliff blurring into the horizon of the open sea. The glow barely cut through the dark, but it was enough to spot the outline of her phone case—blue, with a stupid holographic cartoon cat sticker that caught the flame in flashes of red and green.

 “There you are, asshole” she mattered, reaching forward.

Her foot slipped. She made a few unsteady steps, trying to balance herself on slippery, unpredictable rocks with no vision of her steps whatsoever, in the pitch-black of the night.

She fell—face-fist. Or, more accurately, face-planting onto the safety net spanning the Moon Cave’s opening. The net groaned under her weight, gravity tugging like a fish caught in its weave.  She was having a panic attack the moment she realized what was holding her from death itself.

Overthinking a million possibilities of screwing it up, Y/N anchored herself on the ropes trying to inch toward the edge and climb back up. She moved cautiously, dragging her torso forward while clutching the rope with trembling fingers. Dragging  her body slowly closer to the edge of the chasm. Her anxiety shot through the roof, heart hammering in her ears, tears of panic prickling her eyes. As she neared the edge, she prayed the sunburnt ropes would hold just a little bit longer.

Except tonight was a full moon, and Y/N really knew better than to tempt it.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. After all, no local ever went near the Moon Cave after dusk.

The safety net groaned violently, shuddering under her weight, and then it gave way completely. Air ripped past her as gravity claimed her, every heartbeat hammering in her ears, every second stretching into an eternity

She fell.

No time to scream. No time to pray to the gods above. Just air—then cold. A slap of impact across her entire body as she was swallowed underwater, dragged deep into the abyss. Her mouth filled with salt and panic. She kicked, she thrashed, remembered she knew how to swim…remembered it far too late.

The tide is an uncontrolled force, it could rise from its calm slumber and smash any unfortunate soul against the cave’s rocky pillars.

Y/N burst to the surface, lungs burning for air, nearly drowning in the process. She fought against the current, slammed relentlessly against the jagged rocks of the cave. Already struggling , she was barely staying afloat, coughing up bitter salt water that stung her throat. Another brutal collision sent her head spinning, dizziness threatening to pull her under again.

Something brushed her leg, and her heart skipped a beat.

Her heart hammered against her ribs as terror took over. She tried to make out what was moving around her, but the black water pressed in from all sides. Her vision blurred, tiny black spots creeping across her eyes as darkness, enveloped her slowly underwater.

Every inch of her skin felt pricked by a thousand needles, and her body grew numb and heavy.

She had given up. If death wanted her, let it have her. Let her lifeless body drift straight to Hades.

Darkness pressed in. Silence swallowed everything.

Then—colors .

 Flickers of electric blue. Hints of violet, streaks of molten gold, bursts of deep crimson. A light that could not be natural, weaving around her like pearls , curling through the water and wrapping her in the ocean’s secret heartbeat. She drifted, weightless, swallowed by colors that felt alive, humming with a rhythm older than the sea itself.

 Something else touched her arm. Not a fish. Not a current.

A song, maybe. Not heard, but felt . In her ribs . In her skull.

But those who love the sea

Oh, we live forever

You might drown my body,

Oh, never the soul

Drink my blood, break my bones

This grave will fit me better

Than your landlocked home

Tie me up, strike me down

To my dear Syrena

Damned my soul be bound

And then nothing.

·˚𓆛

Author's Note: Hi lovelies! This is my first time posting my writing, so I’m a little nervous—hope it’s okay. If anything feels off, please let me know!

⋆˚꩜｡ next chapter

[colormepurplex2]

The Sirens' Song | KNJ PJM

▻ The Sirens' Song ↳ Namjoon x Jimin x f.Reader ⤜ Merfolk/Sirens, Myth/Legend, Fantasy AU ⤜ Strangers to Lovers | angst, fluff, eventual smut ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: ~7,688 (total TBD) ⤜ Summary: All you wanted was fame, glory, and the freedom of the open ocean. But the beautiful blue goddess is an unforgiving mistress, ripping your ship to splinters and swallowing you down her icy gullet before spitting you onto an unfamiliar sandy shore, not another soul in sight. However, maybe you’re not as alone as you think when you hear the first notes of a haunting song echoing through the salty air. ⚠️Melancholy thoughts, crass language, shipwreck, mild fear, mentions of death, grief, eventual smut, more to come! Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Chapter 1: Into The Deep

Chapter 2: Salt On Your Skin

Chapter 3: Beyond The Breakers

Story will be complete soon.

A/N: This is written as part of the @bangtanwritershq 2024 4th Quarter Writing Event, Monster Mash!

A/N: Thank you to @hisunshiine @downbad4yoongi @lo1k-diamonds @/sara, and @pars-ley for keeping my sanity intact through the writing process so far with their superb beta services!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

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