#lads reader

The wolf in him whines, low and keening; deeply offended but not at you, no. Never. It paws at the glass panel separating your world and his, and frankly, the thing is beginning to piss him off. Already, he had no choice but to resort to stealing your time like some kind of cat burglar during work hours. It's gotten to a point that ignoring his employees' incredulous expressions every time he drops by at the pantry just to catch you for something as minor as, "Hey, can we talk about the report you submitted? Which, you could've put it straight on my desk, by the way. You don't have to email me. You can also just hand it to me face to face. Also, you're not in trouble. I-I just wanted to make that clear and—" had become second nature. The first is the instinctive pull towards you. A magnet that helpless drags him and god, he wouldn't want it any other way.

Not to mention how unbelievably beautiful you look underneath warm fluorescent light right now.

A sudden flash startled him. Only when Valko blinked his teary eyes did he realise that your nail technician was the one snapping his photo from behind the window... with you staring at him with the same face that his employees wear lately. He can feel the heat climbing up from his neck, embarrassed.

Oh shoot, how long was I staring like a creep? Valko chewed at his lip, resisting the urge to find a comfortable hole to crawl into, though he panic when your eyebrows slowly begin to climb. What am I doing? You're definitely going to think I'm actually a creep!

And so, without a thought or so much of a game plan, he made a mad dash inside, shoving the door open. The bell above chimes, and at his sudden entrance, everyone glances at him; they, too, are startled over the appearance of the huge man.

Now he really wants that hole.

Valko has long cemented his place at the top of the food chain, both politically and in his career, but the many stares of confused women, some of them old enough to be his grandmother, made his eyes dart about uneasily.

"...Mr. Ao?" You call out to him, just as confused. "What are you doing here?" Your hands are still prim on the fuzzy table. Cute stars littered on your artificial nails.

He walks-shuffles (not rush!) to where you are. Carefully squeezing through two carts, suddenly painfully aware of his size. "H-Hey! Thought I saw your from outside. Coincidence, amirite?"

"Uh..."

"Also, please, you can call me Valko, remember?"

The nail technician isn't impressed with the exchange at all. "You plan on doing your nails too, handsome? No? Then get out."

"No, no wait! I'm here to pay for her appointment." He then whips you, hesitant but so sincere. "Can I pay for your appointment?"

"No, thank you."

Once again, the wolf keens, but this time, hurt at the rejection of its Mate, and Valko is torn. The world might have paused because, on the one hand, he needs to do something to fix this asap, and on the other, he's committing every micro tic on your face to memory. You're very expressive, which he was delighted to learn from the moment he met you. You wield politeness like a fine blade, but your face could never lie. Like right now, despite the placid curve of your lips that practically screams 'Would that be all Mr. Ao?', your brows are knitted in a, 'Oh god, what the heck is happening? Is this really happening right now?' kind of way.

It's cute. You're cute.

"I can't bear to watch this. Young man!" One of the elderly women, who was in the midst of getting her pedicure, calls out. Both you and him flinches but immediately straighten. "Tell her you'll pay for all her future appointments instead. She's a hard-working woman with her own money, you know. You have to offer something more worthwhile."

You were completely flabbergasted. "H-How..."

The elderly woman rolled her eyes. "I've seen you around these parts more times than my own grandchildren. Well?"

Valko immediately whips back to you, desperate for your reply.

"But he's my client-boss. That would be inappropriate!"

The elderly woman's friend, who had been watching the interaction like her favourite drama, has been waiting to intervene, judging by the brightness of her eyes. Like a wolf locked on a scent. Honestly, Valko can respect that. "Ah, but neither of you is on the clock right now, yes? Live a little! You, kids, are young and besides..." Here, the woman leans forward, grinning impishly. "I think he has a crush on you!"

Yup, definitely going to bury himself in a hole somewhere after this.

You duck your head shyly while your nail technician pats your hand in comfort. The last thing Valko wants is to make you uncomfortable.

"I... I didn't mean to barge in like this, or interrupt your weekend. I'm sorry." He scratches his head and... what the heck, might as well. "If you let me, I'll be more than happy to cover for your future appointments."

That made you raise an eyebrow; clearly, you didn't expect him to actually do it. And that’s not just what I'm willing to do to have a bit of your time, Valko thought.

"And what would you want in return?" You reply, humouring him, though he can see that you're slowly opening up to him. Curious how the day would now unfold.

"I know this great place that sells pizza and wings. Would be a shame if I don't have a friend to have lunch with."

When you beam at the prospect of food, Valko had to stop himself from fist-pumping the air and howling with glee. The ladies in the saloon, however, had no such restraint. They coo and begin rapidly asking the two of them about their relationship. Even your nail tech warmed up to him enough to offer a seat and tea when he promised to promote the saloon.

"I..." your voice broke, and you quickly cleared your throat. "...I feel so overwhelmed, Rafayel..." The uncertainty and fear in your voice broke his heart as he hugged you tighter.

He didn't pressure you to continue; he let you take your time to recover and be able to speak properly if you wanted.

"I don't know what to do... the future is so—I feel lost, like I'm falling behind, like—" The words caught in your throat once again, and your arms wrapped tightly around Rafayel's waist, your face nuzzling his neck.

Rafayel heard you, but said nothing, at least not yet. He rubbed your back again, letting you lean against him. It hurt him to see you feel this way; it hurt him that the person he loved most felt like life was slipping through her fingers.

He gently lifted your head with one of his hands, his thumb sliding beneath your eye to catch a single tear before it could slide down your cheek. "It's not like you're supposed to have a map, cutie," he said gently, smiling softly at you, his eyes warm and grounding. "Who decided there was only one right way?"

He couldn't help but feel his chest tighten at the way you were looking at him, your eyes teary, seeing him as if he held the answers to all your problems. Rafayel had a different understanding of time. He knew that rushing into the "future" was... almost funny, in a bittersweet way.

He pressed a kiss to your forehead, the tip of your nose, and the right corner of your mouth.

"People... act as if life is a straight line," he said gently, looking into your eyes with patience and love, "when in reality it is… more like the ocean... sometimes you drift. Sometimes you swim. Sometimes you float because you're tired..."

He moved a little closer, touching his forehead to yours. "You worry so much about the person you think you should become. You stress about keeping up with expectations, forgetting that the most important thing is you, and it will always be you."

Rafayel pressed a kiss to the top of your head, pulling you closer until you were against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, which sounded suspiciously like waves crashing on the shore outside. His fingers gently stroked your hair, his other hand on your back once more, his palm pressed against you, rubbing gently.

"You don't need to have everything figured out right now," he whispered softly. "If you're feeling pressured about your age, you're still young, cutie. Your life is just beginning, hmm?"

Rayafel could feel your body trembling slightly, as if you were crying or holding back tears.

"B-But... I'm afraid that the decisions I make won't be the right ones." Your voice was so vulnerable and full of fear that even he felt like crying.

"Then make wrong decisions." He let out a small laugh when you raised your head to look at him as if he were insane. "If it was a bad decision, you'll learn something. If it was a good decision, then you'll grow. Either way, you move forward." Rafayel moved a little closer, his lips brushing yours as he spoke once more in a whisper: "Frozen because you're afraid is what you should avoid."

He would never pressure you to decide anything immediately, though. So he let those words settle in your head, gentle and always seeking your happiness.

Rafayel smiled lovingly, his hands cupping your cheeks. "You don't need to prove you're worth it. You're already worth it. To me."

Tears began to fall down your cheeks, and he caught them all with his thumbs before planting a kiss on your lips.

"Come," he said softly, taking your hands and pulling you toward the front door.

The scent of sea salt filled your lungs as he led you outside. "Take a long breath, close your eyes..."

You did as he asked, and he guided you to the shore where the cool water lapped at your bare feet. You gasped, your eyes widening. Rafayel laughed softly.

"The tide doesn't ask anyone's permission. It doesn't ask anyone where to go. It just moves wherever it sees fit."

A small fish suddenly leaped out of the water and flapped its fin, splashing a droplet right on your nose. Rafayel laughed again, pulling you closer. "No matter what you decide, I'll always be there for you, cutie. This fishie isn't going to leave you alone. So... even if you're scared and everything seems to be falling apart, keep trying until you get where you want to go... not where anyone expects you to go."

His words touched your heart, and a small but sincere smile curved your lips as tears glistened in the moonlight. "Thank you, Rafayel. I love you."

-

You don't exactly recall how you made it into this situation, your mind completely reduced to mush, but you didn't care.

Rafayel was at your front, his paintbrush brushing soft strokes against your bare neck and chest, while Zayne was at your back, his pen scratching faint traces of your muscles while murmuring your own body's anatomy.

Your panties were completely soaked. You wouldn't be surprised if you were leaking onto the precious wooden desk you were sitting on.

"..and this here is your multifidus. Got it?" As Zayne spoke, he ran the pen's tip up your spine, causing you to arch your back deliciously into Rafayel's lazy brushes.

"cutie, he asked you a question. You got it?" It wasn't like you could answer, with Zayne's cold fingers wrapped around your chin and his thumb tucked into your mouth, but the whimper at his direct tone still crept through.

You nodded, your gaze half-lidded as you met his eyes, your thighs growing slicker with each passing moment.

Rafayel hummed before tracing your chest, glancing up just in time to see the way your eyes fluttered sweetly as his ministrations.

"now what am I tracing? Come on, use that pretty brain of yours."

You could only moan around Zayne's thumb, leaning back into his pen-scratches as a way to avoid Rafayel's question. But much to your dismay, he took his thumb out of your mouth and paused in his work, leaving you no choice but to answer.

"my.. m-my boob?"

Rafayel scoffed, raising an eyebrow in amusement. it wasn't like you were wrong but he couldn't just let you go with such a poor answer.

"I can't believe you've taken Zayne's course when you can't even use the correct terms.. I would have even let you get away if you said your breasts."

Before you could understand rafayel's amusement, he suddenly slapped your clothed cunt, causing a high whine to slip past your lips, body jolting and your hips bucking back into his hand.

Rafayel cooed, pressing the palm of his hand into your cunt just to feel how wet you were.

"Zayne.. we've been neglecting our poor girl.. she's soaked."

You bit your lip to trap your sounds in, but your body was trembling with need, every brush of their hands seemed to burn into your skin.

Zayne hummed, his gaze meeting Rafayel's over your shoulder, where he had been resisting the urge to bite down on.

"I suppose we've been doing nothing but teasing her.. but she's learning, right?"

You nodded, leaning back onto Zayne's shoulder as your thighs parted instinctively when Rafayel lowered himself to his knees, his hands resting gently on your inner thighs before moving to take your panties off.

Whimpering at the sudden rush of cold to your already wet folds, you barely noticed that Zayne had crept his hand under your thigh, his fingers spreading you open.

You threaded your fingers through Rafayel's purple locks, your hips bucking to meet his face once his tongue started lapping at your juices like it was heavenly.

It was a shock how Rafayel could become this pussy drunk in less than five minutes, eating you out like it was his last meal, his tongue sliding through your folds effortlessly, your skirt draping over his head.

Zayne's fingers started circling your clit, peppering kisses and bites over your neck and shoulder, his tongue licking stripes to cool each blossoming hickey.

"this here—mmph—is your labia majora." his voice was muffled as your thighs tensed and closed over his head.

You squirmed, your hands pushing his head further down into your pussy as your choked moans and whines echoed through the room.

"fuckk, raff- zayne! 's too muchh.." you whined, one hand in Rafayel's head while the other was tangled in Zayne's for some sense of stability.

Your thighs shook as you buried your head in Zayne's shoulder, the pleasure sending overwhelming shocks through your body with the combination of Zayne's fingers teasing you and Rafayel's mouth working wonders on your clit.

The filthy sounds of your slick and your moans filled the room, along with Rafayel's muffled murmuring and Zayne's sweet nothings.

Zayne's voice cut through your broken whines, his voice gentle next to your ear. "Close? You can come for us."

That was all you needed as you came on Zayne's fingers and Rafayel's face, still lapping at your juices like he couldn't get enough, his tongue moving up to circle your clit while Zayne's fingers went to scoop some of your release from your folds.

A broken cry left you as your body shook, still coming down from the high as they both worked until your body was limp, only trembling from the aftershocks as your hoarse whimpers quieted down.

Rafayel sat back on his knees, wiping the corners of his mouth as he watched Zayne move and hand you his waterbottle.

You caught your breath as Rafayel slipped your panties back on and rubbed his hands over your thighs, the gentleness a stark contrast to how hard you had just came.

After a small silence of Rafayel and Zayne cleaning you up (you hadn't even prepared for them doing that), your legs swung while you sat on his desk like you didn't have a care in the world.

"I'll fix your scoring." who knew Zayne was that easy-

"As long as you keep coming! Literally and figuratively." and.. after shutting up for the brief moment he ate you out, Rafayel was still annoying as ever. how did he even get a job at teaching?

But this could get normal.. you weren't complaining.

this took so long just for me not to do the idea justice ToT | please excuse any incorrect anatomy terms

taglist! ~ @spacekittiesmeow @kingraspberry12-blog @luvinbloom

Shockingly, Thomas did not quit yet. Probably because Rafayel paid well. Probably also because he wasn’t allowed to abandon magical aquatic drama princes.

Sometimes you swore you saw him mutter prayers into his coffee like a man one meeting away from losing his sanity. He even started bringing extra espresso shots to your arguments, like holy water for your nonsense.

Somewhere around day five, you discovered something horrifying in the security feed:

Rafayel had already hit his head before you transmigrated.

He fell off a ladder. While trying to paint. Because he was perched on it like a dramatic swan in a ballet.

You stared at the footage.

“…So I DIDN’T get isekai’d because of a tragic fate,” you murmured. “I got isekai’d because my host body ate the floor like a muffin.”

Thomas, tiredly sipping his 20th espresso, nodded. “You were probably concussed but you being you tried to sleep it off.”

You gasped dramatically.

“OH MY GOD I POSSESSED A CLUMSY, ART-DRUNKED MER-BEAN.”

“Don’t say it like that.”

“HE FELL OFF A LADDER LIKE A MAJESTIC IDIOT. A PAINTER SWAN DIVING TO HIS DEATH BUT FAILED.”

“I said don’t say it like that.”

You replayed the clip five more times anyway, laughing hysterically every single time he bounced slightly after landing.

Tragic? Maybe. Entertaining? Absolutely.

The Painting Phase (aka “Thank God for Muscle Memory”)

The good news: Rafayel’s body remembered how to paint even if you barely knew how to draw a circle.

The bad news: Rafayel’s body painted like GOD and your soul screamed every time because you didn’t deserve this power.

You would wake up at 3AM, look at a finished canvas and whisper, “Who did this.”

(The paintings were all unreasonably, breathtakingly gorgeous—each brushstroke radiated angst and passion, as if Rafayel’s soul decided to flex through you while you were unconscious. Once, you painted a koi fish that looked like it could file taxes.)

Your hand twitched.

“Oh. Me. But not me. Twink-me.”

Thomas once found you lying face-down on the studio floor.

“What are you doing.”

“Processing.”

“Processing what?”

“That I am powered by trauma and stolen artistic talent.”

"..."

Hermit Mode: Activated

You refused to leave the penthouse.

Why? Because unlike Real Rafayel, who could fight with daggers like a sexy aquatic ninja, you would pass out if someone sneezed aggressively. Probably.

You practiced your fire powers out of curiosity ONCE. Set a potted plant on fire. Cried for twenty minutes. Thomas installed ten more fire extinguishers in the house. For safety, he said.

So you hid inside, ate cookies, played with Rafayel’s fancy art pens, and prayed Wanderers wouldn’t show up like:

“Hey bby u up? 😘”

No. No you were NOT up. You were hiding like a coward. Pride who? Courage what? Not here.

Also you were avoiding MC like she carried the plague, the Black Death, and romantic tension.

You even hissed once when she called.

The Confrontation

MC, after having her texts and call unanswered for the nth time this week, finally lost patience.

She stormed into the studio one morning like a tiny tornado.

You nearly threw your paintbrush at her like holy salt.

She blinked. Soft smile, concerned eyes. “Rafayel?”

You backed up like she had fangs.

“DON’T COME CLOSER! I—uh—have a disease.”

Thomas immediately cut in. “Yeah, he fell off a ladder and hit his head a week ago. He’s been weird—er—weirder than usual since. Won’t see a doctor. Thinks they’re evil or something.”

“Doctors ARE evil,” you snapped. “They poke you. With needles. Sadism disguised as healthcare.”

MC stared. “…Are you okay?”

You nodded way too fast. “Yes. No. Maybe. Emotionally? Spiritually? No.”

She sighed, grabbed your sleeve and dragged you out the door like you weighed nothing. Which was insulting, because you were taller (and much prettier) than her dammit!

“Coffee,” she said, tone firm. “We need to talk.”

“IT’S NOT A DATE RIGHT?!” you shrieked, flailing, as she forced you into her car.

“It’s just coffee.”

“OKAY BUT MY SOUL IS STRAIGHT.”

She didn’t respond. She was probably regretting caring about you.

The Coffee Crisis

You sat stiffly like someone shoved a ruler down your spine while MC sipped her drink, internally thinking ways on how to navigate this conversation.

Because what if this turns out to be a confession?!?!

I am so NOT ready for this... you lamented, trying not to panic.

“So,” she asked gently, “why are you avoiding me? My calls? My messages?”

You blurted it before thinking, voice louder than pride warranted:

“I’M GAY.”

The café went silent.

MC blinked. “What?”

“I’m GAY. And I’m scared if I hang out with you I’ll accidentally romance you because obviously I'm too beautiful for you to resist and then BAM—kiss scene, intimacy CGs, tragic yuri grilled in a BL route—”

She stared.

You continued digging your grave.

“I'm sorry but I can’t date you. I am a girl on the inside. I don’t want a girlfriend. I'd rather be the hot guy's girlfriend. I am not emotionally stable enough to be a sapphic twink.”

MC slowly placed her cup down.

“…Are you having a mental breakdown?”

“...Yes?”

“Do you think I'm trying to date you?”

“Yes? I mean no? I mean—I DON’T KNOW I JUST PANIC WHEN YOU SMILE AT ME, OKAY?!?"

MC pinched the bridge of her nose like Thomas did when you breathed too loudly.

Then she said flatly, “Rafayel. I asked you to drink coffee with me because you’re my weird, dramatic friend, not my romance target or whatever it is that you're thinking. I’m not seducing you. Calm down.”

You froze.

"...Really?"

"Really."

Silence.

“My bad,” you whispered.

She sighed, fond and exhausted. “You really did scramble your brains, huh?”

You shrugged and sipped your drink through the straw, hoping the iced latte could drown your shame.

Ugh, how embarassing...

On the drive back, you sat curled in the passenger seat like a sulking shrimp.

You whispered weakly, “So… you’re not, like, mad?”

“I’m confused. Deeply. But not mad.”

“…You still want to be friends?”

“Yes.”

“…Even though I'm secretly a girl who likes pink and sparkles?”

She stared at the road. “I’m choosing not to unpack that sentence.”

You exhaled dramatically. “I really thought you’d think I was falling for you.”

MC snorted. “If you ever do, I’ll call a paramedic.”

You nodded solemnly.

“A fair response.”

When you got home, Thomas asked, “How was coffee?”

You collapsed on the couch. “I accidentally came out. But like, incorrectly.”

Thomas sighed. Of course.

You clutched a pillow, beaming. "But on the bright side, at least now she knows I am NOT a romantic route. Or a side quest.”

And then MC's text came in.

MC: Next time you dodge my calls I’m dragging you out again.

You groaned into the pillow.

A/N: Poor MC. Imagine if she DID (or did she not? who knows?) have a crush on Rafayel, only to get friend zoned instead. But hey, at least she now has a wonderful new GBF! Small blessings, amirite???

Melisande watched in slight amusement as the three dots appeared and disappeared on the bottom of her screen.

As if she’d had enough, Hunter’s caller ID popped up on screen. Melisande bit back an amused smile as she accepted the call.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had as many consecutive heart attacks as the ones you just gave me.” Hunter started, the minute the call was accepted.

“I’ve gotta tell Zayne my apologies in advance then.” Melisande laughed as she set the phone on speaker.

“What on earth even happened?” Hunter sounded as confused as her texts, making Melisande smile.

“We didn’t even get to discuss the art he’s supposed to make; after the contract was signed, he just walked me around his studio, pointing out odd bits and bobs.” Melisande groaned, thinking back to earlier today.

“Bits and bobs?”

“Where do I even start--- there was this glass bottle. It was really pretty but seeing it just made me dizzy.  Then there was this cute puffball keychain. He even let me hold it and all, it was nice too, I said it was grumpy like him, then he picked it up and said it was round, like me!” She went on a whole tirade, to the older girl’s amusement. Hunter decided to not mention that she had been the one to give the keychain to Rafayel.

“You made it sound way worse than it is!” Hunter laughs. “From what I’m hearing, he actually likes you.”

“The man has become a bigger menace to my peace than my insomnia headaches, Hunter.” Melisande groaned. “And we only just met.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re making a whole lot of people’s lives easier.” Hunter grinned.

The two continued catching up on each other’s day over the phone. Hunter had visited the acquaintance who was going to get her into the gala, and they had finalized the mission’s plans there. Melisande thought she could detect the hint of exasperation in Hunter’s voice but didn’t comment on it. It sounded like the Deepspace Hunter already had far too much on her plate anyway.  A text notification popped up on Hunter’s phone from the grumpy fish himself.

Hunter raised an eyebrow. Rafayel had asked her earlier this week if she was going to be free. But she had been busy planning out the stakeout with Sylus and Xavier, that she hadn’t been sure if she would make it on time. Rafayel, as popular as he was, didn’t really have that many close friends apart from them, so who on earth had he asked?

Her phone pinged again, this time with a message from Melisande.

A devious grin placed itself on Hunter’s lips before she can stop herself.

Ah.

It seems their little fishie friend found his water. A plan was already forming in Hunter’s head. She’d be sure to drag the others in on it as well. Sure, they were busy with the illegal protocore stakeout at the gala, but she’d be damned if she was going to let an opportunity to cause some mischief slide.

Especially when it involved her two artistic friends that had been the cause of her theoretical heart attacks and headaches. She shoots Sand a quick reply.

The upside to being a solo artist in the entertainment world is that your schedule wasn’t dependent on other group members. Melisande had quite a bit of say in what her day-to-day activities looked like, and if there had been anything she wanted to reschedule or something she wanted inserted, she just had to run them by Garnet first for approval, which was as easy as sending the girl a text. Her manager was almost always on her phone.

The downside to being a solo artist in Linkon City is that the artist has to do everything themselves. Having stage presence and capability that captured the attention of everyone around her was no easy feat. After securing the day from Garnet, which had been pretty easy when she found out it wasn’t for no reason (and maybe because she had been hoping that her relationship with Rafayel would improve), Melisande set about preparing for bed.

Rafayel’s invite had been sudden, calling her right as her call with Hunter ended. She didn’t even remember giving her number to the artist, but apparently, Garnet had given it during the short time she had gone to the bathroom before they left. She was cautiously excited at the prospect of spending time at the ocean. With the amount of nightmares she had that were connected to the ocean, Garnet and the others were surprised she wasn’t more terrified of it. The nightmares seemed like an omen, a warning to stay far, far, away from the sea and its call.

There had been a time when she was.

When her nightmares had started, she had been unconsciously terrified of her own evol, causing it to go haywire. It had gotten to a point Hunter had to step in, placing a limit on her powers. Then, one night, she had a nightmare where she had been drowned again, and she decided she was sick of being scared of the water.

She’d called up Hunter and trained with her evol relentlessly until she had near-perfect control, able to command sizeable bodies of water just using her mind. After that, it was pretty hard to be scared of something she knew had control over.

And it was hard not to fall in love with the sea.

The crash of waves on the shore lulled her to sleep, its tides pulling at her and rocking her to sleep. She could control the water if she truly wanted, but she was content to let the waves wash her over, the many hues of the water calming her heart like a balm to her soul.

She never understood why she loved the water so much when it often tried to kill her in her sleep, but she supposed that was what it was like to care deeply for a primordial force.

You just had to hold steady against its waves.

And she did.

When her dreams came that night, that’s exactly what she did.

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼

Dream Melisande wasn’t a good person. It was the first thing she figured out the moment she looked around.

The second thing she figured out was that she wasn’t quite human either. She felt the abnormality like it was a second skin like something was behind her eyes that didn’t sit quite right. The glitzy glamour of an opera house surrounded her. In her hands was a small, bloodied chip no bigger than her thumb. Blood. Thick velvet curtains hung on stage, just waiting to rise. She was about to give her performance, one that would kill the greedy patron who had kept her shackled.

“Miss Circe, are you ready?” a small girl, one of the opera assistants, asked. She looked at the girl and nodded. Her makeup was done anyway— a glance at the mirror showed glossy dark red lips and pulled-back hair. She was wearing the prettiest violet dress that sloped over the shoulders.

Her name was Circe. And she was a sea witch.

She’d been taken from her home and forced to sing for the said patron. An unwilling prisoner who was going to be free soon. Brief memories surfaced in her mind. A rule, someone had whispered to her urgently a long time ago.

The sea would turn its back to her once she committed a murder on land.

It was fine, she reasoned out. It didn’t matter if the sea didn’t recognize her anymore, so long as she can return back to it.

The sea was where she belonged.

And return to the sea she will.

No matter the cost.

She stood in the middle of the stage, the too-bright stage lights all focused on her. She couldn’t even see the audience, but it didn’t matter anymore. She’d managed to remove the inhibitor her captor had put on her and clawed it out from under her skin. Makeshift bandages from a dress already pressed onto the healing scar. Nothing was stopping her anymore.

She felt her power shift, returning to her as a cold rush at the inhibitor’s removal. Magic, when not in use, gets stored unconsciously, and she’d been here for close to a year. A siren’s song will only kill those that it intended to kill. Drawing in a breath, she put her all into the song, lacing it with all the hate and love she had.

Her captor collapsed not even halfway into the first bars of the chorus, sending the people in the large hall in a panic. She kept calm as the bright lights were turned off in a hurry. She could see him, on the floor gasping for breath as he was surrounded by people. He was clutching his heart, in clear pain. Their gazes met, and she smiled.

She held eye contact before leaving.

“Goodbye.” She sang. “You will not live long. Consider this my mercy.”

The opera hall for the rich and famous was located on a cliffside by the sea.

All she had to do was jump, and she would be free.

But there had been consequences. She knew the sea would not accept her back. It would not cushion her fall, likely causing her to break her legs.

But it didn’t matter; she would survive the fall and be back home in the end.

No one was outside as she slipped out, or so she thought.

“The Deep Sea turns its back on those who betrayed it.” A voice said as she neared the cliff. She turned. A man in a dark blue suit stood, purple eyes watching her.

A Lemurian.

“I care not if the Deep turns its back to me. I only care that I return to its embrace.” She said, frowning. “You would not understand, Lemurian. You and your people have always had the ocean’s blessing. Some of us are not as lucky.”

“Not me.” He hums. “But you misinterpret my intentions.” He gestures to the cliff.

“You say you’re returning to the sea? Allow me to help you.” At his words, she frowns even more.

“I don’t have anything to offer you.”

“But you do,” he said. “There is a potion I need made. One that will turn a being of the Sea human.” At his request, she couldn’t help but laugh.

“Do you wish to have the Deep turn its back on you too, foolish Fish?”

“The Deep turned its back on you.”

“And I wish it were not so, but I had to escape. What on earth do you find so enchanting about this dry desert?” The man is quiet for a moment, before shaking his head.

“My lover is here. They are not part of the Deep Sea. Not anymore.”

“And you will lose everything for her? To be with her?” She asked slightly incredulous. He replied instantly.

“Yes.”

She looked him over once again, before extending her hand. He took it and their deal was made. She wouldn’t be harmed in the sea if she was with the mysterious man. In return, he will become human.

Hand in hand, they jumped over the cliff face. Her dream ends just as they hit the water.

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼

Melisande woke up with a start. The sight of sunrays stunned her. All at once, numerous realizations sent her reeling. She had slept long. She didn’t die in her dreams. She had slept. Long.

And she didn’t die. The girl in her dreams had only been rejected by the sea, but she was still alive.

She let out a sigh of relief she hadn’t known she was holding. But her dreams recently have been weird. They weren’t ending in the usual violent manner. Hell, she hadn’t even been stabbed in her most recent one?

Deciding to think about them later, she sat up and started preparing for the day. The sun was already high above the sky, meaning she’d even gotten in more sleep than usual. She didn’t know if she should take this as a good or bad sign.

But all that unpacking would be for later, first, there was an artist she had to meet.

𓇼 ˚𓆝 ⋆｡𓆟 ⋆｡𓆞˚ 𓇼

Rafayel, being Rafayel, had his own private strip of the beach in Whitesand Bay. She’d arrived a little later in the afternoon, around the time where the sun was almost setting, but not quite. There was a cool breeze in the air that made walking pleasant and easy. The fine white sand the beach was known for, was warm but not scalding on her feet. She scanned the shoreline, looking for a certain shade of purple.

Following Rafayel’s text, she walked a few feet, spotting the artist sitting on a rock. He had his arms crossed, sitting cross-legged, looking infuriated. A seagull was standing on top of his knee, squawking noisily. To Melisande’s amusement, it looked like Rafayel was arguing with (and losing to) a seagull. She neared hearing vicinity just in time to hear Rafayel letting out a perfect human squawk.

Rafayel looked over at the sound of loud laughter. Melisande was there, doubled over, and clutching at her sides.  

“Did you know it’s rude to interrupt conversation?” He says, raising an eyebrow. Were those tears in her eyes? The girl didn’t even bother to stifle her laughter, grinning widely at Rafayel.

“I’m sorry to get in between your conversation, but it looked like you were losing a fight.” She said, wiping her eyes with a smile.

“I’m familiar with the birds in the area,” Rafayel says, still pouting at the bird. “Some of them, like this one, come over often to complain.”

She took a deep breath and promptly lost it when the seagull squawked as if in agreement.

Rafayel frowned at the seagull, poking its head.

“Of course you’d take her side. Go now, I don’t wanna deal with petty fowl.”

As if heeding his words, the bird squawked and flew away, but not before messing up Rafayel’s hair using its claws, receiving an indignant Hey! From the artist.

“Oh man, I don’t think I’ve laughed that hard in a long time.” She smiled as she came down from another laughing fit.

 Rafayel muttered something about eating bird for dinner later as he jumped down from the rock. He looked at Melisande, who was dressed in simple clothes and open sandals.

“What took you so long?”

“Linkon traffic,” she explained. “In the end, I had to ask my deepspace hunter friend for help because traffic wasn’t moving at all.”

Rafayel hums. The two of them start walking to the shore.

“I also know a deepspace hunter. She’s pretty stingy about giving other people rides. Buuut like, I don’t even wanna ride a bike in the first place.”

Melisande smiles, filing the information that Rafayel didn’t like bikes for later.

“Hunter is pretty stingy.” Rafayel whips around to look at her.

“You know her too?” he asks, looking surprised.

“Childhood friend.” She says.

They were close enough to the ocean that she could use her evol as they walked, so she did. Taking water from the ocean and making looping arches, intricate frames. Rafayel started requesting random objects, a seagull (Melisande laughed hard as she made one), an easel, a sports car. She was shaping a swan from water when she notices the water form an odd shape. She tugs on Rafayel’s sleeve, pointing to the waves.

"Look! The waves look like little people.” She smiles excitedly, grabbing Rafayel by the arm and dragging him into the water, stopping when they were ankle-deep. The waves crashed around them and retreated making Melisande smile as she dug her foot into the sand. She missed the sea so much. “They look like little children... Dancing on the waves, coming toward us." Melisande grinned, squatting down a little to catch the water by the tips of her finger.

“Sorry, I haven’t been back to the sea in a while. This must look pretty childish.”

There’s a fondness in Rafayel’s eyes that catches her off guard. He has a small smile as he lowers himself as well, hands under the water.

“I’ll take a childish artist over dumb art critics any day.” He smiles, and Melisande has to draw her gaze back to the waves to hide the sudden warmth in her cheeks.

As they waded out of the water, a seagull flying overhead dropped something by Rafayel’s feet.

“I didn’t know you had your own personal carrier service,” Melisande said, amused. Rafayel picks up the item, turning it over his hands. It was a stone slate no bigger than a cellphone.

“Told you, I’m familiar with the seagulls here.” Was his smug reply. Melisande only rolls her eyes, inching closer to see the slate more clearly.

“Shame it missed your feet,” she lamented, the mental picture of Rafayel hopping about the beach as he held one foot highly amusing.

“Glad to see that the person I’m working with cares so much for my well-being.” Rafayel huffed but holds it out for the girl to read. The stone had something etched on it, a written language Melisande couldn’t recognize.

“That looks like a priceless artifact.” She mused, running a finger through the etching. “Shame we can’t read what it says.”

“Who’s we, cutie?” Rafayel smirks, before picking up the slate fully.

“In the boundless ocean, ‘tis the lighthouse that guides through every storm.” Rafayel reads the text easily, like it was his second tongue.

“You can read that?” Melisande gapes, looking at the foreign writing.

“Thy presence, the gentle ebb and flow of the tides, thy laughter, the soothing rhythm of the waves against the shore, thy touch, the delicate caress of the sea breeze. ‘Tis thine heart’s truest desire, thy anchor. This is mine promise to you.” Rafayel finishes.

“How can you read this?” She finds herself asking.

“Just something I picked up when I was traveling.” Rafayel said offhandedly. “Now, time to talk business.”

“Thought Thomas was going to handle all of that.” She smirks.

“Thomas can paint but he’s not painting your album, cutie. I am. Unless you want me to draw a smiley face and move on, you gotta at least give me an idea of what to do.”

“I didn’t really bring my laptop,” she admitted. “Thought we would do some brainstorming in my studio, instead of, well, here.” She paused, gesturing to the sea.

“Not that I don’t love it, but why did you ask to meet here?”

“A lot of your songs have motifs about the sea, so I figured we should at least talk at the source,” Rafayel said as he picked up a stone and skipped it across the water’s surface. It went surprisingly far for it being in the waves.

“I have nightmares of the sea every night,” Melisande confessed. She mimicked his actions, throwing a stone as well but using her evol. Rafayel swatted at her arms, with a frown.

“Hey! No cheating using your evol.”

“Fine” She concedes, picking up a couple more stones and having less success without the use of her evol.

“You said you have nightmares?” Rafayel asked. “…About the sea?”

“Every night. Without fail.” She replied.  “It started when I was a child, but it never went away. The only reason it doesn’t show on my face is because my makeup artist is giving her 110%”

“And you draw inspiration from that?” he sounds a little bewildered that Melisande can’t help but chuckle as she threw another stone.

“I’d rather take my nightmares and turn them into something else that other people can enjoy. Otherwise, I would’ve been suffering for nothing, no?”

The two of them skip stones in silence for a while until Rafayel speaks up again. This time, he has that look again, like he’s thinking of something important but won’t share it.

“Can you sing?” Melisande finds herself snorting.

“Considering I’m a singer, I would hope so. Otherwise, I’ve entered the wrong career.”

“I mean, here, right now.” Rafayel says with a pout. Melisande was beginning to find that specific expression endearing on him, he looked like a child that was being refused candy.

“Why the sudden request?”

“Maybe it's one of my many artistic whimsies,” Rafayel suggested, but he wasn’t really being serious. Melisande liked this version of Rafayel better than the picky artist the media painted him as. Rafayel, with the sea breeze in his hair, hand resting on his hip as he stared off into the horizon, looking content. The seagulls squawked faintly in the background. He was as beautiful as the paintings he created.

“Or maybe I just wanna get serenaded by a pretty singer.”

”Flattery gets you… somewhere” Melisande admits, searching her brain for a song to sing.

A familiar song pops into her head. Maybe she’d been reminded of her nightmare earlier, but the song felt right to sing for some reason.

“Can you see through the mist? Look out this way.” She began an acapella rendition of My Green Light, from a musical that had been on a tour of Linkon city a couple of months ago. Maybe it was the ocean making her sappy and romantic. “Can you see the green light, Just 'cross the bay?”

“Sometimes it's winking” she shot Rafayel a wink, making the man laugh. Rafayel gave her his undivided attention as she sang, hanging on to every word that left her mouth. “Sometimes it's warning, blinking its message to me until morning”

It's a lighthouse It's a signal flare Stay back Come quick Move on Stay there

“Only we know what we're going through. If I save you, will you save me too?” She found herself looking at the other artist as she sang, as if pulled in by his stare. She ignored how her heart beat faster when she met his gaze. It was intense, whirling with emotions she didn’t know what to make of, but she continued meeting it nonetheless “Can you see through the mist? Look, 'cross the bay.” She smiled, pointing at a lighthouse in the distance. Rafayel smiled. “Can you see the green light? It’s yours, Whitesand Bay.”

There was a smile on Rafayel’s face as he mouthed the next lyrics quietly. “I thought you'd disappeared, thought you were gone.”

.Melisande sang them for him.

“Buried you in my heart, but as I moved on,” It really was odd. Rafayel was odd, she decided. An oddity that she wanted to keep studying, if only to keep seeing him. “I had this feeling as I was falling, the sound 'cross the bay, was the sound of you calling” (she was falling fast and hard, but she ignored the feeling, content to quietly bask in the realization that the man in front of her wasn’t so bad after all).

Like a foghorn Like a siren song Retreat Return Be lost Belong

Only heaven knows what I might do If I save you, will you save me too?

She sings through the rest of the song, watching curiously as Rafayel mouths some of the lyrics, At some point, he even started to hum. She looked at him as she sang, waiting for him to sing. She’d almost given up hope, content to finish with a duet song as a solo performance, but at the last chorus she hears it. And it was like the ocean itself with the waves and the seagulls quieted down to hear him better and she has to remind herself to keep singing. She looked at Rafayel who was softly singing the words to her.

“I thought you'd disappeared, Thought you were gone” he sang quietly, staring at her. “Buried you in my heart, as I carried on”

“Buried you in my heart, but as I moved on” she echoed.

I had this feeling As I was falling The sound 'cross the bay Was the sound of you calling You're a lighthouse

You're a signal flare

Rafayel’s voice was mesmerizing. A soft, quiet tone that effortlessly harmonized with hers. It took her breath away.  It was like she had been lulled in a trance, the feeling and sound of his voice so familiar, it sent her reeling.

If I save you, will you save me too?

As the last note hung in the air, the two of them stayed silent. When had they gotten so close? They were facing each other, Melisande holding onto Rafayel’s sleeve. The sounds of the seagulls and the waves returned to her ears, making her jump away.

“That’s one song, for you, Your Highness.” She coughed, trying to steady her voice.

The nickname seemed to bring Rafayel back too. But his first words aren’t teasing, like Melisande had expected them to be.

“Thank you. For singing.” He says with a sad smile. Why was he sad? Melisande wanted to know.

“No problem.” She dodges these thoughts, patting him on the shoulder before starting to walk. The sea breeze was starting to get a little bit colder as the sun started setting. Everything was bathed in a golden light. “If you ever want to do something other than painting… start a singing career. You have a nice voice, Rafayel.”

Rafayel smiles at her.

“You sure you just don’t want to hear more of my voice, cutie?”

Yes.

The answer was yes.