#mermaid reader

Zuko waited for him to say more, but Iroh only smiled into his cup.

The cruiser rounded the cliffs slowly, revealing the hidden cove tucked between towering rocks and greenery. Fire lilies bloomed wildly along the edges of the stone paths leading toward the royal vacation home perched above the shoreline. It had belonged to the royal family for years. A secluded retreat far from court politics and war meetings.

A place Zuko had barely visited.

“You have been tense for months,” Iroh had told him firmly before practically forcing him onto the ship. “The world will not collapse if you rest for a weekend.”

Now, as the song floated through the evening air again, Zuko found himself strangely grateful they'd come. The servants quickly settled them into the estate as night approached. Lanterns were lit along the balconies overlooking the sea, warm amber flickering against dark wood and stone.

The singing had stopped once they docked and for some reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Later that evening, unable to sleep, he heard the song again drifting in through the door to the balcony. Zuko stepped out onto the balcony and cool ocean air brushed against his skin, carrying salt and the distant crash of waves below.

Slowly, Zuko followed the sound down toward the shore with his eyes until he spotted movement atop the black rocks jutting from the water.

Moonlight silvered your figure as you faced the ocean, entirely unaware you were being watched. The melody that left your lips was beautiful. Zuko leaned forward slightly against the railing.

Then as your figure moved, his blood ran cold. A tail shimmered beneath you massive and iridescent, covered in glimmering scales.

A mermaid.

His heart slammed against his ribs. He recalled the stories of sailors dragged beneath waves, sirens luring ships into storms, creatures lurking in deep waters waiting for foolish men.

He should call the guards, instead, he stared. As though sensing him, the singing suddenly stopped. You turned sharply toward the estate, toward him.

Even from this distance, Zuko could see the surprise flash across your face. For one suspended moment, neither of you moved, then your eyes widened. And with a swift movement of your tail, you disappeared beneath the waves.

Zuko should have gone back inside, that would have been the sensible thing to do. Instead, he turned on his heel so fast he nearly knocked over the lantern beside his door. Within minutes, he had pulled his boots back on and thrown a loose robe over his sleep clothes. The estate was quiet as he slipped through the halls and down the stone path leading toward the beach below.

The night air was colder near the water. Waves curled against the shore in soft foamy lines while moonlight painted the cove silver. The rocks where he had seen you stood farther out, dark and jagged against the sea were empty.

Zuko slowed near the edge of the water, scanning the ocean carefully and saw nothing. Maybe he imagined it. No. He knew what he saw.

His pulse still hadn’t settled from the shock of it — a mermaid.

The ocean shifted quietly. Zuko’s head snapped toward the sound to find a pair of eyes peeking from behind one of the larger rocks watching him.

You disappeared the second he noticed before cautiously peeking out again. Only your face showed this time, framed by damp hair clinging to your shoulders. Your expression was wary but curious in the same breath.

Zuko took an instinctive step closer and you vanished instantly beneath the water.

“…Wait,” he called out.

The waves rolled gently and he got no answer. Zuko exhaled slowly, feeling ridiculous. Of course you’d run. Why wouldn’t you? A stranger had caught you in the open. He stared out across the water another moment before quietly speaking again.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

After several long seconds, the water near the rocks rippled. You emerged cautiously this time, rising slowly enough for him to see the glimmer of scales beneath the surface. Beautiful. Your tail shimmered beneath the moonlight, colors shifting every time the water moved around you. Blues melted into green and silver into violet.

Zuko had never seen anything like it, he stood there in a daze. Neither of you spoke for a moment. You were the first to break the silence.

“…Humans usually scream first.” Your voice was softer while speaking than while singing.

“I almost did,” he muttered softly.

That made your lips twitch slightly.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you murmured, eyes flicking toward the estate behind him. “If someone sees me…”

“They won’t.”

You looked unconvinced.

“You don’t know that,” you responded.

Zuko hesitated before answering quietly, “Then I won’t let them.”

Something changed in your expression then. Surprise, maybe or suspicion.

“You’re fire people?” you ask carefully.

“Yes,” he responds almost shamefully.

Your gaze lingered on his scarred eye briefly. “I should go.” you said, but you didn’t move and  Zuko found himself stepping closer to the shoreline again.

“What’s your name?”

You stared at him for a long moment, like you were debating whether speaking to him at all was a mistake then, quietly, you told him. The sound of your name lingered in Zuko’s mind long after you spoke it. You seemed to realize a moment later that you had actually answered him, because your expression shifted immediately into caution again. Your fingers curled slightly against the wet rock beneath you.

Zuko swallowed. “I’m Zuko,” he said after a moment, almost awkwardly. “Fire Lord Zuko.”

The title felt strange here out on the beach with seawater curling around his boots and a mermaid watching him from the rocks; it sounded less important than it usually did.

“A Lord?” your curiosity piqued and your brows lifted slightly.

“You sound disappointed.”

“I expected someone older,” you admit. 

Zuko stared at you and you laughed softly at the look on his face. The sound was quiet and mesmerizing.

“I’m not old,” he muttered defensively.

“You looked old when you were glaring from your balcony.”

“I was not glaring,” he said defensively. 

“You were absolutely glaring,” you countered.

Zuko opened his mouth to argue before realizing that he probably had been. That only made your smile widen slightly. Ocean water glimmered around your tail as you shifted against the rocks, the scales catching moonlight like scattered jewels. Zuko tried very hard not to stare too obviously. Tried and failed.

“Have you never seen a mermaid before?” you asked.

“No.”

“Not even in paintings?”

“Those don’t count.”

You hummed thoughtfully at that.

“That song you were singing earlier…”

“What about it?” Your eyes flicked toward him cautiously.

Zuko searched for the right words and found frustratingly few.

“It was…” He exhaled quietly. “Beautiful.”

“As in strange?” you asked carefully.

“No.” His answer came too quickly. “I mean no. It just…” He frowned slightly. “It sounded sad.”

Your expression softened “It’s an old song.”

“What’s it about?”

“The sea.” 

“That tells me nothing.”

A small laugh escaped you again. “You ask many questions for someone who’s supposed to fear me.”

“I don’t fear you.”

“You probably should.”

Zuko crossed his arms slightly. “You haven’t done anything threatening.”

“You followed a strange creature to the beach alone in the middle of the night.”

“…That sounds worse when you say it out loud.”

“It should.” Despite your words, amusement danced briefly across your face.

Zuko hesitated before asking quietly, “Will you sing it again?”

You stared at him for a moment, clearly caught off guard. “No one’s ever asked that before.”

“What do they usually ask?”

“How many ships I’ve drowned.”

Zuko grimaced. “Have you?”

Your grin turned mysterious. “You ask many questions.”

Before he could respond, you shifted slightly atop the rocks, gaze drifting toward the horizon. For a second, Zuko thought you would refuse but your voice rose softly into the night once more. Gentle and haunting. The melody wrapped around the cove as he stood perfectly still at the shoreline.

And somewhere deep down, he realized with sudden terrifying clarity, he already wanted to hear it again tomorrow.

Warm sunlight pressed against Zuko’s face as he groaned softly, shifting against something uneven beneath him before suddenly freezing. Heyes snapped open and for one disorienting moment, all he saw was bright morning light reflecting off endless blue water. Waves rolled lazily onto the shore mere feet away from him, foam brushing the edges of his boots.

His robe was damp with sea mist, hair tousled from the wind, and one of his sleeves had been partially buried beneath sand during the night.

He had fallen asleep on the beach. Zuko stared blankly toward the rocks in the cove, memories rushing back in fragments. The sound of waves and the slow, hypnotic warmth that had settled over him while you sang.

He stood quickly, brushing sand from his clothes while scanning the water again. Nothing moved beyond the steady rhythm of the tide.

“You’re finally awake.”

Zuko nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around to find Uncle Iroh standing farther up the beach holding two cups of tea. The older man looked far too amused for this early in the morning.

“Why are you out here?” Zuko asked suspiciously.

“I could ask you the same question.”

Zuko straightened immediately. “I was just…” He motioned to the beach vaguely. 

“That’s not an answer.” Iroh handed him a cup calmly before glancing toward the ocean.

“You seem quite fond of this cove already.”

Zuko took the tea carefully. “It’s peaceful.”

“Peaceful enough to sleep on wet sand?”

“…I was tired.”

Iroh’s eyes twinkled knowingly over the rim of his cup. “You know, the fishermen in this region tell interesting stories about these waters.”

Zuko stiffened imperceptibly. “I don’t care about sailor stories.”

“Hmm.” Iroh sipped his tea. “Stories of beautiful songs heard at night, spirits in the sea and men wandering into the water half asleep.”

“Most of those stories end badly,” Iroh continued mildly.

“I’m not stupid.” Zuko avoided his gaze.

“I did not say you were.”

Zuko looked back toward the ocean again despite himself and a strange disappointment settled in his chest. Iroh watched him carefully for a moment before smiling faintly.

“Well,” he said, turning back toward the estate, “if you plan on courting mysterious sea spirits, perhaps try not to catch pneumonia in the process.”

“I am not courting anyone!” Zuko nearly choked on his tea.

Iroh only laughed as he walked away. Behind them, somewhere beyond the rocks, something moved beneath the water, watching.

The entire day felt unbearably slow. Zuko tried to focus but Uncle Iroh had dragged him through the marketplace near the harbor that afternoon, insisting the fresh sea air would “heal the spirit.” Zuko spent most of it half-listening while merchants shouted over each other and fishermen hauled nets dripping with silver-scaled fish onto the docks.

Every now and then, though, he caught himself glancing toward the distant cliffs surrounding the cove.

“You are thinking very loudly,” Iroh observed at one point over lunch.

Zuko nearly dropped his tea. “What does that even mean?”

“It means your body is here,” Iroh replied calmly, “but your mind is swimming elsewhere.”

Zuko rolled his eyes but he didn’t deny it.

By the time night fell again, the pull toward the shore had become impossible to ignore, so he went back. The moon hung low over the water this time, casting shimmering silver across the cove as Zuko descended the rocky path toward the beach. And there you were waiting.

You sat upon the same dark rocks from the night before, tail partially submerged beneath the waves. Your expression shifted immediately when you noticed him approaching.

“You came back,” you said softly.

“So did you.” Zuko stopped near the shoreline.

The sea breeze curled around both of you, carrying the scent of salt and rain. For a moment neither of you spoke, but the silence felt anticipatory.

“You didn’t sing tonight,” Zuko said eventually.

Your fingers traced absentminded patterns against the rock beneath you. “I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“Because of me?”

“Because humans aren’t supposed to hear it.”

“Why?”

You slowly slipped from the rocks into the water with barely a splash. Zuko’s breath caught despite himself. Moonlight rippled across your tail beneath the surface as you drifted closer to shore, stopping several feet away from him.

“Our songs affect emotions,” you admitted quietly. “Not intentionally. It’s just… part of what we are.”

Zuko frowned slightly. “You mean enchanting people?”

“Sometimes.”

“And me?”

Your gaze lifted carefully to his. “You stayed didn’t you?”

Zuko looked out across the dark water for a moment before speaking again. “I don’t think it was magic.”

“No?”

“No.” His voice lowered slightly. “I think I just wanted to hear you again.”

Then your eyes drifted toward the left side of his face.

“The scar,” you murmured carefully. “Did someone hurt you?”

Instinctively, Zuko stiffened. Most people either stared too long or avoided looking at it entirely. Finally, after a long silence, he answered.

“My father gave it to me.”

“He did that to his own son?” Your brows furrowed.

“It was punishment.”

“For what?”

Zuko let out a humorless laugh. “Speaking out of turn.”

The water around you shifted gently as you floated closer unconsciously.

“That is cruel.”

“In the Fire Nation, honor matters.” He shrugged.

“And hurting your child restores honor?”

Zuko looked away.

“No,” you said softly after a moment. “That is not honor.”

The ocean fell quiet again.

“We aren’t allowed near humans,” you admitted quietly. “Especially ships.”

“Why?”

“Because humans fear what they don’t understand.”

“That’s not entirely unfair,” Zuko muttered.

One corner of your lips lifted faintly. “Perhaps not.”

Without fully thinking about it, Zuko stepped forward into the water, the cold surging around his boots.

“Zuko…” you warned.

“It’s fine.”

He moved deeper until seawater soaked the bottom of his robe while you watched with wide, uncertain eyes.

“You really shouldn’t trust me this easily,” you murmured.

“You haven’t hurt me yet.”

“Yet?”

A small smile tugged unexpectedly at his mouth as you drifted closer. Close enough now that he could see every shimmering scale beneath the surface that glowed like jewels. Close enough to touch. Neither of you seemed to realize how near you’d gotten until a wave rolled between you suddenly causing him to sway. Your hand shot out on instinct to steady him.

The moment your webbed fingers wrapped around his wrist, both of you froze. Your skin was cold. Zuko’s pulse jumped violently beneath your touch.

“You’re warm,” you whispered.

“And you’re freezing.” Zuko swallowed hard.

Your gaze remained fixed on him with an intensity that made his chest tighten strangely. Up close, he noticed things he hadn’t before. Your eyes shimmered unnaturally beneath the moonlight.

Then your expression changed slightly, the softness fading first. You released his wrist slowly, drifting back just enough to place distance between you again.

“You shouldn’t trust me,” you repeated quietly.

Zuko frowned immediately. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because you don’t understand what I am.”

“I understand enough.”

“No,” you murmured. “You really don’t.”

The edges of your scales looked almost blade-like beneath the moonlight. His gaze lifted back toward your face just as your lips parted slightly and for the first time he saw your teeth. Far too sharp to belong to anything human. Not grotesque, just unmistakably predatory.

You noticed him noticing and your expression shuttered.

“There,” you said softly, almost bitterly. “That look.”

Zuko blinked. “What look?”

“The one humans get when they finally remember what I am.”

You looked away first. His brows furrowed.

“We aren’t harmless creatures singing on rocks, Zuko.” Your voice lowered with sadness. “The ocean made us hunters.”

For a brief second, Zuko understood exactly why sailors feared your kind. You looked ethereal but not safe. Something ancient stirred beneath the beauty, something capable of dragging ships beneath waves without remorse. And yet you were looking at him like you feared being hated more than anything else.

Zuko stepped closer through the water and you stiffened at his movement.

“I know what fear looks like,” he said quietly.

“You should still be careful with me,” you whispered.

“Why?” he asked. 

This time, your smile was faint and almost sad. “Because I think I like you already.” you confessed softly. 

Zuko's breath got caught in his throat but before he could respond he heard voices echoing faintly from somewhere farther up the beach. Sounds of guards.

Your entire body tensed. “Someone’s coming.”

You moved backward, water swirling around you.

“Wait,” he said, panic in his voice at the addition of space between you two. 

“If humans find me here, they’ll hunt me,” you say with alarm glaring on your face. 

Zuko turned toward the shoreline where lantern light flickered faintly between the trees, then back toward you.

“Go,” he said urgently.

You hesitated only a second, long enough to look at him one last time then your tail struck the water powerfully, sending silver spray into the air as you disappeared beneath the waves. You left Zuko standing alone in the surf with seawater dripping from his clothes and your words still echoing violently in his chest.

“I think I like you already too,” he responded quietly, hoping the water would carry his message to you.

Disclaimer: I don't own Rights to any Characters mentioned nor do I consent to plagiarism of any kind. Thankyou ;) ☆Tags: @strangeprincessblog @cinnamongirlkisses @amethyst09 @skyavyel @butterflygirlblogg @annichka @ayannasinterlude @uchihabbynic ☆Line divider: @uzmacchiato

The night was as thick as ink. The sky unleashed its fury upon the Dark Knight, which sliced through the waves with the stubbornness of a monster of wood and steel. Each flash of lightning illuminated for a second the tense faces of the crew, men hardened by salt and fire, but who now resembled children shivering beneath the storm's blanket.

The wind whistled like a lament, and the creaking of the ship mingled with the roar of the sea. Amidst the chaos, the old sailors began to murmur, their hoarse voices floating among the thunder like prayers.

"It's a night of omens," spat Pannyworth, a gray bearded old man who had been at sea for more than three decades. "A night of things that must not be named."

A boy, barely a cabin boy, clung to the rope he was holding, his knuckles white from squeezing so hard. “What are you talking about, old man?”

The old man narrowed his good eye, looking up at the black waves that rose like walls. "Of creatures that wait beneath the foam. Women with long hair and sweet voices, angelic faces, but with a heart with teeth, with tails of scales that shine in the moon. Mermaids."

The boy paled, and another younger sailor gave a nervous laugh, though his eyes betrayed fear.

"Moonshine."

But Bartholomew didn't smile. "I've seen men throw themselves overboard like madmen, chasing songs no one else could hear. And when we went down to look for them… they never came back."

"I myself saw them dragged to the bottom of the ocean," an elderly man confirmed. "They hypnotize them with their pure appearance and lead them to their deaths."

Murmurs spread like wildfire through wet gunpowder. One spoke of ghost ships, another of tentacled monsters that could tear a vessel in two. The legends that had grown up between rum and taverns now seemed palpable, as if the storm itself had given them voice.

The atmosphere became dense and suffocating. The young sailors looked out over the water, hoping to see a face emerge from the waves. Fear was a rapidly growing enemy, and the storm seemed to enjoy feeding it.

Then a voice cut them off.

"Enough!"

Captain Wayne strode across the deck with a firm stride, each flash of lightning marking the severity of his features. The rain pelted him like hot nails, but he didn't even brush his wet hair away from his face.

"Mermaids? Sea monsters?" His deep voice rose even above the thunder. "The sea is an executioner, yes, but it doesn't sing. There are no demons waiting for us underwater, only our own foolishness to fear what we don't understand."

His blue eyes scanned each of his men, from the hunched veterans to the youngest, who watched him as if their calm depended on his word.

"The only monster you should fear is man," he continued, with the edge of conviction in his tone. "The steel of an enemy, the gunpowder of a cannon, or the cowardice that would make you abandon the helm in the middle of a storm, these are true threats."

A heavy silence fell over the crew. The cabin boy gulped, the old men pursed their lips, and little by little, everyone returned to their posts. Discipline returned, although fear remained hidden in their eyes. Bruce stood at the bow, clutching the wet timber, his gaze fixed on the horizon, barely visible through the gusts of rain.

"Mermaids..." he murmured to himself, barely a whisper that no one else heard. "Stories for drunken sailors."

He had spent years on the ocean, conquering them, raising his own name with his attacks and expeditions, and in all his life as a pirate, he had never seen anything like it, hundreds of pirates that surrounded him repeated the same legends over and over again, as if they had all been brainwashed since their first trip to the dangerous sea, but he would not allow those old drunks to continue ruining the young and inexperienced minds of the new pirates, there were enough real problems within the sea to worry about with nonexistent legends.

A flash of lightning lit up the horizon, and that's when Bruce saw it.

Through the curtain of rain and spray, a dark silhouette was making its way toward the Dark Knight. It wasn't just any shadow: it was a ship, enormous and with tattered sails, emerging from the storm like a specter.

The captain squinted, taking in every detail as thunder rumbled across the skies. The ship's wood seemed corroded by age, blackened by the fire of a thousand battles, and its flag flapped violently in the wind. Instead of the classic pirate skull, it bore a grotesque, grinning, mocking skull, as if laughing at all the men it had taken to their graves.

"Captain..." Bartholomew's trembling voice brought him out of his observation. "It can't be..."

"What do you see, old man?" Bruce asked, without looking away.

The sailor gulped, his good eye fixed on the enemy ship. “The Arkham Crow… damn, I thought it was just a story.”

Murmurs spread across the deck. The name was familiar: a ship commanded by a deranged captain, a man seeking neither gold nor glory, but chaos. The Joker.

"Prepare the cannons!" he shouted, coming from the bottom of his lungs. "Come on, damn it!"

And as if the sea itself were mocking Bruce's disbelief, a burst of laughter echoed through the storm. It wasn't the roar of the wind or the creaking of wood: it was human laughter, unhinged, amplified by the echo of the ocean.

The Arkham Crow charged fiercely, firing a volley of cannons that shook the Dark Knight. Splinters flew, and men fell to the ground. Bruce barely moved, his jaw set, his gray eyes blazing with determination.

"Everyone to battle stations!" he roared, his voice firm above the chaos.

The collision was inevitable; within a second, the grappling hooks were digging into the deck, locking the two sea beasts together in a deadly dance. Mad men began leaping from the Arkham Crow, armed with rusted swords, flintlock pistols, and madness evident in every gesture.

And there he was.

Among his men, advancing as if the storm were calling for him, appeared the Joker: tall, thin, dripping wet, with his hair plastered to his face and a smile that seemed unfading even if the sea devoured him. He brandished two curved swords, twirling them like toys.

"Bruce Wayne!" he shouted, with a laugh that chilled even the bravest. "The man who doesn't believe in legends... let's see if he believes in his own downfall!"

The clash of swords and steel filled the deck. The Dark Knight's crew fought with discipline, but the Joker's men seemed to revel in the madness, growing fiercer the more blood they shed.

Bruce cut a swathe through the space with relentless precision, each movement deadly and exact, until he stood face to face with his enemy. The Joker greeted him with an exaggerated bow, dripping wet, his teeth flashing in the lightning.

"Shall we dance, Captain?" she whispered with delight.

The swords clashed, a flash of lightning accompanied the sound of steel, and in that duel of titans the storm seemed to roar even louder.

A cannon shot shook the ship. The railing shattered into splinters, and Bruce, in his eagerness to resist the Joker's onslaught, lost his balance. The sea opened beneath him like a hungry mouth.

The villain laughed, the crew screamed, and Captain Wayne fell overboard.

The icy water enveloped him like a death grip. The pressure dragged him down, and for the first time in years, Bruce felt the weight of defeat, his body weakening. He had no chance of surviving such an ordeal. The sea was in a violent state due to the massive storm, the tide was at a level he'd never experienced before. His days as a captain were over.

The sea, that enemy that had always challenged him, claimed him.

The water engulfed him brutally, battering him against the current as if he were merely a toy being tossed by invisible giants. The roar of the cannons faded as he submerged, replaced by the deep crackle of the ocean, a dark echo that seemed to come from the bowels of the world.

Bruce tried to swim, but each stroke was useless. The storm dragged him down, his lungs gasping for air, and the salt burned his eyes. The weight of his coat, his boots, and the steel belt pulled him down faster, as if the sea itself wanted to claim him as tribute.

“So it ends,” he thought with cold lucidity, his mind clinging to the only certainty he had left: that no man could escape the fury of the ocean.

His strength drained with every second. The cold bit into his skin like a thousand tiny blades, and the weight of his body became unbearable. The pressure of the water wrapped around him in a deadly embrace, squeezing his chest until it almost burst. His vision blurred, and in the blackness, he thought he heard distant echoes: voices of his crew, laughter from his enemy, the roar of a sea that mocked his endurance.

His lungs betrayed him first; he could no longer hold his breath there. The spasm shook him, and the icy water forced its way into his throat like liquid fire. Bruce convulsed beneath the surface, knowing it was the end; everything in him began to fail.

Then, he felt it.

A touch on his arm, gentle but firm, unlike the pounding of the waves. A hand. Before he could resist, a powerful pull engulfed him, quick as lightning. His thoughts fragmented, blurred between disbelief and unconsciousness, as he was swept through the currents.

Darkness claimed him completely.

(...)

When he opened his eyes, the world was different. The storm had ceased, replaced by the steady sound of waves gently breaking against the shore. The sun, shy behind pale clouds, bathed the damp sand in golden glints.

Bruce took a deep breath, the salty air burning his throat like fire. It took him a moment to recognize he was alive. The main proof was that he could feel his clothes hard from the salt water, the sand around him, every part of his body.

With effort, he propped himself up on one elbow, his body aching, his muscles stiff. That's when he saw her.

A few feet away from him, sitting on the damp sand, was a young woman. Her skin seemed luminous under the mist, drops of water still trickling down her long hair, a shade reminiscent of fire trapped underwater. Her eyes watched him with a strange mixture of curiosity and alarm, large, bright, almost inhuman.

Bruce barely managed to move his hand, and she shuddered. Instinctively, she slid back, resting on the sand with agile, almost crawling movements. It was then that the captain noticed the impossible: she was completely naked, and yet, she seemed oblivious to any notion of shame, as if nudity were a natural part of her being.

He blinked, stunned, trying to piece together what he saw. The storm. His fall. The hand that had rescued him. Those eyes underwater.

"You..." Bruce's voice came out hoarse, torn, barely a whisper that the sea almost swallowed. "It was you."

The young woman stared at him, as if she understood every word and, at the same time, as if she didn't know what it meant. Her pupils seemed to vibrate with sunlight, liquid, impossible. Bruce tried to sit up a little more, the captain's instinct urging him to face the unknown, but as soon as he moved, she jerked back.

The sound of wet sand slithering beneath his body shook him. Bruce blinked, confused, and what he saw sent a shiver down his spine. It wasn't just his movements that seemed unhuman: it was the way his skin shimmered with subtle glimmers, as if fragments of the ocean still clinging to him.

For a moment, he was a child again, remembering the stories his mother whispered to him before bed: beautiful creatures that could captivate anyone to the point of death.

But she hadn't sunk him, she'd saved him, and that puzzled him even more. Bruce clenched his jaw, bewilderment mingling with a strange fascination.

"What are you?" he asked, his voice deep, more to himself than expecting an answer, as if he needed confirmation.

The girl tilted her head slightly, like a wild animal trying to decipher a sound. Her lips parted, and although no words came out, a soft, almost musical murmur escaped her throat. It was a sound that seemed to caress the air, unlike any human language.

Bruce tensed. He'd faced storms, canyons, and men more beastly than human. But never anything like this. And yet, all he felt wasn't fear, but a dangerous attraction, as inevitable as the tide that had swept him toward her.

Bruce forced himself to breathe calmly, even though every fiber in his body was tense. He watched her as he would an enemy, searching for weaknesses, but what he found wasn't hostility, but something more disconcerting: innocence and curiosity.

The murmur escaped her lips again, a brief, broken melody, as if testing her voice in a world that didn't belong to her. The captain felt a chill run down his spine. They weren't words, but there was emotion in that sound, emotion he shouldn't understand... and yet he understood it. It was a lament, and at the same time, a welcome.

He sat up a little more, placing his palms on the damp sand. The sudden movement was enough to make her flinch, sliding back a step. Her breathing quickened, her eyes fixed on him, large and bright, as if she feared he was going to attack her.

"No... I'm not going to hurt you," he said, surprised by how soft his voice came out, as if he were negotiating with a spirit and not flesh and blood. "Do you want my jacket?"

The words seemed to hang in the air between them. She blinked, uncertain, her body leaning toward the sea, ready to flee at any moment. And then, with an unexpected gesture, she barely extended a hand toward him, trembling, as if curiosity were fighting against fear.

Bruce didn't move. His instinct was to trap her, to assert the truth of what he saw, but he knew that any attempt to assert himself would cause her to disappear in a foamy sigh. So he remained motionless, letting her decide.

The sea breeze stirred her hair, leaving her more exposed, and for a moment, the scene became unreal, the pirate captain recognized by the seven seas and in front of him, a beautiful, naked and vulnerable woman, protected only by her long hair.

Bruce watched her with fascination, mesmerized by every movement, every flicker of her wet skin, every ripple of her hair that seemed to move with a life of its own. He had faced storms, boarding attacks, and men who didn't hesitate to kill, but nothing had left him as defenseless as that creature before him.

"You saved me..." he whispered, as if he couldn't form another word.

She blinked, as if she didn't quite understand the words, but the tone of his voice conveyed gratitude and vulnerability, something the other mermaids had told her didn't exist in the land of Men. She leaned a little toward him, the damp sand crunching beneath her body, and for the first time, she allowed his closeness to be less fearful, more exploratory.

Bruce held his breath. His gaze never left hers as he slowly extended his hand, a gesture not to grasp her, but to offer reassurance. His fingers barely touched hers; a light, almost electric touch that made them both pause for a moment.

"No…" she whispered, her voice a musical murmur, unlike any language Bruce knew. "I don't hurt."

"I know," he replied, his voice deep and husky, cracking with disbelief and astonishment. "I've never... seen anything like it."

She tilted her head curiously, and her trembling fingers dared to touch his arm, gently running over the sea- and battle-hardened skin. Bruce closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the innocence that contrasted with the harshness of his pirate life.

"You are…" he said, hesitating, unable to find the right words to describe her, "so beautiful…"

She looked at him with those huge, shining eyes, and a musical murmur escaped her lips, like an echo of the tide. Her hand ran down Bruce's arm again, this time with more confidence, exploring the hardness of his skin and the strength contained beneath every muscle. He inhaled, heat rising in his chest, the strange, electrifying sensation of being faced with something impossible and yet terrifyingly real.

Without realizing it, she moved closer, her naked body brushing against Bruce's in a gesture that seemed casual, but that ignited a fire in him that was impossible to ignore. Every curve, every line of her shape, every inch of contact made his heart race and his mind blur, mixing fascination, desire, and a wariness he'd never felt before.

He was a damn pirate, his life was based on knowing the great seas and that could get very lonely, rum and women were a weakness when they reached dry land, and right now he was living the best wet dream he could ever have.

She, unaware of the intensity she aroused in him, gently rested her chest against his, the contact so light it seemed a natural gesture from the sea itself. Her fingers traced his shoulder and slowly went down his arm, exploring unintentionally, simply out of curiosity. Bruce inhaled deeply, suppressing the mixture of wonder and desire that coursed through him.

The warmth of her body, the softness of her skin, and the fragility she emanated made the whole world shrink in that instant. The tide was breaking in the distance, but its sound became a whisper in time with the rapid beat of his heart. He was a pirate, accustomed to solitude, to women who came and went, to adventures that never left him vulnerable... but nothing had prepared him for this.

For a moment, Bruce closed his eyes and allowed the sensation to wash over him. His hands rested near her, not to hold her, but to hold her, so that the contact wouldn't be lost. She tilted her face to one side, as if seeking his approval, and then she slid her body naturally closer, resting her side against his. There was no intention beyond curiosity, and that only made the effect on him even stronger, more addictive.

She seemed curious about his warmth, his presence, gently leaning her torso against him, her hair sliding like water over his shoulders. He was living in the damned paradise, perhaps after all, if he's dead.

"How... how can you be like this?" he whispered, a mixture of wonder and fascination, without taking his gaze from hers.

Her eyes shone with pure curiosity, not fully understanding the intensity of her effect on him. Bruce felt his heart pound, a mixture of desire, disbelief, and fascination.

The young woman gently slid her hand over his chest, following the contours of the muscles beneath his wet shirt, and he inhaled sharply, holding back a sigh. His pirate instinct, always accustomed to passing women, knew he'd never find someone like her out there.

"If this is death," he thought, with a crooked smile, "maybe I don't care so much."

For a moment, the world disappeared. There was no storm, no ships, no cannons. Just them, on the wet sand, bound by a silent, profound bond that defied all human logic.

Then a distant, harsh, and familiar sound abruptly brought them back to reality: “Captain! Captain Wayne!”

Bruce blinked, the name bringing him back to reality like a blast of cold water. He turned his face toward the sound and made out several figures emerging from the sea mist: battered, soaked men, dragging rusted weapons and storm-battered bodies. The Dark Knight's survivors.

When he turned his gaze toward the girl, she was no longer so close. The glint of alarm had returned to her eyes, and her body was leaning toward the sea again, ready to flee. Without taking his gaze off her, he felt the need to protect her and not lose her mingling with the desire that her proximity had ignited.

"Don't go," she whispered, almost breathless. "Stay... just a moment longer."

He instinctively leaned toward her, bringing his forehead close to hers, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away: the storm, the cannons, the sailors… everything was left behind.

Their lips met, almost shyly, but charged with something ancient, deep, and magnetic. The contact was brief, but enough for Bruce to feel a fire run through his chest, an electricity that seemed to pierce every fiber of his being. The legend of mermaid kisses wasn't a lie: his mind clouded, his senses heightened, and the world around him shrank to her, to her warmth, the softness of her skin, and the salty scent of her hair.

"What the...?" Bruce gasped, his voice hoarse with emotion and astonishment, unable to tear himself away from her lips. "This... this isn't possible."

She smiled faintly, as if she were absolutely certain she knew what she was doing, with a murmur that seemed to blend with the waves, and she brushed his lips again, this time with more confidence, as if she were exploring the reaction she was causing in him. Bruce closed his eyes, letting himself go, knowing he couldn't resist, caught between desire and fascination, as if each kiss were a spell claiming him.

The effect was immediate: his breathing quickened, his heart pounded, and a deep warmth spread throughout his body. It wasn't just physical desire; it was something that defied reason, a bond that seemed to be etched deep within him. Every movement of hers, every touch, was a call impossible to ignore.

The sound of footsteps broke the illusion, and Bruce opened his eyes briefly, aware of the approaching sailors. But even then, his hand sought hers, holding her close, as if the whole world could wait just a moment longer, while his heart still beat to the hypnotic rhythm of that impossible kiss.

The kiss broke for a mere moment when the sound of footsteps grew closer, the Dark Knight's sailors shuffling across the sand. Bruce opened his eyes, still dazed by the intensity of the contact, and for the first time realized how close he was to danger: not only could men interrupt this moment, but they could also frighten her with their presence or with a wrong gesture.

"Wait..." he tried to say, his voice hoarse and full of urgency. still feeling her on his lips "Don't go..."

But she no longer heard him. With a swift, natural movement, as if the sea itself were calling her, she stood up quickly and ran toward the shore. The foam greeted her, and her feet disappeared beneath the waves in an instant. Bruce froze, the wet sand marking the spot where her touch had been, while his heart pounded, unable to follow her in time.

"Wait!" he shouted, but his voice was lost in the sound of the waves and the wind blowing from the horizon.

The sailors finally reached the shore, panting and soaked, and saw the captain standing motionless, staring out to sea.

"Captain Wayne... we finally found you. Are you okay?" Bartholomew asked, fear and confusion laced in his voice.

Bruce took a deep breath, trying to regain control, his heart still trembling from what had just happened. "Yes," he finally answered, with a calmness he didn't feel before. "Just... staring out at the sea."

You curl into his chest and cling there as he settles onto the sand beside Ghost.

Ghost doesn’t lift his head from where it’s pillowed on his scarred forearms, but you feel his eyes. Sunlight catches the jagged edge of his fin, freshly torn from the same skirmish. His tail flicks once as you settle against Soap’s chest. “Quit dragging her out into the open. You'll just make her more skittish.”

Soap’s chest vibrates with a laugh that curls your fins. “Nah, she likes havin’ someone bigger to cling on. You’re just jealous it’s not you.”

Ghost glares at Soap. Then the weight of his gaze drops squarely onto you. The more you pretend to busy yourself with cleaning Soap's scratched arm, the longer it leaves Ghost to stare in silence at the puckered red lines down your back and remember how they billowed with fresh blood.

He's been quick to anger since that fight. You're sure he blames you for inciting the whole thing.

"Just as well the bastard took a chunk out of you," he mutters. "If that's how you learn to keep away from threats you can't suck up to."

You tense. Soap’s fingers tighten around your waist. "Leave off." He tilts his wrist to brush one of your knuckles with his thumb. It's a patient gesture from a beast like Soap toward a nervous bottom feeder like you. "Don't know how you've still got so much sand in your gills. It's been days since that fight. The rest of us might as well have forgotten it already."

Ghost doesn't answer. His gaze drags again over the half-healed claw marks striping almost to your shoulders. His stare lingers too long on the deepest one—the one that nearly snagged your spine when he'd been too slow to intercept the barracuda's strike. You've not cleaned them as well as you should. He has half a mind to yank you sideways from Soap’s grip and make you take care of yourself better. Stupid little good-for-nothing.

You wait in the crook of Soap's arm until he and Ghost settle into silence again. Then you shift yourself up to Soap's shoulder and begin busying yourself with cleaning his teeth. You keep your gaze trained down on your work.

Soap tips his head back and slackens his jaw to give you better access. His incisors glint in the filtered sunlight. The metallic tang of old blood clings to his molars. You work methodically, plucking shreds of kelp and bone fragments from between his teeth with your smaller fingers and ignoring the way his throat bobs when your thumb grazes the corner of his lips. You feel him begin to shift in playful arousal under you.

Ghost’s tail flicks again. Closer this time. “Fuck’s sake.”

Soap’s throat rumbles with a laugh before you can react. “Bet she’d fix you up just as nice if you stopped glowerin’ long enough to ask. I swear you’re just sore ‘cause nobody’s offered to clean your fangs or your cock since the last time Gaz and I—”

“Finish that sentence,” he growls, “and I’ll tear out your spine for a toothpick.”

"Clean him next, then," Soap tells you mildly. "Teeth and everything else. Good n' proper." He shoots Ghost a cheeky look. "She’ll fix ye up right if ye just ask, see? Then again, maybe ye’ve forgotten how to ask for anythin’ that isn’t a knife to the ribs.”

You nick your knuckle on Soap’s tooth. A bead of blood wells up, swirling crimson in the water between you. Soap’s nostrils flare—a shark catching scent. He laps the cut with a rough swipe of his tongue before you can pull away.

Ghost’s tail slams into the sand. The force of it sends a shockwave through the water that scatters a nearby school of damselfish. He’s between you and Soap before you can blink. One rough hand grabs your tail to pull you backward off Soap’s chest. His grip is mean, but the way he angles his body between you and Soap’s nipping teeth is protective. He clamps his other hand around Soap’s throat and shoves him flat against the sand. “Don’t play with her like food.” Then he turns on you. “You’re a liability.”

You nod and lower your gaze.

It only seems to piss him off more. “Stop flinching. You’re acting like bleeding chum in open water. Do you want another mer to take a bite out of you?”

Soap shoves Ghost away. "Pick on someone higher up the food chain, ya fuckin’ weapon.”

“No.” Ghost’s gaze snaps back to you. The predatory stillness in him is worse than Soap’s chaos. “She’ll keep being jumpy until she fixes herself up.”

Soap’s grin sharpens like he’s enjoying toying with Ghost—distracting him on your behalf. "Aye, there's his old soft spot. Makes a right pretty nurse, eh?”

Soap grins when Ghost lunges at him—but you scrambling to get clear of their tussle is what actually stops both short. Ghost freezes, watching you retreat toward the reef again with a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

Soap blinks. Then groans. “Christ, Simon. You’ll never get her to trust you if you keep snapping like a—”

Ghost silences him with a rough shove before swimming off toward the deeper trenches.

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3

It was rare to see her without her intricate straps, hat, and weapons strapped to her waist, so you definitely took in this sight while you still could.

"I need to get you back to the water. Can't stay in this tub forever," She spoke, settling her hands on her hips.

"Mmm, says who?" You closed your eyes and sank deeper into the water.

"Says my dabloons, can't afford to be stayin' another night."

You suddenly remember your previous kidnapping and Sevika's heroic work (that resulted in a lot of money being spent). You shot her an apologetic look before she laughed a hearty laugh and leaned on the sink.

"I'm joking. Just dont want you out of the sea longer than you need be. Heard it makes mer-people sick," She mumbled the last part.

"Where'd you hear that?" You cocked an eyebrow at her, who was now fixing her dark hair in the mirror.

"I read it—"

"Read it? Pirates can read?" Now it was your turn to laugh.

She got flustered and blubbered out a, "Supposing you even know what a book is."

You laughed at her statement and said, "Well, did you read I need not be in water at all?"

She shook her head, still groggy from her sleep, "Hell are you talking about?"

You tilted your head to your tail— or where it should have been.

What. The. Fuck.

Her eyes widened, and she stepped over to the tub, eyeing your knees sticking out of the water. "Where— where did it go."

You laughed before explaining how, after a while of being in regular water without salt, you were able to develop human legs. This only lasted until you made long‐term contact with salt water again.

To Sevika's shock, you stood up confidently and stumbled at the slipperiness of the tub, water making it hard to maneuver. She reached out to grab you as you yelped, grunting as she held you up, helping you out of the tub. Water dripped onto the floor, and she looked down to realize that it wasn't just legs that you had.

She grunted and looked away over your head, attempting to clear her thoughts. Her thick hand rested on your now non-scaled hip, and her metal one was placed carefully on her arm, trying to keep you as far as she could without dropping you.

"I haven't stood on legs in a while, sorry."

She nodded, "Yeah. I noticed," She commented sarcastically, "Need to get you clothed."

You felt little to no embarrassment about your unclothed state and hummed at her words, starting to walk to the door of the bathroom.

She sighed at your eagerness and kept a hand on your back as you walked, tightening her grip whenever you stumbled. Sitting you down on the bed, she pointed a finger at you as if ordering you to stay.

You obeyed and watched her shuffle through her previously worn clothes, assuming she had no other clothes. (What she is wearing right now is definitely her under clothes..) She grimaced and held up quite a large white poet shirt in your direction.

You shrugged, "That works."

She tossed it to you, and the scent of cigars and salt wafted from the shirt. You threw it on haphazardly, and it covered enough to look like a short dress. "I don't have any pants or shoes—"

She stopped mid sentence when she turned to look at you and cleared her throat, "We'll go to the markets."

You nodded, assuming the market was somewhere you could get clothes. She stepped over to you, multiple straps and belts in hand, "I'll make it look as put together as possible," she mumbled.

Her hands skillfully strapped belts around your torso, making the shirt appear as though it fit properly. She made sure it still hung low on your hips, covering the fact you lacked undergarments.

You weren't so open to the idea of going out into public when you were previously almost sold off. You feared the peoples faces and evil eyes, staring you down. The memories of the cold cage were resurfacing in your mind, but you were quickly pulled out of your thoughts by Sevika.

She now stood at the door to the hall, tilting her head questioningly. She had already gotten dressed and motioned for you to follow her, "C'mon, you can take ten steps."

You rolled your eyes and walked over to her, although like a newborn deer, you still managed. She had a hand on your lower back, supporting you down the hall and just about carrying you as you walked down the stairs.

She sensed your discomfort at the fact that you had no shoes, and the hard wood of the floor wasn't helping your inability to walk. She bent over and snatched up a pair of boots from beside a random man and tossed them into your arms.

"Hey, what the fuck?"

She turned back to glare at him, "Maybe put them on your fucking feet next time."

Her voice was horse and intimidating in the face of any man, lacking the gentleness she previously had with you.

He gritted his teeth and got up to spew his complaints to the keeper. You watched in disbelief before Sevika elbowed you gently in your back, "Lets go."

Before you could say anything else, she was pushing you out the door, boots still in your arms. "Put them on before we go further."

You eyed the rough concrete stairs that were your only option to sit on. Looking up at her, you smiled crookedly. She ran her hand down her face, realizing you didn't want your legs to make contact with the roughness. But without another word, she got on one knee, other thigh level with your knees so you could sit.

Her sword sheathe scraped the ground as she kneeled, leather boot thudding on the ground behind her. Not letting you protest she pulled you by the shirt down onto her leg, taking the boots out of your hands.

Your hands stayed in your lap as she pulled your legs out to cover your feet with the boots. Although she struggled a bit to put shoes on another person she still did so as soft as possible, feeling as if your legs were frail.

You kept your eyes on her face as she did so, eyeing the scar on her face and lip before she spoke, "It has to do for now. I'll get you out of them soon."

..

Although it was a struggle, you both made it to the market. Even though you had gotten more used to legs heavy boots, weighing down your feet and tiredness made your legs sore. But upon seeing the bright colors of the market, smelling the scent of fresh pastries and fruit, and hearing pleasing music you almost immediately perked up.

Sevika noticed your change in demeanor and smirked, "Never been here, huh?"

You nodded rapidly and almost ran to a stand that had bright and scarves with intricate patterns. The shop owner immediately started to talk you up. "This color would be so beautiful with your hair, miss." She wrapped a blue scarf around your shoulders.

Sevika walked up behind you as you looked at your reflection in the small mirror, turning this way and that. You hummed in satisfaction before starting to waltz away. Sevika grabbed you by the back of the scarf, "Nope, you gotta pay."

"Ummm.." You looked up at her with confusion.

"No money, no scarf," She took it from your shoulders and set it back on the stand, grinning.

You huffed and crossed your arms, looking around at other stalls. She grabbed your shoulder with one hand and moved your face with the other, pointing it into the direction of a far away stand. "Only the necessities."

She started in the direction, and you quickly grabbed onto her arm to trail after her. Approaching the stand with shelves that held shoes, Sevika held up a pair, as if asking if they were to your liking.

You grimaced at the style and started to look for yourself. Grabbing delicacy styled shoes, you showed them to Sevika. She smiled softly and shook her head at your choice but put down a few coins for the owner anyway.

She reluctantly would let you drag her to every stall you wanted to look at, putting up with your curiosity. She knew she wouldn't have patience like this for anyone else.

When you put on something pretty and looked to her for approval, she would give you a satisfied look. But still refused to buy you anything unnecessary.

Sevika eventually got you a long skirt that was flowy and hung almost to the ground. It almost mimicked your tail in its motions as you walked, she smiles at the reminder.

When you asked questions about the odd trinkets, she would pick them up and show you how it worked. A music box looked small and delicate in her hold, and the soft melody coming from within made you smile brightly.

You swayed a bit to the music, holding her hands up to your ear so you could hear it better. She couldn't do much but stare wide-eyed at the sight of you blissfully giggling at the music.

As you started off to another stall, she quickly dropped a few coins in front of the seller and shoved the music box in her pocket.

When it neared noon, she took you to eat at a food stand, handing you a few kabobs of different meats and veggies. You munched on them happily, sharp teeth tearing into the meat easily. (Noted.)

She definitely took you to try her favorites because all you eat is probably fish. She takes in the sight of you sighing at the flavors and shoving more into your mouth.

You guys bond over food..

It was now nearing night, the sun set far in to the west. The small amount of darkness was illuminated by candles and lanterns scattered around the area. You could see women gossiping together over some tea and bread, men slinging one another around in joke, kids chasing each other with small creatures. This was one of which a sight you'd never seen.

You gawked, never having viewed humanity in this way, only seeing people that inhabited the seas you could have never guessed how average civilians behaved. The night now no longer seemed so fierce, holding no malice like the previous night.

Sevika approached you to put a hand on your shoulder. She was proud to show you things you had never experienced. She would show you as much of the land as you wanted if you just asked.

Pulling you away from the crowd, she led you to a cliff that overlooked the ocean. Your position closely mimicking the day you met her, Sevika sat on a rock with you beside her. Her metal hand rested on your hip comfortably. You talked about your adventures of the day, the things you liked, and the people you met.

"Thank you for this, I never thought I'd be happy to reside on land."

She grunted in response and pulled a small box from her pocket, a music box. You gasped and took it from between her fingers, shocked she had really gotten it for you.

You winded the small handle before releasing it to hear the familiar melody, bringing back your memories of the day. Looking up to see Sevika, her expression was so loving and gentle, a face you've never seen on her before. Her eyes were illuminated by the dim sunset, emphasizing her contentment.

You smiled before you parted your lips, and betwixt came a song,

link to it (i highly reccomend, it sets the mood)

"Upon one summer's morning, I carefully did stray

Down by the Walls of Wapping, where I met a sailor gay

Conversing with a young lass who seem'd to be in pain

Saying, "William, when you go, I fear you'll ne'er return again"

My heart is pierced by Cupid

I disdain all glittering gold

There is nothing can console me

But my jolly sailor bold"

She listened blissfully, taking in the fact that your songs had no effect on her. Your beautiful voice hummed in her ears, and she looked into the sea, engraving this memory into her mind.

She could see her ship from where you sat, the wind blowing into the sail softly, yanking on the rope that tied it to the dock. Yes, she was going to take you anywhere you wanted to go. This much was set in stone.

After this, she dragged you to the ship with her crew and invited you to join her, obviously you said yes.

She's very happy to have someone to accompany her on her journeys. She isnt so bitter and lonely now thats for sure

And yes, you still get to swim in the water. A lot of the crew doesn't know your siren side, so Sevika tosses you into the water at night, letting the glimmer of your scales lead her ship.

During the day, you will follow alongside the ship, making sure none of the crew can see you, but Sevika does.

Sometimes, she gets distracted by you and goes off route a bit.

I like to think she can't really swim, so you try to teach her whenever you get a chance, and she always ends up clinging to you as you tease her.

She shows you mountains, forests, architecture, (bars), etc. And you love every moment of it.

Also, she replaced the mermaid on the front of her ship with a mermaid carved to look like you. And no, she didn't pay for it to be done. She did it herself.

Whilst she stood on a ladder she watched you frolic in the waves, making sure to carve every curve and detail she found beautiful.

Although, there wasn't one part of you she didn't find beautiful.

the end felt a bit rushed but im bad at endings, i might do some other side fics for this but thank you for the support on this fic! also i thought it was funny how @lovinglywriting sent me an ask about something sooo similar to what i was writing while i was mid fic lol and @slut4sevika send in a sweet ask tysm <33