Archive of Our Own

The first time he’d heard of them, Yoongi was seven years old. Wide eyed and curious, he’d snuck inside his father's office wondering just what it was that always kept him so busy at night, small fists careful in turning the door latch. He admits to believing it was something cool and edgy like perhaps his dad was a secret agent like those portrayed in movies, or a race car driver who only came out at night, maybe a superhero. Anything other than a teacher. All these things, far fetched as they were, didn’t seem impossible to him, and yet the truth once he’d been confronted with it, had.

Yoongi remembers climbing onto his dad's favorite chair and coming face to face with a plethora of things piled in messy stacks on his desk. Outdated newspaper articles in faded black and white with photos of what appeared to be fish tails, a thick Manila envelope bursting at the seams with papers peeking out of it, and books. A few of them in differing colors and sizes, some opened and some closed.

Yoongi had just learned how to read the big English sentences in school, so reading them was a little difficult but he’d made do and somehow managed. The book that left an impression on him the most, one he still holds to this day, was 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea . Oh, he remembers how pleased he’d been with himself for saying that big number out loud and then scrabbling to open it up in hopes of finding more pictures. Only there had been no pictures. Just words.

At the time he hadn’t understood to that degree, and frustratedly pushed the book away, huffing and having a silent tantrum about there not being any cool books with stuff he liked. Then, as if his thoughts had pulled him awake, Yoongi’s father had ended up inside his office again, sleepily rubbing at his eyes, only to pause when he noticed where his son had ended up.

But instead of scolding him how Yoongi believed he would, his father simply nodded and headed towards the desk, fingers skimming the edge before they reached inside a drawer and pulled something out; a pair of thin framed reading glasses.

“Yoongi-ah, you’re supposed to be in bed,” he’d said, but hadn’t rushed him out and into bed even when it was true; Yoongi did have school in the morning. No, his father was a kind, sort of quiet man, and just urged him aside so that he could sit in his chair, and then bring Yoongi to sit on his knee. “You got curious over what keeps daddy in here all the time, huh?”

Yoongi had nodded, still hoping for the superhero spiel.

His father caught a glance at the book he’d been staring at right as he’d come inside and smiled, small but full of affection. “Well, Yoongi, let me tell you a little something. It’ll be a family secret, ok? Only your mama knows this apart from me, so we’re trusting you to keep this to yourself,” a pinky finger had come out, poised for a promise, which made Yoongi nod furiously as he extended his pinky too, excited to know. “Pinky promise?”

“Uh-huh, promise! P-pinky promise!”

And so, as Yoongi wrapped his pinky finger tightly around his fathers’, the man had laughed and used his free hand to poke the tip of his nose.

“Mermaids, Yoongi. Let me tell you a story about them and how beautiful they are.”

From there it had began, the path which led him to where he is today. His father had paved the way and led Yoongi by the hand through each story and each question, teaching him lessons regarding mermaids and their kind, beginning with Mermaids, the lovely and, gentle creatures of the sea that in stories often fall in love with sailors and pirates; then once he’d gotten past that first lesson it had been about the sirens, the dangerous spirits of the sea that conjured storms and, foretold death. When it had became clear that Yoongi had begun to fear such creatures, his father, in addition to his mother, had reassured him that not all were bad, and introduced him to the Ship saving mermaids; those that helped guide ships through shipwrecks and danger.

Out of all of these, however, the one Yoongi recalled with clarity the most amongst the rest were the Singers. Oh, how Yoongi recalls those vivid tales centered around mermaids and Sirens who lured sailors to the sea with their captivating songs and beautiful faces, Sometimes with good intentions, sometimes not.

All of these lessons and tales continued until he began to grow up. No longer a boy with clumsy feet and starry eyed dreams, but now an adult who lived and loved the sea and all it had to offer, good and bad. Enough to where he’d decided his future didn’t belong inside a classroom full of students how he’d once wanted to be, but belonged at sea.

He’d had to work hard, no path ever an easy one even with his parents supporting his dreams, and through the fruit of his labor, and after six years wondering when it would ever happen, Yoongi finally managed enough to be able to buy his first fishing boat.

The Sunshine, Yoongi calls her; his favorite girl that everyone’s got an opinion on, but he thinks is charming. She’s spacious, perhaps 30 feet, powered by a 6 cylinder engine, which cruises comfortably at sea at around 8 Knots. Sure, she’s made from wood, and her yellow paint is a little worse for wear, but to Yoongi it means she’s got character. She’s sturdy and able to cope with all weather conditions, which is more than what he can say for those fancier types he’s seen as one half of a wreck, but he digresses.

Today is not a day to be spent complaining about the criticism his girl faces, nor about anything less than good. Yoongi’s had a multitude of good days lately and as a reward to himself (from himself) he’s decided to take a day off. While fishing has no determined nine to five schedule it’s still quite taxing and often requires a lot of energy and patience. Fish aren’t people and they don’t adhere to any rules; much less any that dictate they have to be caught, so Yoongi, pleased with the amount he caught and sold to the towns local fish market this week, is determined to enjoy this day of leisure.

Tongyeong, the quaint seaside town situated on the southern coast where he’s spent all his life is always incredibly peaceful. Tall trees and glimmering seas are canopied by clear blue skies, creating a spectacular view Yoongi sometimes stops to admire from the little nook in his bedroom, fingers curled around a mug of hot tea. All around are smaller islands, and sometimes people travel to them by the ferry that departs from the central terminal and usually end up at Somaemul Island. Yoongi hasn’t been in a while, and makes a mental note to plan a trip just to go and sight see for a bit, catch a glimpse of different scenery than the one he’s grown accustomed to.

He can’t complain, though. Tongyeong is his home, where he feels most like himself and he loves it here, enough so that he stayed on his own after his parents decided they preferred to live in a bigger city like Seoul. Not him. Yoongi prefers the familiarity of his town, how everyone knows each other and remain friendly; how everything just feels different. As if this town is veiled from the others and has kept its charm.

Surrounded by the calming sound of the ocean and that faint mist that thickens their air with the smell of brine, the sun bearing down on him and his best girl, The Sunshine, he’s relaxed and looking forward to some free fishing for himself, with hopes of landing a big one to take home and prepare for dinner. The simple pleasures in life Yoongi finds he enjoys the most. No need for anything other than this; he thinks, even if sometimes the life of a fisherman can be quite the lonely one.

Determined to put those thoughts to rest before they can niggle at his brain and ruin his day before it’s even started, Yoongi shakes his head and comes to a stand, wincing at the faint pressure he feels on his lower back as he rounds the boat and leans against the rails. The ocean is calm as can be today, no choppy current of waves in sight, and the smell of brine is thick in the air, which Yoongi finds pleasant. Comforting to a point where it reminds him of home, of lazy days spent with his family collecting seashells and drinking lemonade, of nights inside his father's office learning about the sea and all its wonders.

Yoongi expels a content sigh, eyes coming closed as he soaks in the sun against his skin, the breeze ruffling his hair. Sometimes, he thinks back to being a kid and misses it; being able to ask questions so freely and have the answers at the tip of his fingers, where his only worry was if he’d somehow find a mermaid by the shore and didn’t have any presents prepared for it. See, Yoongi’s father was (and still is) a firm believer that in exchange for a mermaid gracing humans with their presence one had to reward them with a gift. A token of appreciation for them doing so.

And it’s why Yoongi as a child had suffered innumerable stress, because just what did someone give a mermaid if they saw one? Seven year old him had struggled with choices and often ended up hauling his little red wagon full of things he deemed suitable for a mermaid present down the shoreline. Amongst them had been his favorite toy, a stuffed and tattered cat with a missing nose and heart shaped button eyes aptly named kitty, as well as some of his finest toy cars and books. As an adult now, Yoongi realizes how silly he’d been, bringing books to a beach in hopes of giving them to a mer-friend, but he reasons it down to childlike naivety and wanting a friend of his own.

When he was little, he used to dream about meeting a mer-friend and sitting with them on the rocks, trying to teach them how to read the big English words he’d worked so diligently in learning, only to have his heart broken when everyday would pass and no Mer would appear.

One would think that would’ve made him bitter or resentful of all that he’d learned, but even as a kid with sand stuck in his hair, a red nose and a full wagon with nobody to share his things with, Yoongi understood that sometimes things don’t happen just because a person wants them.

He pulls back from the rails with a soft sound leaving him, fingers coming up to tug his cap so that the sun won’t catch his eyes too harshly, and moves towards the back of the boat where he’d left his fishing rod, secured by a metal encasement used to avoid any kind of animal just tugging the thing right off the goddamn boat. He didn’t need that happening again , so it had been a costly investment but a sound one, much like all the internal bits and pieces of the Sunshine. On the outside she might not look like much, but on the inside she was something else entirely.

A look at the rod shows that it’s undisturbed, which means nothing worth catching has bitten yet, so Yoongi leaves it for a moment, grabs his book and only after he’s done does he have a seat to wait it out. It’s not as if he hasn’t read this particular story before; he has and can probably quote the damn thing by now, but still, sue him for always finding the world built inside 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea so interesting with each re-read.

The boat rocks in a gentle rhythm which eases him as he spends a few minutes lost inside the pages of his favorite book, and Yoongi, lulled by that and the heat soaking into his skin, nearly falls asleep. He’s interrupted however when he feels the rattle of the fishing rod hitting its metal rail, as if it’s finally caught something.

“Oh, a live one,” Yoongi mutters, quick on his feet, discarding his book and reaching to grab onto the fishing rod tight. His rod jostles in his grip, whatever is tugging at the bait is either large in size or just frantic to escape and causes him to put some back into it, to give a hard tug and a flick of the spindle in order to reel his catch in. “You’re a feisty little fucker, aren’t you?”

It takes Yoongi a few more seconds of battling with whatever he’s caught, which he hopes to God isn’t one of those small sharks that are a bitch to hook, before Yoongi manages to regain his footing. With one final snap back of the rod, his catch eases and comes soaring out of the water.

And well, Yoongi is quite dumbfounded. Because one, there’s no fish at the end of the hook, like he supposed, but what appears to be rocks tangled in seaweed, and two, there’s no way some rocks would’ve given him that much trouble.

Regardless, he doesn’t toss the goddamn things back into the ocean, rather just pulls them onto the boat and sits on the ground to try and untangle them from his line before it becomes an even bigger mess.

Seaweed clings to each stone in clumps, as well as what appears to be a scale; vibrant blue in color and a tad rough to the touch. The more pieces of seaweed Yoongi pulls apart the more apparent it becomes that he’s a jackass, and he needs to start wearing glasses more often.

Those aren’t rocks tangled in his line, but a string of pearls; creamy white in color with a silverish overtone, smooth against his fingertips, tied together between cooled rope and shimmering pieces of sea glass and real . Actual pearls from the sea; not those that are sold in souvenir shops by the bay which are clearly fake, exaggeratedly glossy and much too hard.

“Oh my God,” Yoongi whispers in wonder, throat becoming tight as he works a swallow. He surveys the precious jewels, disbelieving that he’s happened upon such luck. A rarity like these would be worth so much money, more than what his regular haul of fish brings in; probably double the price if he finds a good seller. Just thinking about that much cash sends his head spinning. He could do a lot with extra money, like renovate a few things he’s put off on in the house, or enough to add some new fishing equipment to his collection, not to mention he’d mostly be able to lower the grand sum of what he owes on the loan granted to him by the bank he’d had to take out in order to finalize buying his boat. The options are limitless the more Yoongi looks at the pearls.

A glance over the rails shows that there’s nobody in sight to whom they could belong to, just open sea and the occasional seagull that flies past and ducks low enough to scoop fish into its mouth and nothing else.

Tightly, Yoongi balls the pearls into his hands and tucks them close to his chest, sending a silent prayer of thanks to whoever granted him with such a blessing on this fine day.

He’s busy celebrating, already putting to mind whom he can trust to give him a high amount for the pearls when a sudden stillness comes forth. Odd, considering that no matter how silent the ocean is - it’s never as stagnant, not a single trace of movement.

A funny sense of worry settles in the pit of his stomach, the quiet surrounding him one that sends the hairs on his nape to stand on end. Yoongi stares out, the sea stretching in the horizon before him one that’s void of any life; even the seagulls seemed to have dispersed too quickly. His boat has stopped moving as well, and that’s definitely something unlikely. The sunshine is always rocking about.

It’s as he takes a step back, a frown present on his lips, that he feels it. A hard wrench against the boat which careens him sideways and causes him to lose grip onto the pearls to where they almost slip between his fingers and back to the sea.

“Whoa!”

He stumbles around the deck, for whatever is hitting his boat must be large. Fear has him thinking he’s somehow caught the attention of a shark, or maybe an unknown predator lurking in the water, and propels him forward, the need to flee outweighing his curiosity to find out just what the hell is happening.

Yoongi grabs onto the pearls as tight as he can and is ready to hightail it back to land when the Sunshine is rattled once more, and this time he tips forward, palm slippery from the spray of water coming onto the deck and not enough to keep him steady.

Yoongi’s panicked cry freezes in his throat the moment he opens his eyes. His heart thuds loud enough for it to mimic the roaring sound of waves crashing against the shore, and his pulse leaps.

Ever since he was seven years old tip toeing into an office full of things he could only imagine, Yoongi had dreamt of the moment he’d finally get to see the things he’d heard of and learned so much about; to come face to face with the things his dreams were made of.

“ Mermaid ? Wha—” he whispers, thoughts nothing but white noise pounding against the inside of his skull. Turning it to goo as he tries to piece himself together enough to be coherent.

Because a life led dreaming and hoping for a friend to share toys and read books with is nothing in comparison to his current predicament. Hanging precariously off his boat, almosts eye level to the sea with an aggravated looking mermaid right in front of him was not part of seven year old Yoongi’s plans.

He’d be convinced he’s in front of a normal human man if not for the apparent gills protruding on either side of his neck that flex with each hard exhale, nor the glistening set of teardrop like scales the same vibrant hue of azure as those he’d found stuck to the pearls framing his temples, where wet strands of blond, almost silvery hair is pushed back, as well as around the mermaids collarbones; tiny clusters of them dotting along his skin. Never mind the inhuman like allure that clings to the man’s golden skin, to where each second in his presence causes Yoongi to want to come closer.

Yoongi’s never quite seen anyone look as beautiful, nor as deadly, and he swallows hard when the mermaid smiles and a row of gleaming white, but sharp teeth appear beneath full, pink lips that part to speak.

“Give me my jewels, human ,” he murmurs, and his voice is quite possibly the most beautiful sound Yoongi has ever heard. Sweet, but laced with a dark undertone.

It knocks him into the present where he realizes he’s a breath away from toppling overboard into the hands on an angered Sea creature. And whilst he loves them and has spent his entire life wishing to meet them, Yoongi hoists himself onto his feet and stumbles away from the rails, not to keen on being eaten alive. He’s none the wiser on what kind he’s attracted, whether it’s a friend in shape of a mermaid or foe in form of a siren, and he doesn’t wish to find out.

Yoongi’s certain he sees the mer expel the most irritated sigh he’s ever heard, but can’t confirm considering the goddamn mermaid wrenches his boat hard enough to have him bite his tongue.

“Are you trying to fucking kill me?” he shouts, his panic of dying overriding his need for good tact. He almost forgets about the pearls, and tosses them inside his pocket in a haste before turning to glare at the mermaid over the rails.

“I will if I have to, you thieving, stupid human ,” comes as a reply, wherein the mermaid shoots him a narrowed eye stare. His palm extends forward, and Yoongi sees a line of similar teardrop shaped scales dotting beneath the thick golden cuffs around his wrist, where further up a fin protrudes out at the elbow, as well as webbing between the mer’s fingers.

And all that is fine and dandy, possibly the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen, but Yoongi can’t quite appreciate them when he’s being insulted and accused.

“Who are you calling stupid, fish boy? I mastered used of my legs. Where are yours ?”

“ Fish boy? you humans are so unoriginal,” the mermaid repeats, as if he’s testing the words on his tongue. In response, he mutters a series of high pitched expletives in a language Yoongi can’t discern, but guesses is an insult given the way he’s glared at.

“That’s unfair when I can't understand what you’re saying,” Yoongi says, trying to play it coy by slowly taking a step away from the rails. As if the mermaid realizes what he’s doing, he does something unexpected, and slams his palm against the body of the boat with so much force  that Yoongi wonders if he’s just torn a hole through the Sunshine, and runs to investigate.

A bad move on his part. The mermaid takes advantage of his worry and curls his palm around Yoongi’s ankle, grip painstakingly tight and unforgiving. “I’ll say it in a way you’ll understand. My pearls, the ones you stole. Give them back or I won’t be hesitate to eat you.”

It's as if now that he's heard about them again brings the realization to Yoongi that this mermaid means his pearls, the ones he rightfully caught in his line, fair and square.

“Pearls, you say?” Yoongi tries feigning ignorance despite feeling the steady weight of the jewelry inside his pocket, lips pursed in thought. “I uh, have no idea what you're talking about. I don't have any pearls. None whatsoever here in this boat. No sir, none of those.”

The mermaid heaves a breath, which causes the gills by his neck to expand hard before they flatten against his skin. He even rolls his eyes. “Yes, of course, no pearls here. How foolish of me to assume so.”

Seven year old Yoongi would've killed for an eye roll from a mermaid, but well, twenty five-year-old Yoongi isn't as easily swayed. He wriggles in the mermaid’s hold, hoping to alleviate the pressure around his ankle, to no avail. If anything he's certain he can feel the sharp press of nails against the divot of the bone, and flinches.

“Right,” he swallows, then curses when his goddamn glasses fog up due to his own labored breathing, something that only happens whenever he's nervous. Sweat beads against his hairline too, soaking into his hat. “Well, now that we have that settled, can ya’ let me go so I can be on my way?”

There's a smile again, one that causes a flurry of butterfly like fluttering to wreak havoc inside Yoongi’s belly; the allure of a mermaid one that no man can resist, as the legends foretold.

The ocean seems to respond with the same adoration for its prized and famed creature, for it ripples with waves, seemingly pulsing with life. Yoongi is certain he sees a faint, blue hue flicker around the mermaids waist where his tail is submerged. Hell, he can even spot fish, some dipping up before ducking their heads.

All of this consequence of one mermaid smiling at him. He's frightened and a little awed, maybe more of one than the other.

“You're a sailor, I take it, yes?” The mermaid purrs, voice carrying a husky lilt which sounds suspiciously harmonious. Yoongi's eyes grow hooded, and he finds himself leaning against the rails, enthralled by whatever the mermaid has to say. He's certain he answers that yes , he is a fisherman, for the mermaid croons, and smooths his palm up his ankle, wet fingers cool against his skin. “Haven't you ever heard the stories of the blessings my kind can bring you? Make a mermaid happy and you'll never know of misfortune again, my love.”

“ Blessings ,” Yoongi repeats, and like a mantra it echoes inside his head, the mermaids beautiful voice. He leans in again, a little unsteady, determined to get closer to such a beautiful sight. “You’re fucking pretty, so pretty.”

The grip around his ankle loosens, not before Yoongi feels a slight sting around the skin, but it goes ignored because the mermaid, too, is leaning closer, enough to where he Yoongi isn’t sure how it’s all happening.

All he’s certain of is that mermaids are much more beautiful than he’d ever imagined, especially when their lips are parting to smile like that .

“I am, aren’t I? You love looking at me,” the mermaid breathes, close enough to Yoongi to where he can discern the color of his eyes, so dark they almost appear black as the sea when it rages with storm, each eyelash and how long they are; how they brush just barely over the top of his full cheeks, and smell the ocean clinging to every inch of all that golden skin. His fingers smooth over Yoongi’s chest, dancing down the line of his torso and stop just below his rib cage. “My pearls, sailor. Give them to me, and I’ll let you have what you’ve always dreamed of.”

“What I’ve always dreamed of,” Yoongi slurs, tongue heavy in his mouth. Body swaying back and forth in time with the rock of the waves against the sunshine. Dazed, he nods, and is rewarded with another gorgeous smile from the mermaid as he reaches inside his pocket.

His fingers curl around the pearls, and slowly he begins pulling them out, ready to give them to the mermaid as well as whatever else the creature asks. Anything to keep him happy.

However, Yoongi’s grip falters around one of the beams, and he topples over the ship, scream bursting past his slack lips as the haze surrounding him find and he hits the water with a roaring splash. Panic fills him the moment he’s submerged under, where all he can hear is white noise, arms kicking in tandem with his legs in order to swim up. His heart thuds frantically beneath his chest, too goddamn fast for it to be normal.

The salt is harsh against his eyes, and he has no way clue where his glasses have gone, which makes everything that much more difficult. A blur of movement passes by him, something solid and large brushes against his ankle and gives a sharp tug, pulling him further down. This time when Yoongi opens his mouth to scream, water fills him instantly and his head begins to feel fuzzy; his own panic dimming his surroundings.

For a moment, as bubbles stream to the surface mocking him of what he struggles to achieve, Yoongi sees the blur again. Up close, a face—the mermaid. Beneath the water he seems more predator than anything else, the hue of his eyes much more electric than hazy.

Yoongi barely makes out the shape of a mouth parting and sound escaping, but its muted. Barely there. He feels himself slipping, most likely dying at this point when there’s a pair of lips pressing against his, the pressure of them unexpectedly soft and warm.

It’s as if a veil is lifted off Yoongi’s formerly weighing body and he snaps his eyes shut, but then opens them in time for the mermaid to curve his palms against his cheeks, and exhale into his mouth, causing a stream of bubbles to disperse between them, and rise up to the surface.

Instantly, Yoongi feels his lungs expand on a deep inhale, and he flinches, expecting to once again be consumed by salt water, only it never comes.

He blinks, dumbfounded and asking himself over and over again: Is he dead? Is this heaven...but with fish ?

His question remains unanswered, however, seeing as the mermaid has different plans. Ones that involve toying with him, and pulling back to give Yoongi a smile where a gleam of teeth can be made out and nothing more.

the first thing Yoongi can compare them to, and shudders about is that they look like shark teeth. Equally as threatening.

His body is solid and strong, and when he turns, circling Yoongi who continuously tries (and fails) to swim up despite somehow being able to breathe underwater, Yoongi can make out a series of fins protruding down a row against the curve of his back. He feels trapped, and shivers when the mer’s tail brushes against his legs.

From what Yoongi can manage to see it’s nothing how he’d imagined size wise. It’s long, and seemingly packed with muscle beneath the gorgeous, almost luminous blue scales dotting over it, with a wide fluke at the bottom and a series of spike shaped fins curving just above it, moving forward and backward.

Seven year old Yoongi pops into his head, kicking and screaming with delight, because this is what he’d always wanted. To see this beauty up close, to get to share a friendship with one as majestic as this one.

Adult Yoongi, whilst agreeing that the mer is quite possibly the most stunning creature he’s ever seen, doesn’t find it as delightful to be under water and tossed around like live bait being toyed with between starving sharks. That is what the mermaid resembles to him, a shark with grace and a fluency inside the water that comes natural to the species.

Yoongi wriggles away from the tail, terrified of those sharp fins at its side snagging inside him, and kicks his legs fast, needing to get to the surface. He can’t see very well past the burn in his eyes, much less enough to keep track of the mermaid and where the hell he’s gone, but he doesn’t care and doesn’t quit. Determined not to die like this, Yoongi strives in swimming, his heart thudding wild against his chest.

The tips of his fingers breach the surface first, and Yoongi lets out a relieved shout the moment his head clears past the water and he can breathe regular air again; his lungs heaving greedily as he sucks it all in.

The ocean retaliates with hard waves that slap against his face and pull him under before hauling him back, enraged that Yoongi has angered a creature of its depths. Gasping, he wades through the water, the Sunshine in sight bobbing along the waves steadily, his girl equipped to handle these situations.

Yoongi doesn’t look back in order to asses where the goddamn mermaid is, his focus solely on getting to the boat. Needing the boat. His legs and arms ache, but he doesn’t deter and swims as fast as he can manage during such tumultuous currents until he’s curling his fingers against the lowest rail, clutching it tight.

Shivering, the water just short of freezing, Yoongi hauls himself onto the Sunshine, then flops onto his back, wheezing and yeah—he’s crying and laughing . Those are tears leaving his eyes. Now that the adrenaline has faded, all Yoongi can do is curl up on his side and shed some tears, half disbelief, the other half fearful.

A quick survey of himself shows Yoongi that he’s lost his hat, his glasses and his shoes, all consequences of a mermaid who almost left him to die at the sea. Yet at the same time, he realizes he wouldn’t have died, not by lack of air intake anyway, seeing as that creature—his kiss—did something to him which made breathing beneath the harsh depths of the ocean possible.

These things … they don’t just happen. Or perhaps they do, but not to him.

Yoongi’s lived an ordinary life, where things like sea witches and mermaids were real only in his fantasies led by a broken heart once his mer friend never showed to accept his offerings. Never at this stage in his life had Yoongi anticipated experiencing something like this, and he’d be lying if he says that it doesn’t excite him at the same time it scares him.

It dawns on him that he’d been taken under due to the pearls and in a haste, he reaches inside his pocket expecting to find them gone, only they’re still where he’d left them, deep inside, a shard of sea glass caught onto the fabric. Yoongi wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, tasting salt as he pulls the pearls out and once again admires them.

Just what is so special about them that it roused a mermaid to come out of its pod to fight for it?

From what Yoongi can remember, mermaids are creatures who never lack jewelry of any kind, be it gifts from land given to them by humans, or those they make themselves to attract mates during heats. He’s never heard of any tales where mermaids become possessive of any jewels. Not even sirens are prone to aggression in consequence of such a thing. Sea witches, maybe, but they’re built differently; much more grotesque and with a slew of tentacles instead of one tail.

His mermaid is no sea witch, Yoongi is sure of it; that terrifyingly beautiful tail one he won’t forget. He also wasn’t lacking in the jewel department, considering the thick, golden cuffs on either wrist, as well as a series of draping, jewel encrusted chains around his neck. No, that mermaid didn’t lack, and yet he’d been ready to tear a limb off him in order to get those pearls back.

“What’s so special about you that I almost died, huh?”

His question remains unanswered, as the sea slowly begins to calm once more. Waves cease their angered currents, returning to their normal, almost lazy nautical state. Yoongi should feel relieved, seeing as if the sea has calmed then it must mean the mermaid is nowhere in sight, only he’s not. See, as a fisherman and a man who’s spent his life at sea, he’s all too familiar with the term the calm before the storm.

And that’s what he anticipates; the storm. Yes, that display of aggression with the mermaid had been terrifying, but in comparison to the things Yoongi knows they can do when angered, like sink ships and cause the worst of storms at sea, he knows that was child’s play. Just a bit of fun.

His suspicions are confirmed once he regains enough composure to stand and head towards the steering wheel, where from his perch he can see the faint shape of the mermaid peeking its head out from the oceans edge, watching him.

Yoongi swallows thickly, fingers white knuckling the wheels as the engine purrs to life to begin its ascend back to shore, all whilst watching the mermaid’s movements.

It’s as if he doesn’t move and everything around him falls stagnant. No waves come near him; the water eerily calm solely in his circumference, darker than anywhere else as well.

In a bid to try and make amends, or maybe he’s just being a jackass who never knows when to call it quits (he’s not sure) Yoongi waves at the mermaid and calls out an apology, only it’s not for the pearls. “Sorry I called you fish boy, Mister mermaid! Really, you’re better than any fish I’ve ever seen!”

There’s only a brief shudder of movement, and it’s with such force that Yoongi teeters a bit; as if the ocean is attuned to the mermaid and responds in kind with its annoyance, a rumble happening beneath his feet.

Slowly, and maybe with deliberate pause to scare the absolute hell out of him, the mermaid reveals itself once more in all its splendor. Beneath the sunlight, his skin glows golden, and he appears more like an angel than anything else. Yoongi blinks, disoriented and speechless.

Especially when the mermaid parts his lips to speak. “You’ll be back, sailor, and when you do you’ll be begging,” he purrs, smiling wide to reveal menacingly bright teeth and a flash of pink when his tongue wets his lips.

“Begging,” Yoongi repeats to himself, “Begging for what?”

He receives no reply he can understand, but bears witness to the mermaid once again speaking in its native tongue; which consists of a variation of high pitched keens and low, almost cat like in nature, rumbles from his throat, all whilst pointing at him.

Dumbfounded and nervous, Yoongi peers over the edge hoping that he hasn’t pissed off this mermaid enough to where it’s summoned some kind of shark to finish what he started. Maybe a killer whale or God knows what else, considering his bad luck.

“Enjoy your trip back, sailor!” The mermaid calls out in a sing-song voice, fingers tinkering in a small wave, as he turns towards the water and smiles. Before he’s gone, however, leaving nothing but a brief but very vivid image of a wide fluke of a tail, he says to Yoongi, “Until we meet again.”

Long after it’s gone, leaving by a faint ripple of the water in its wake, Yoongi stares at the water, where restless but small waves lap at the sunshine’s edges. It’s impossible to see below the surface, much less make out a path the mermaid might have taken, but Yoongi still tries to.

He glares at the water for some reason, as if it’s entirely its fault he almost died today, and then focuses on returning home. Before that, he does slap himself hard in the face, just to make sure he isn’t hallucinating.

The sting on his cheek, as well as the incessant ringing in his ears is sign of a big fat yes. That entire moment was real, and yes, he’d been threatened by a mermaid.

No big deal.

In the privacy of his own home, away from the ocean, his boat and any possibly murderous, man-eating Merfolk, Yoongi reaches for his house phone. Fingers shakily losing purchase around the base as he dials for his parents home. If anyone is going to have answers or at least some kind of advice for him regarding such a situation like his today, it’s going to be his father. The man did teach him everything he knows, of course.

As the phone rings Yoongi drums his fingertips against his counter, eyeing the pearls where they rest with curiosity. He can’t help how his thoughts run away from him and towards images of a creature equally as beautiful as it is terrifying whose sole purpose had been attaining those pearls for reasons he’s unaware of. Poking them, Yoongi winces when he brushes along the ridge of sea glass, the point angled and sharp enough to prick him and rouse a bead of blood to dot his finger.

With a scowl, Yoongi shoves then away from him, muttering curses just as the phone connects and he’s met with the gentle voice of his mother answering the phone. “Hi mama—” he begins, quick in answering the usual bout of questions. Those always along the lines of wondering if he’s eaten, “Yes, mama, I just finished eating. No, it wasn’t takeout.” It was, indeed, takeout. Yoongi eyes the styrofoam container housing the lone bone of a chicken thigh inside with guilt. “Yeah, My laundry’s done, yeah, I’m showered. I’m also a grown man.”

“Don’t you give me any lip, Yoongi,” she chides, And he smiles, fond as he rolls his eyes listening to the woman complain in the same fashion he does; mostly to herself and grumbling. “You can be as old as you like and I’m still going to worry. How’s Sunny?”

“Ah, she’s the same as always. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen, stronger than any other out there too,” Yoongi remarks with a snort, thinking of his boat. As soon as he’d docked, he’d handed his extra set of keys to the boating yard’s owner and a friend of his going on eight years now, Namjoon, with hope that he’d check her out. After today she hasn’t shown any signs of tear, but she was made of wood after all and it was better to be safe than sorry. Not that he’d tell his mother that.

Like always, she’s not one to hide her concerns regarding the boat, much like everyone else. “Maybe you should look into buying something more modern, hm? I’m sure if you ask for an extension on your loan they’d give you one. We know the Kims, they’d do you that favor and help anyway they could do that you don’t sail off in Sunny! She’s old, honey, and not in the best shape.”

“Trust me, she’s stronger than you think, mama,” Yoongi mutters, eyes once again falling onto the pearls, as if compelled to do so. Uncaring of the fact that he pricked himself on the edge of one of the pieces of glass, Yoongi tucks them into his palm and holds them up where they catch against the sun as it sets. Instantly his home is surrounded by an array of colors reflecting off any surface, which lulls him into staring.

—careful, honey.”

“Huh?”

His mother makes a soft sound of indignation at being ignored and repeats a touch louder, “I said I don’t agree, but I do trust you as long as you’re being careful, honey.”

Oh, he’s being careful. If careful consists of being hauled underwater to drown, only to then be saved by a creature who’d somehow granted him the ability to breath beneath the ocean's surface, before he’d managed to escape, then yes. He also lost his hat, his shoes and his glasses. Yoongi is being absolutely careful. Not reckless at all. Of course not.

Clearing his throat, uncomfortable withholding information from his mother so that she doesn’t worry herself sick, Yoongi mumbles into the receiver, “Is dad around? Gotta talk to him.”

There’s commotion in the background, his mother’s voice meshed with the sounds of the television, and he assumes the radio based on a song playing in contrast to whatever the news are reporting, and Yoongi smiles. His parents, such chaotic messes. Their home was never really a quiet place, and growing up he’d been surrounded by disorganized fun with two wonky parents who just wanted to live their own way. He misses them, but knows they’re happier where they live now.

“Ah this man, just leaves the television on and runs off. I could whack him sometimes,” His mother mutters, but then yells a second later, “Hyun-gi, our child is on the phone looking for you! Yah —what do you mean what child? We’ve only got Yoongi! Just pick up the receiver so I can hang up. Yes, it’s plugged in —”

A few seconds of scuffling noises later, there’s a click and then, “Hello? Did I get it—ah, yes I did. You can hang up now honey.”

“Yoongi, you think about what I said, okay! Please stop buying takeout, and get some rest,” His mother says from the other line, which makes him and his father laugh. “Alright, you both can talk privately. I love you.”

With a parting call that he loves her to the moon and back, Yoongi remains silent, as does his father for a few seconds. There comes a sigh, one that doesn’t belong to neither of them, until—“Fine, I’m hanging up now. Okay.”

Then there’s a click, signaling the other receiver has been put down, and Yoongi chuckles. He’s gotta’ love his parents even when they drive him nuts.

“Why is your mother sending me text messages asking me to ask you about your boat?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, finding it hilarious how his parents own cell phones when he doesn’t and how they only use them to send each other messages whilst they live inside the same house. More so, how his mom uses them to try and be stealthy, which is useless.

“She wants me to take out another loan or get an extension on the one I have,” he says with a sigh, moving from the kitchen stool to deposited his empty food container into the trash. The pearls seem to mock him from their perch and he glares at them.

“You haven’t even finished paying off your current loan, though. That’s not...why would she wants that?” his father questions, and when Yoongi makes a dismissive sound in response he says, “That’s not practical. I’ll talk to her about it.”

A sigh of relief leaves him. If anyone can calm his mother down and ease her worries it’ll be his dad, the calmer of the two. “She’s just worried. Thinks the Sunshine needs to be replaced or maybe upgraded. Upgrades sound good, but they’re super pricey and I’m not sure if they’re important right now.”

His father hums in response, which Yoongi knows means the man is listening to him attentively, not just pretending to like other people would. “Has she received any damage to the body lately? She’s sturdy but she’s still wooden.”

Yoongi swallows hard, once again glaring at the pearls as if somehow the creature who’d wanted them can feel the heat of his gaze. Oh, his girl had received some harsh treatment today, but overall nothing has splintered nor broken, so she wasn’t too bad. At least, Yoongi hopes so. He’ll call Namjoon in a few to make sure. “Er, no. She’s still the same as before. Tiny wear and tears but I got a guy to look em’ over, so it’s fine.”

“If at any moment you feel unsafe with your boat you get the hell off it and don’t leave the dock, understand?” His father intones, gruff and stern. “You know the sea is unpredictable. Being on a boat that you’re not sure of is like going deep sea diving without a tank. Reckless and downright stupid. You aren’t stupid, understand, Yoongi?”

“Yeah, I get it, but don’t worry. I’ve got it covered, promise. How are you and mom doing, huh? Taking care of yourselves over there?”

There’s a pause, then a relieved sigh. “Good, That makes me feel at ease,” his father murmurs. “Now I know you didn’t just call to check in, though I appreciate the sentiment and we’re doing just great, which you’d know if you visited more, but—tell me. What’s on your mind, son.”

His mind flashes onto recollections of his day, where he’d felt so at ease being able to relax, to his elation at finding such valuable jewelry, to his excitement at coming face to face with a mermaid, which then turned to panic the moment he’d been hauled under water, left to flail beneath its depths. All because of those fucking pearls.

Yoongi hopes he gets double than what he’d anticipated for them off his emotional distress and wounded pride alone, for fuck sake.

“Where the hell do I even start,” Yoongi mutters, moving from the kitchen with the house phone cradled between his neck and shoulder towards the living room, which has prime view of the outside, where he can make out the wooden dock where he sometimes sits to fish on his own. Why he didn’t do that today instead of taking the boat out is beyond him, but he digresses.

“Start from where it all went wrong,” his father suggests gently, and Yoongi nods to himself.

Once he gets comfortable on his couch, legs tucked beneath him with the television on but at a low volume, showing some re-run of signal he’s seen before, does Yoongi feel at ease.

“Where it went wrong, huh?” Yoongi muses, drumming his fingers against his thigh,“Well, If you can believe it, which I know you will, but...it all went wrong the minute I pissed off a mermaid…”

Unfortunately for his sleeping schedule and his restless night of sleep thanks to hours being spent wondering about a certain, shark tailed creature, Yoongi has to be up.

His profession isn’t one that grants him the luxury of multiple days off, especially when he’s catering to their local grocery store which offers fresh produce and fish daily. No, Yoongi had his day off, he’s had his time to sulk, and today it’s back to the grind, waking up at three in the morning in order to ensure he has time to prepare himself a nice, filling meal, and showers and double checks he has everything, which he usually does.

All his equipment is stored inside his boat, including his sinkers, hooks and his nets amongst other things. If anything all he needs to bring with him are his spears, and maybe stock up on some more bait, which he can attain easily right on the boating yard’s fishing supply shop that should be open within the hour.

After he’s finished dressing simply, leaving his boots for last because they’re heavy and he’s yet to cleanse the remnants of sand off them from the previous day, Yoongi heads into the kitchen to get started on breakfast. He doesn’t have too much time to really go out like his mother would every morning whilst he’d been growing up, but he makes due with what he has and hopes for the best. At least it’s not take out, he thinks with a wry smile as he opens his refrigerator in search of ingredients.

It doesn’t take him long, and soon he’s carrying handful of items towards his counter beside the stove. Within minutes he’s heating some olive oil and a few spoons of butter in a pan, waiting for it to get nice and hot before he adds in the rest. It only takes some minutes before the sizzle of oil and butter are popping, and he puts some white fish fillets and a little bit of garlic he’s chopped up for flavor inside the pan, followed by some soju, and a few drops of soy sauce, all whilst trying not to panic as the minutes tick on and his time to leave looms closer. He nearly burns his finger against the pan, and curses to himself, setting the cover on top of it so that the fish can steam whilst the rice finishes cooking.

The pearls are no longer in his line of sight, but Yoongi still feels as if they’re near, just adding onto his growing nerves that roll around his stomach, making it heavy with dread. He’s going to sell those fucking things today if it’s the last thing he does, and he’s going to forget all about them, and maybe try a different fishing route.

His conversation with his father had only worsened his fears, for the man had all but yelled at Yoongi over the phone once he’d retold the story surrounding the pearls.

Because how could Yoongi forget the stories, his father had demanded. How could he have forgotten the legends surrounding mermaids and the bad luck they bring to those those they feel have wronged them? Ships have been sunk, storms have raged and men have lost their lives (literally and in other ways) due to the wrath of the sea’s most beautiful creatures.

“You’re lucky you’re alive and that you didn’t anger it enough to send something much bigger your way,” His father had told him, never one to mince his words when it came to these things. “Did it curse you? Did you hear it curse you?”

And Yoongi had shrugged, because he hadn’t exactly heard the mer say anything like that, just a garble oh sounds he couldn’t understand and that was it. When he’d told his father this the man was on edge, nervous and frightened for him, which spoke volumes. “Don’t go out to the sea for a few days, let it calm down before you do.”

Yoongi would’ve loved that, if not for the fact that he has bills to pay and a job to fulfill, so as much as he wanted to hide under the covers and pretend he could afford playing hooky, he couldn’t.

“Curses only have any weight if you believe in em’,” he’d said stubbornly, all whilst glancing nervously out his window, as if expecting the damned mermaid to have procured legs to walk on land and strangle him. “I don’t believe in that shit. It’s all hearsay. Besides, what are the odds it’s gonna find me again, huh? The ocean ain’t exactly got roads to follow.”

His father wasn’t as convinced as he’d been, and didn’t hide his concerns. On the contrary, he spent the majority of their phone call refreshing him on things he’d learned as a child; on how to make a sea creature happy. In the end the choice had been obvious; his father wanted him to return the pearls, apologize and hope for mercy. What mermaids had in kindness they could also have in resentment, and one didn’t want to see the bad side of them if they didn’t need to.

Especially one of the caliber Yoongi had described, with such a long, almost lumiscenent tail beneath the water and with such beautifully grotesque features like the sharp teeth, large fins protruding from its elbows, nor the smaller but equally as threatening row of fins lining its back.

“I’ll be fine,” Yoongi had promised without much conviction. Unsure of whom he was lying to more, his family or himself. Regardless, he was determined and stubborn. No mermaid, scary or not was going to run him out of the ocean. His mother didn’t raise no bit—

The sudden whistle from the pan as the lid trembles from the steam contained inside scares Yoongi, causing him to let out a surprised cry from where he’d been leaning on the counter.

Breakfast is ready.

Inside the fishing supply store, as he’s waiting for the cashier, a tall and friendly looking guy named Taehyung (or as it says on his name tag) to finish ringing him up. He must be new, since Yoongi has never seen him before this morning, and is certain he’d recognize a face like that anywhere, more so since in a town this small everyone knows everyone somehow, and Yoongi certainly doesn’t know him.

The cashier is young, that much he can tell. Perhaps younger than him, but tall and attractive. As he runs a hand across his hair to somewhat tame the red strands falling over his brow, Yoongi notes he has soft features, expressive and rounded eyes that compliment a strong but otherwise small nose. Not to mention his skin carries a golden hue to it, which stands out nicely against the black jumpsuit the employees must wear beneath their clothing. Yeah, he must be new, maybe a college kid working for some extra cash this summer before heading off to University in Seoul.

Yoongi remembers those days of having to work his ass off to save up as much money as he could in order to save up for the Sunshine, not to mention equipment, and a boating license. With an absent hum, he taps his fingers uncertainly, the bay just outside mocking him as the sky begins to lighten from its former lilac shade into a more subdued, pale blue.

Oh, how he’d over thought the entire morning, wondering if maybe he should have heeded his fathers warnings versus his own pride of not letting nothing stand in his way; human or not.

It’s rather funny how he’s having inner turmoil all because of a mermaid; the creaturest  seven year old him was desperate to see in real life, and Yoongi laughs to himself, picturing how his younger self would have reacted to seeing such a sight like the one he’d seen. A mermaid so beautiful it was scary, almost too much too take in at first glance. Nothing like Ariel, or like those he’d see on television, very whimsical and colorful to appeal to his young mind. No, this Mer, whilst still retaining some of those magical qualities he’d grown attached to as a child, is also highly different. Strong, hot tempered it seemed, and with powers he’d never dreamed of.

Yoongi is certain that bastard mermaid compelled him at one point, because he can’t quite recall anything happening before he toppled over the boat. Whatever conversation they’d had lost inside his subconscious mind.

He’s scowling at a display of ceramic seashells that bear an uncanny resemblance to the color of the mermaids scales, when he’s gentle tapped on the shoulder.

Abruptly, mind all over the place, Yoongi blurts out, “Do you believe in mermaids?”

The cashier; Taehyung , blinks at him unsurely, then cocks his head. His hair falls messily against his brows which he brushes away. On his jumpsuit is a small patch that looks like waves and a couple of sea turtles.

Not only is Yoongi randomly yelling at people if they believe in mermaids (mermaids he’s happened to piss off and might eat him), but now he’s also staring at strangers in a way that isn’t polite.

“Uh well, that’s—I don’t hear those kinds of questions everyday,” Comes the answer, Taehyung voice is deep and carries a light hint of an accent. Leaning against the counter, crowding  it because the guy is apparently long limbed and a tad clumsy, Taehyung adds with a small grin, “Mermaids? Well, I’ve never seen one, but I’ve also never seen air and I know it exists, so...I guess I don’t rule it out. You’re a believer?”

I am a frightened, but stubborn jackass , Yoongi wants to say. Please convince me not to piss off this mermaid anymore somehow , he thinks. In the end, however, he says none of this.

“Not really. I uh,” Struggling, face tinging red and hot, Yoongi mumbles, “Saw that documentary on T.V, the mermaid one last night. That’s it. No other reason whatsoever,” Yoongi rambles, lips loose and nerves haywire the more he holds eye contact with Taehyung. Have his eyes always looked so... beautiful ? “Not like I’ve seen one up close and it nearly killed me or anything! Not like I’m scared out of my mind to go back there, really!”

Taehyung hums in response, and gives Yoongi’s wrist a light tap, his fingers surprisingly cold amidst a shop that’s usually so warm. “Well, that’s nice. You should definitely go back to where you found this mermaid and test your luck again, sailor,” he says, and it sounds like a rumbling purr, eyes latching onto Yoongi’s intently for a moment before he moves back so that he can glance at the register and recall his purchase total. “Will that be debit, credit or cash?”

Yoongi blinks, his head feeling fuzzy and heavy, like it’s been packed with cotton. He can’t quite recall what he was saying, but guesses it must’ve been something stupid, maybe complimenting Taehyung's patches perhaps if the grin on the younger man’s face is anything to go by. Nonetheless, he mumbles, “cash,” and proceeds in slipping out a few bills from his wallet to cover the cost of his things before he’s set to leave.

Paper bags heavy in his hands, Yoongi strides out of the fishing supply shop a little more disoriented than when he first walked in. All he knows for sure is that he’s got a bucket full of fresh bait, some new hooks and a renewed sense of determination to go back out to sea and find his mermaid and test his luck.

Luck , Yoongi thinks with a frustrated scowl; the third time he’s done so in a span of an hour, is not on his goddamn side today . Not because he’s gone and gotten himself killed or lost a limb or anything of the sort. On the contrary, Yoongi’s day hasn’t gone anything other than ordinary, extremely so. wasting his time.

Usually he can at least manage to land a few fish in his nets once the bait and chum had been tossed in. Sometimes, if Yoongi is really lucky he’ll land a big one; maybe some halibut or a small, but still worthwhile school of fish he can sell. Even on those rare bad days Yoongi doesn’t go home empty handed, always having something to show for at the end of a trip that he can drive into town and sell at the market.

However, today it’s odd, for he’s not caught a single fish. It can’t be due to the weather. On the contrary it’s been a while since Yoongi has seen such beautiful, sunny days, the skies saturated in pale blue hues and thick with the smell of brine in his lungs. It can’t be that the ocean is unfit to fish in, considering that’s impossible and also because it’s calm as can be, save for the occasional wave lapping against the sunshine, rocking it to and from.

And yet, despite everything in favor for him to fill his chest of fresh catch, all Yoongi has to show for his time at sea is an empty net and a runny nose.

Grumbling to himself, Yoongi double checks his process to ensure he didn’t fuck anything up. He hasn’t. His nets are in place, his lines aren’t disorganized and he made sure to bring his girl to a steady speed before even considering hauling his net out. So what the fuck is the matter? For a brief moment of frustration Yoongi debates whistling for the fish to come out in the same way he would a dog, then sighs. Running a hand across his face does nothing other than aggravate him further, the ocean too calm and peaceful for how he’s slowly beginning to get pissed off, especially since the weather is becoming warmer and he’s lost his hat.

Nothing to show at the end of the day and take into town means no getting paid, and Yoongi really needs to get paid. He can’t even enjoy being at sea like he usually would, too busy glaring at the water.

Did he curse you?

Yoongi scoffs at the thought, even though there’s a small voice nagging at the back of his head to not rule the possibility out. Mermaids exist, don’t they? Why wouldn’t curses be just as real ?

“Bullshit,” Yoongi says to himself, wiping sweat off his brow as the weather picks up and he starts to feel flush. “Ain’t got no curse on me other than bad fucking luck. I’d know if I was cursed.”

And yet the more the thinks about it, the possibility of it all happening, the angering a mermaid and as consequence of such a thing him now being cursed, the more Yoongi begins to panic and wrack his brain for a solution of some sort. Unluckily for him there are no witches (that he knows of?) around to break any might be curses, which means the only option Yoongi has is the one he really doesn’t want to resort to.

Groveling and begging for forgiveness to that bastard mermaid, if he can even find him again.

A look at the sea has Yoongi sucking in a sharp breath and gnawing on his lower lip. He could always sell those fucking pearls, and get his money’s worth, but that wouldn’t solve anything save for buy him some time to maybe find an alternative fishing route and pray that whatever that thing did to him would fade in time.

Did he curse you?

Yoongi groans pitifully. What if it never goes away? What if he’s doomed to never catch a single fish in his life? Then what’s he supposed to do? Work a nine to five, suffocated by the smell of printer paper and ink, wearing ill fitting suits and nursing a stiff back and ass? The thought makes him shudder hard, and swallow his pride.

He knows what he has to do, and he’s going to do it.

Reluctantly, because he’s still resenting even having to try and do such a thing in order to get his life back to normal, Yoongi reaches inside his pocket where he’d brought the pearls. His plan to sell them and do so many great things with them slowly pushes past his reach the more he thinks about it, but he tries not to suffer too much about the loss, in hopes of better luck.

Even if he has to beg that bastard mermaid for forgiveness.

He tries recalling the details he’d learned when he was a child on how to summon a mermaid, and faintly remembers. Gifts are the way to go, offerings of jewels, and prized human possessions the one thing that’ll lure a mermaid out of hiding and up close.

Eyes closed, scared of what might happen, Yoongi curls his fingers around the strand of pearls, and slowly dips his hand into the ocean, where the water feels warm as he wades through it and swings the pearls back and forth.

“Er,” He starts off, unsure of what he’s doing, but desperate, “Mister mermaid man—merman? Mer-person?—if you’re out there somewhere, can you please just uh...come out and maybe accept this gift which is actually not a gift but me returning what you think is yours back? Hello, is there anyone home?”  

There’s silence in return, and Yoongi feels like a right idiot, yelling out into the ocean as if somehow, God knows how many leagues under the sea, the mermaid is going to hear him.

However, that doesn’t stop him from doing it again. He’s got fish to catch and money to make after all.

Louder, because if he’s going to make an ass of himself he’s going to go the extra mile whilst doing so, Yoongi clears his throat. Yells, “Oh, Mister Merman, yoo-hoo , I’ve got something you want with me! You just have to get your mer ass out and get it!”

Again there’s nothing, only a short lived rush of current beneath the water from a sudden wave, but nothing more, which leaves Yoongi glaring at the water's surface and wondering what the hell he’s doing wrong.

With an aggravated huff and a soggy sleeve now stuck to his skin, Yoongi hauls his arm out of the water and stares at the pearls, which now glimmer in the sunlight. “Am I missing something?” he mutters, lips pursed in thought. “Was it something I said?”

“You know, I personally think you lacked conviction.”

At the sound of that voice—husky, and akin to a purr and one that featured in his nightmares—Yoongi stiffens, a startled cry trapped in his throat.

He blinks once, then twice, wondering in shock if he’s somehow started to hallucinate sounds due to the increasing heat.

There comes a sigh from the other side of the boat, as well as a hushed ripple; the sound of a splash perhaps. “I forget how easily startled you human men are. It’s such a shame, really. Aren’t you going to turn around, sailor? You worked so hard to get me here, after all.”

“ Fuck ,” Yoongi whispers, because well, that’s valid during a time of shell shocked silence. Fuck .

Slowly, heart hammering frantically beneath his ribs, he turns around, grip on the pearls tight to where his knuckles ache. As he opens his eyes, he’s surprised to see the mermaid once again. In fact he’s certain that it wouldn’t matter how many times it happened, he’d still be equally as stunned. 

The mermaid notices that Yoongi is gaping at him and tinkers his fingers in a small, teasing wave, and smiles from where he’s leaning against the edge of his boat, torso and tail mostly submerged beneath the water, and arms holding him up against the rails. The teardrop like scales for against the ridges of his arms which are corded with lithe muscle, vibrant blue against his tanned skin, and follow a path down to the mermaids wrists which are bare of jewelry today.

The rest of him isn’t as bare; the mermaid wears a series of dangling pearl necklaces around his neck, each differing in length to match the headpiece surrounding his forehead. Another string of pearls, but these smaller and mimicking some sort of headband.

“Holy fuck, you’re real .”

The mermaid smiles at him, enough to flash a hint of those beautifully sharp teeth. His tail moves beneath the water and briefly peers up before it submerges once again, the fin more and more resembling that of a shark’s.

“ Holy fuck ,” the mermaid drawls, seemingly mocking him. “You’re still holding onto my pearls. Quite a bold little thief, aren’t you?”

Said pearls are in Yoongi's hands, just dangling by his wrist, soaking wet. He glances at them, then back at the mermaid, who's waiting expectantly, and licks his lips. “I uh...please don't eat me, I swear I got a shit diet so I wouldn't taste any good.”

If possible, Yoongi thinks mermaids looks comical when they roll their eyes and snort. Such casual human gestures.

“I'm not hungry,” the mermaid says, palm outstretched towards him, the scales dotted along the webbing between his fingers glistening against the sunlight. “And I don't eat humans. Not for fun anyway. You've got the wrong kind of creature, sailor. Try sirens.”

“Oh,” Yoongi whispers, still hesitant in coming closer. Now that he's got the mermaid here and he seems less agitated than before he's not going to just hand over the pearls, not without some kind of assurance first. Stepping slow, near the rails but not too close, Yoongi holds out the pearls, watching the mermaid survey then with a blank stare, and says, “I’ll give ‘em to you, but I got a favor to ask.”

The mermaid presses his lips together. Full and pouted, they're distracting up close. “It's the first time I've ever heard a thief ask for a favor from that of whom he's stolen from. You've got some nerve.”

“Yeah well, desperate times, desperate measures,” Yoongi mutters. “You wanna hear what I gotta say or should I just leave and take my pearls with me?”

“Funny of you to think I’d let you leave so easily,” the mermaid murmurs, lips curved into a half smile. Sighing, and dismissively, he waves a hand towards Yoongi, allowing him to continue. “I’m in a good mood today, so I’ll hear whatever you have to say, though I make no promises to grant you any favors. Talk .”

“You’re kind of entitled,” Yoongi says to himself, then slaps on a tight smile when the mermaid arches a brow, most likely having heard that. Clearing his throat, hands shaking around the pearls as he holds them to his best, Yoongi says, “I think you put a curse on me or something, because I can’t catch a single fish, which is bad. Very bad, seeing as I make money off of that and without money I’d probably have to resort to living in my boat, or worse moving back in with my parents. You ever been an adult living with your parents? It’s awful, it’s hell it's….” He trails off, wheezing, ”why am I rambling? ”

“You’re pretty funny when you talk,” the mermaid notes, full lips curving into a deeper smile. Fingers tucked beneath his chin, he cocks his head and surveys Yoongi intently. “You make all these little noises whenever you catch your breath. It’s endearing. Are all human thieves endearing?”

Why , Yoongi asks himself, then glances up at the sky, wondering if maybe the universe has it out for him. That’s impossible of course, the universe has no time to spend dealing with the likes of him, but still it’s better to blame anything other than come to terms with the fact that yes, he does make funny noises when he speaks, especially when he’s nervous. Sue him , he’s under extreme duress.

Indignant, expression pinched with scandalization, Yoongi says stiffly, “I resent that, and no, I’m not a thief. I just happened to catch these pearls in my net—

“Which I have countlessly reminded you are not yours to own, for they are mine, but you choose to ignore,” the mermaid finishes for him, giving him a look that dares an argument.

Yoongi opens his mouth to finish replying, then promptly closes it in favor of grumbling several curses to himself. Never mind the fact that there is a gorgeous, hulking mermaid leaning against his girl, casually laughing at him, as if he’s told the funniest joke ever heard.

He hasn’t, unless his existence is the joke for the mermaid, which in that case if it is, then fuck that guy...mer... whatever .

“Listen, semantics aside, I kind of just need you to undo whatever thing you did to me, because I really can’t go without catching any fish,” Yoongi tells him, a touch away from begging on his knees, for the day is getting hotter and the tide seems to be becoming less, which means his chances for any catches are growing more and more slim.

In the process of his growing panic, the mermaid has kept quiet, but there’s an air of amusement around him as he watches Yoongi squirm where he stands. “I could do that for you, of course I could. With a snap of my fingers I could bless you with luck you wouldn’t ever attain anywhere else.”

Yoongi senses a but in there somewhere, and a few seconds later, as the mermaid lowers himself into the water, so that the only thing visible is his torso, he says, “I could do many things, but I have conditions.”

“None of those entail stealing my voice and making me into a fish, right?”

The mermaid looks positively affronted at such a suggestion, and as consequence, the fluke of his tail emerges past the water, giving a hard slap which brings forth an exaggerated amount of water that splashes Yoongi square in the face, soaking him down to his toes.

Even his goddamn underwear is wet.

Salt water dripping down his face and onto the floor of the boat, Yoongi murmurs, “I’ll take that as a no.”

“Don't call me a fish again,” the mermaid grouses, sending a glare his way. “Or I'll splash you harder, you stupid and tiny sailor.”

Yoongi resents that and is ready to refute that the mermaid isn’t that big either when he realizes how useless that would be considering that one: he’s a fucking mermaid and height doesn’t count when you have a tail, and two: said tail looks poised to splash him again, and Yoongi really isn’t about swallowing ...salt water that is.

He doesn’t reply with as much sass as he’d like but he does glare at the offensive and insensitive mer, hoping that gets his point across just fine.

“Just say what you want in exchange for fixing my bad luck and maybe gimme a name so I don’t gotta resort to calling you fish boy,” Yoongi mutters, scowling when each subtle sift of his body causes water to squelch in places it shouldn’t be squelching. He flushes red and tries to stay still even as water drips down his back.

The mermaid stares at him from where he waded in the water, eyes narrowed in thought. He tosses his head back, pushing wet, blond strands of hair that fall over his eyes as he makes Yoongi wait for an answer of any kind.

Finally, just as Yoongi begins to feel impatient the mermaid parts his lips and makes a series of low, purring noises followed by a slew of clicking sounds whilst gesturing towards himself.

“Er,” Yoongi blinks, trying to wrack his brain around anything in those noises he can make out, but coming up short. “Yeah, I don’t understand. Is that your name?”

“Yes,” the mermaid replies, “But seeing as you’re not capable of repeating that maybe you’d like to assign me a name. Something simple for you to remember.”

“You look like a Jimin to me,” Yoongi says quickly, admittedly without putting any thought into said name and only picking whatever first popped into his head. Jimin is common enough, he thinks. An simple name for a complicated creature of the mermaids caliber. Resolute, and as he tests the name on his tongue whilst looking at the mermaid, he nods. “Jimin. I’ll call you Jimin.”

“Ji...min,” The mermaid (now named Jimin) says slowly, lips wrapping around each syllable before he repeats them with less hesitation and actually smiles. “Jimin!”

Yoongi is blindsided by such a thing, because if the mermaid is gorgeous when he’s angry, all sharp edges and hostile, then he’s the closest thing to a God he’ll ever bare witness to. Eyes alight with mirth, they seem to carry the moon within them as they form half crescents, and his cheeks flush with color, full and soft.

“Y-Yeah, Jimin,” he says, struggling to find words. “I uh—it’s just a name, you know? No need for all this fuss.”

The mermaid settles down at this, moving from the boat so that it can wade through the water on its back, giving Yoongi a full frontal view of his body and the bulk of his tail, which he’s already seen in part, but doesn’t get enough of.

“My kind, we don’t have an identity unless we’ve…married, as you humans call it. Beneath the surface we don’t need names when we’re on our own, for we work on identifying each other through scents and pods,” the mermaid replies quietly, wading through the water and staring as it ripples around him, “If I were to be married then I’d smell like someone else and would be identified as such, which isn’t a way I find appealing to live—why are you staring like that?”

Yoongi blinks, mind clearing of its daze to realize not only has he been staring (again) but he’s also leaning precariously against the rails, a hair's breadth away from toppling overboard. He flushes hot, and moves away. “It ain’t everyday I see a mermaid, Jimin, never mind get to talk to one. Cut me some slack.”

“Oh?” Now Jimin seems impish, sending him a smile that sends a frisson of goosebumps up his spine. “I supposed you did this all the time, what with how casual you are about stealing from them.”

Yoongi doesn’t dignify that with an answer, not fond of the risk in being splashed again, and clears his throat. Palm outstretched, the pearls in reach of Jimin, he says, “I said I’ll give ‘em to you, but you gotta fix me, fix whatever you did to make all the fish go away.”

Jimin moves smoothly, inching towards the Sunshine with unrestrained excitement in his gaze. In a fluid display of strength, he hoists himself up, leaning against the rail of the boat, holding his weight on one hand whilst the other busies in fingering the pearls, Quietly, he murmurs, “An eye for an eye, sailor. I’ll grant you this request, but I’ve got one of my own,” he whispers, and Yoongi swallows hard.

He’s not sure just what he, a simple fisherman, a human one no doubt, could do for a mermaid, but if this is the price he’ll have to pay to get his life back then he’ll do it, even if it unnerves him a little.

“I want to learn what it’s like to live on land, experience what makes being a human so wonderful that many of my kind leave their home for it,” Jimin says, earnest and displaying a brief, but very present curiosity. He’s not judging, nor mocking, just searching for answers. “Will you help me, sailor?”

“My name’s Yoongi,” he mumbles, breaths coming out choppy and unsteady when he registers how close and and the mermaid are. Enough to where he can feel each sharp inhalation against his palm, warm and tasting of the sea on his tongue. “I’m not sure how I could help you, but I-I’ll try.”

Jimin makes a low, but pleased rumbling purr from deep within his chest, obviously pleased he’s gotten his name, as well. So little to make a mermaid happy, it seems.

“Yoon- gi ,” He says, inching closer, enough to where Yoongi can’t look away from his eyes as they smolder, luring him in. “The way you can help me is simple. Hand me my pearls and Invite me onto your boat.”

As if he’s being tugged by a leash around his neck towards paths unknown to him, Yoongi's grip on the strand of pearls loosens, where they fall into Jimin's open palm.

“Good boy,” the mermaid croons, “And now what else?”

“Please come onto my boat,” Yoongi says slowly, words heavy and slurred.

Jimin smiles at him, flashing a glimpse of sharp edged teeth before he nods and pulls away. It’s as he’s submerging himself under the water in a flurry of movement, water foaming in his wake, that Yoongi blinks out of his daze and realizes that the bastard mermaid has done it yet again. Gotten inside his head somehow, made him relinquish any control he has over his person, and done so without lifting his curse.

Yoongi is quite ready to pull out a harpoon and get on with some good old mermaid hunting, when the water ripples around his boat, the way the ocean seems to roar before a storm is set to cause havoc sending Yoongi careening onto his ass in a heap of flailing hands.

He’s set on accepting his fate, life flashing in a series of uneventful moments before his eyes, minus the mermaid incident, when there’s a commotion by the edge of his boat. Foaming waves lap at the Sunshine, but that’s not what makes Yoongi's eyes widen, nor is it the fact that during this commotion Jimin is at the center of it, beaming at him; every inch a modern sea God with how powerful he looks amidst it all.

No, Yoongi is stunned to silence because of the fish. They are everywhere, different sized shaped heads poking out of the water, eyes glassy and blank focused in his direction as if they’re in a trance.

All he can do is stare, lips parted in shock as Jimin begins to say something in his language to the fish, a series of clicking noises, followed by a high pitched keen which is borderline unpleasant. More so, Yoongi can’t fucking believe his eyes and rubs at them hard the moment it appears the fish begin to lift from the water, suspended in the air around him.

“Jimin,” Yoongi croaks, mulling over the fact that he’s probably going to piss his pants as he stumbles away from the rails, the mermaid paying him no mind.

All of this is done with a simple move of Jimin’s palm as he lifts it higher, the fish heeding his command. Then, when he can’t lift them any higher, he lowers his palm quickly, and with a series of harsh slaps against the deck, Yoongi watches in horror as countless of fish land right in front of him, writhing in search of water.

“A deal is a deal, Yoongi ,” Jimin tells him, casual as if he hasn’t just tossed God knows how many fish into his boat with just a wave of his goddamn hand. On the contrary, the mermaid looks pleased with himself, and brings his palms together, clapping happily, only to pause, “Oh, right, they’re still alive.”

“Oh my fucking God—” With a single flick of his wrist, the fish on board stop moving, which can only mean—“You killed all the fish.”

“You’re welcome.” Jimin hums in response as he comes closer. The pearls hang from his wrist loosely, and Yoongi stares at them, then back at Jimin when he holds his palm out. “Hoist me up so that I can get this done, please.”

Wordless, surrounded by dead fish (that he may or may not be thankful for but that’s beside the point—holy crap) Yoongi curls his fingers around Jimin’s palm, feeling the smooth press of scales that dot across his knuckles beneath his fingertips, and tugs. It’s hard, what with Jimin being a fully grown mermaid with a tail that looks heavy, but somehow he manages enough strength to help the mermaid onto the deck.

Much like the fish, being completely out of water isn’t good for him, and Jimin gasps, gills across his neck flexing hard. Shakily, his grip wavering, the mermaid reaches for the strand of pearls and undoes the thin rope securing them so that he can tie it around his neck.

All Yoongi can do is gape when confronted by the sheer size of Jimin’s tail. In comparison to his little boat, the tail is ridiculously large, spanning into a wide fluke that’s undeniable in its resemblance to that of a sharks.

“ Beautiful ,” Yoongi murmurs, eyeing every inch of the tail as the fluke gives a weak twitch from the very edge of the boat.

Jimin shudders when Yoongi's palm meets the tail, but doesn’t stop him. It seems as if his ministrations of smoothing his fingertips across it seem to feel good, and calm the mermaid down enough to secure the pearls around his neck, leaving them to drape between the divots of his chest.

“Fuck—wait, why are you doing this? You’ll die if you don’t get back in there!” Yoongi cries out, attempting to shove the mermaid off his boat and back into the ocean where he belongs before he too, becomes a dead fish on his boat like the others. It’s futile, and Jimin is much too heavy for his thin arms, but God does Yoongi try his best.

“I won’t die, though your concern is endearing,” the mermaid says quietly. He reaches out and grabs Yoongi's hand, gripping it tightly, urging him to stay still.

If seeing fish suddenly falling onto his boat isn’t enough to convince Yoongi that he’s gone and lost his mind somehow, or is maybe hallucinating from the heat, then what he sees next ensures him that he’s definitely two crayons short of a full box.

Because where Jimin’s beautiful tail had been just a few seconds ago, hanging off the edge of his boat, there are now a pair of legs. Much smaller, but packed with muscle, seemingly smooth to the touch and damp from the water; they’re fucking legs. Human legs. With feet, and toes. Ten of them. Yoongi’s counting.

He blinks at them, dumbfounded, then his traitorous eyes roam up, noting that the scales doting across his torso have also disappeared, as have the ones adorning his temples. Yoongi traces each part of Jimin as if seeing him for the first time, marveling his appearance. How the fins protruding from the folds of his arms have disappeared, much how those that aligned his back are also gone. From there, he follows the bend of a knee that leads towards a firm, golden skinned thigh that’s full and feels hot to the touch where his fingers had been resting, not to mention the apex of said thighs where—nope, he’s not going to ogle his mermaids — merpersons — cock. He’s not that far gone, insanity or not.

Blushing hot, because try as he might Yoongi caught a glimpse of it and well, Jimin is human. As human as Yoongi is down to how it hangs, and yeah—he hates himself and would happily throw himself into the ocean for anything out there to swallow up.

Scrambling up and away from Jimin, and nearly tripping on a fish as he does so, Yoongi looks at the ground, anywhere save for jimin who’s naked. “I-fuck, you got legs. You got fucking legs and feet—you’re naked, too! Naked! Ah, you need some clothes!”

Throughout his panic, and as he tries in vain to somehow store fish inside his ice chest and figure out how the hell he's going to clothe jimin when he has no clothes on deck, Jimin remains calm. From what Yoongi can make out as he furiously cleans fish and stuffs them inside the chest, the mermaid (human?) stays where he’d been left, slowly circling his ankle and wiggling his toes with a look of wonder crossing his features.

Yoongi manages to fill his chest, enough to where closing it is a hassle, but he still has no idea what to do about Jimin and his state of undress until finally he comes up with a plan.

“I’m gonna give you my pants.”

Granted, it’s not his best plan, but a plan nonetheless.

Jimin looks up at him sharply, assessing his legs with an arched brow. “Is it not adequate to not wear any clothing?”

Yoongi presses his lips together, reminds himself that despite Jimin’s advanced intelligence he doesn’t know human customs and will need his help.

How that’s going to work when sometimes he forgets to put pants on before leaving the house himself is a good question, but Yoongi’s going to wing it. He’s got a mermaid (human?) to dress, a deal to carry out his part on and fish to fry—Er, sell .

No fish frying in front of the merperson, right. He’s got this. He can handle this. He is a competent, self suficient human being and he’s got this.

“What is this thing hanging so limply; does it serve a purpose?”

Upon reaching the boating yard, and after ensuring that his girl was anchored and steady, Yoongi finds himself facing another predicament. He’s not wearing any pants, due to Jimin currently wearing them (and complaining about the tight fit around his shapely and thicker thighs), and had to endure the trip back in a thin pullover rugged down to cover some of his modesty; not that jimin knew anything about that, but still, and he also has the problem regarding jimin and how he’s supposed to walk out of a crowded place such as this with a new passenger on his boat he didn’t have this morning.

There’s no time to come up with excuses, Yoongi has got to think on his feet and do so fast.

As if his prayers have been answered, or maybe he really has been struck with luck as the mermaid mentioned, Yoongi spots Namjoon not too far off; his peach colored hair hard to miss amidst the crowd. His friend is walking down the boardwalk, hands tucked into the pockets of his jumper, his standard uniform to ensure his clothes don’t get stained whilst working with the boats; something Yoongi desperately needs during a time like this.

“Namjoon, hey!”

Namjoon stops once he spots him and lifts his hand up in a friendly wave. “Yoongi, hello! Good catch today?”

Yoongi winces, thinking of Jimin and his chest full of fish which he still needs to drive into town to sell at the fish market, both hidden and out of sight, much to the mermaids scandalized dismay.

“Something like that, yeah!” He calls out. “Uh, listen this is going to sound odd and I really can’t answer why right now but I need your jumpsuit.”

Namjoon stares at him with a look of mild curiosity and disbelief, never having heard such an odd request from him of all people.

“My jumpsuit,” he repeats slowly, “You need it.”

“Urgently,” Yoongi says, heaving a sigh as he runs a hand through his hair. It’s somewhat more dry than before, but still considerably wet. “Please.”

Namjoon takes closer steps towards the boat, but doesn’t try peering into it. “And you can't tell me why you need it.”

“Oh my, human men are dense,” Jimin whispers from where he’s hiding by Yoongi’s shoes.

Yoongi subtly nudges him with his foot to keep quiet, whilst nodding furiously towards Namjoon. “Not right now I can’t.”

“This should concern me,” Namjoon mutters, and Yoongi nods.

“Yep, it should, but what it shouldn’t do is stop you from lending me your jumpsuit.”

Yoongi can see the hesitation in Namjoons eyes, mingled with curiosity and a touch of trepidation. He doesn’t answer right away, rather takes a moment to think it over.

Then, much to Yoongi’s relief, his friend begins undoing the first button of his jumpsuit, giving a soft nod of agreement. “You’re lucky I put clothes on under this thing today.”

“Yeah I’m just full of good luck today,” Yoongi notes wryly, hand coming up to cross over his chest whilst by his feet, he can feel Jimin’s body shaking with silent laughter.

It takes a few seconds of silence before Namjoon steps out of his jumpsuit, revealing his alternate outfit which consists of a pair of cut off denim shorts and a loose grey t-shirt that’s damp with sweat and clings to his friends torso, before he curls his fingers around it, balls the fabric up and then tosses it towards Yoongi.

It lands in a heap right against his face, and Yoongi cries out in surprise, but reigns in his disgust at the smell clinging to the fabric, more thankful his ass has been saved than anything else.

“Well if you need anything else or wanna’ talk then you know where to find me!” Namjoon says, as he moved to leave now that it’s clear there’s nothing else he’s needed for. “Take care, Yoongi!”

“You too!” Yoongi tells him, giving his friend a small wave just before he returns to whatever he was doing; perhaps on his way home or maybe towards his shed where he keeps his tools, who knows.

All that Yoongi does know is that now he’s got something to wear, which means he can hand Jimin his shirt so that the mermaid can step out of the boat at least looking somewhat decent. Sure, he’s missing shoes but that’s not the oddest thing that’s ever been seen here, so Yoongi does not overthink it. Besides, Jimin won’t need them, considering he’s to stay inside the car whilst Yoongi handles selling the fish.

“C’mon, let's go and get you changed,” Yoongi suggests, cocking his head in direction of the smaller closed section of the Sunshine where they can change without too many eyes on them. “You can handle walking, yeah?”

Yoongi sees the indignation cross the mermaids (humans?) features, as well as what appears to be determination in his eyes.

“I am more than capable of walking,” Jimin says stiffly, lips pursed in a childlike fashion, petulant and pouting. “You carried me here because you felt like it, and because you had a point to prove.”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me because you’re lighter on your feet without the tail— Hey, rude !”

Yoongi is left staring at Jimin’s back side as he walks away, unsteadily but determined to do it on his own. With nothing else left to do, Yoongi grumbles a curse to himself, and follows behind, clutching the jumpsuit tight between his fingers.

“Pouting will get you nowhere with me.”

From where he sits in the passenger side of the car, knees tucked against his chest, Jimin does indeed remain pouring. Lips pursed in a way that screamed spoiled .

“I do not pout,” he says with an indignant huff, burrowing his chin again his bent knee. “I could eat you should I wish. How dare you disrespect me this way? I am a child of the sea.”

“You certainly act like a child.”

The look Jimin sends him is lethal. Downright chilling.

Yoongi glances at the road ahead of him that winds around a strip of mountain narrowly and then at Jimin for a brief few seconds before resuming his driving. The mermaid technically could do so if he wanted to, could’ve done so the first time they met, but yet he hadn’t and he hasn’t, so Yoongi believes that maybe he doesn’t actually want to hurt him.

Again, he just seems very used to getting his way.

“Also cannibalism is a crime here on land, and I doubt you’d enjoy spending time in a human prison.” Yoongi mutters, then at Jimin’s obvious curiosity, he explains what that entails. “Prison for humans is like putting an animal in a cage. Once you’re in you don’t come out.”

“My kind fear that,” Jimin murmurs, eyes dropping towards his jean clad knee to survey a thread that has come loose around the fabric with interest before lifting his gaze to look back at him, features softened. “Being caged. My mother used to tell me stories when I was a babe about sailors who took part in that; capturing mermaids for their own gain. Things like our blood, our tails. That was until the sirens started fighting back and saved us. Now we don’t worry too much.”

Yoongi thinks this over for a moment and finds he can’t imagine living like that, in fear of being trapped inside a metal net, then shoved inside a tank, far away from his loved ones in order to be studied and possibly killed. A shudder wracks his spine.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says, fingers clenching around the wheel tightly. He’s hit with a very pressing urge to take Jimin’s hand in a silent show of support. “You’re safe with me even if you’re a brat and I should’ve left you at sea.”

Jimin purses his lips, making a soft whine of protest that sounds more like a grunt than anything. “All I wanted to do was see this place you call the fish market for myself! How can I learn what being a human is about if I’m not around actual humans?”

Yoongi contemplates this for a moment before giving a resolute shake of his head. If he’d brought Jimin with him into town it would’ve raised questions of why he was joined at the hip by a shoeless and incredibly attractive man, and he really just wasn’t in the mood for all that. Luckily the money he received in exchange for his multitude of fish made up for his hectic day.

“What am I, chopped liver or something? I’m human!”

“You’ve yet to teach me anything and I cannot remain as I am for long, this appearance has limits as well!” Jimin says with a huff, fingers coming up to knock a strand of hair off his brow. Now that it has dried it carries a slightly wavy texture and shines bright whenever it catches the sun.

Yoongi ignores his whining in favor of driving, his home not too far off. He’s determined to teach Jimin what it’s like to live like a human being, but he’s going to do it his way; with a list so that way he doesn’t get distracted, because he has a feeling that dealing with the mermaid won’t be an easy feat.

“What do you mean that appearance has limits, huh?”

Just as his car begins sweeping up the entrance that’ll lead him home, Yoongi glances at Jimin, who happens to be watching him intently and gives him a small smile.

Yoongi returns the smile, but waits patiently for an answer.

Jimin glances at the pearls around his neck, fingering them with care, as if they’re much more fragile than they look. “It means I will only have legs for a short period of time. By sundown my tail shall return until the next sunrise. It was my mother’s way of ensuring I come back home. She’s very powerful, but a little hesitant of my choices. You understand now why I’m in such a hurry?”

Yoongi’s lips part in surprise at the revelation. Sundown was at six in the afternoon, which meant he and Jimin still had a little over five hours together, which wasn’t enough for any kind of lesson he could offer.

“Does that mean I gotta take you back into the water by sundown? Cause’ I can, but—”

“No.” Jimin interrupts, and Yoongi inhales sharply when his hand curves around the upper part of his thigh and squeezes tightly. “I can’t go back just yet. Surely you clean yourself, no? I’ve heard humans mention things called baths that entail water.”

Yoongi shoots him a weakened glare, wetting his lips with the tip of his tongue. As the car slows in front of his home, Yoongi sighs. Of course he’s stuck with the dramatic and sarcastic mermaid. “Yeah, I clean myself real well, Jimin. Got a tub and everything, but the point is whether you mind being crammed in my tub.”

For a few seconds as Jimin surveys the front of his home with interest, there’s silence between them which Yoongi uses to turn off his car and fiddle with the keys.

“Your home is so near the ocean, it makes me feel so nice,” Jimin murmurs, still gazing ahead, his smile curbing at the edges. “I could probably spend the night there instead of your tub, but I’d like to try if that’s alright with you. A part of being human is uh...acclimating— is that the word ?”

“That is a word.” Yoongi agrees, lowering his gaze towards his lap. “If you’re uncomfortable don’t settle, though. That’s also a word.”

“I can handle it just fine,” Jimin says confidently, his chin lifted in a way that shows determination. “Now, aren’t you going to invite me into your home?”

“What’s with that, mh?”

Jimin holds his gaze, and Yoongi expects him to say something mythical, maybe some magical spell that’s similar to that of inviting a vampire into one’s home.

“It’s polite,” Jimin tells him as if it’s the most obvious response in the world. “Don’t humans believe in good manners? You’re all so very strange.”

Yoongi is left staring after him as the mermaid (human, God he just can’t get used to that) stumbles out of his car towards his house. For a few seconds he stares after him, a faint smile curving the side of his lips at the mer’s excitement as he wiggles his toes in the sand surrounding him.

Jimin is kind of cute when he’s so easily surprised. Not that Yoongi will tell him that, but he’s still free to think such things as much as he likes.

“Ah, it’s so grainy and warm!” He cries out, “My toes feel funny!”

For now he’s got things to do. One of them being preparing his tub for his new mer guest and hoping for the best.

“This is harder than I thought. Being a human sucks ass.” Yoongi mutters, his list still as blank as when he’d first acquired the paper save for the title: How to be human and rock at it.

Jimin sits in the living room beside him on the couch, chin resting on his bent knees, sans pants and only in his t-shirt despite Yoongi’s avid protests that he keep them on because he can quite literally see everything, watching him intently.

“I finally have legs, Yoongi. Nothing is keeping them covered if I can help it .”

He’d thought that writing such a list would be easy, given that he’s human and he’s lived his life just fine, but now as he tries doing so in order to help Jimin he realizes he’s lonely and half of the things he likes might not be what others like.

“Before you ask, no you cannot repeat what I just said,” he mumbles upon seeing Jimin’s lips part with interest at the phrase, most likely to repeat it or ask if such a thing is possible. “It’s lewd, don’t say lewd things.”

“Lewd,” Jimin’s repeats, then makes a low vibrating sound from inside his throat, deep timbered and followed by a series of fast clicking sounds and a sharp hiss. “Like that?”

“I’ve no idea what that is, but sure, if that’s what lewd means to you then alright.” Yoongi replies, fingers curling tightly around the pen he’s holding, then loosening.

Rather than give another smartassed remark, Jimin nods and settles, seemingly content to just sit there watching him for now. Though Yoongi is sure he’s full of questions, for he’d been too excited once he’d stepped inside his home and stood in the center of his living room.

Yoongi isn’t saying that Jimin resembled something close to an angel then, so radiant and beautiful, Every inch of him more than what he’d ever imagined, but well… he is. To himself at least.

Flustered upon realizing he’s lost in daydreams about beautiful merpeople, Yoongi makes a little noise and focus on the task at hand.

Jimi wriggles his toes, and they brush against Yoongi’s thighs, which prompts him to once again look at the mer in question, in time to see that he’s curling and uncurling them against the couch cushion.

“You know what, fuck this list.”

“ Fuck this list,” Jimin drawls absently, as he lifts his leg forward, straightens it, and then folds it against his chest. “You humans say that often. You don’t have manners but you sure do fuck .”

Yoongi is so distracted angrily scratching out the title on his failed list that he almost misses that. Lucky (or not) for him he does hear that and twists to glance at Jimin, wondering if he realizes.

“Context is very important,” Yoongi mutters, face flushing hot. “I’ll uh… get you a book or something—Wait, can you even read human language?”

Jimin holds his gaze unflinchingly. “Do you think I’m stupid? If I had my tail I’d splash you for even suggesting such a thing. Human customs are foreign to me, but my mind can adapt quickly.”

“Maybe instead of a list for how to live like a human I’ll just document every situation where you give me sass,” Yoongi remarks to himself, avoiding the glare thrown his way. “Day one of mer-quest: Subject appears hostile. Must need kiddy pool.”

There’s no tail to splash him, however Jimin is pretty strong and even a gentle nudge against Yoongi’s sides with his foot  is enough to make him flinch back and tear a surprised cry past his lips.

“You little shit—” The sudden contact makes Yoongi squeeze his eyes shut before a whine leaves him as he tries in vain to escape. “I-I’m ticklish, please!”

Jimin’s lips part in a wide smile, mischief shining through his eyes. He wiggles his toes against Yoongi’s side, tickling lightly and laughing as if it’s the most amusing sight he’s ever seen; him squirming away.

“I think we are going to get along just fine, sailor,” he replies after a few seconds of breathless giggling, body leaning against the couch cushions, uncaring for his nudity when the shirt rides up and exposes a lot of skin. “Give me a tour, hm? I’d love to see how you human men live and if it’s true what I’ve heard human women say: that you’re untidy.”

Yoongi makes an affronted noise at this, then double checks his recollections of the day and whether he’d cleaned up before leaving his house. A quick glance at the living room shows that it’s tidy as usual, as is the kitchen, free from dishes and clutter. His bedroom is a different story, one he’s not sure of.

Which means he’ll start safe. “Let’s show you where you’ll be staying first,” he suggests, sliding off the couch after giving his failed list a final glare. “We’re just gonna wing this human thing and hope for the best. Sound fair?”

“I suppose spending time with you could prove just as useful in learning human mannerisms,” Jimin murmurs, eyeing his outstretched hand with interest. Slowly, whilst Yoongi watches, he reaches for his hand, then splays it open, entwining smaller fingers between the space of his own.

Yoongi lets him do so, seeing the way the mermaids lips curve at the edges in a small smile as he presses his own palm up against his to compare their differences. His breath leaves him at the sudden contact, and he wets his lips with the tip of his tongue, almost entranced by the sight of the mermaid admiring his hands as if they’re the ones that are beautiful, when it should be the other way around and he should be doing such things.

He’d heard the tales of foolish human men falling prey to the allure of mermaids and sirens easily, with the same speed with which one can blink and yet he’d never believed that; not until now. Until he’d come close to a mermaid who’s eager to see what makes his kind leave their homes for. What makes them—humans— special .

“We should start that tour,” Yoongi says, shifting away so that he and Jimin’s hands no longer touch and he can think clearly. Tail or not, Jimin’s presence sends him into some sort of trance and leaves him dizzy afterwards.

Jimin stands up as well, often eyeing his hand, but doesn’t move to take hold of it again and instead clasps his own in front of him. His shirt does nothing to cover him, and Yoongi sighs.

“Let’s get you some pants first,” He says, ignoring Jimin’s outraged grunt behind him. They can’t coexist like this, or they can but hopefully the mer won't bite his hand off for suggesting something to keep him covered.

They cross the living room and walk down a short hallway that opens into a wider section of his house where his bedroom waits behind a closed door.

Jimin doesn’t stop touching anything that catches his eye, which is everything apparently. He mostly focuses on framed family photos along the walls, fingers skimming along the wooden frames curiously.

Yoongi leaves him for a moment to head inside his bedroom in search of something to wear for them both. He’ll need a shower after this day and Jimin needs something to cover him up. He’s certain he has some large sweaters somewhere or maybe a couple of shirts and rifles through his drawers for them.

Soft footsteps pad inside his bedroom seconds later and Yoongi flinches when he feels the solid press of a body come behind him, and a chin dig into his shoulder.

“There are no colors in there,” Jimin states, unknowing of the fact that Yoongi is blushing down to his toes. It’s not everyday he has this much skinship with anyone! “Do you not like colors? Oh—that!”

That which excites Jimin so much happens to a large yellow T-shirt sporting a myriad of pastel colored sea animals as well as a large 20, a quirky gift from his parents who’d attended the Busan Sea festival and thought he’d like it.

Yoongi does like it, but not enough to wear it. Jimin thinks differently and proceeds to grab the shirt and hold it against himself. Yoongi turns around and stares at him, it’s hard not to when the mermaid seems so pleased with it, his toes curling against the wooden floor.

“Can I wear this instead of the pants?” Jimin asks, watching him with a hopeful gleam in his eye. Yoongi should say no and insist on jimin wearing something else in sake of his dwindling sanity, but…

“Well, It is pretty long, so I guess you don’t have to wear pants in the house,” He mumbles, trying to play it cool even though it’s a failed task. He’s the least cool in this situation, the least composed.

Jimin’s lips curve into a wide smile, teeth on display and still considerably menacing, but Yoongi doesn’t focus on that, too busy making heart eyes at the sound of the other giggling. It’s a light, tinkling sound, and reminds him of bells.

“That being said when we leave the house you’re wearing some fucking pants.”

Jimin ignores that, too busy in trying to yank the shirt he’s currently wearing off his head. He’s like a child learning to dress themselves, all clumsy hands and uncoordinated wrestling of the fabric, because the shirt is tighter around his chest than it would be on Yoongi’s.

After watching him struggle for a few seconds, and after having to hear a pitiful sounding keen from Jimin, Yoongi comes closer, fingers tucking into the shirt to help the other peel it off.

“You’re kinda cute when you’re clueless,” he comments, aiding Jimin once again, only in putting the large shirt on rather than taking anything off.

Once it’s secured over his head, Jimin drops his arms and does a slow spin, pleased with how the shirt falls on him, just long enough to cover his modesty and keep him comfortable.

“Tour!” Jimin exclaims, But then stops as he takes in Yoongi’s bedroom, eyes falling behind him and narrowing. “Is that supposed to be a shark?”

Yoongi turns towards where Jimin is staring at and brings a hand up to his neck, nervously scratching it as he notices his clock. In shape of a rounded cartoonish great white shark, it has a small pendulum that resembles a surfer hanging below it. He’d thought it was cute, but based on the way Jimin stares at it, he’s clearly alone in this thought.

“Your tail reminds me of a sharks,” Yoongi comments, unable to forget the sight of the tail, much less the fins protruding from Jimin’s back during his time at sea. “You’re no regular mermaid, huh?”

Rather than reply to this, Jimin just smiles. “There’s nothing regular about me. Tour?”

Well, that’s an answer in itself, Yoongi guesses. A big fat don’t ask kind. Whilst he’s curious, he reasons that they have some time before the questions can come so he reigns it in and steps out of his bedroom, determined that he can do this housing a mermaid business right.

“Tour.”

If someone would’ve told seven year old Yoongi that as an adult he’d be sharing a home and a bathtub with a mermaid, he’d have probably fainted, then woken up to scream bloody murder about how exciting that sounded.

Twenty five year old Yoongi, however, as he’s living through such a situation can’t say its anything he ever imagined.

For one, it’s never quiet in his home anymore, there is always some degree of sounds present. Be it Jimin asking a myriad of questions ( But why do you cook the fish if it tastes and smells so much better fresh ?) to the mermaid spending the night inside his small bathtub serenading himself whilst he waits for the sun to rise.

Not that he minds the noise, on the contrary. Yoongi realizes just how lonely he’d been living before this, his home his solace and always bathed in silence. It’s different now that Jimin has taken residence there, and much to his own denial, Yoongi looks forward to coming home because he knows he’ll be in for surprises, whether it’s Jimin attempting to make tea and burning the bag because he’d dumped it inside the kettle dry, or Jimin having holed up in his living room repeating everything he hears the television say.

Today’s situations is by far the most chaotic. Yoongi still hasn’t quite grasped the concept of what he’s seeing, because one: if he does he’s sure to start screaming, and two: because well, why is he surprised? This is a mermaid in his house, one he knows the customs of. And yet knowing something and seeing it up close are two different things, Yoongi reasons with himself shakily as he stumbles inside his bathroom (he’d just wanted to pee really quick for fuck sake) and finds Jimin in all his mer glory, eating what appears to be a fish, or the remnants of it.

Dumbfounded, and a little intrigued, Yoongi watches Jimin tear into the fish with his hands, seeing sharp, talon like nails keep the body steady whilst he feeds. If he’d had any question of Jimin’s relations to sharks then he doesn’t anymore the moment he spies the row of blood stained teeth sinking into the fish.

“There's nothing ordinary about me,” Jimin had told him.

It all clicks in his head. The fins, the teeth, the temper, the constant threats to eat him, the tail. Jimin’s enormous tail with the dangerous looking fins protruding at the sides of the fluke . Yoongi has somehow housed a predator in his home and if that’s not bad then maybe the fact that he’s so fond of him is .

He must make some sort of noise; maybe he cries out or maybe he’s losing his mind and thinks he does, for jimin turns sharply in his direction, eyes darkened into a rounded murky black, and a sharp hiss leaving his lips. When it dawns on him that it is Yoongi standing there contemplating pissing himself and not anything else, Jimin relaxes with a hard grunt and smiles at him before he resumes eating.

In any other circumstance it would be adorable spotting those sharp teeth, but given the situation Yoongi pales a bit and sways on his feet.

“I’ll uh, come back later,” he whispers, much more to himself than to the mermaid currently feeding and staining the inside of his tub red. Jimin doesn’t acknowledge this, and Yoongi, afraid he’ll actually faint, hightails it out of there and closes the door on his way out.

He all but falls onto his bed, face tucked into the pillows the moment he steps inside his bedroom, breathing hard. He’s not disgusted perse, reasoning that every living being has to eat somehow, more like surprised he got to witness it after having seen Jimin try eating human meals with utensils. Seeing him in his true nature is fascinating, if not a little scary, but disgust isn’t what Yoongi feels.

His exhaustion after a long day out at sea, coupled by his surprise must be the reason why he finds himself dozing off, his mind full of images wherein Jimin is back in the ocean preying on other animals. Do they fear him? The beautiful, but seemingly dangerous creature with powers he himself is yet to see. Do other merpeople find themselves as caught up in him as Yoongi is? He’s not sure.

There’s a soft set of fingers brushing through his hair when he comes to and opens his eyes. Jimin’s fingers, sans webs between them. The other is looking at him from where he’s kneeling beside his bed, eyes rounded with concern and lips pursed into a worried pout. He’s clean now, his blond hair wet, smelling like soap and a tang of salt and he’s wearing his favorite t-shirt once more and nothing else.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” He murmurs quietly, still sifting through Yoongi’s hair, unmoving from his spot. “I lost track of time waiting for you and and don’t know how to cook human food yet, and was so hungry. I was starving , and lost myself. I’m sorry, Yoongi.”

It takes a few seconds for Yoongi to fully become conscious after being roused from such a deep and sudden sleep, but eventually he does and blinks slowly, fist coming up to rub at his eyes hard. Jimin is still kneeling by his bed, looking incredibly guilty and a tad grumpy, nothing at all like how Yoongi has last seen him inside the bathroom.

“Jimin, you ain’t gotta apologize. It’s my fault for getting surprised,” Yoongi tells him as he  sits up, which knocks Jimin’s fingers from his hair and causes them to fall on his lap. He takes the boy’s hand in his, loosely linking their fingers together and marveling at the heat trapped against his palm; for Jimin radiates so much warmth it’s like he has the sun trapped inside him.

“You’ve yet to ask me what species makes up my DNA, you silly human. You could’ve been really dangerous for you had you gotten any closer to me when I’m feeding like that,” Jimin whispers, eyes falling towards their clasped hands before they return to look at him. “When I’m hungry I’ll eat anything in my path, especially if they smell as good as you do.”

Yoongi studies Jimin’s expression, seeing how the mer appears to being very honest with him. He obviously doesn’t feel the same considering he can’t exactly smell himself as anything worth eating, but decides to take it as a compliment in sake of holding his composure.

“And what species would that be, mh? I got a feeling, but I’m not sure.”

Jimin seems hesitant to answer, his throat working a hard swallow. “Your people call them great whites. Have you ever seen a shark feed? You could have easily lost a limb had I gotten angry and lashed out at you.”

“Well I wasn’t that far away, Jimin. My bathroom is small and the tub ain’t that far from the door, so you could’ve eaten me if you wanted to, but you didn’t.” Yoongi remarks, grip around Jimin’s fingers tightening. A goddamn great white shark mermaid. Of course . “So don’t be too hard on yourself. You are what you are And there ain’t anything wrong with that.”

“Do you like what I am?” Jimin asks in a whisper, so very human in his uncertainty, as if it’s not glaringly obvious that what he is , is so special.

“Of course I do, silly,” Yoongi tells him, no hesitation. “What’s not to like, mh?”

This makes Jimin frown, his head lowering so that Yoongi can only see the top of his hair. “I feel like I’m failing at this. Learning how to be human. I’ve yet to master how to do anything except talk,” he says in a whisper, then stands up in an abrupt fashion, feet coming down onto the floor with a petulant stomp. “What good am If I cannot learn to do simple things?”

As Jimin continues to stress over his lack of mastering human skills, Yoongi stands up from bed and heads towards him, gently placing a hand in his shoulders to coax him into accepting a hug. “It’s my fault. I haven’t done my part, just leaving you alone here to fend for yourself, and I’m sorry. I’ll teach you things, yeah? I ain’t no expert at much but I’ll try my best. You’re good, Jimin, you’re so good and smart. You’ll see.”

Jimin doesn’t relax into the hug right away, still unused to the contact, since Yoongi isn’t the most affectionate person in the world (his shyness will be the end of him) but eventually he eases into it and even turns around to hide his face against the crook of his neck and shoulder. Yoongi can feel him pouting.

“I just want to learn,” Jimin whines, muffled against his skin. His palm lays flat against Yoongi’s chest and doesn’t move from there. “I don’t want to leave until it feels like I’ve learned something.”

“I’ll do better,” Yoongi says, moving so that his hand strokes between the divots of Jimin’s shoulder blades, gentle as to not scare him. The thought of Jimin’s leaving him alone brings a sour taste to his mouth, so he opts not to think about it for now and just do as he’s agreed to. “I promise.”

And so, teaching a mermaid isn’t as easy as Yoongi thought it would be. It’s not extremely difficult, but it is time consuming and requires a lot of patience. Luckily for him his afternoons and some weekends are free, otherwise Jimin’s truly would be on his own, and Yoongi doesn’t want that for him.

So he does as promised and tries teaching Jimin things he had to learn himself at one point, like learning to cook for himself. It’s a bust, and Jimin is truly awful at it, but for the sake of not making the mer upset, Yoongi pretends that his meals are the most delicious things he’s ever tasted, even if they aren’t. God, they aren’t, and if Yoongi has to eat one more plate of scrambled egg with the shells still inside them he’ll most likely die but—well, he can’t bear to see Jimin be anything less than happy so he shuts his mouth and chews his crunchy eggs every afternoon whilst praising the mer for doing a great job.

“Should I try the thing called baking next? I saw this commercial on the television and it showed a woman baking a cake—

Yoongi mourns his poor oven, knowing it won’t survive that ordeal, but he nods nonetheless. Mouth full of burnt toast and again, crunchy eggs, he says, “That sounds amazing, Jimin. I’m sure you’ll bake a great cake.”

The cake isn't as bad as he’d feared, but it’s lopsided and a little over baked at the bottom. Yoongi still pretends it’s the best cake he’s ever seen, and chases down every single bite with milk, wishing it were whiskey so he’d at least be too drunk to realize these things.

With a hopeful gleam in his eye, and a smear of cake mix of his cheek, looking way too adorable in a checkered apron of all things and a large t-shirt, Jimin asks, “Is it good? It all tastes disgusting to me, but do you think it’s good? Did I do good?”

Yoongi glances at his plate where remnants of the spongy chocolate cake stare back at him, then lifts his eyes to meet Jimin’s once more before bringing his fork to his lips for another bite. It could be worse, he thinks through tears in his eyes, because jimin likes putting salt in his cake instead of goddamn sugar. He could die of food poisoning, but it could be worse.  At Least he hasn’t died yet .

“Of course, cutie. You did an amazing job.”

There are days where Jimin doesn’t want to do anything other than spend hours watching mindless television. During those days, when Yoongi excuses himself to shower, he can always hear the mer laughing loudly from the living room, and his chest swells. His home carries remnants of jimin everywhere. From to the tiny scratched indents left along the riches of his tub where Jimin’s fins must inevitably brush against, down to the clinging scent of brine that invaded every inch of his furniture.

Yoongi thinks, And he hopes foolishly, that Jimin might consider this place, his tiny and humble home, as his own, and that fills him with warmth.

Makes him happy.

Hell, Yoongi doesn’t even mind the fact that Jimin can’t cook, or that his kitchen resembles the aftermath of a hurricane, or that Jimin has terrible humor.

“Hey, Yoongi, Do you know what you call a mermaid and a man named jimin?”

“...Oh god, not again—”

“ Mermin !”

“I’m banning your television time.”

“Really? I’d be berry sad if you did—”

In the end all he’s content with is the fact that Jimin is always smiling as he tries new things, the sun glowing from the inside of him, and out every single time.

Next on Jimin’s list of things to learn once he grows bored of cooking (Thank God, otherwise Yoongi’s poor stomach would have perished) is learning to read book titles and write. It’s frustrating for the mermaid, who wants to do everything speedily, but Yoongi does his best and decides that he should make it easier on the boy and buy him books meant for beginners so that the mermaid can practice on his own during the times he has to work and won’t be able to.

This proves to be a project, because Jimin insists on going to the store with him to be around people, but doesn’t want to wear any pants, so Yoongi has to chase the mer around the house trying to wrestle him into a pair before they’re able to leave anywhere.

Again, the entire ride is comprised of him pouting and complaining about things that don’t correlate to him being clothed in a simple t shirt, a pair of Yoongi’s jeans and some old converse he forgot he even owned but Jimin somehow managed to find during his scavenging the house; like the negative sides of capitalism and how human society strips him of his rights to be nude, which means that now yoongi will have to change his cable subscription or somehow put a parental lock on those channels to avoid these things. He’s not sure of anything in his life anymore since the mermaid settled his way into it. Not that he’s complaining.

Yoongi, in a bid to shut the mer up, turns on the radio and plays some music. Low, seeing as Jimin’s ears are sensitive to obnoxiously loud sounds, but enough to distract him and stop arguing about things like clothes. During the drive into town, Jimin hums along to the songs playing and drums his fingers against his thighs in time with the beat, looking so pleased by so little. Yoongi wonders what it must be like for him sometimes, being part of a world he wasn’t born into and trying to adjust. Makes him wonder if Jimin is homesick, if he misses being around his kind but doesn’t say so in hopes of not hurting his feelings.

He could leave whenever he wishes. Their deal wasn’t set in stone, and Yoongi’s luck has more than gotten better during the time jimin has been with him. His home isn’t far from the ocean either, and Jimin could easily return to his pod from there should he want to. Hell, he could spend nights there instead of inside his cramped little tub with half his tail hanging past the ceramic edge and yet he doesn’t. No, for days on end Jimin doesn’t complain about missing the ocean, nor does he leave. On the contrary, he seems content in learning useless human things, then finishing his days by spending time inside the bathtub, be it feeding on his own with fish Yoongi leaves for him, or singing to himself at night.

In the end, all Yoongi hopes for is that if at any moment Jimin’s feels unhappy he’ll tell him so that he can bring him back to his home. He took him out of it after all, so he’d be more than willing to return him, even if the thought of never seeing Jimin again makes him feel unsettled.

In the act of overthinking as he usually does, Yoongi is startled by Jimin suddenly reaching across the console to bring their hands together. The mer seems to enjoy doing so, for he does it frequently, linking their fingers together, or sometimes just pressing their palms flat against one another’s to stare at them.

“What’s so special about my hands, huh? You jealous cause’ yours are so tiny?” Yoongi says in an attempt to tease so that the mer doesn’t catch on to how flustered he is.  

Jimin purses his lips at this, but doesn’t move away as he contemplates his answer, staring at their entwined hands. “Your hands are nice and warm, like the sea when the sun is high,” He murmurs, And a faint trace of color tints his cheeks as if he’s embarrassed to admit this out loud. “I like how touching them makes me feel like I’m home somehow.”

“ Oh ,” He’s the one blushing now. What does someone say to that? Better yet how does he tell jimin that in the short time they’ve spent together he makes Yoongi look forward to coming home everyday? There’s no casual way to say it, so Yoongi doesn’t.

In the end he simply lifts their entwined hands up to his lips and presses a little kiss onto Jimin’s knuckles, hoping he’ll understand somehow that when Yoongi thinks of home the one thing coming to mind is him .

Yoongi should’ve known that bringing Jimin into town would’ve been a bad idea. He curses himself for being so weak and not being able to say no to whatever the mer asks, because maybe if he had done so they wouldn’t be going through these situations.

Not only did he forget just how crowded the town square becomes during lunch hour, but Yoongi also forgot that Jimin’s ears are sensitive to loud noises, which means he’s constantly wincing and crying out in surprise at any slight boom of noise happening around him, thus causing him to cling onto Yoongi for dear life.

Yoongi tries getting them through the crowd as quickly as he can, and expels a relieved sigh when they make it to the store, glad to have gotten Jimin out of there before he became anymore uncomfortable. It’s a hot day, so the air conditioning inside feels lovely on his skin, and so Yoongi relaxes, guiding a still somewhat nervous jimin towards the carts. He’s going to get some groceries whilst he’s here and hope Jimin won't take him doing so as an invitation for him to cook again.

“Why are there car tires in here?” Jimin whispers beside him, eyes rounded with surprise as he surveys the store, which happens to stock every single thing a person could want, ranging from food to well...car tires, seeing as it's the only large department store in their vicinity. Yoongi tries explaining this as they peruse through the store in search of the things he has to buy, but doesn’t get very far into doing so before Jimin is pointing at something else that catches his attention: costume jewelry. “Yoongi, look at those!”

And so, Yoongi is led by the hand, half full cart abandoned, towards the jewelry section, where he’s then made to watch as Jimin fawns over everything that appears shiny like the faux diamonds and pearls. They appear dull in comparison to the strand around Jimin’s neck, or the gleaming gold cuffs around his wrists, but Jimin doesn’t care and cradles them with as much care as he would any precious jewels.

It reminds him of the tales he’d heard as a child surrounding the mermaids and their love of precious and shiny objects, and how one would rouse them out of hiding with such items. It’s no wonder he never found a mermaid as a kid, for his only precious items were his stuffed animals and toy cars; hardly anything a mermaid would want.

“Ah, these are so lovely!” Jimin says excitedly, drawing attention to himself as he twirls around the aisle holding a necklace composed of faux seashells against his neck before presenting them to Yoongi. “They remind me of home even if they smell heavily cloyed. What is seafoam scent? It has no scent, silly humans .”

“Do you like them? I’ll get ‘em for you,” Yoongi murmurs, and Jimin stills in his twirling to stare at him.

“But I don’t have human currency—Er, money? Yes that. You need that to buy things. The television told me as much.”

“Good old t.v,” Yoongi mutters, But then shrugs. “You don’t need money. I’m buying it for you as a gift.”

Jimin still seems perplexed, and voices his curiosity loudly and in a way that makes more people stare at him. “But why? We aren’t—it isn’t my birthday, we’re not mated, or in love. Human men give their mates gifts when they’re in love, do they not?”

Yoongi ducks his head to look at his hands, blushing down to his toes, his stomach turning with nerves. “I Ah—well, uh? Yeah,” he finally whispers, all without looking at jimin. “I guess they do? Just...accept the gift.”

Jimin tucks his fingers beneath his chin, slow in tipping it up so that he has nowhere to look towards except at him. The surprise of Yoongi’s statement is evident in Jimin, who seems speechless for a moment. Maybe he realizes how much Yoongi is sweating or maybe he’s trying to spare his feelings, but the mer doesn’t make it hard on him.

He gives Yoongi’s chin a slight squeeze before lowering his hand, his free hand gripping the necklace and tucking it against his chest. Softly, his own smile one that appears shy, Jimin says, “Thank you. For everything, I mean. Words cannot express how much worth your kindness has for me.”

Yoongi shifts in his spot, before he turns in search of his abandoned cart. Hopefully nobody has stolen his things yet. “We should go and finish up here, then go home.”

From there it is a quiet affair of shopping, with Jimin trailing by Yoongi’s side, hand clasped around his wrist so that they aren’t separated. He continuously asks questions as they discover more things in the aisles, but doesn’t stray to investigate anything else, which Yoongi is thankful for. There’s only so much staring he can take being sent in Jimin’s way before he snaps.

Halfway through their shopping, and as Yoongi is putting some tracing books into their cart he thinks Jimin will enjoy, Jimin complains about his legs being tired.

“And what should I do about that, mh? Put you in the cart?”

“You can do that ?” Jimin inhales sharply at this, and begins wriggling where he stands with excitement, hands coming up to clap against one another. Yoongi hates himself. He looks for it, he thinks, really he does.

It’s a failed task trying to convince Jimin that he is in fact a grown man and not a five year old child that belongs inside a shopping cart. Really, Yoongi isn’t sure why he tries, already knowing he’s going to say yes despite how unconventional doing so is.

With a hard sigh, already knowing he’s bound to receive more strange looks, Yoongi tries arranging his things in order to fit Jimin inside the shopping cart, then hoists the mer into it with flushed cheeks and straining arms.

“Now push me, tiny human!” Jimin exclaims, way too pleased with himself for having gotten his way yet again. Yoongi comes up behind the cart and begins to wheel them down the aisle when Jimin once again finds something that draws his attention. “Wait, what are the things called the condoms and why do they have sizes?”

The moments Yoongi has become so fond of, so incredibly attached to that the thought of them not being part of his life brings him sudden pain in chest, all happen once the sun sets. Whilst for him, one human amidst millions of others, it’s nothing but half of their day being gone, for beings like Jimin, so otherworldly and unlike anything anyone could imagine being real, their day is just beginning.

As usual Jimin is half submerged inside the tub, obnoxiously large tail curving against the opposite side of his wall due to its size, the fins beside the fluke gleaming as the sunset bleeds into his bathroom, casting burnt orange and red tones across the each smooth scale. He’s quiet this evening, and has been for quite some time since their last visit to the store the other day, often secluding himself inside the bathroom even when dawn breaks and he can use his legs as he pleases.

Yoongi worries but not one to pry when it feels like he’s not wanted to, leaves him be. Ensures that his things are where he’s able to get them, that there’s enough raw fish in the fridge for him should he want to feed, and that his favorite shirt—that bright yellow one—is washed and laid out for him. Sometimes Yoongi will come home and find it so silent that he believes Jimin has left him, only to then realize the mer has dozed off inside the tub.

Today he’s had enough however. The silence is killing him, as are the questions of what he’s done wrong, so Yoongi doesn’t leave Jimin alone. He sits by the edge of the tub, tucks his knees against his chest and sighs.

Jimin resumes his ministrations, which happen to be singing to himself, some song Yoongi can’t discern but is lovely and makes his chest feel warm. Such beautiful sounds that swell into husky, but seductive notes with no words necessary to bring it full circle.

Listening to him brings a shudder up Yoongi’s spine, and lulls him into a dreamlike headspace, where everything seems to move slower and his eyes flutter shut. There are no words to describe such singing, his mind pathetically blank.

“Siren songs are often meant to lure sailors to their deaths,” Jimin murmurs just as the last note of his song descends until it’s over, the tips of his fingers brushing alongside Yoongi’s temple. “That’s a punishment our kind bestows onto human men as revenge for it being done to them, you know? Deceiving as they’ve been deceived. My kind, so easily enamoured by humans. By your silly mannerisms and clothing, by the color that flows against your cheeks when you think we don’t notice. By the promises you make but then don’t follow through with. I suppose it is not your fault that we are so blinded.”

Yoongi makes a surprised noise at this, unsure of his decision to have interrupted Jimin wanting to be alone, for it feels like this conversation will take a turn he’s not ready to accept just yet. He wants to say something. Oh, how he wishes his mind would cooperate and form some kind of coherent thought, but there’s little he can say and so it's wise of him to shut the hell up and not make matters worse.

The wrath of a mermaid is not something he wishes to endure again, after all. He’s rather fond of his life even when it’s so difficult.

When Yoongi looks up, he’s to find Jimin staring at him, eyes smoldering and heavy lidded with something he can’t discern. “You’ve had me in your home for so long and yet the questions you ask are never the right ones. Ask me what you’ve been wanting to know, sailor.”

Yoongi contemplates this, wetting his lips with his tongue. It’s difficult to think when he wants to nuzzle into Jimin’s palm that continuously strokes along his temple before it moves towards his hair, sifting through the black strands with the same tenderness with which he’d held that tacky shell necklace he’s yet to remove.

He’s quiet, where it feels like he can’t breathe without his chest feeling uncomfortably tight. He’s had one question lingering in his mind, which seems silly in the grand scheme of things when he’s with a mythical creature who possesses magic and could answer questions more important, but hasn’t left him since.

“Your song, it does funny things to my head. Makes me want to do whatever you ask,” He begins, eyes falling onto the spot in his bathroom where his favorite book, twenty thousand leagues under the sea resides in a corner. Jimin must’ve been reading it, or trying to. The thought that he’d tried to power through the difficult words for his sake makes Yoongi’s breath hitch. “You did it once, I think, and my memory is a little fucked up ever since.”

Jimin doesn’t deny this outright, just stays silent for a moment, focusing instead on caressing his hair and kneading his scalp, husky purrs leaving his lips. “It’s not my proudest of moments, but I was agitated. You’d taken a gift that was precious to me and refused to return it. I had to do something. Still, it wasn’t right to disorient you, and I’m sorry.”

Yoongi gives a jerk of his head as an answer and for another moment they’re both quiet, save for the brief but hard breaths Jimin lets out every now and again. The sun finally sets into the horizon,  and with it dusk and one more question arrives.

“When I was drowning you kissed me and suddenly I could breathe underwater,” Yoongi whispers, picturing it vividly. His panic, his terror and then his wonder on how such a thing could happen to him. “You could've left me to die and taken your pearls without doing any of this. Why?”

“Ah we get to the crux of the matter,” Jimin hums, as he lowers his fingers so that they curve around Yoongi’s chin, sharp nails tipping it so that he’ll look up. The angle is odd and surely he’ll feel it in the morning, but Yoongi finds he can’t care. Not when the mermaid looks at him like that. So full of emotion, as if he’s been anticipating this one question most. “I gave you a gift, Yoongi. You see, a mermaids kiss ensures you’ll never die by the hand of the ocean, of course. It’s why sailors work so hard to catch us, after all. But apart from that, my kiss is considered sacred. It belongs to whoever I intend to court and no one else,” He says softly, “Does that frighten you?”

At first it doesn’t fully register with him, as if he’s still under water unable to hear, uselessly kicking in search of the surface. When it does, and his mind shouts at him to wake up and say something, to stop being a jackass because there is someone waiting for him to respond, Yoongi inhales sharply.

There aren’t many words that can truly explain nor do justice to how much he feels in the presence of the mer, how lonely it becomes whenever they’re apart nor how much he anticipates coming home to him. It can only be compared to the elation he’d first felt when he was seven years old and introduced into a world full of magic and wonder, where beautiful creatures like Jimin fell in love with ordinary humans like him, to his first trip at sea where he’d decided his life would revolve around breathing in the crisp scent of brine and the heat of the sun on his cheeks. It’s a warmth that spreads through his body, starting at the tips of his fingers and flares out deeply around his chest, to where it throbs .

All that Yoongi knows for certain, irrevocably sure and without a single trace of hesitation is that Jimin as all that he is, human and merman, fills him with a sense of completion, a sense of truly belonging to someone, of knowing someone belongs to him the same way.

“It scares me,” he finally admits in a whisper, breathing so hard that his chest vibrates with each shaky inhale. “Not because of what you might think, but because I’m scared you’ll go away. Back to the ocean, back to your people.”

“You silly human,” Jimin sighs, just as he leans in to press a gentle kiss against the bridge of Yoongi’s nose. “You still don’t understand. Yoongi, you are my people. My person . If you’ll have me that is.”

“You’re a silly fish boy,” Yoongi tells him, moving so that he’s on his knees facing Jimin, who eases away. Shaking hands, Yoongi lays his palm flat against jimin's chest, fingers brushing against his pearls, as well as those fake shells he seems so fond of. He wonders how often Jimin has been wondering about this, and if his insecurities on whether Yoongi will have him or not have kept him up at night when it’s so obvious (to him at least).

Disgruntled at the nickname, Jimin brings his wet hand up and flicks water into Yoongi’s face, but the two smile at each other instead of anything else.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be rid of this,” Jimin murmurs, each exhale vibrating through his chest with force as he gestures towards himself. Yoongi feels his heart beat beneath his palm, steady and faster than any humans. “I am a creature of the sea, and no magic is strong enough to make me permanently human. It’s selfish to ask you to accept that,” he whispers, “But I am inherently selfish, so I’m asking.”

Rather than answer by way of tripping through words that won’t ever get it right, Yoongi draws a deep breath. Steeling himself, his heart beating erratically beneath his chest, and comes closer, enough to where he can feel Jimin’s breath against his lips.

After a slight, nerve wracking second of hesitation, Yoongi leans in and presses his lips against Jimin’s. At first it’s just that, soft and gentle, their lips pouted against each other’s, new and so exciting it makes Yoongi shake with anticipation.

Maybe it’s been too many nights spent longing for this to happen on his part, maybe Jimin feels the same as well, because there’s a sense of urgency lingering thick in the air the moment they pull away, their lips making a soft sound in their wake.

Jimin stares at him, eyes hooded as he copies Yoongi’s former ministrations and leans in, pressing his lips against his again and again, until he’s making a series of breathless purrs from deep within his chest.

Yoongi is no better, his own breathing ragged. Greedy for more, he cups a hand around the nape of Jimin’s neck, comes closer and kisses him again. This time there’s insistence melding into it, his tongue pressing against Jimin’s lower lips before he parts them to deepen the kiss into something warm, something that settles into his nerve endings and sets them ablaze.

This isn’t like any other kiss Yoongi has ever experienced, this is different. It makes him want and wish and hope—and he has a feeling it’s the same for Jimin.

The mer makes a low, throaty sound of protest when Yoongi tries to pull away and curls his webbed hands against his upper arms to hold him tight, his teeth catching against his lower lip and tugging, enough to sting but in a way that sends heat licking at Yoongi’s skin.

When they do pull away, Yoongi is breathing hard, eyes closed and forehead resting against Jimin’s, who’s no better, but remains determined to kiss him wherever he wants. His cheeks, the curve of his chin, the tip of his nose. Yoongi has never felt so revered, so cared for, and his face flushes deeply.

“That answer your question?” He rasps, arms slipping around Jimin’s neck and fingers brushing between the divot of his shoulder blades, stroking along the soft but wet skin.

Jimin hums in response, unwavering in his kissing as he makes his way down Yoongi’s jaw, sharp teeth nipping at his neck. “Perhaps,” He murmurs, right before he closes his lips around the juncture of his neck and shoulder and bites.

Yoongi’s surprised by the sudden pain and cries out, but doesn’t flinch. Because it feels so good, and Jimin is so eager in trying to suck some kind of mark into his skin that how can he? On the contrary, he bares his neck and lets him, curls his fingers into his soft blond hair to keep him there for as long as he pleases.

Eventually, Jimin has to pull away, and when he does his lips are parted and kiss swollen, and his cheeks are flushed with a radiant heat that seems to glow within his skin.

“You are my person ,” Jimin whispers, bringing their foreheads together. “As I am yours.”

Small sliver So  of sunlight filter into his bedroom through the gauzy white curtains covering the windows, brightening the otherwise darkened room with pale streaks of lilac and blue. But even then, that isn't what rouses Yoongi from his peaceful slumber wherein his dreams he'd kissed Jimin underwater, surrounded by warmth.

No, what makes him shift in bed is the heat pressing against his back that wasn't there the night before, as well as the soft feel of lips ghosting across his shoulders. The smell of the sea clinging to his skin.

Jimin .

Mornings like this, with Jimin sliding into bed with him during the early hours of the morning when his legs return so that he can spend time sleeping behind him, humming his song into Yoongi’s ear, are the ones he treasures most.

It’s difficult some days, because Jimin often forgets to towel off when he leaves the bathtub, thus wetting his sheets and him as consequence. Never mind the days where jimin forgets to wear clothes at all. Those are especially difficult, considering Jimin doesn’t find anything wrong with being naked at all times.

Which Yoongi doesn’t mind. He’s not one to cross any lines, ogle Jimin when he’s splayed on his couch in nothing but his birthday suit, or when he lays on his stomach and his spectacular ass is on display, skin appearing golden under the sun shining through his windows. He respects the choices the mer has made with his body even at the cost of his own sanity.

Overall, clothes or no clothes, Yoongi truly enjoys waking up with the mer pressed against him, and turns so that he can wrap his arms around his waist, feeling soft but warm skin beneath his fingertips.

“Mm, Good morning,” Jimin says softly, leaning down so that he can brush his lips against Yoongi’s, tender and chaste. “You smell good without those other scents you cover up with.”

Yoongi, too busy chasing after the mer’s lips, doesn’t acknowledge this statement, for it’s a sunken ship already. Jimin finds the smell of colognes, soaps and deodorants disgusting, favoring his supposedly natural scent which is more appealing, whilst He can’t leave the house without either, because there is a thing called hygiene and deodorant and soap are a big part of that. They can’t agree on it, so these little bickering fits have become part of their routine.

He’s just greedy for more kisses, and also a little tired. Maybe a little aroused, half hard in his boxers, but not enough to make anything out of it.

Jimin, realizing what he wants, huffs, but smiles so very fondly, trailing gentle fingers across Yoongi’s hair and shifting the black strands off his forehead. “What was that word you called me once, a brat? You are a brat , Yoongi.”

Yoongi grunts indignantly, Then quiets down, because well, maybe he has a point. Regardless, he leans in, chasing Jimin’s lips with his own and capturing them in a kiss that soon becomes more heated than he’d expected.

Oh, Jimin’s body is so so warm, and soft, and he makes the prettiest sounds when he’s under him, digging his fingers into his upper arms as they kiss, that Yoongi can’t help but fall into how good it feels . How through each kiss there’s that faint reminder that he’s no longer alone in this world, and how there’s someone just for him.

Jimin moans quietly at the suckle of his tongue, cocking his thighs apart so that Yoongi can fit more comfortable between them, their naked chests pressing together as the kissing grows deeper, and their hands grow bolder in touch. The mer traces the line of his arms, moving towards his shoulders and squeezing them, his touch enough to send heat licking low at Yoongi’s belly.

A groan tears past Yoongi’s lips, his own hands never stagnant in their quest of tracing every single inch of skin he’s allowed to touch on Jimin. Starting from his toned chest, thumbs smoothing against his nipples, which earns him a sharp gasp, then progressing down his small waist that then flares out with trim hips and thick thighs.

Yoongi pulls away during their kiss, and rests his forehead against Jimin’s shoulder, breathing him in and letting his familiar scent bring him into a state of calm. Flush against him, and as usual, peppering little kisses against his hair, Jimin hums in content.

“Yeah,” he pants, savoring how his small bed is always warm and crowded during early hours like this, much like how his chest is crowded with nothing but Jimin. “Definitely a good morning.”

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.

Yoongi stares at his kitchen with subdued horror, eyes falling on the dishes flooding his sink, the aftermath of yet another of Jimin’s attempts at cooking gone wrong. It’s not breakfast this time, and Yoongi has considered himself lucky (as had his stomach) but it seems that for his last meal of the day his luck has definitely run out.

Jimin, however, doesn’t notice his surprise, too busy presenting the food to him as if he’s just served a five star, restaurant quality meal, flourished hand gestures and all. “So, what do you think? I wanted to try something new. You like squid, right?”

Yoongi falls silent for a moment, his stomach rolling with nerves as he eyed the plate. Jimin had done something to that squid, for it looks bloated with some kind of filling. However Yoongi isn’t quite sure cooking was involved, for it doesn’t smell like it has. Still, he appreciates the effort Jimin has put into the meal, especially the side dishes, which don’t look too bad, so he bites the bullet, takes one for the team and sits down at the table.

Game face on, because he just knows this just might be the dish that kills him, Yoongi feigns being starving. Even goes as far as smacking his lips together, as if he can’t wait to savor such a dish.

“Wow pretty , you outdid yourself.” Yoongi croaks, eyeing the squid on his plate uncertainly, as if it’ll come out and bite him. “This looks—”

“Amazing, I know! I was a little worried that it wouldn’t look like it did in the picture, but it turned out just right! It even smells good to me .” Jimin interrupts him, and Yoongi can’t help but be distracted by the sight of him doing a happy twirl in the kitchen, the mer pleased as he always is whenever he thinks he’s done something perfect when it comes to food.

And who is Yoongi to deny his person such happiness? Jimin asks for so little. Lazy kissing, books and costume jewelry to wear over his prized and rare pairs, and maybe more big shirts with funny cartoons on them. The most he deserves in exchange is being praised, even if it’s at the cost of his poor stomach.

So he ignores the warning bells ringing in his head telling him don’t do this, just tell him his cooking is awful and go, and grabs his chopsticks, ready to dig in. Jimin watches him do so, eyes rounded with pleasure and smile fond.

Yoongi collects a small serving of food, which upon further inspection is—God, Jimin stuffed the squid with kimchi— he’s going to die .

And yet, Yoongi, swollen with love for this quirky mermaid who can’t cook, eats that fucking squid like it’s a gourmet meal, and he even asks for seconds, because that’s the kind of guy he is when he’s in his feelings.

The jackass kind .

His stomach...absolutely despises him, and no amount of medicine seems to cut the nausea short, but yet he can’t quite complain, since him voicing his discomfort has somehow brought jimin where he is now. Laying on his side, curled in a ball and with his head against his thigh, slightly nuzzling against it.

They’re watching a film together, unironically, The shape of water, and Jimin seems to enjoy it. Something about finding the similarities between the fish man (as Yoongi calls him much to Jimin’s chagrin) and himself, as well as the energy of the movie soothing.

“He cares about the woman so much,” Jimin whispers, as he brings one of Yoongi’s hands in front of his face so that he can press kisses against each fingertip with no other intention other than him simply enjoying it. “He tells her all the time, but she doesn’t understand. And yet, she’s smitten. It’s so wonderful to be loved despite what you are, Yoongi. It really is.”

It’s a rainy day, the weather having dropped to where Jimin succumbed to wearing socks on his feet, because apparently they’d felt cold, in addition to his T-shirt. It’s another long one, with a cartoonish whale stitched into the fabric and the caption I didn’t do it on porpoise, which Jimin has grown incredibly fond of. Yoongi, used to the unpredictable weather, dawns his briefs and a soft, striped pullover, and nothing else, glad to have a lazy day at home with his best mer.

He’s in the act of sifting his fingers through Jimin’s hair, curling the silky blond locks around playfully when on screen, there is a couple having sex on a bed right in front of their eyes.

Yoongi sees the exact moment Jimin’s confusion over the previous breast groping and initial masturbating slowly melds into curiosity, for he stops shifting on the couch and focuses on the television intently as the woman beneath that dickhead who’s missing the two fingers moans grow louder.

“Why does the human woman make noise like that? Is she in pain? She doesn’t appear to be in pain,” Jimin muses, expression pinched with confusion. “Why is that man smothering her, Yoongi?”

Yoongi presses his lips together, then rubs them, contemplating how best to go about this. Of all the things Jimin could be clueless it had to be this . Amidst his rising panic in having to explain, Yoongi finds it endearing how the mermaid has a loose concept of humans and yet has left out that one factor.

With a sigh, and after he’s paused the television and sent it a glare for putting him in this position, Yoongi slouches onto the couch just as Jimin turns so that he can still remain on his side but facing him.

“She ain’t in pain, Jimin. They’re fucking, I mean ...having sex,” Yoongi explains, struggling in keeping a straight face, for Jimin looks so genuinely curious to learn. Wracking his brain, he tries finding a comparison that might make the concept easier to grasp for the mer, and ends up with, “Having sex for humans is kind of like mating. People touch each other and make each other feel good during it.”

“Is there a mating ceremony afterwards?” Jimin asks, gazing up at him, lips parted. “A marriage as humans call it. They marry afterwards, yes?”

Yoongi’s face deepens with a blush, and he shifts, lightly jostling Jimin as he moves. “Not always, no. Uh—sex has a pretty wide and debatable scope of things to look into and it’s not always gonna lead to marriage, much less does it always have to be how you see in movies, but uh, the basics of it is that . People making each other feel good. Shit—I’m so bad at this.”

Jimin falls silent, and brings Yoongi’s fingers in front of his face to resume the act of playing with them once again. Yoongi takes the silence as a reprieve, and curses himself for being such a disaster when it comes to these topics.

“Does sex always have to be with a human man and a human woman?” Jimin whispers, his voice pitched low, as if he’s uncertain of whether it’s alright to ask such a thing.

“Absolutely fucking not.” Yoongi states, probably a little louder than necessary, then softens. He watches as Jimin opens and closes his palm, How the mer tracks the movement and traces his fingertips along the ridge of his knuckles. “Jimin, sex ain’t exclusive to men and women only.”

“Gay,” Jimin whispers, and this time he looks at him. “I’ve heard sailors at night talk about it. Such silly humans, they fill their belly’s to the brim with the gasoline like drinks and then let their inner thoughts come out. How they’re gay, how men touching other men is gay, but they say it with disgust, not kindness.”

“Those are the kinds of humans you should tip over and eat,” Yoongi mutters. He can’t imagine what it’s like for Jimin, having had to endure such ignorant talks when he’d just been curious to observe how humans interact during his alone time. “Just shark on ‘em and be done with it.”

“Yoongi, that’s mean,” Jimin replies, only there’s a gleam in his eye when he smiles, flashing a hint of sharp teeth that looks menacing bathed in low lights. “Besides, any human who ingests the —whiskey, they call it?—The drink that makes my nose itch wouldn’t taste very good at all.”

“Well they’d deserve it, but fine,” Yoongi grouses, But softens upon feeling Jimin pouting his lips alongs his fingertips, kissing each one. “Anyway, yes. Gay is a word...I’m gay. I find other men attractive.”

Still kissing his fingertips, seemingly distracted, Jimin asks, “and have you had sex with men?”

Yoongi doesn’t say a word at first, swallowing hard when it feels like he might just choke on excess saliva. Well, they’d opened this door together, so might as well cross to the other side. “Yeah, Jimin,” He says quietly, savoring the soft press of lips now moving against his palm. “I’ve had sex with men, yeah.”

There’s something in Jimin’s gaze when he looks up at him that makes Yoongi feel hot inside. Maybe it’s the subtle arch of his brow, or maybe it’s to due with how intense he’s stared at. He’s unsure.

“Did you like it?” Jimin whispers, slow in the next kiss he presses against Yoongi’s skin. This time the inside of his wrist, right above his pulse. “Does it feel good?

Shakily, his heart thudding loud enough that Jimin must hear it, Yoongi nods. “Y-Yeah, I liked it. It feels good .”

“Show me,” Jimin says softly, turning so that the tip of his nose brushes along the front of his lap, precariously close to where his shirt conceals his cock, which twitches with interest beneath his briefs. “We can try. I want to...I want to try having sex with you.”

“Jimin, we don’t gotta do that if you’re not sure,” Yoongi tells him, despite the way he’s shaking with nerves, Jimin’s warm breath fanning across his bare thigh sending shivers up his skin. “We don’t gotta have sex ever if you don’t feel up to it. It’s ’kay, I promise.”

The last thing he’d want is for Jimin to force himself into doing something he’s uncomfortable with out of fear that Yoongi won’t want him anymore. On the contrary, Yoongi would still want him, would still feel stuck on stupid in love even if they never progressed past holding hands.

“You are the most wonderful human man I’ll ever love,” Jimin murmurs quietly, as he sits up on his knees, the end of his shirt tickling his thighs. He splays Yoongi’s palm against his chest, above where his heart beats steadily, always a beat too fast. “I trust you with my body the same way I trust you with my heart, you know that.”

“I know,” Yoongi says, his hand trembling where it rests against Jimin’s chest.

“We can try, right?” Jimin asks, “Its important I at least try, Yoongi.”

Yoongi leans in, watching Jimin and the way he swallows. How his throat works and how his heartbeat increases as they come closer, lips a breath away from touching. “I’ll take care of you. I promise .”

Jimin kisses him like he’s not in any hurry to move past just this. Them lazily kissing, breathing each other in and swallowing each little pleasured sound that leaves their lips, as if time is something man made up in order to live his life in a rush. And Yoongi savors that, basks in how Jimin’s body radiates heat, and feels soft against his fingertips, how his skin dimples when he squeezes just a little too tight.

Bathed in grey light, outside his home, their home , a storm beginning to rage, Yoongi loses himself in kissing Jimin over and over again, just one never enough. His lips taste like the sea, his first love above everything else when child naivety and promises laced with magic lured him into the ocean with a little red bucket full of dreams. Jimin moans, high and breathy, just as thunder claps outside his window and rain begins to pelt against the glass pane hard.

Breathing fast, their skins beginning to shine with sweat, the heat all consuming, They pull away, but their mouths never cease. Jimin presses a kiss into Yoongi’s forehead, and Yoongi in response presses one against the tip of his little nose, his heart bursting when it rouses a pleased purr from deep within Jimin’s chest.

Their hands follow close behind, with Jimin tracing exploratory fingers beneath Yoongi’s shirt, circling his navel where a faint trail of hair leads down to his briefs where he’s hard before coming back up to tickle him there. “Your skin is so soft,” Jimin whispers hoarsely, tongue coming out to wet his lips. “So hot. You always feel so hu- hot .”

Yoongi sags into the touch, but keeps a steady hand on Jimin’s waist, holding him on his lap where he’s taken purchase, the full curve of his buttocks flush against his clothed cock. “Look who’s talking Jimin, you got the whole sun trapped inside you.” He breathes, moving to press a series of lingering kisses against Jimin’s neck, his teeth scraping just beneath his jaw as Jimin shivers in his arms. “You feel fantastic. You make me feel fantastic.”

“Kiss me again,” Jimin gasps, fingers threading into Yoongi’s shirt to give a sharp tug and bring them together. Their lips clash, and they both groan at the sudden pain, but laugh breathlessly, the lack of finesse one that suits them just fine. Jimin’s fingers smooth down Yoongi’s stomach, and as he shifts in his lap, his fingers ghost above the bulge tenting his briefs, not quite gripping just brushing. “You’re so hot here, Yoongi. So hard . Can I touch this? Does it feel good ?”

“Yeah, yeah, please,” Yoongi groans against Jimin’s mouth, leaning forward to tug his bottom lip with his teeth. He curls his hand around Jimin’s wrist, slowly easing his palm over his cock to knead at the head.

Even as he strokes his fingers through the fabric to tease the tip of his hard cock, Jimin never ceases in being curious. Gently he dips his fingers beneath the fabric, and curls them around the shaft, freeing it from its confinement to stroke it and give it a gentle squeeze.

“What do I call this?” Jimin whispers, face flushed with color. Embarrassed it seems, for he won't meet Yoongi's eyes, which won't do.

Yoongi tips his chin, holding eye contact as heat licks at his skin,  as Jimin strokes him to full hardness; clumsily, his palm dry, but the friction welcomed and sending a stir of pleasure up his cock. “Don't be shy to ask, pretty. It's okay, you're doing good, you’re touching my cock s-so well.”

“ Cock ,” Jimin repeats, letting out a little noise in surprise at the sudden kiss Yoongi presses against his nose. “I’m making you feel good?”

Yoongi swallows hard, his breath falling into short pants as he nods, signaling to jimin that he is indeed making him feel good. He rests a hand on the bed, holding himself up whilst his other hand remains by Jimin’s chin, then moves to thumb there corner of his plush lips. “So good. You’re so beautiful, so special,” He rasps, “Can I touch you, mh? You want me to take this off and touch you?”

“ Yes ,” Jimin gasps against Yoongi’s finger before he brings it into his mouth, not suckling but simply holding it there, his tongue pressing against it. “Hnn—’ lease touch me.”

With the mer’s permission, lost in the sensations and how Jimin gradually grows a little more confident in stroking him with his guidance, Yoongi tugs off his briefs and kicks them off his bed, before moving to tuck his fingers into Jimin’s shirt to pull it off, the fabric bunching between them before it’s tossed into a corner of the room.

And isn’t Jimin a beauty, trembling in anticipation, clumsy and anxious on his lap. For someone who’s never been shy being nude, the mer looks bashful at the moment. His face flushing deep crimson down to his neck, where down below rests a taut, golden hued stomach, deep indents across each hip and thick, soft thighs. Not only that, but Jimin lacks any body hair, and his cock rests smooth between his legs, hard and wet with precome at the tip.

Yoongi, sensing his discomfort, touches him reverently, Jimin as the treasure and his body the map he follows. His fingers skitter along all that rich, gorgeous skin, caressing every inch in attention. Jimin expels a broken, throaty sound of surprise when Yoongi wets his palm before bringing it around his cock to give it a firm, but pleasing stroke. From root to tip, he does it again and again, savoring each tremble, each shaky inhalation of his name leaving the mer’s lips. The way he jerks into the hold, how he becomes so lost in his own pleasure he forgets all about Yoongi and moans.

Greedy to hear more, to feel more, Yoongi presses kisses across Jimin’s chest, tongue whirling around a nipple before he sucks it into his mouth. Jimin stiffens, But then whines, fingers threading into Yoongi’s hair to give it a firm tug and hold him there.

“Yoongi,” Jimin murmurs softly, and it’s like he’s singing praise, his voice loud amidst the roaring thunder raging outside his home. It goes on like this. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. Followed by the plea for more, for something . Anything .

He gives Jimin everything, laying him into his bed where his blond hair, matted against his forehead, splays in a mess against his pillows; a vision too powerful for his insignificant human eyes, and leaving a trail of kissing down his toned tummy until his breath fans across the mer’s cock, which he then sucks into his mouth and holds there, teasing the underside of the tip with flutters of his tongue.

Yoongi could live off listening to Jimin as he succumbs to his pleasure and writhes in bed, opening and closing his trembling thighs. How he gives weak, sloppy thrusts into the heat suckling his cock.

It’s just a tease, for Yoongi doesn’t want him to come before he’s had everything, and the mer whines in frustration when he pulls off with a lewd pop, saliva connecting from lips to the tip.

Face flushed and panting, splayed beneath him in a vision of lush sensuality, Jimin whispers, “Don’t stop. wu–why did you stop?”

“Wanna feel you, wanna be inside you,” Yoongi tells him, tongue coming out to wet against his parted lips, Jimin’s thighs beckoning him to litter kisses across them. Fumbling in the low light, he reaches inside his bedside drawer in search of lube and a condom, then pauses in the act to make sure Jimin is on board with that. “Do you want me inside you?”

Jimin squirms, silent as he contemplates what he wants as Yoongi tries to comfort him by kneading his inner thighs, face turning so that he can kiss the fold of his knee, hoping it communicates that whatever he decides Yoongi will be okay with.

“Alright,” Jimin says shakily, fingers curling and uncurling into the bed sheets as he holds Yoongi’s gaze. “Will it hurt badly?”

“It will for a moment, cause I’ve to use my fingers to stretch you open,” Yoongi explains, as he moves his fingers towards Jimin’s face, feeling the warmth of his cheeks beneath his fingertips from his blush. “If you want me to stop, I’ll stop. I promise.”

Jimin’s breathing grows uneven, but he nods nonetheless and pouts his lips for a kiss that Yoongi easily complies in giving. If nothing else, he’s fine with this. Yoongi could live with just kissing him and never tired of doing so.

It’s a matter of going slow and holding his breath, prepping Jimin, that is. At first, after pumping a liberal amount of lube onto his fingers so that they’re slick, Yoongi teases at his rim, at first stroking around it, his mouth busy in kissing Jimin’s inner thighs before he’s relaxed enough to take a single finger inside.

He’s nice and hot, not to mention snug. Muscles clenching around Yoongi’s finger as he sinks it into the first knuckle, then the last. Overwhelmed, Jimin pants into his shoulder, then seals his mouth over the mark there, biting him harder than the last time and moaning against his skin. Yoongi, too moans, but remains careful as he fingers him open, doing so nice and gently, ensuring Jimin feels good.

“I-I’m fine,” Jimin whispers, moving so that he can lift and rub his nose alongside Yoongi’s, their lips a breath away. They don’t kiss, rather gasp into each other’s mouths as one finger soon becomes two. With each thrust of them inside, Jimin grows louder, becomes more eager, thighs parting and pressing against his chest so that on the next touch Yoongi’s fingers rub against the hard bump of his prostate, at first softly and then a little harder. “Wu–What is—Oh,” he hiccups, “Oh, Yoongi .”

“It’s okay, it’s okay, shh, I’m not going to hurt you, I swear, pretty. You’re doing so good,” Yoongi coos, slowing his motions so that instead of thrusting against that sensitive spot he’s more massaging it, whirling in tight circles around it. Jimin relaxes at that and gives a clumsy attempt at grinding into his fingers, eyes glassy and hooded.

“I-I’m good?” Jimin whimpers, still clenching around his fingers. At Yoongi’s nod, he expels a deep breath and gives a nod of his own, eyes fluttering shut as another moan leaves him. His cock rocks with each move of his hips, thick and flushed with arousal, the tip wet with precome that drips down his shaft, which jimin experimentally curls a hand around to try and stroke. “ Oh ,” he moans deeply, little tremors wracking his body.

It takes one more finger and a lot more lube before Jimin feels like he’s nice and relaxed. Either way, he clings onto Yoongi, holds onto him tightly, legs on either side of his hips curling so that the hells of his feet press against his lower back. They’re both damp with sweat, skin tasting like salt and faded hints of cologne, with kisses that never seem to end.

Yoongi pulls away, sat on his knees so that he can slip a condom onto his length and suck in a sharp breath at the friction it provides onto his neglected cock. Despite it being lubricated, he still pumps a smaller amount of lube onto his cock to ensure he doesn’t accidentally hurt Jimin for his first time before he deems himself ready.

They shift in bed in a tangle of awkward limbs, shy laughs and quick kisses before Jimin finally lays on his back and parts his thighs wide enough for Yoongi to fit between them, knees tucked against his chest and legs over Yoongi’s shoulders.

“You’re my person ,” Yoongi reminds him softly, just as he presses a kiss onto Jimin’s ankle, the action causing his toes to curl as it must tickle. “I love you the most.”

“Yoongi,” Jimin gasps at the first touch of Yoongi’s cock rubbing against his entrance, nice and slow. His fingers curl around his upper arms, squeezing tightly, breaths leaving in sharp whimpers as Yoongi slowly guides himself inside.

It happens again.

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi,”

His name is said like it’s part of some song he doesn’t know the lyrics to, Jimin’s voice reaching a husky, but powerful rise in pitch that makes his chest thrum, full to the brim with love, drowning him with the force of it.

It’s as if he’s pulled under, lost in the sea of all Jimin makes him feel, and how easily he just takes, takes, takes. First his luck, then his life and now his goddamn heart. Yoongi struggles to breathe, but eases through the current, knowing that at the surface, waiting for him is all he’s ever wanted.

So he too, has his own version of song. Where it goes: “Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.”

And together, their bodies in sync, the world outside their bed forgotten, they make music. The slap of skin meeting skin, the difference between high, breathy moans and low, grunted pleas and the whispers of assurance melding with the rain as it pelts harder against the windows.

Jimin looks up at him through heavily lidded eyes, lips parted and swollen from his kiss, arching into his touch, writhing against the bed as Yoongi picks up his rhythm and thrusts in faster, harder than before. The bed creaks under their weight, the headboard knocks against the wall, and the pleasure builds, molten hot beneath his skin. Fire in his veins.

Yoongi moans weakly against Jimin’s neck, his thrusts growing slower and deeper. In tight circles he grinds inside him, palms splaying to grip Jimin’s thighs harder and urge him onto his cock until it hurts so good .

Jimin’s eyes flutter shut, and he bites his lower lip, sharp teeth snagging onto it so hard a bead of blood drips past them, and yet Yoongi doesn’t care. There’s something so intimate in kissing Jimin, leaves him feeling so loved and cared for, that he can’t stop doing so.

As they kiss some more and as Yoongi continuously fucks his cock deeper into trembling body, Jimin brings his hand between their sweat soaked bodies to take his cock in hand and knead at it gently.

“ Yoongi ,” Jimin says, and it’s like his name just falls past his lips, weightless and whispered, his eyes moving between staring at his bared throat and lips. “You take such good care of me. I-I don’t know what’s happening. It feels so good. Gah—it feels so so hot, and wet —”

“Oh fuck, you’re going to come—” Yoongi shudders as he thrusts his cock deep inside Jimin’s clenching heat. His head feels pleasantly blank, attuned to nothing save for the vision beneath him, of Jimin so far gone in his pleasure he starts making sounds he can’t discern. Little purrs from deep within his throat, as well as soft croons. Each sound fills him with ecstasy, traveling down his spine and tightening around his cock like a vice. “Shit, I-I’m coming, m’coming.”

Jimin tenses beneath him with a sudden cry, almost hungry in the way he chased each thrust of his fist around his cock as he climaxes in thick drops that stain his chest and drip onto his navel. Yoongi stills too, and all but mounts him in a bid to try and be as deeply inside of him as possible so that when he comes, he can’t feel any distance between them. Nothing but the feel of hammering hearts knocking against their chests.

As the lingering remnants of their climaxes fade and their bodies demand reprieve and care, Yoongi eases his way out of jimin, but not before littering his flushed face with kisses all over. Enough to make the mer swat him off and grunt, expression sated and drowsy.

“Wow,” He whispers, moving so that he can bring himself closer to Yoongi, leg hitching around his hip despite the mess staining their skin. “You humans have no manners, but you sure can...what was that word?”

Yoongi lets out a laugh that’s trapped between a wheeze and a groan, hiding his face into the crook of Jimin’s neck, because of course, out of everything he could remember during his time on land—like his first cooked meal, or his first kiss or first gift—of course he’d remember something as sarcastic and snarky like that.

“ Fuck ,” Yoongi says against his skin, “You said humans sure can fuck .”

Jimin’s responding laugh fills his chest something fierce and warm, like dipping his toes into the sand after a hot summer day. He’s all clumsy fingers and uncertainty, trailing them down Yoongi’s spine and nuzzling over that bite mark that tends to sting sometimes.

“You’re such a silly human,” Jimin murmurs, following with the same sequence of deep rumbles he happens to make whenever he’s pleased by something. He’s heavy and warm, soft limbs so achingly human it’s easy to forget he’s anything but that. If not for the faint trace of bruises where the scales should be around his torso, he’d look the part. “So strange, how you mate each other. It will take some time to get used to, but I like it.”

Pulled under, drowsing in and out of consciousness as the scent of salt water and Jimin lingers on his lips and tongue, Yoongi catches the end of that and smiles.

“I kinda’ like the sound of that,” he’s saying, lulled into this sated state of exhaustion where all he can process is Jimin; Jimin and his siren song, those protruding spiked fins that scale down his back, his massive tail that will ruin his bathroom. All of that is like having a piece of the sea right under his nose, all up in his home—being home.