Archive of Our Own

The waves broke against the cliffs below, sending silver spray into the air around Amphitrite as she perched on the rocks. She looked as though she had been carved from moonlight and seawater, sitting alone while the ocean whispered at her feet. Gently, she hummed an old song, enjoying the rare moment of solitude. Moments like these were few; the sea was calm, peaceful, and free of storms. Amphitrite wondered how long the peace would last before Poseidon returned and turned the ocean into raging chaos once again. The sea was never still for long when Poseidon was near.

She didn't notice the figure watching her from the cliffs above.

“Thinking about me again, were you, my pretty nymph?” Poseidon called down from the cliffs, a knowing smirk on his face.

“I was enjoying the silence, actually,” Amphitrite replied dryly. “A rare thing before you arrived.”

Poseidon stepped closer.

“I heard you singing, and I thought I might try my luck again."

This was hardly the first time. Poseidon had first spotted Amphitrite dancing among the nymphs on the isle of Naxos. He had been captivated from the moment he saw her. There was something about her that no other nymph possessed. She was unmatched. Smitten, he proposed marriage almost immediately. It wasn't because he was a god accustomed to getting whatever he wanted. At least, that was what he told himself. He was convinced there had been a spark when their eyes met.

But that spark existed only in Poseidon's imagination. Amphitrite, fiercely protective of her independence, rejected him and fled.

From that day on, Poseidon searched for her relentlessly, courting her at every opportunity, only for Amphitrite to reject him every time with a knowing smile on her face.

She would never admit that some part of her had grown accustomed to his attention. She wasn't playing hard to get; this was just who she was. He had to earn her properly.

Every few days, a new gift appeared: Pearls the size of doves' eggs, golden necklaces recovered from forgotten kingdoms, coral sculptures crafted by the sea itself.

She accepted none of them, except for the pearls.

“I thought you didn't want my gifts.”

Amphitrite didn't even glance up from where she sat on the rocks. “I don't.”

Poseidon's eyes flickered to the strand of pearls around her neck.

The very same pearls he had given her three days earlier.

“Then why are you wearing those?”

“They matched my dress,” Amphitrite smiled, and Poseidon found himself thinking that such smiles ought to be reserved for him alone.

She refused his invitations.

She ignored his flirting.

She rolled her eyes whenever he boasted.

Yet every pearl he gifted her found its way into her jewellery box.

Poseidon considered it his greatest victory.

“I'll have matching hairpins made for you,” He said, reaching for a loose strand of her hair.

Amphitrite swatted his hand away. “You're obsessed with my hair.” Her dimples appeared.

“Can you blame me?” His gaze lingered on the chestnut waves cascading down her back. “Your hair smells like jasmine.”

She rolled her eyes. “You see? Obsessed.”

Poseidon smiled, completely unashamed.

“Not with your hair.”

Amphitrite raised an eyebrow, her smile faltering.

“No?”

“I'm obsessed with you.”

Amphitrite stared at him for a moment before shaking her head.

“I'll be at the Moonstone Club tonight.”

Poseidon's eyes narrowed. “Why?”

“Dionysus is celebrating.”

“Celebrating what?”

“A new vineyard.”

“Of course he is.”

Amphitrite stood, brushing the sand from her dress. “You're not invited.”

“I wasn't asking.”

“Poseidon.”

“Amphitrite.”

She pointed a warning finger at him. “Do not show up.”

“I would never.”

Amphitrite narrowed her eyes. “And stop following me everywhere.”

Poseidon placed a hand over his heart.

“Amphitrite, your opinion of me wounds me, darling.”

“Good.” Dimples again.

Dimples. Dimples. Dimples.

“You know you're the only one who dares speak to me like that, my stubborn girl.” He offered her an innocent smile. “I’ll see you tonight, Amphitrite.”

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Harry had chosen a black silk shirt that evening, the fabric catching the club lights whenever she moved. Several buttons remained undone, exposing the pearl necklace resting against her collarbone. She told herself the pearls had matched the outfit. Nothing more.

Harry spotted Louis almost immediately. Of course, she did.

The man had somehow become the centre of attention less than ten minutes after arriving. A group of people surrounded him near the bar.

Louis was laughing at something a woman said.

Harry rolled his eyes.

"Wanker."

…

Harry was drinking her vodka cranberry and chatting with Niall while absolutely not checking on Louis once in a while. She definitely couldn't admit that. But Louis was still talking to that girl.

Harry found herself checking again.

And again.

“You're staring,” Niall said, enjoying his beer while smiling at Harry’s restless face.

“I'm not.”

“You looked over there three times at the last minute.”

“I was looking at the decorations.”

“The decorations have blond hair and are currently talking to Louis?”

“Piss off, Niall. What kind of friend are you?” Harry was pouting. Absolutely pouting.

“A real one. I don't understand why you still reject him. All he's done is run after you for months and drown you in gifts.” Niall was done with her stubborn attitude, while she obviously wanted to be with him, too.

She sighed. “Because, Niall. He only wants me because I’m not giving him the attention he wants. As soon as he’s done with me, he’ll move on to the next nymph. And I’ll be left with my pretty pearls in the depths of the ocean because his Queen of the Ocean will be someone else.”

“Harry, come on. You know this is not true in the slightest. He’s Poseidon, for heaven's sake. Have you ever seen Zeus or Hades giving any gifts to random nymphs all of a sudden? He wants you to be his queen.” Niall was genuinely trying to make her come to her senses.

“Didn't you say you saw him with Medusa weeks ago?”

Harry suddenly remembered the time she went feral after Niall told her about how he saw them together. She gave Louis an absolute hell of a time that week when he couldn't even figure out the reason for her attitude.

“I told you that I saw Medusa talking nonsense about something, while Poseidon didn't even bother listening to her and just left her there.”

“Whatever,” Harry said, eyeing Louis again with an obvious furrow in her eyebrows. Whatever!

Harry didn't know why the conversation bothered her. Louis could talk to whoever he wanted.

It was none of Harry's business.

Absolutely none.

But when the girl almost sat on his lap, Harry tried very hard not to look over in shock. And she failed. Obviously.

And Louis caught her look. Fuck. And maybe her look was the reason why Louis excused himself from the conversation immediately and walked over to them.

“Hello, Niall. How's everything, mate?” Louis asked, resting a hand on Niall's shoulder.

Harry tried to ignore him. She really did. But it was nearly impossible when Louis carried himself as though he owned the entire place.

From where she stood, Harry caught the familiar scent of saltwater clinging to him. Against her better judgment, her gaze lingered on Louis's profile.

“Well, hello, Harry. You alright?”

Harry narrowed his eyes.

“Why wouldn't I be?”

“You've been glaring at me for the last ten minutes.”

“I have not.”

“You have.”

“Maybe your friend should stop climbing into your personal space.”

Louis blinked. Then he slowly smiled.

“Is that so?”

He leaned in to her just a little, ignoring Niall, who was watching them, with a knowing smile.

“You know,” he murmured, “You don’t actually have to glare from across the room.”

His gaze held Harry’s. He stepped closer, just enough that only she could hear him.

“I might’ve saved the seat for you.”

Harry’s eyes widened with the sudden confession. She didn’t move at first.

Louis was still too close. Still smiling like he’d just said something harmless. Like he hadn’t just turned Harry’s thoughts into something far less harmless.

Harry’s jaw tightened. She felt herself getting wet. Her body betraying her thoughts. Fuck.

“You’re unbelievable,” she said at last, but it came out flatter than she intended.

Harry should’ve walked away. She didn’t. Instead, her gaze flicked briefly back to the woman still seated where Louis had been moments ago.

Then back to Louis. His eyes were also following her gaze.

“Don’t do that again,” Harry said.

“Do what?” Louis asked, annoyingly too calm.

Harry hesitated. Just for a second.

“Talk like you mean it. Not if you're not going to do something about it.”

His eyes flicked, just once, back to the woman across the room. Then back to Harry. That did something infuriating to Harry’s composure.

“Louis. I said, don’t,” Harry warned.

Louis tilted his head again, his voice dropping.

“Don’t what?” He knew exactly what she meant.

Harry exhaled sharply through her nose, like she was trying to hold herself together.

“Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing.” Her voice was wavering.

That made Louis pause properly. “Baby, please,” Louis said softly. Careful. Almost gentle.

Harry froze for half a second. Then immediately shut it down. “No.”

Louis’s expression shifted slightly at that, as that answer landed more than he expected.

Harry finally stepped back just enough to break the closeness between them.

“You don’t get to do this,” Harry said, her voice lower now. Sharper. “This,” she said, gesturing vaguely between them. “You don’t get to give me gifts for months, show up everywhere I am, act like I’m your-” She stopped, jaw tightening. “Like I’m the only thing you’re looking at.”

Her eyes flicked away for a second.

Then back. Shyer.

“And then talk to other girls like it means nothing.”

That finally changed Louis’s expression. Not defensive.

Just… quieter. “It doesn’t mean anything,” he said.

Harry didn’t move. “That’s not the point.”

Louis stepped closer again — not invading, just refusing distance.

“Then what is?” he asked softly.

And for the first time that night, he wasn’t teasing. He was actually asking. Harry didn’t answer. Not because she didn’t have one. Because whatever it was, it didn’t fit neatly in her mouth anymore.

Louis was still looking at her like that — calm and patient, like he had all the time in the world to wait her out. Well, he had.

That made it worse. Harry exhaled sharply, then moved. She grabbed Louis’s wrist again, firmer this time, and turned without a word.

Louis didn’t resist. He would never resist her. It was the other way around.

“Harry,” Louis said behind her, not pulling away. “Where are we going?”

Harry didn’t look back. “Outside.”

“Is that an order?” His eyes lit up, feeling himself getting hard just from her bossy attitude.

Harry stopped just long enough to shoot him a look.

“Do you want it to be?”

That shut Louis up for half a second.

Then, quieter:

“…No.”

"Good." She kept walking. Storming outside.

…

Harry didn’t say anything after she pulled Louis outside. Not at first.

The moment the cold air hit them, it felt like the noise of the club snapped away behind them, leaving too much silence in its place. Too much space. Too much awareness of how close they still were.

Harry finally let go of his wrist once they were a few steps away from the entrance.

Louis rubbed his wrist lightly, more out of habit than discomfort, watching Harry carefully now. The teasing had faded from his expression somewhere between the doorway and here, replaced with something quieter.

Something like attention.

“You’re angry,” Louis said at last, gently. Looking out at the ocean, he noticed the waves growing larger, the tide pulling away from shore.

Harry let out a short breath through her nose.

“I’m not angry,” she replied, but it came out flat. Unconvincing even to herself.

Louis didn’t call her out on it. He just tilted his head slightly, as if waiting for her to continue when she was ready to stop pretending.

Harry exhaled again, sharper this time, and looked away for half a second – as if holding her gaze was starting to feel like too much effort.

“I don’t like it,” she said finally.

“Like what, baby?” Louis asked softly.

Harry laughed once, but there was no humour in it. “This.”

That made Louis go still. Scared of the outcome of the little jealousy game.

So Harry kept going, because stopping now felt worse than saying it.

“You don’t get to look at me like that all night,” she said, her voice lower now, rough around the edges. “Like you’ve decided something about me without telling me.”

Louis blinked slowly, like that wasn’t what he expected. He didn't expect her honesty.

Harry stepped closer without thinking about it.

“And then I turn around,” she continued, “and you’re letting someone else sit that close to you like it doesn’t matter. Like I don't matter.”

Her gaze flicked down for a moment before snapping back up to him.

“That bothered me,” she admitted, quieter now, like the words had slipped out before she could stop them. “Am I not yours?”

Louis didn’t speak straight away. When he did, his voice was softer. His gaze lingered on the cute little furrow between her brows.

“You’re mine, baby. You will always be.”

Harry scoffed under her breath. “No.”

Too fast.

A faint, almost unreadable expression crossed her face then, something between understanding and disbelief, as if she'd just been handed an answer she didn’t quite trust herself to say out loud yet. And it made something in her chest tighten.

“You’ve been trying to get my attention for months,” she said suddenly, the words spilling out sharper than she intended. “Gifts, invitations, showing up everywhere I go—”

Louis couldn't ignore the waves hitting the rocks vigorously.

But he didn’t interrupt.

So she didn’t stop.

“And then you stand there tonight like none of it means anything,” she finished, her voice lower now. “Like I’m just… one of the people you talk to. Like I’m someone temporary.”

A beat. Louis looked at her properly then. Really looked. And when he spoke, it was quieter than before.

“I didn’t come here tonight to talk to other people,” he said. Louis exhaled slowly, like he was choosing not to turn this into a game anymore.

“I came here because I knew you’d be here,” he continued.

Harry’s eyes flickered at that. Quick, involuntary.

“I don’t do this for fun,” he said with a more serious tone now.

The air between them shifted.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for months,” Louis added, his voice steadier now, more grounded. “And you still look at me like I’m something you can ignore when it suits you.”

Louis stepped closer — not enough to trap her, just enough that the space between them stopped feeling neutral.

“I’m not interested in anyone else,” he said simply.

Harry didn’t move.

“And I don’t want anyone else sitting where I sit,” Louis added quietly. “Next to me. Near me. Anywhere that feels like it should already belong to you.”

Silence again. But this time, Harry didn’t look away.

Louis held her gaze for a second longer, then finally said it. Carefully, like he’d stopped pretending this wasn’t the point all along.

“I’m yours, baby,” he said softly. “If you stop pretending you don’t want me. And I want you to be mine. My Queen of the Ocean.”

For a moment, she just looked at him like she was trying to decide whether to say something clever, something defensive, something that would undo everything that had just been said between them.

But nothing came.

Instead, she stepped forward.

It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t rushed.

It was just inevitable.

The space between them disappeared like it had been waiting all night.

And when Harry finally kissed him, it wasn’t gentle at first — it was all tension and frustration and everything she’d been refusing to name turned into something she didn’t have words for anymore.

Louis froze for half a second.

Then his hand came up, steadying at Harry’s waist like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he’d been waiting to do it for longer than either of them wanted to admit. Gripping her as though he was scared she’dl run away again, afraid of losing her.

The world around them shifted. The ocean below the cliffs didn’t stay quiet.

A slow wind picked up from the sea, curling around them like a breath held too long, finally being released. The waves crashed harder against the rocks beneath them. Not violent, not angry. Responsive.

Harry pulled back first, just slightly, breathing unevenly for the first time all night.

Louis didn’t let her go far. Not really. Never again.

His forehead almost brushed hers as he exhaled, like he was trying to steady himself, too.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Harry let out a breath that sounded almost like a chuckle. “We should’ve done that earlier,” she said quietly.

Louis let out a low hum, inhaling the smell of her hair. Something amused in it now that the tension had broken just enough to let him breathe again.

“Only if someone wasn’t being a bit of a brat about it,” he murmured, his kisses lowering to her ear, then to her chin, and then to her neck.

Harry’s eyes flicked up immediately.

“Oh?” she said, her voice lighter now but still sharp at the edges. “A brat?”

Louis smiled faintly, like he was very aware he was in trouble and had no intention of stopping.

“Yes,” he said simply.

Harry tilted her head slightly.

“Are you complaining?”

Louis’s gaze dropped briefly to her mouth again – like he wasn’t done with this yet, not even close – then back up to her eyes.

“Never,” he said softly.

Then, quieter, almost like it was meant only for her and the ocean and everything listening:

“My queen, the most beautiful nymph.”

That did something to Harry. A moan slipped from her mouth. She kissed him again with more pressure, slowly invading his tongue. Tasting him, savouring him. As if she wanted to make up for all the time they lost.

Harry let out a slow breath, finally leaning back just enough to really look at him.

They didn’t go back inside straight away. Harry didn’t suggest it, and Louis didn’t push.

Instead, they stayed out by the edge of the cliff where the air was colder and quieter, where the noise of the club felt like something belonging to another life entirely.

Harry stood a little apart at first, arms loosely folded, gaze fixed somewhere out over the water rather than at him. Like she needed the distance to make sense of what had just happened. To decide on the rest of the night and the rest of her life. Of their future.

Louis’ hand lifted without asking it to, fingers brushing the pearls at her collarbone. Like he hadn’t been aware of them all night.

“They match,” she said automatically.

Louis let out a quiet hum, unconvinced but not pressing. Harry hated that he didn’t argue, that he just waited.

Finally, Harry exhaled through her nose, looking away from the ocean and down at the ground instead.

“But that’s not the only reason,” she said.

Harry’s fingers tightened briefly on the pearls before dropping back to her side.

“I didn’t… mean to keep them,” she admitted, quieter. Fighting her own honesty;

“I just didn’t take them off.”

Louis’s voice came softer than before. “And why is that?”

Harry swallowed once, like the answer was irritating her by existing. Her gaze flicked to him for half a second, then away again just as fast.

“Because they’re yours,” she said finally. “And I knew that if I gave them back, you’d turn it into something dramatic.”

That made something in Louis’s expression shift to something warmer, less guarded.

“I would not,” he said, though it didn’t sound convincing at all.

She shook her head slightly, like she was still trying to stay ahead of her own honesty.

“It wasn’t just that,” she added.

Louis waited again. Patient in a way that felt almost unfair.

Harry’s voice dropped further.

“It felt… strange,” she admitted. “Taking them off.” Her fingers brushed the pearls again, slower this time.

“Like I was undoing something I hadn’t decided to start.”

That landed differently. Louis didn’t interrupt. Didn’t joke. Didn’t soften it away.

He just looked at her for a long moment, like he was memorising the version of her that said things like that without running from them immediately after.

Then, quietly:

“You could’ve just told me.”

Harry let out a shaky breath. Too scared to confess to him, or to herself. As if giving him that vulnerability would make her fall.

“I did,” she said. “In my own way.”

Louis tilted his head slightly.

“Oh?”

Harry finally looked at him properly then.

Her expression was calmer now, but still guarded at the edges, like she was choosing honesty carefully instead of being dragged into it.

“I wore them,” she said simply. “That was me telling you.”

Louis’s gaze dropped briefly to the pearls again. Then back up to her eyes.

“That’s a very complicated way of saying yes, baby," he murmured.

Harry’s mouth twitched.

“Don’t push it.”

Louis smiled, his eyes softer now. “I wouldn’t dare,” he said.

The ocean below them rolled gently against the rocks, steady and unbothered, like it had already decided this wasn’t a storm worth worrying about anymore.

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Niall spotted them first.

He was already leaning back in a booth with a drink in hand, looking far too entertained for someone who had been “celebrating” for hours. Zayn sat beside him, calm as ever, gaze lifting slowly as they approached — like he had already predicted the exact outcome of the evening and was simply waiting for everyone else to catch up.

Niall’s eyes dropped immediately to Louis’s hand on Harry’s waist. A grin spread across his face.

“Oh,” he said, dragging it out. “So that’s what we’re doing now.”

Harry rolled her eyes instantly. “We’re not doing anything,” she said.

Louis’s hand didn’t move. If anything, it settled more comfortably at her side. “No, we are definitely doing this now."

Zayn took a slow sip of his drink. “Clearly.”

Niall pointed between them. “I leave you alone for one hour,” he continued, “and you come back… like this.”

Harry shot him a look.

“I found her outside,” said Louis smugly.

Harry’s jaw tightened slightly. “That’s not what happened,” she muttered.

Louis hummed faintly. “It’s close enough.”

Zayn’s gaze flicked between them once, slow and assessing. Then, “I did tell you,” he said to Niall. Niall sighed dramatically. “You always say that after it happens, Zayn.”

Harry moved to sit, gently nudging Louis’s hand from her waist for just a second so she could slide into the booth. Louis let her. But he followed immediately after, sitting close enough that his leg brushed hers under the table.

Not accidental. Just unbothered.

Harry looked at him.

Louis raised an eyebrow.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re very comfortable,” she said flatly.

“I adapt quickly.”

“Clearly,” she hummed.

The table had started to feel different without anyone really noticing when it changed.

It wasn’t sudden. Nothing about it was. It was the accumulation of small things — the way Louis stayed too close to Harry even when the space around them was open, the way his hand didn’t quite leave her waist when she shifted, the way he seemed to always be one glance away from her even while Niall was talking.

But something else happened when someone approached the table.

A man Harry didn’t recognise leaned in with the easy confidence of someone who assumed he belonged there. His attention landed on her first, like Louis wasn’t sitting right beside her at all.

Louis didn’t move at first. He just watched.

Then, almost lazily, his hand shifted at her waist — not tightening, not pulling her closer, just settling more firmly, like something quiet being claimed without needing to announce itself.

When he spoke, it was calm enough to blend into the noise of the club. “She’s not interested.”

The man blinked, caught slightly off guard, his gaze finally flicking to Louis as if noticing him for the first time.

“Oh,” he said, recovering quickly. “Right, sorry—”

Louis just took a sharp look, still not moving. And that was enough. He was a god, after all. A powerful one too.

The man gave a quick nod and stepped back into the crowd, disappearing as quickly as he had arrived.

For a moment, no one spoke. No one dared to.

Harry turned her head slightly toward Louis, her expression somewhere between annoyance and disbelief.

“That was unnecessary,” she said.

Louis hummed softly, like he disagreed but didn’t feel the need to argue it. “It wasn’t,” he replied.

“I can handle myself,” she said.

“I know that,” Louis answered immediately.

The pause that followed wasn’t empty. It was measured. Then, quieter, almost like he was admitting something he didn’t particularly want to analyse too closely:

“I just don’t like how they look at you. You're mine.”

That shifted something in the air again. Enough to make Harry go still for half a second longer than she intended.

Across the table, Niall stopped mid-reaction to something he’d been saying, suddenly far more interested in the direction this was going. Zayn, meanwhile, leaned back slightly, studying Louis now instead of Harry, as if something had finally clicked fully into place.

Niall, however, eventually leaned back in his seat, eyes flicking between them with clear amusement. “I’m just trying to understand something,” he said slowly. “Because I feel like I missed a step somewhere. Did you just let him get all possessive over you, or..."

Harry sighed. “You didn’t miss anything,” she said immediately. Then turned to look at Louis, slightly uncomfortable with how crowded the room felt suddenly. “Can we leave?” she asked quietly.

Louis was more than ready to leave with her.

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The air outside felt colder than Harry remembered.

Louis’s hand stayed at her waist as they walked. Just there, steady, as they crossed toward the parking area.

Harry glanced up at him once. Louis was already looking ahead. She could get used to this. It was normal, familiar. Like it had always been like this.

The Mustang was parked a little away from the entrance, dark and low under the streetlights.

Harry paused for half a second when she saw it. Louis noticed. Of course he did.

“What?” he asked.

Harry shook her head slightly.

“Nothing.” Of course, a Mustang!

He opened the passenger door for her. It wasn’t theatrical.

Just instinctive.

Harry hesitated for a moment longer than she meant to. Then she got in.

Louis shut the door gently after her before walking around to the driver’s side.

The interior smelled faintly like leather and something clean underneath it, familiar in a way she couldn’t place yet. Or maybe she could. She just wasn’t naming it.

The city moved around them through the windscreen. Speed, lights, blurred motion, and distance grew with every second they drove away from the club.

Harry rested her head back slightly against the seat. She tried very hard not to look at Louis, already wet and embarrassed that everything went too quickly for her liking.

Louis glanced at her once at a red light. He slowly placed his hand on her thigh. Just enough for her to feel its presence.

“You good, baby?” he asked quietly.

"Yeah," she said softly. “…Just thinking.”

Louis hummed faintly. “Dangerous habit, that," he murmured.

Harry let out a soft chuckle. “Tell me about it.” Fuck, she was nervous.

The drive didn’t feel long. It just felt like a shift.

When they finally arrived, the place felt less like a destination and more like something that had been waiting.

Louis parked outside without saying much. The engine ticked softly as it cooled.

Harry looked out the window for a second longer than necessary.

“You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”

Harry looked at him then. Properly. She had already decided what she wanted a long time ago. She wanted him, only him. And she wanted him to be hers too. This was just her finally letting Louis know.

The inside was warm. Not in temperature exactly, but more in feeling.

Like the space was lived in, but not cluttered with anything unnecessary. Soft lighting, calm air. A kind of stillness that didn’t feel empty.

Harry stepped in slowly, taking it in without comment. Louis didn’t rush her. He just moved a little further inside, kicking off his shoes, like he expected her to move at her own pace.

“You can leave your jacket there,” he said, nodding toward the side. Harry did, after a moment. Her movements were slower now. Less guarded. Not fully relaxed. Just… no longer resisting the fact that she was here.

Louis watched her for a second. Then, quietly, “Wine?” he asked.

Harry blinked slightly. Then nodded. “Yeah.”

Louis’s mouth twitched faintly. “Alright.”

And he walked into the kitchen like this wasn’t new. Like she wasn’t. Like she had always been here in some way that just hadn’t caught up to the rest of the world yet.

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They had just finished their second glasses when Louis couldn't stay away any longer. And Harry was in no different state.

“Sit on my lap, doll.”

Harry only hesitated only for a second before moving closer. Louis’ presence pulled her like gravity.

God, his lap looked so perfect. She was squirming on top of him; her legs were spread wide. She arched her ass up, grinding right into his heavy bulge, and felt a wetness pool in her panties while getting herself off.

“Amphitrite” he murmured, her name heavy on his tongue.

She’d heard her name wrapped up in that same, stern tone a million times before. But right here, right now, it felt like heaven was calling her name. Possessive in a way that made her chest tighten.

“Are you sure, baby?” Louis asked quietly. “Once we cross this line, there’s no going back. I don't think I can let you go again.” His voice wavered slightly on the last words.

Every storm he had ever raised felt insignificant compared to the fear of losing her again.

Harry- Amphitrite looked at him properly then. Answering by grinding more deliberately against him. “I want you, Louis. I want all of you, Poseidon. And I want you to have me too.”

Her voice was low, pleading sweetly. It was the strange certainty of seeing a face she had loved,

in

every

lifetime.

This was all it took. He stood, gripped her, and they moved upstairs without any word. The bedroom felt warmer, quieter- like waiting for them to ruin the silence.

Just three buttons hid her from his warm touch. Three little buttons. He popped one open, and then the rest. Harry gasped, her breath trembling with excitement.

Down below, he was tracing his hand down her back, down to her ass, where he grabbed a fistful and gripped it so hard she yelped and then smacked her.

“I think I should fuck that bratness out of you, hm?”

“Louis” she breathed, “Please, I need you.” tears streamed down her flushed cheeks fast. She loved it; she loved him.

“Can I undo your jeans too, baby?” Louis asked while his hand was already going through her zip slowly.

"Yes..." Harry whined. She was already out of breath, trying to calm herself down, but Louis' gaze on her was not helping at all.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured against her skin. “I’ve got you, baby”

Louis felt the lace trim of the panties underneath as he unbuttoned her jeans, and his eyes turned into stormy blues when he saw the pink lingerie set. “Fuck, baby. You were wandering around all night wearing these... Who's it for then, hmm?”

“For you... Only for you.” She gasped out in a small voice.

“For you, what, princess?” His hand grabbed a fistful of her ass again, and the other hand caressed her cheekbones, placing a little kiss on her nose and wiping the tears away. Waiting for the right answer.

“For you, Daddy.” Her voice, high, so high, so innocent, delivered exactly what he wanted to hear with no resistance. Bingo!!

In black boxers, Louis’ cock protruded powerfully, menacing, throbbing against its own weight. Her breathing picked up; she felt panic coursing through her as she felt his hard-on against her cunt over her panties.

“Hey, now, princess. Don't get yourself all worked up. We'll go at your pace, just as you wish.” His voice was so soft, so caring, that Harry wanted to cry.

“There you go, pretty baby… there you go… just relax…” Louis whispered soothingly. He briefly cupped her face as he leaned down to capture her lips in his with a soft, gentle kiss. She kissed him back hungrily as her hands reached for his beard, closing her eyes as his tongue tasted hers.

She felt herself getting dizzy with pleasure. A strange, warm feeling was growing in her belly, throbbing to the tune of her own heartbeat.

“Louis, I want – Mhmmhggh, I want you, please. I need you.”

Louis wanted to take his time with her, for all the time they had lost. He slowly swayed his middle finger towards her mouth. She immediately welcomed it.

“Mhmm, that's it, little mermaid,” he whispered against her ear, his voice heavy with lust. His thumb pumped through the warm, shy wetness of her mouth, through all of her drooling saliva. She sucked hard, needily, trying to choke herself on his thumb.

“Practice on daddy's thumb… That’s my good girl.”

Slowly, Louis pulled her hair down a bit, forcing her onto her knees.

“Do you want to see me on my knees?” She asked softly as she got down slowly. Never breaking the eye contact for long.

His legs parted wide, allowing his girth to bulge forward dramatically. Beneath the fabric, she could see the outline of its ridges. How veiny it was. How it throbbed. How he needed Harry's mouth. Warmth flooded into her cheeks from her neck.

“Go ahead, baby. Try it out.” Louis encouraged her with a smirk.

Her hands went reaching out, shakily, to hold on to either side of his big bulge. Against the fabric, his tip throbbed out precum.

Harry now curiously pressed her lips into his clothed tip, kissing it shyly. Louis groaned, sighing as the pressure finally gave him some relief.

“There you go. Good girl. My good girl.”

Her eyes became hooded as she continued. Kissing up his length. A nervous flutter settled in her belly that felt almost like butterflies but sharper. Slowly, uncertain, she sank around his clothed tip.

“Like this?” she asked under her breath.

“Yeah,” he said with a groan. “Just like that, baby”

Louis suddenly took her hair and yanked it slowly to control her better. Her reaction was quick.

“Ughhhmh... Do that again.” she pleaded with a deep voice, slurping and gulping around his clothed dick. Harry leaned into him more fully now, no hesitation left in her movements.

“Hmm, what do you want, baby?” His voice was lost in pleasure.

“Pull my hair again, please. Please, please, please.” She felt like crying. Louis made her feel so good, so big, so full in her mouth and so satisfied with everything that she felt overstimulated already.

“Fuck... Yeah, of course, darling, anything my baby wants.”

Like a pup on a leash, he guided her into bobbing her head up and down, suckling on his cock, and dampening the fabric that covered it.

Louis held there- steady, present, unhurried, like he had no intention of letting her drift away again.

When he let her pull back, her drool dripped off her lips, so pink and shiny. She stared wide-eyed, submitting, as Louis reached into his boxers and finally freed himself. There was a quiet, breathless gasp in her throat as he pulled his balls out, all resting over the waistband. It swung, heavy and dense, against the cool air.

Harry felt dizzy.

Her lower lip caught between her teeth as she leaned forward and rested her head against his thigh, looking up at him with a telling, wide gaze. Louis swore he saw her smirking. Then, she pressed her lips into the rigidity of his length. The pearls at her throat gleamed in the moonlight, reminders of the queen she had always been, even when she insisted on being nothing more than Harry.

Louis' eyes fell closed. “My queen. My angel. My goddess. My home.”

Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.

He took her hair again as she moaned and gulped around his length, licking up from its base. Greedy.

Her pout locked around one of his balls, and she suckled at it gently, unsure of what would make him feel good. All she knew was that she loved him being in control.

Louis, almost like reading her mind, said, almost worshipping her, “You make me feel so good, babe. Your mouth is heaven. So warm, so sweet.”

He pushed it all the way into the back of her throat, cutting off her air. She choked against it, eyes watering. She felt herself getting wetter, closing her legs and forcing herself not to come right there. Just from sucking him off.

When he suddenly withdrew, he took a long chord of her sloppy spit with him. It hung from his tip to her lips. Her eyes were red, filled with tears. “Up you get, darling. I want to come inside you.”

She got up and sat on his lap again, rubbing her ass up into his cock instinctively. Pushing her nipples up for him. Begging him to touch them. Begging him to taste them.

Needy.

Desperate.

Louis rubbed them a little bit before pinching them both between his fingers.

“Louis—ughh, don't stop!! Please don't stop,” she gasped. What a good girl. What a perfect girl.

He did it again. And again. Until her nipples were sore and throbbing and sending waves of pleasure coasting through her, unlike anything she’d ever felt before.

Now it was his turn to get on his knees. He pressed her back to the mattress.

Right before he made his first attempt, he looked upon her once more. Her eyes filled with tears and desire. And Harry... Well, she just spread her legs and brought her hand down to pet Louis's head, almost in control, bringing him closer to her warmth.

Louis smiled at her and pushed her lingerie aside. He started licking hungrily and sticking his tongue into her wet pussy. Harry moaned and tangled her fingers over Louis' hair, pulling it with neediness.

When he pushed his tongue all the way through her clit, Harry's eyes rolled back. Felt the oxygen leaving her lungs. “Oh fuck, Louis!! More. Pleaseeee, more.”

Louis started pushing his fingers in her wetness, feeling how warm and tight she is. His senses left him reeling with pleasure. He withdrew himself to look at her properly. She looked almost disconnected.

Louis was done waiting. He needed to be in her. He started to separate her from all the clothing. She was on full display now, glistening wet, dripping, and completely ruined. Not so shy anymore.

He looked up to her, making sure she was okay, making sure he still had her permission and that she still enjoyed it as much as he did. Harry threw him a smile of approval, with dimples showing as always. Louis wondered if he could live in her dimples instead of the ocean.

Harry was squirming and begging with needy voices. She took his cock, slowly pumping, spreading the precum. “Put it in me, Daddy. Pretty pleaseeee.”

Louis chuckled at how her attitude changed when they were just Harry and Louis. He lined his cock and slowly entered her. Inch by inch, sliding into her, waiting for her to get comfortable and get familiar with the feeling. Her walls clenched down around his cock, making them both moan.

“Fuck, Louis, you're so big,” Harry whimpered as Louis bottomed out. “So full.” Her voice moved through him like a quiet tide smoothing rough stone. “Louis..” she whispered. “Don’t stop.”

Louis leaned down to kiss her neck, then up to her jawline, then to her lips. He continued to move as he pressed kisses on her cheeks.

“You're taking me so well, baby. My best girl, the prettiest baby girl.”

Her eyes became glossy and unaware, ruining her mascara. Louis was pausing and letting his cock lurch and throb hotly inside her sore belly. Harry felt the comfort and warmth she needed. She felt like there was an ocean between her legs. All of their combined wetness coated her from the bare of her pussy down the inner of her thighs. His presence felt familiar in the way the sea felt familiar: vast, frightening, and somehow home.

“I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much.” He murmured against her skin as he pressed his lips into her temple. Choking her a little with the pearl necklace while marking up her collarbones, her neck, and her breasts. Her hole felt helplessly beaten as he heaved himself in and out. Again and again.

The bond between them felt older than memory, older than language, older even than the names Poseidon and Amphitrite.

A red, bruising mark in the shape of his hands was bright against her skin around her throat. She had similarly coloured bruises all along her chest and belly, where he had sucked on her skin and given her hickeys. Her nipples were so sore they stung as they rubbed, ever so slightly, against his chest hair.

With her bitten, flushed pink lips hanging slightly ajar, she shakily took a small hold of his big hand and guided it over to her sore, wanting nipple. “Touch me, Louis.” she let out breathless “More- Pleasee” her pupils wide as his thumb and forefinger pinched the tiny nipple.

“You’re killing me, babe.” he whispered, inhaling Harry's ocean-fresh scent. Fingertips smoothing over the impeccable softness of her belly, feeling himself inside her. It stretched her so deeply that she moaned helplessly – still high.

Lust looked so good on her. Louis would've waited for her for millions of years; Poseidon would've waited for her for millions of years more.

Some things were worth waiting for. Amphitrite had always been one of them. Poseidon could command oceans, split cliffs, and shake kingdoms from their foundations. Yet none of it required the patience he had spent waiting for her.

Her pretty green eyes tried so hard to focus on his blue ones, but all she could do was scream his name as loud as she could. Her voice was high-pitched with “Ahhh... Fuck, Poseidon... More- Please, more.. Mmghhhggh.”

“I’ve got you, baby. Fuck, your wet pussy is sucking me so good.”

Deeper.

Harder.

“Look at it, baby, look how you’re sucking me in, how you welcome my cock. I'm going to come, baby.” Thrusting her more frantically. The sound of her wet pussy squelching sent him to the climax. The pearls rested against her skin, scattered and crooked now, but still beautiful.

“Harder, give it to m-me, Louis. I want it, I want- I want you so bad, Daddy” When he came in her, she was crying, crying with pleasure. His come was hot inside her belly. Somehow warming her from the inside out. It felt intoxicating. His eyes fell closed, his expression slack as he enjoyed the intense, consuming warmth and release. Pumping it into her. Fucking his come into her. She was soaked with it.

Amphitrite had spent years convincing herself she was drifting freely, only to realise she had been following the same tide all along.

She whined back at him, her eyes widened, pupils dilated, “F-fuckk, I am coming, I’m- I’m comingg..” She yelped as satisfaction washed over her. She felt like her wetness never stopped; felt like she was coming forever, felt as though time had stopped altogether. Shaking with the overwhelming feeling of their bodies' combination of sweat, love, and harmony.

For centuries, Amphitrite had been the stillness after the storm. The quiet tide that soothed shipwrecked sailors. Yet beside him, she felt the sea inside her changing, rising with a force she could no longer contain.

When that throb in his cock finally stopped, and his breath finally slowed, and his tip sat, softening, still pressed in against her cervix, he let out a relaxed groan. Warm, fatigued bliss washed down over them both as he sank over her. He rested against her the way ships sought harbour during rough seas.

He was holding her forever.

Never leaving her side.

It felt less like falling in love and more like remembering it.

🌪️🌊⚓️🧿🌪️🌊⚓️🧿🌪️🌊⚓️🧿🌪️🌊⚓️🧿🌪️🌊⚓️🧿

They didn’t talk much on the way there. Not because there was nothing to say, but because everything that needed to be said still felt too new to hold properly in words.

The sea was closer than before.

Harry felt it before she saw it — that familiar pull under her skin, like something in her chest had started to recognise direction again.

She slowed without meaning to. Louis noticed immediately.

Of course, he did. He didn’t stop her. Just matched her pace instead.

When they reached the shoreline, the world felt like it shifted again. The air was heavier here.

Older. Like it remembered them.

Harry stood at the edge of the sand, staring out at the water without stepping in yet. Louis stopped slightly behind her. Not pressing. Just there. A quiet presence at her back.

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then Louis did. Softly. Carefully.

Like he had been holding it in since last night and only now trusted the silence enough to let it out.

“Will you be on my side when we go back into our world?"

Harry’s breath caught slightly.

Louis didn’t rush. Didn’t explain. Just continued, voice lower now.

“I don’t want to go back without you being my queen. As the queen of the sea.”

The ocean shifted in the distance, slow and deep, like it had heard the question too.

Harry finally turned her head slightly. “You’re asking now?”

Louis let out a faint breath that might’ve been a small smile.

“I’ve been asking since I met you,” he said. “You just didn’t answer me properly.”

That made something in her expression soften, just barely. Harry looked back at the sea. Then down at the line where water met sand. Like she was deciding something that wasn’t just about him anymore.

About herself, too. About her future. About their future.

“…And if I say no?” she asked.

Louis didn’t hesitate. “Then I won't go back,” he said simply.

That made her go still. Not because it was dramatic.

Because it was steady.

Real.

Behind them, the wind shifted slightly, and the ocean responded, a slow rise and fall like a breath being held.

Harry closed her eyes for a second. Then opened them again. And stepped forward. Just one step into the sand that led to the water.

Louis followed, immediately matching her without needing permission.

When they reached the edge, the sea didn’t surge. It welcomed them.

Harry exhaled softly. Louis turned slightly toward her. And it was no longer uncertain.

No longer human hesitation.

Just recognition settling into place as it had always been waiting for this exact moment.

“Amphitrite, my goddess, the queen of the sea," he said quietly.

The ocean answered instead of her. A low, rolling shift that felt almost like agreement.

And when she finally stepped fully into the water beside him, it didn’t feel like becoming something new.

It felt like returning home.

He had spent centuries trying to command the sea.

Amphitrite had taught him that tides could never truly be controlled.

They could only be trusted to return.