my daydream collection | outer banks

eye of the storm (greek god au) | poseidon!john b x f!reader

You were no stranger to the sea. It was the lifeblood to your coastal village, and you had long ago found your peace staring at the waves as they crashed against the cliff your house was nestled upon. As you got older and began accompanying your father on his voyages, you couldn't help but feel a certain bond with the ocean. You had, of course, heard tragic tales of ships lost to the unforgiving sea, and you remembered watching fishing crews sail out one day to never return, but you had never seen nor experienced anything like that. It was as if the waves themselves were carrying you safely on your journeys; as if they were ever so gentle and careful to bring you home safe. Whenever you were included on a voyage, everything was smooth sailing. The nets caught countless fish, the skies stayed clear, and the waves were kind. The few times since your first trip that you weren't able to join your father and his crew, t hey had come back with harrowing tales of storms that ripped apart their nets and forced them to come home nearly empty handed.

So it became your job to be a lucky charm for any ship that went out. The seas favored you, and if you were being honest, you favored the sea. You loved sailing, loved gazing into the depths knowing it sustained not only the life of your village but the lives of the countless creatures below. But most of all you loved to stand on the shores with your feet in the water, feeling the waves come up to caress your legs, and although you would never admit it to anyone, it almost felt like the gentle touch of a lover. There were times where you almost felt called to the water, like something within it was tempting you to just wade into the depths and never return, but it wasn't an overwhelming experience, and so you continued to stay in the seaside village.

On your sixteenth birthday everything changed. You were of age, and suddenly it was no longer your job to accompany the men on their voyages but to instead look for husband. Your days and nights were no longer spent at your father's side with the ocean mist hitting your face but at your mother's side as she read over letters from village men and strangers from abroad asking for your hand in marriage. It was tiresome, and you began to grow restless being trapped on land for so long. It wasn't where you belonged, that much you knew for sure, but you weren't allowed to leave the house until you both came to a decision. Every letter from a fisherman or seaman was discarded, your mother telling you that you had better prospects, men with more money and land, but your heart longed to be with the waves again. At least if you married a seafaring man, there was a chance you could return to the water; you could be his good luck charm.

As the days went on, you began to notice a storm brewing on the horizon. You couldn't remember the last time you had seen such malicious clouds, but just by looking at them, you knew it was going to be bad. Each day, as the clouds drew ever closer to your village, panic swelled in the pit of your stomach. Your father hadn't yet returned, and you worried that he would get caught and lost in the storm. For as much as you adored the sea, you knew just how fickle a deity she could be. You had lost count of how many men from the village hadn't returned from voyages. The sea wasn't to be taken lightly, and since you weren't with your father to provide him luck, you were almost consumed by your worry. And then finally he returned.

With your father he brought a guest. A boy your age, half starved and half drowned, staggered up the cliff trail behind him, almost completely weighed down by the small bag he carried on his back. Without a second thought you ran down the path to meet them and hurried to throw the boy's arm over your shoulder to help support his weight. You were surprised by how heavy he was. By the look of him, you had thought he would be quite light, but clearly under the baggy soaked clothes he was hiding a bit of muscle that malnutrition hadn't stolen from him yet. As you helped him struggle up the steep trail, you offered him an encouraging smile, and as your eyes met, the breath was taken from your lungs. His eyes were a beautiful hazel, but what really caught your attention was the green that raged within them. They reminded you of the sea. The same sea that had, as your father would explain to you and your mother over dinner, pulled him down to the depths. Your beloved sea had almost stolen this innocent, and admittedly beautiful, boy from the world before you had even had a chance to meet him.