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#i realized its mermay season
namodawrites · 10 months
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pairing: oogami banri x gn!reader tags/warnings: secret identity, merman au, descriptions of preparing raw fish for consumption, minor descriptions of a panic attack, minor memory-loss, slice of life-ish, h2o elements, implied past cheating (not by banri or reader) genre: angst, comfort wc: 15,338 note: dear lord. shed literal blood sweat and tears for this fic. banri i love u but i will never write for u again <3 this was very much a passion project and i'm so happy to see it finished LOL. if u decide to take a chance on this fic i hope u enjoy!!
𓆝 this fic is part of the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse!
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Living by the ocean is colder than you could’ve imagined.
When you moved here at the height of tourist season, the air was thick with humidity and the briny smell of salt and sea foam. It’d been like a dream—something you only experienced as a child, when the world was still new.
(“Everything smells too much like the ocean,” your mother had complained once, shaded and dry beneath your family’s umbrella. She helped you pull on colorful inflatable armbands and apply sunscreen, but had taken to lounging after that. “I don’t want you going out too far—if you forget the ocean is stronger than you, you’ll get sucked out faster than you can scream for help. We don’t want to cause any trouble for the people living here.”)
“Are you still cold?”
Oogami Banri is a calm, unassuming man. His first and second impressions of you had been undignified to say the least: encountering you passed out on a bench outside of a little shop, sheltered beneath its slanted tiled awning; assisting you to escape a cave during high tide, too afraid of the strange shapes you’d seen in the water to make the short journey alone.
(After that day, you hadn’t seen the huge, twisting shadow again, but you didn’t require much thought to recall how it looked—too blue to be any fish you’ve ever known, cutting through the currents in a frighteningly unnatural way. Though you hadn’t exactly gone out looking, you’d thought maybe this is exactly what your mother was warning you about as a child.)
You’d been mortified to have your chances at a normal introduction killed so successfully. But perhaps your unconventional meetings are the very reason you now consider Banri one of your closest friends.
At least your mother hadn’t been there to witness it all.
(“You’ll never survive out there, it’s much colder than the city,” she’d insisted over speakerphone while you folded shirts to pack. She wailed in your ears about heat, about winter, about the lack of public transportation—“How will you make time to visit us? It’ll be a full day’s travel just one way”—you heard it all.
Just from here, though, you get to see the ocean’s dancing surface. The twinkling of waves under the moon gives the illusion of a city at night. You’d never trade it for anything, now that you’ve sunk your fingers into it.)
“No, I’m okay. Thank you,” you answer belatedly, twisting the plate in your hand to dry it, warm porcelain smooth against your fingers. The taste of rice and sautéed vegetables lingering comfortably in your mouth.
Behind you lies an assortment of items you’d brought for him at the convenience store: vitamin C and D supplements, energy drinks, reusable warm packs. All of which you’d picked at random, keeping him in the back of your mind.
(“What are these for?” he’d asked when you handed him the bag.
“The winter months are hard on you, right I thought these might be helpful.”
“There’s a lot in here.” He’d smiled, amused, if you had to pinpoint the little gleam in his eyes. “I didn’t realize you were so worried.”
“You didn’t show up to the café for nearly two weeks. What was I supposed to think?”
His laughter had come easily, and the products do make a funny sight collected on the counter—mismatching brands and a sea of colorful labels.)
Despite his claims of adjusting terribly to colder weather, you don’t think there’s ever been a time where you’ve seen Banri worn down—or particularly upset, for that matter.
He’s a sturdy personality, a little infamous amongst the townspeople—the children in particular. They like to climb on him and pull his hair, hang off his arms and play tag with him on the dunes when the weather is nice.
(“Ban-san is a hard worker,” your coworker had said with a wide grin and a little wave of his hand. Waiting in the quiet of an almost empty conference room before a meeting. “All the regulars at that café love him. He’s got a lotta charisma.”
“He’s friendly, but there’s something mysterious about him,” another chimed in. “I saw him sprinting towards the ocean the other day. I think he went swimming. Isn’t that insane? It was snowing. I thought he might’ve gone insane.”
The meeting had started not long after, but you could not help repeating their words over in your head. Banri’s affinity for the ocean extended beyond that of anyone you knew in Tokyo. Though you suppose people born next to the ocean always keep a spot in their hearts for it—lured home by the crashing waves and comforting briny smell of salt. )
And certainly, you’ve heard of people swimming during the colder seasons, but to dive into the ocean while it’s snowing? Here, no less, when the waves can turn icy and painful. You wonder if he’d been inspired by those internet challenges that gained traction during the hotter months.
“Oogami-kun, do you follow online trends?” you ask.
“Hm? I don’t have any particular interest in them,” Banri says, hands you another freshly washed plate. He glances at you. “Have the kids convinced you to try something with them?”
“No, nothing like that,” you say, dragging the cloth around the plate’s surface. “It’s just—one of my coworkers mentioned he thought you went swimming the other day. Wasn’t it cold?”
The sink continues to run. Banri takes so long to answer you think maybe he didn’t hear. But then he reaches to twist the tap off, and the absence of running water amplifies the silence in your head. He picks up another dish towel to dry the water from his gloves with meticulous motions before pulling them off with the quiet squeak of rubber.
He turns to you, leans a hip against the counter and smiles. “I mean, the beaches seem lonely, don’t they?”
“So you really did go swimming?” You frown. “I think the beaches can handle the loneliness if it means you won’t injure yourself, Oogami-kun. What if you caught a cold?”
Banri laughs, the sound warm and filling. “I won’t, I won’t. Don’t worry. Isn’t it sad, though? How empty the beaches are, I mean.”
“I’m sure there’ll be visitors during the new year,” you say, gravitating toward the table.
“Will you be going back to Tokyo?” he asks, reclaims his seat. You run a thumb along the bumpy surface of your teacup. Steam curls from the mouth. The air in his apartment—in this town—flows easily. Fluid. Thinner, despite being close to the ocean: it fills your lungs easily compared to the thick stuffiness of city life.
“No,” you say, “nor will I go next year. I’d like to stay away from that place for a while.”
“I see.”
It’d been one of the biggest points of contention with your mother: nothing more damning in her eyes than purposefully missing those big holidays. But at least with your job, there would be some truth to why you hadn’t jumped at the chance to return. It’s only been a few months. They can wait.
Your mother will be livid. You’ll prepare an excuse for her when the time comes. Hopefully she’ll be too busy with preparations to bother you until after the holiday ends.
“I’ve never celebrated alone before.” The realization dawns on you. “It’ll be a lot of work, I’m sure.”
“It’ll be your first time celebrating it here, right? Is it lonely?”
“Not really,” you shrug, “it’s kind of refreshing. Though I’m not particularly adept at much else besides cleaning.”
Banri smiles at you over his cup of tea. “In that case, should we celebrate together?” he asks, head tilting. The overhead light kisses his shoulders and head with a soft glow, illuminates the deep, rich blue of his hair. “I also don’t plan to visit anyone—besides, I’m sure spending time with a friend will be more fun.”
Truthfully, you hadn’t considered it: when you first moved, you had visions of being alone in your apartment, away from the warmth of friendly company. Aside from the occasional night out with coworkers and the semi-frequent outings with Banri, you’d resigned yourself to spending the major holidays by yourself. A lonesome existence, but a free one—able to face the wide ocean without shouldering expectations of family and former friends.
“I couldn’t impose,” you say, head shaking. “I’m not very proficient in cooking—it wouldn’t lessen the burden of anything important.”
“Don’t say that,” he scolds lightly, “you’ve been doing plenty for your neighbors. Shimada-san told me you bring the trash and cardboard down for her and a few others.”
“It’s nothing much.” You take a sip of tea. “They sometimes drop off food for me. It’s the least I can do for them.”
“So modest.” Banri smiles. “It’ll be no trouble to cook for two instead of one—I usually end up making too much and have to give the rest away. It happens every year. If you like, you can lead the cleanup,” he teases.
You can’t stop the smile that forms. “You’re impossible, Oogami-kun,” you say, all too aware of the fondness in your voice. “Though it would be nicer than spending it alone.”
“That’s the spirit!” He grins. “Oh, that reminds me: next week I have a day off. I thought I’d try my hand at a new recipe—want to help me taste test?”
“So you need a guinea pig?” you ask, eyebrow quirking.
Banri laughs, the sound mixing pleasantly with the low, barely-audible hum of electricity. “Yeah, something like that. It’s for the café—we’re thinking of releasing a new menu soon, so I wanna make sure it’s up to standard.”
“Are you sure you want me to be the one to taste test?” you ask.
“Yeah. You’ve enjoyed everything you’ve tried so far, right? I trust you to tell me if anything tastes bad,” he says, winks.
“I’ll do my best to give an impartial review.” You smile.
The night ends comfortably, like it always does: Banri walks you home, and when you can see the usual spot up ahead, an intersection just a few meters from your apartment, you turn to look for him.
The street overlooks part of the ocean, cutting out a little slice of the horizon line just for you. Banri is staring out above your head, expression poised and distant.
He’s stopped walking. You stop, too, so as to not overtake him too much.
“Oogami-kun?” His head inclines towards you a fraction, but he doesn’t respond. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he passed out standing up. His eyes are open and glassy—that strange, distant expression motionless on his face.
This has been happening a lot recently. Or maybe you only perceive it that way because you tend to notice things that pertain to him.
It always feels invasive to bring him back, but you do—reaching for his arm, squeezing lightly through the fabric of his coat.
Banri exhales, blinking—turning bright eyes towards you, a picture of surprise as you blink up at him.
“Sorry about that,” he apologizes, smiles sheepishly. “It’s later than I thought. I’ll be sleeping well tonight,” he jokes. “See you later,” he says, raises a hand in farewell.
The stars have become visible, now, unburdened by light pollution this far away from the city.
“Goodnight, Oogami-kun.”
You watch him turn down the road. The moon reflects strongly on his back. Behind you, the ocean continues to hiss and hum.
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New Year’s Eve descends upon you with little room to breathe. Each day is spent cleaning your apartment—sometimes with Banri’s help—and though it’s a comfortable space, you’ve yet to accumulate a significant amount of personal items, which certainly speeds along the process.
Assisting your neighbors with their places is much more tolerable than tackling yours, though you find that helping Banri on New Year’s Eve is even more preferable.
“If you take care of washing the floors, I’ll do the heavy lifting stuff,” he tells you with a cheerful smile, hair tied into its usual ponytail. “The two of us’ll finish it up in no time, and then we can get started on dinner.”
While you work, dried kelp soaks in water. It’s been there since the night before—something about drawing out the flavors. And though it’s a perfectly innocent-looking container, you cannot help but glance at it every now and then with a fluctuating, but ever present sense of trepidation.
He’s eager to show you how to make soba from scratch—had joked about tutoring you in the art of soba noodle making, and laughed when you simply blanched and gave him a blank, apprehensive stare.
“If you’ve seen it made even once, that makes things a little simpler because you’ll be familiar with the steps,” Banri says when you’re finished cleaning, returns the mop to its spot in the closet.
“I know about letting the bonito flakes soak,” you tell him uncertainly. He laughs good-naturedly.
“We’ll start off with heating up the kelp and water. It’s best to do it really slowly,” he explains, pours the contents of the measuring cup into the pot, angled away from his body. “Low heat is fine. Meanwhile, we can focus on the toppings and noodles.”
You measure out the bonito flakes and the seasonings for the broth following careful instructions. It’s a little cramped with the two of you, but having him at your side is a comfort, even if you worry that every ingredient you touch will suddenly burst into flames or turn the dish bitter.
“We can save the kelp,” Banri says as you pluck it out of the steaming pot with a pair of chopsticks. “We can make furikake with it. The bonito flakes, too.”
Miraculously, you do not set the kitchen on fire. The noodles cook quickly. Banri rehydrates the wakame and slices a little pile of green onions. You strain and season the broth, the scent of it strong and savory. He slices the fish cake while you wash the soba noodles under cold water.
If he’s disappointed by your lack of presentation when the noodles are served, he does not say, merely smiles and pours a generous serving of broth into each bowl. He lets you add the toppings. You try to replicate the neat delicateness of restaurant soba, but green onion and wakame are tricky companions for an inexperienced cook.
It’s better than using the concentrated broth you buy at the stores. Savory with a hint of sweetness, and the familiar bite of the kelp and the chewiness of the noodles is an addicting flavor.
“Pretty good for your first time cooking soba,” Banri hums in content as the two of you slurp, comforted in the freshly cleaned environment.
“You did more than half of it,” you tell him, swirling noodles in your broth. Bits of green onion sticking to the sides of your bowls. “I just followed your instructions.”
“There’s always something that can go wrong in the kitchen,” he says. “Even experienced cooks have trouble sometimes.”
You shudder. “Well, let’s wait to try anything complicated.”
Banri smiles. “You have my word.”
The neighborhood is quiet, but active as night falls. There will be people going down to the beach to watch the first sunset. You and Banri have chosen to watch from the little balcony just outside his bedroom.
Sitting at the table with him is much more enjoyable than if you’d decided to spend the night on your own. The TV is left running in the background, quiet ambience over dinner. You get to make conversation while picking out every little strand of noodle, sipping on broth and making plans for your first shrine visit.
Of all the people you know, you’ve never met someone as excited for the new year as Banri: he begins fidgeting halfway through dinner, and though a part of you worries it’s due to the cleaners you used, he reassures you with a smile that it’s just the holiday jitters.
(The last New Year’s you celebrated, it had been with your boyfriend at the time. Naoki had never cared much for holidays, but he liked the excuse to go out and drink, to host lavish parties and invent people that wore accessories that cost more money than you could comfortably spend in one sitting.
You’d felt more like a decoration than a guest, clinging to the walls and unable to make eye contact with anyone despite your attempts. In the end, you’d left before the sunset had even come, and he hadn’t bothered texting to ask where you were.
And then, just three weeks later, you’d spotted the engagement ring on his finger.)
“I’m excited to try out the recipes for our new menu,” he says, playing with his thumbs. His skin looks dry and cracked—you should’ve bought him some hand lotion, too. “It’ll be a lot of work, but we’re hoping it’ll draw in more customers after the new year.”
“It does sound like a lot,” you say.
“Ah, but you’ll experience the fun part of it.” He smiles. “Unless you want to help with clean-up, of course.” He’s started to sway back and forth—the motions minute enough to ignore but obvious when he stops, as if trying to settle himself.
“I’d be happy to help,” you say. “You’ve done a lot for me, Oogami-kun.”
“Don’t even mention it.” He waves you off. “I know what it’s like to be in your position.”
You’re running the hot water to wash dishes when he stands up, swaying a little.
“Sorry, I just got a message about something. I’ve got to go out for a second,” he apologizes, already reaching for his coat. His tone is casual enough, but his eyes are unfocused. “It’ll be real quick.”
“Oogami-kun?” you call out, confused.
“I’ll be back before the sun rises!” he promises, pulling open the front door to disappear.
Perplexed, you tidy up as best you can, washing and drying dishes, running a cloth over the table to catch any stray flecks of broth or green onion. With Banri gone, watching TV by yourself is useless. You would’ve liked to hear his commentary about the New Year’s programs. The room feels too big without him there. The time passes mindlessly, you, curling up on the chair, attempting to focus on the television without giving too much attention to the restlessness that builds the longer he’s gone.
The minutes tick agonizingly slowly when he’s gone. He’s out for so long you wonder if it would be better to meet him outside and watch the sunrise on the beach after all.
But then you hear it: the jingling of keys, and you have to restrain yourself from leaping out of the chair to greet him when the door opens.
“Sorry about that!” He looks oddly refreshed—not even sharing a hint of the same fatigue you could feel creeping up as the hours passed. “What did I miss on the programs?”
“Nothing much,” you say. Truthfully, you hadn’t been paying much attention. “Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, nothing’s wrong,” he says, shrugging off his coat. He glances around the kitchen, expression turning sheepish. “Thank you for cleaning up.”
“As long as you’re safe.” His skin looks better. Hopefully whoever he met with gave him some moisturizer. Unbidden, you think of your coworker’s words. But there’s no chance he could’ve gone swimming and come back even a little damp: his hair would’ve froze, you’re sure of it. Even though you want to, you don’t pry, and the two of you soon move to the balcony to watch the sunrise.
“I have good feelings about this new year,” Banri says. His ponytail is trapped in the confines of his scarf. “I’ll try to make a lot of new dishes when the weather gets warmer.”
“Are you still tired from this weather?” you ask.
“I probably won’t stop feeling tired until spring.” He shrugs. “Don’t worry though—I’m quite resilient.”
“I’ll make dinner for you sometime,” you say. “Of course, I can’t promise anything fancy. But it’s nice to have other people make your food.”
Banri smiles. “Does tonight not count?”
You shake your head. “I didn’t make that by myself. This’ll be better.”
“I look forward to it,” Banri says. “I bet soon you’ll be thinking of running a café of your own.” Your protests come immediately. He laughs.
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Unfortunately, with your clashing schedules post New Year’s, you don’t get to host dinner as soon as you’d like. You barely get to fit your weekly café visits into your day, burdened with an influx of work. You’re grateful just to see him, even if it’s just for the duration of entering the café, ordering for yourself—trying out some of the new items, at his behest—and then sharing quick goodbyes before leaving.
Banri comes over on an evening after the novelty of the holiday season has long worn off and the snow is no longer pure white around the roads.
Though you’d been anticipating this evening, the anxiety of it only hits a few days before, when you realize that of the food you were capable of making—including but not limited to: instant noodles, boiled eggs that never peeled cleanly no matter what tricks you tried, rice in a rice cooker, and instant miso soup—nothing would suffice as a dinner you would stake your pride on.
To your luck, your neighbors are eager teachers. With their help, you create a semi-comfortable rhythm of preparing mackerel fillets: scoring them with a knife, pouring hot water over them before draining and submerging the lightly cooked pieces in cold water, and assembling a sauce to simmer them in. It’s startlingly easy to prepare—along with a simple stir fried veggie dish—and you’re even more grateful that these same neighbors enjoy eating fish.
Banri arrives at your door while the dish simmers. He makes an impressed noise at the set up. With luck, he’ll share some ideas of what to do with the excess bits of vegetable you meticulously trimmed—hoping to get each piece the same size for even cooking.
He is nothing if not supportive, showing an appropriate amount of excitement as you plate the steaming fish. He even chuckles amiably as you scoop out freshly cooked rice, trying to get the same amount in each bowl.
You’re too nervous to eat despite having completed each step the same as before, but Banri’s face lights up when he gets a piece of fish in his mouth.
“It’s good! Really good!” he exclaims. His tone leaves you no choice but to believe him. “The fish is tender and not overcooked—it’s well seasoned, too. You did great.”
“I had help from Shimada-san,” you say—a guilty admission, like knowing the secret of this successful meal will flip his excitement against you.
“I wanted to make something tasty. Though I don’t think it lives up to your New Year’s dishes.”
(It’d been terrifying and fascinating to see the prep that’d gone into Banri’s New Year’s cooking: the paper diagrams you glimpsed with sticky notes, the assortment of ingredients in the fridge, the book of recipes with even more notes scribbled in the margins. Just remembering it overwhelms you.)
“There’s no need to worry about that at all,” he says, picking up some stir-fried veggies. “These vegetables are great, too. I think simple flavors are the best.” You can hear the slight crunch of them in his mouth as he chews. “They’re easy to prepare and taste good. Fish is also a versatile ingredient. I actually prefer fish to other foods,” he says, smiling sheepishly.
“Really?” You blink. “But you make everything so skillfully.”
He laughs. “Thank you. I don’t know if I’d call it skillful, though. It’s just interesting to see how a dish comes together. I won’t say no to most foods.”
“It’s good to eat a variety.” You nod sagely.
“Oh! That reminds me,” he says, leaning forward slightly. “Tanaka-san will be saving me something from his catch soon—when I cook it I’ll save some for you.”
“Tanaka-san is the sushi shop owner, right?” you ask. Banri nods. “I didn’t realize you could catch so many tasty fish during winter.”
“Crab is also pretty popular,” Banri says, cutting through another piece of the mackerel with his chopsticks. “But I think the fish taste best during spring. There’s nothing like preparing a fish you caught yourself.”
“I’ve never tried, so I wouldn’t know,” you say, picking up some rice. “Is it fun?”
“Yeah! Lots,” Banri says. “Since it’ll be your first spring here, why don’t we go fishing when the weather’s nicer? I’ve got all the gear. It’ll be a fun way to celebrate.”
You should say no. There are important family dates you should adhere to: skipping out on New Year’s won’t give you a pass for missing birthdays and anniversaries. The last thing you want is to face your mother’s wrath. But the look on his face is so earnest, and you find it’s been increasingly difficult to say no to him. And the smile that spreads across his face when you accept snuffs out the tiny embers of guilt in your chest.
Naoki’s voice and your mother’s voice mingle—scornful. You try to block them out.
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Banri already has everything set up at the pier when you approach. He’s seated in a little fold up chair, hands loose in his lap, staring out over the ocean. The sun has barely started to rise—the tiniest bit of light promising a sunrise within the next few hours.
Your chin hunches further into your coat as the wind picks up. He’s dressed rather lightly considering the temperatures, but he’s not even shivering. Much of the snow has started to melt, but you can still see it collected in the shadowed areas of nearby rocks. The pier is slippery in certain places.
Though you walk in an obvious line within his peripheral, he does not react.
“Oogami-kun?”
He doesn’t answer, but his eyes are open. It’s happening again. Fruitlessly, you call out to him. He doesn’t even twitch. The sky is dim and hazy, but his eyes are bright, reflecting the waves, the moonlight that lingers.
Your hand touches his shoulder. He jumps, blinks, looks up at you with wide eyes.
“Oh, you’re here. Sorry, you weren’t waiting long, were you?” he asks.
Your head tilts. “I should be asking you that. I’m not late, am I?”
“No, no,” Banri laughs. “I just got here myself.” You blink at him, face droopy and pinched with sleep. His smile widens. “You’re not really a morning person, are you?”
“I don’t know if I’d call it morning when the sun isn’t visible yet,” you tell him with a pathetic wave of your hand. Banri laughs again. Back with you, in the present, he has all the vigor and cheer of someone who is too accustomed to waking up early. It’s the café, you assume: it closes at a reasonable time, but you know it to be a favorite spot among many early risers in town.
Fishing requires more skill than you initially thought. Banri baits your hook for you—a smooth, practiced motion that has you envious of the hours he must’ve put into this hobby. He shows you how to cast the line, and even though the first attempt catches on the rocks, your third swing is successful, landing in the water with hardly a splash.
The morning air is still, but the waves still come up to crash against the rocks. You watch them hiss and foam and roil, barely settling before the next wave comes over the previous.
Banri is the first to get a bite. He offers to let you reel it in—you decline. The fish comes flying out of the water. He catches it easily to present it to you, gloved hand preventing the fish from wriggling out of his grasp. He angles his body away from the water dribbling from its tail and smiles widely at you.
“This fish is good baked or grilled. It’s also good as tempura. It’s a very tasty fish,” he says, unhooks it with a pair of pliers. “Let’s try for a few more!”
“Do you mind if I take a picture?” you ask eagerly. “This is the first time I’ve seen one up so close—alive, that is.”
“Sure, go for it,” he smiles, and holds up the fish against the sky, a strong thumb hooked into its mouth. “If you send it to me, I’ll share it with Tanaka-san later. He loves seeing other people’s catches.”
Your fingers are a bit clumsy—slowed from the cold as you pull out your phone. The camera shutter clicks. Banri lets the fish into the cooler as you go to send him the photos.
A face pops up in your camera roll. Your breath catches, blood draining from your face.
“Everything alright?” Banri asks. Even though your eyes lift from your phone, Naoki’s face sticks in your peripheral. Impossible to ignore. You should’ve deleted those photos by now.
You offer a smile, send him the pictures. “Yeah, just got distracted.”
The fish you manage to reel is smaller than the one Banri caught. You cannot help but be embarrassed on principle—as if the creatures could smell the difference in skill and decided to humiliate you for the favor of eating them.
Banri just smiles like he’s proud of you and puts it in the cooler. He coos over them, like they’re beloved pets and not at his mercy.
“There’s not much to see around here since the water’s all disturbed, but there are some calmer spots where you can see the fish more clearly,” Banri says, leaning over the edge to see. Below him, the waves gurgle and splash wetly against the rocks.
You shuffle closer, tipping at the waist to follow his line of sight. The smell of salt is everywhere, but is strongest when you’re hovering right above the water.
(Once, when you were little, you tried to do this very thing during a family trip with your extended family. Curiosity had been eating you up, and though children will tend to wander when things catch their interest, it was apparent that your mother had already seen you as an adult in her eyes—capable of knowing better.
She’d grabbed you with all her strength to haul you away, nearly sweeping your feet out from under you as you stumbled with a protesting cry.
“Never, under any circumstances do that again!” she’d hissed, grip so tight it’d left wrinkles in your shirt and tender spots on your arm.)
Now, as an act of rebellion, you lean even further over the edge, determined to catch a glimpse of some crab or fish to make the experience worth it. What kind of creatures would seek shelter from rocks in this turbulence? Surely nothing big.
The shadow of an image resurfaces: a dark, glimmering tail—too dextrous and big to be any kind of fish that would linger in the shallower parts of the ocean. Scales big enough to see despite the disturbed surface of the water. Limbs that looked like almost human disappearing between long, drifting kelp.
The memory has you shuddering, and the terrified half-gasp that escapes when your body loses the battle against gravity makes you believe, for a half-second, that your mother was right all along.
“Whoops, careful there.” The pressure of Banri’s arm around your waist is startling. His voice is close. The hairs on your nape react to its proximity. He lifts you away from the edge, eyes wide with concern. “It would be bad if you fell. The edge is slipperier than you might expect,” he says, releases you.
“Right. Thank you. Sorry.” You exhale. Banri’s head tips. His ponytail follows the movement.
“It’s nothing to apologize for,” he reassures you. “Though it’s better to be cautious around the edge, especially when it’s windy.”
“It’s a good thing you caught me,” you say. “It would’ve been embarrassing if I’d fallen in—I can’t swim, after all.”
“I’ve got a friend that gives lessons, if you’re interested,” Banri offers. You find yourself mildly disappointed by the prospect: there are not many other faces you know outside of your coworkers. It would’ve been ideal with him. More comfortable.
A low humming gust sweeps across the pier. With it, a ravenous wave crashes against the rocks, the resulting spray arching high above the pier, pushed towards you by the wind.
You turn away, arms raised to shield yourself. The water is cold and hardly soaks you, dotting your jacket with wet spots, but Banri scrambles away as if the spray will burn him. He backtracks so quickly it’s a wonder he doesn’t stumble.
“Oogami-kun?” you ask, wiping stray droplets from your face.
His eyes find your face, expression loosening as the wave recedes. “I don’t like getting wet if I’m not going to swim,” he explains, smiling sheepishly.
“You fish often though, don’t you?” you ask, backing away from the edge.
“The reward outweighs the risk.” He smiles, wanders back over to the rods. “Shall we try for a couple more?”
When the two of you wrap up, there are a handful of other people on the pier. The sunset is fresh and new—not quite red and orange as it will be soon. Banri carries the cooler while you bring the rods and chairs. They fold up neatly, laid across your arms.
Back at his apartment, Banri sets the cooler aside on the floor. There are some other dishes in the fridge already—cucumber salad and simmered kabocha squash, two dishes he made the night prior.
“I thought about buying some shrimp, but we can save those for another time,” he explains as he heats water in a kettle for tea. “The heads are great if you steam them on salt. They’re also good sautéed in butter—it’s a quick dish, too.” He pulls out a large container of salt. “The salad and kabocha squash are good, though. Still fresh.”
You smile. “I trust you wouldn’t attempt to poison me, Oogami-kun.”
Banri laughs. “Well, I’ll certainly try not to.” He opens up the cooler to pull out the fish, the dark rubber of his gloves squeaking. You watch, fascinated with how skillfully he breaks them down; when you’d met with your neighbors to learn how to make simmered fish, they graciously filleted fresh mackerel for you, claiming that single step would elevate the fish far above pre-packaged ones from the store.
He strips them of their scales, removes the innards, washes out the blood with a brush. One he leaves intact, the others he separates the flesh from the body, setting aside the bones and head.
“We’ll eat this one baked whole, but the rest we can share with the neighbors,” he chirps.
“What about the heads?” you ask.
“I’ll save those for other uses.” He smiles. “Around here, everything gets eaten. Otherwise, it’d be a waste.”
“You’re very resourceful when it comes to fish,” you say, watching him slice the belly bones off with smooth, slow cuts. “Though it makes sense, since it’s your favorite.”
“Mm! I like all kinds of fish. Even the ones that are dangerous to eat.”
“You’ve got a license to serve pufferfish?” you ask, surprise licking your tone.
“Yep. Not just puffer fish, though: I’ve eaten moray eel a few times,” he says. “They’re slippery and tedious to prepare because of their bones, but really tasty. Totally different from the freshwater eel you can buy at restaurants.”
“I’ve seen them up close before—they’re scary, aren’t they? Their teeth, I mean.”
Banri glances at you. He smiles. “Yeah.”
After breaking down the fish, he pats the sea bream dry and salts both sides. Grains stick to his gloves.
The sky is blue, now, light streams through the windows. Watching him, a hip leaning against the counter, the scene is strangely domestic. You wrack your brains for another instance before this when you’d felt at home without being in your own place. The kettle whistles. Banri preheats the oven.
(You might’ve done something like this once, with Naoki—it’s difficult to remember. Had you ever felt this at peace with him? Had being in his presence ever felt as easy as it is with Banri? Just as easy as breathing?)
Tea helps you relax. The fish sits with its salt. You chat over steaming cups in the meantime.
“It’s been a while since I’ve made lunch with someone. It’s nice,” he says, smiles at you behind his cup. “You look nervous.”
“It’s a lot to keep track of,” you say, playing with your thumbs.
“Don’t worry, the two of us will make something really good,” he reassures you. “The more you work in a kitchen, the more you’ll get a feel for it.”
“After making that simmered fish, I do feel a little more confident,” you admit. Banri’s smile widens.
“That’s the spirit!”
You wash the rice. He pats the fish dry and scores it before skittering into the bathroom, leaving his gloves behind. You avoid a stare down with the fish in the meantime.
The sink runs to refill the rice for a soaking when a loud crash comes from the direction of the hall. Startled by the sound, fearing the worst, you hurry over.
“Oogami-kun?” you call out through the bathroom door, resisting the urge to press your ear against it. “Are you alright in there?”
His voice comes back muffled but cheery. “No problem! Don’t worry about me—it’s just a shelf that fell. Can you poke a hole through the fish’s tail? Just a few centimeters from the fin—I’ll be out in a minute.”
There’s a feeling in the back of your mind, coaxing you, tempting your hand to reach for the door. But you’d rather jump into the ocean on a stormy day than barge in on Banri in his own bathroom, and you take a deliberate step back, staring at the blank canvas of the door.
“Yeah,” you say, sounding unsure even to your own ears, “Yeah, I can do that. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yep! It’s just another little project I’ll have to take care of,” he says.
“…Okay.”
You shuffle back to the kitchen to search for something pointy. There’s a takoyaki pick in one of the drawers. It pierces the flesh easily with some pressure.
Banri is more than capable of taking care of himself, though you can’t help but worry about the state of his bathroom. Perhaps the floor is slippery? But it’d looked normal enough from the glimpse you got when you entered the apartment.
When he finally emerges, you’re less subtle about scanning him for injury than you think you should be.
“Don’t worry, I’m not hurt—you should see the state of the shelf,” he jokes. Perplexed, you simply nod and show him the fish. “Oh, looking good. I can salt the fins now.” He scoops some out into a little bowl. “This is to prevent them from burning in the oven,” he explains, the grains rustling beneath his fingers as he spreads the fins to coat them thoroughly. “I’ll wrap them in foil, too.” He pushes a bamboo skewer into the hole at the tail and through the fish’s head, creating a curve with the body.
It looks a little funny with the foil on it. You watch with rapt attention as he arranges it on a baking sheet, using a little dish to support the head and tail. You’re distracted by the strong lines of his biceps as they flex, and then tear your gaze away.
“Please become tasty,” Banri says as he puts it in the oven. You smile.
The rice cooks as you put the kabocha squash in a pot to reheat.
When Banri takes out the fish, it’s still sizzling—the fat from the skin popping lightly as steam rises from its surface. It’s golden and crispy.
You can pinpoint the moment Banri’s face lights up—pleased with himself as he carefully peels the foil off to reveal the fins. And you, in turn, cannot stop the smile on your own face at the sight.
Cute.
The thought hits you like lightning, and you stop short, going still.
Unbidden, you think of Naoki. Years ago, you thought he was cute, too. And now all that’s left of him in your life is a bitter taste when he crosses your mind. Banri is everything Naoki isn’t. Has everything he lacked.
Banri turns to smile at you. You try to return it, shaking the thought free. Comparing them is rude to Banri. Not for the first time since moving, you are relieved: relieved to be here in his apartment, watching him celebrate the successful cooking of your shared meal, relieved to be living in a place that breezes across your skin rather than festers in your lungs.
At the table, with everything plated and served, you cannot help but watch him: how he scoops rice with his chopsticks; how he pinches off cooked pieces of fish to eat; how his eyes close, his mouth pursing to hum.
You are nothing if not content, selfishly soaking up his softness and smiles as the afternoon crests and sunlight illuminates his face. He looks so happy with himself. Your eyes drop, chest light.
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The last bit of snow melts when you and Banri make plans to visit one of the bookstores. The air smells like spring and ocean. Greenery has begun to populate the streets. Trees are already sprouting little green buds. Soon they’ll flower.
You’re lighter on your feet—winter’s absence allowing you to breathe a little easier. The sun is friendlier on your head and shoulders when you exit your apartment.
Banri meets you outside, dressed lightly with an unzipped jacket. Your head tilts: this is not the first time you’ve seen him wear this jacket, but for some reason, it’s stretching over his body in newer places—the fabric tighter around his shoulders and arms.
“All set to go?” he asks, smiling.
Confused, you stop to look up at him.
“Oogami-kun, did you get taller recently?”
He twitches, startled by your question. “Ah, I’ve been doing, uh, stretches recently after work,” he offers. “They’re apparently good for your posture. I’m sure there’s information about it in a book somewhere!”
“…Right.”
You let him change the subject without much fuss.
There are people on the beach today: couples and children racing across once lonely sand to greet the ocean. Not as crowded as it will be when summer reaches its peak, but it’s a comforting sight.
When certain movements catch your eye, your gaze lingers—just to make sure. But the strangers stay as they should be: strangers without any recognizable features.
“It’s nice to see people enjoying themselves,” Banri comments. A breeze pushes his hair into his face. You consider the act of brushing it away.
“Yes, I hope it’ll get busy again like last year,” you say. “It’s nice to see the beaches filling up.” Movement catches your eye: more people crossing the street to add to the collection of bodies. “I didn’t realize it would already be so popular. It’s not even summer.”
“Should we join them?” Banri suggests, a light jest given the smile on his face.
“I don’t think Sato-san would be happy if we tracked sand into her shop.”
Banri’s grin spreads, revealing sharp peaks of his teeth. “I suppose not.”
You laugh—you can’t help it. The sounds escape freely, from the center of your chest. Banri laughs too, the feel of it airy and content.
“So this is where you ran off to.”
Nausea douses your chest, freezing the warm pulse of your heart as it jumps to your throat.
Banri turns. You’re afraid to. There’s a figure bearing down on the both of you—approaching fast with the rapid crunch of footsteps on gravel. Banri stops, murmurs your name outside of your concentration.
(You can see Naoki before you even turn. Can see the light tan of his curls—the calculating sharpness of his gaze. You recall the sting of his sneer—you wonder if it looks the same. It’s only been a year, after all.
How does he do it? How does he find you despite everything—despite disappearing into the cracks of the road with the stray grains of sand, wishing for them to bury you? How can he possess so many people at once: they have his posture, his gait, his voice, his hair, but they’re not him. All these things and more you cannot escape from, he is so ingrained into you, still.)
The footsteps grow louder. They’re right behind you. Words clog your throat. You cannot even think of moving: if you move, even the slightest twitch, his ghost will devour you. You imagine running, but your feet are frozen. You imagine running so fast you sprout wings. Leaving everything behind. Fleeing for a second time.
The man passes, calls out to some faceless stranger—you breathe, and imagine Naoki entering your lungs. His hair is a different color—a different shape. His build is different too, but if you shut your eyes, it could be just like him. The voice is close enough, but it’s not him. It’s not him.
You want to flee. You’re a statue even after the stranger with the voice of a devil disappears, down to the beach you’ve come to love, with the people you’ve grown accustomed to living with.
Banri leans into your space, mouth moving. The sun is too much. The waves are too much. You can hear every voice from the people on the beach. You try to breathe in, but the air squeaks down your throat and gets stuck in your trachea.
Unthinking, you grab Banri. He makes a startled noise, but you’re unable to let go despite the way he tenses at your touch. He speaks again, something that sounds like a question, but blood thunders in your ears and drowns out his words.
It wasn’t him, but his ghost was close behind. It wasn’t him, but your body remembers so well despite the prolonged absence of him.
This town is yours, you came here to escape this feeling. This town is yours, you’ve marked it as such in the months you’ve lived here—coming up a year in just a few months.
The town is yours, and he’s infecting it without setting foot near the perimeter.
“Are you okay?” Banri is asking. Your fingers tremble and curl into his sleeve. Your throat is dry.
“‘m f-fine,” you whisper. “I just… I need—” Your hands are shaking. A toxic mix of fear and anger and nausea shakes you, concentrates all of your attention to the contact point you have with Banri, fingers clenched tightly into his jacket. The rest of it becomes obsolete—useless noise as your body tries to recalibrate beyond the intense, whelming urge to shut down. Gravity pulls.
(You are not alone. You are a university student at a party, standing alone, crushing a drink can in your fist; you are screaming your throat raw, words that deflect uselessly from your mouth to his face, hardly leaving a mark despite your heart bleeding on the floor for him—because of him; you are wounded and naive and combusting, disgusting flesh that’s raw and touched by a man you wish you never met.)
“Breathe.”
Air shudders audibly into your lungs.
“You’re okay. Breathe. Slowly.”
Feeling seeps back into you. Your forehead presses into Banri’s chest, your fist locked tight. His voice bleeds into your skull with startling ease. It sounds like the ocean. It pulls you back, coaxes the blood to rush through you, tingling down your legs and to the very tips of your fingers. You feel pleasantly weightless, like sinking into a deep, still body of water. Dream-like and free, unshackled by the emotions that bludgeoned you before.
“Look at me… please.”
Eyes blinking open to the low sound of your name, your head tilts back to look up at him. Banri gazes at you with an open frown, his face worried and soft.
“Back with me?” he asks quietly. You take a trembling breath. Uncurl your fingers from his jacket, but can’t find it in yourself to step away just yet.
When the floaty sensation fades, it leaves you a little more grounded. It’s a distantly familiar feeling. You register the ocean next, the roaring hum of it settling deeply in your ears. You’ve felt this before, but you can’t remember where. The only time you recall feeling something close to it is in the far past: during your first meeting with Banri.
Why had you been so panicked to begin with?
Banri lifts a hand to touch your face. Instinct has you flinching away. His chest rises and falls with a breath.
Your lips part to speak. Banri is frowning, eyebrows knitted. His face is so gentle you could cry. Distantly, you realize you already are—eyes hot and wet and blurring the sight of him in front of you.
You lean into the tenderness, and he lets you. The sensation of it familiar and simultaneously foreign: Naoki had treated you like this once. Maybe once. It’s hard to remember.
“Are you alright?” Banri asks, lowers his hand.
Comfort gives way to a sinking feeling, one you can’t swallow despite Naoki nowhere to be found and Banri in front of you. There’s nothing around to hurt you, but you’re left with the distinct knowledge that you’re defenseless in this state.
“Y-yes,” you manage, voice ragged. Wet. “I’m… I’m okay. Thank you, Oogami-kun.”
Banri looks around. “We should go. Do you want to go back?” he asks.
You blink. Curl your toes. The sun is hot on your head and back.
“No, we should… We should still go,” you say breathlessly, wiping your eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m okay now. I can go. Let’s go.”
Banri’s eyes scan your face. Under the sun, they’re bright. Sharp.
His shoulders drop. He takes a breath. Offers a small smile. His face softens like he’s making a deliberate choice to relax.
“Alright,” Banri says, “let’s go. Tell me if you want to leave, okay?”
You can only nod.
(Later that night, he will talk to you over drinks.
“If there’s anything you ever want to talk about, I’d be happy to listen,” he’ll say. “It’s not good to keep things to yourself—sometimes being honest with other people is the first step.”
And you’ll sip your drink, wordless. Unwilling. Ruminating on the sensations that you’d felt earlier that day. Left with the lingering breathlessness of the attack.
But beneath it there’s another feeling, too—one that urgently pulls your attention, fighting the dreaminess of this floaty sensation. One that tells you to run.)
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Before the height of tourist season, you and Banri take advantage of the privacy of empty beaches to explore nearby tide pools. It is the only time Banri has volunteered to go with you.
The rocks are algae-covered and glisten in sharp light when you approach. They’re shambled together like a graveyard, rich with life—already you can spot bone-white barnacles and huge clusters of black-shelled mussels, varying in size as they cling to the ocean-soaked boulders.
(When you were a child, you used to love climbing them—leaping from rock to rock to flaunt your energetic abilities to your father. And it was hypnotic to traverse the uneven stretches of artificial land, to lose yourself in the dark, shadow divots and chase seagulls and scoop up unsuspecting crabs.)
As an adult, however—nearly two decades past the age of child-like springiness—the luxury of fearless curiosity has disappeared: you clamber tentatively from one rock to another, determined for the best view. Banri follows not far behind. There are a few others exploring—some children with buckets half-full of water, parents that watch from the flatter, dryer parts of the tide pools. The dormant little kid in you rejoices with a thunderous leap of your chest with every step.
The rocks are cool and rough beneath your palms, visions of slipping and injuring yourself too vivid to push away, but not discouraging enough to think about stopping. You’ll take this back. You’ll take it back and have it, and it’ll be yours again.
“See anything good?” Banri calls out. Crouched at the edge, you look around.
There’s life scattered everywhere: poisonous-looking sea anemones with their tens of haunting little arms; star fish of varying size and colors—you spot a particularly vibrant orange one just out of reach, the surface of the pool undisturbed as it crawls.
“Yeah,” you say, stuffing the excitement back into your chest. “It’s been a while since i’ve done this. It’s nice.”
“It’s fun, right? There’s a lot of creatures you can see just from coming to this spot,” Banri says, picking a careful path along the drier rocks towards you. The water splashes behind you, foaming white and bubbly where open sea meets rock.
The bubble in your chest pops. You cannot stop the wide grin, nor the little laugh that filters out as he approaches.
“Yes! I’ve always loved visiting them when I was a kid. Though my mother never let me go too far, so I could never explore on my own. Oh!” Eyes drawn to a nearby spot, you stand carelessly. The algae beneath your feet slips.
“Ah, look out!”
Banri grabs you—it’s a miracle he doesn’t lose his footing, too, arms tight around your back. You might’ve called it a hug had it not hurt so much—his strength startling. The near accident on the pier had in no way prepared you for how impossible it was to wriggle out of his grip.
“Oogami-kun?” you stammer out, hands fisting in his shirt. His grip does not loosen nor does he indicate he’s heard you. A quiet noise of pain escapes, muffled into his shoulder. “Oogami-kun, this… this kind of hurts.” It’s hard to see his expression, but you’ve only known him to be this unnaturally unresponsive during the moments where he’s lost to the world around him.
This has never happened when you’re already touching him—his arms hardly budge despite your best efforts to escape. Rather than making sure you don’t fall, it’s almost as if he’s refusing to let go for another reason entirely—but to what end, you don’t know. The waves crash endlessly behind you.
“Oogami-kun,” you try, a little firmer. And then, when you’re met with silence, your voice rises: “Banri.”
He jolts, arms releasing you as if controlled by a switch. You take a gasping breath.
“…Sorry,” he says, sounding dazed. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what… Are you alright?” His expression is slack, almost alarmingly so, but he blinks, alertness returning to his face.
“Yes, I’m alright. Thank you for catching me, Oogami-kun,” you say. His head tilts, eyes fluttering a blink.
The clouds drift above your heads. “Let’s take our time,” he suggests lightly. “There’s a lot to see—it wouldn’t be right to rush the experience.” Wordlessly, you nod.
You separate. He lets go slowly, palms dragging along your arms. The hairs on your nape lift. The tilt of his body follows you, as if unwilling to put space, but he takes an audible breath, steps back.
There is much to see: crabs, little fish you cannot recognize by appearance, star fish and abalone. When the tide begins to spill over the rocks and the area attracts more visitors, you and Banri head back to his place for lunch.
He favors black kitchen gloves while cooking, you’ve noticed. He washes vegetables with them on, the rubber pulled as far as it’ll go on his wrists. These, too, stretch in places they haven’t before. You wonder if he does hand exercises.
“It makes prep go a little faster,” he explains. “My skin is sensitive to hot water. I prefer not to get wet while I’m cooking.”
You wash the rice again. You’re arm to arm at the sink, and though you aren’t trying to avoid touching him completely—a feat difficult with how little space there is in the kitchen—his own arm is a noticeable, nearby presence at all times, managing to touch you despite the moments when you lean to pour cloudy rice water into the sink. But when you look at him, curious, all he does is give you a little smile, unbothered by the proximity.
“Do you think the beaches will be crowded on Marine Day?” you ask over lunch, lifting a cup of tea to your lips.
Banri hums. “Most likely. It’s busy around that time every year. I like to watch from a distance.”
“You don’t like the activities?” you ask, surprised. “It’s always looked like a lot of fun. I hear they’re going to have a water gun tournament this year.”
His smile is sheepish. “I celebrate Marine Day my own way. I like to stay as dry as I can when there are lots of other people around.”
“Do you not like the crowds?” you ask, curious.
“Something like that. It’s troublesome to have to carry around a set of spare clothes. People usually go wearing swimsuits. Are you thinking of participating?” he asks.
You nod. “I was. It’s something I’d like to do at least once.”
“You should! Everyone that does really enjoys it,” he says, smiles. Brings a bowl of soup to his mouth.
“But… you won’t be there?” you ask. Banri’s head tilts.
“I may watch from the sidelines.”
You smile.
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That night, the two of you go out for drinks. The scene is lively and warm with the influx of visitors. An assortment of people filling the restaurant with chatter and laughter and celebration.
You share edamame with the first round of beers, a plate of grilled fins that Banri devours, a vigor you’ve only seen him eat fish with. His appetite has grown with the warm weather, too. You share yakitori and a whole grilled mackerel—the savory char of it satisfying on your tongue—though you gravitate towards the chicken and beef skewers in favor of letting him eat the fish, picking the bones clean.
“Nothing beats the food here!” Banri exclaims over the last dregs of his beer. The bridge of his nose is barely pink, but you’re already tipsy—holding up your chin with a hand, resting heavily on it. “Everything’s really tasty tonight.”
You hum, an easy smile on your face. “The town’s been lively ever since it got warmer. It’s like the place has come to life.”
Banri laughs. “That’s a good word for it. Tanaka-san has been really trying to impress his customers. It’s inspiring me to try out new dishes.”
“Will you need another guinea pig for them?” you ask lightly. His smile widens. Around you, the restaurant remains lively. Banri shares the occasional smile with a passing stranger.
“Well, if you’re offering I won’t say no. The dishes you tried last time are doing well at the café.”
You chuckle. “I’m glad. I was nervous about it, but if they’re being received well, that makes me happy. If anyone else had asked I don’t know if I would’ve done it. I’m glad it was you, Banri-san.” His head tilts. He’s looking at you, now, attention drawn in from the clamor of other people. “What is it?”
“You used my name again.”
The realization jolts you up out of the comfortably tipsy stupor. Most of the locals use some variation of his name: Banri or Ban with an assortment of honorifics. You’d called him by name earlier to break his trance, and it’d worked. But to have it slip out while the both of you are mostly coherent is embarrassing. It feels nice, though, solidifying your closeness with just one little word.
“Oh, sorry! I didn’t even realize—”
“It’s alright, you can feel free to use it,” Banri says, smiles. “We’re friends so… it makes sense.”
“…Okay.”
Your chest is fluttery, the same kind of feeling you get while looking down a long drop, or the kind you get before going on a thrill ride. It lingers throughout all of dinner. You wonder if the bar owners can see it in your smile when you and Banri duck out, satiated and comfortably tipsy.
Nearby is a pier—the two of you venture out to it. The sunset is vast and saturated—coloring the ocean to match and cloaking your bodies in warm light. Though you’ve not had the opportunity to visit every corner of the town just yet, this spot is familiar in a way you cannot quite place. Déjà vu guides you across long vertical planks, discolored by years of sunlight.
(A memory aches, too dull to be a hangover, too pressing to ignore. What have you forgotten?)
“This is one of my favorite spots,” Banri says, footsteps creaking. There’s a cluster of rocks on the right side of it, dark and damp and barnacle-kissed. “I often go for night walks here.”
Night walks. That sounds nice. If you recall correctly, you’d done something similar when you first moved here—too awake to sleep but too tired to unpack everything you’d brought in one go.
The ocean hisses as you stop, watching Banri’s back. He continues to walk, oblivious.
That’s right: you’d been tired. Tired and taking a break. That’d been the night before you met Banri. When you woke up in front of that little shop. You remember walking along the road, coaxed by the sound of the ocean. The lamps had been lit. And you…
You cannot remember anything that happened after that. But something had shifted within you. Made you feel weightless and dream-like. The exhaustion, probably.
The ocean calls to you like a song. You strain to listen, and dissect it for answers. It offers none.
“Is something wrong?” Banri asks. You stare him down the length of the pier.
“No I… I think I’m fine.”
“Is it the drinks? I didn’t think we went too overboard,” he muses. You crack a smile.
“You seem to be doing well, Banri-san.”
“My tolerance is quite good.” He smiles. “You get used to it when there are a lot of old men who like to go out drinking with one another.” He jabs a thumb in the direction of the bar. “When I first moved here they made bets over how fast it would take to get me drunk.”
“‘When you moved here’?” you parrot, approaching with the slight creak of wood. “I thought you grew up here, Banri-san.”
“Oh, I did! But then I moved out for university—ended up in a city just like you before I decided to move back.” His gaze turns towards the ocean. “The sea has always been like a second home to me. I guess it was just destiny that I move back.”
You hum. “That’s nice. Loving your home so much you can’t bring yourself to leave. I guess you were just destined to live beside the ocean.”
His brow furrows. Faced with his side profile, you cannot completely make out the expression on his face. But it looks wistful. A little sad.
“Yeah, something like that.”
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Marine Day arrives after a weekend of completely clear skies and thick, hot air.
True to his word, Banri never ventures onto the beach during its most populated hours. You recall seeing something similar on your visits to the aquarium—the fish that hide beneath shadowed branches and rocks and within the safety of drifting anemones—away from the prying eyes of visitors as they peer through the thick glass.
“I may join you when the crowd thins,” he says, gestures over to a wall of rocks. “I’ll watch from there.” It’s a safe distance from where the water gun tournament will be happening.
You part ways at one of the entrances to the beach. Banri waves as you head down, gathering with the hoard of people to throw nutrient-rich mud balls into the water. They cascade from people’s hands, plonking into the water, and you don’t even realize there’s a smile on your face until a friendly stranger meets your eyes to mirror the expression.
Surrounded by excitement, your heart jumps excitedly. Today is a day you’ll reclaim another part of yourself. The kid within you rejoices, cheering as more mud balls are thrown.
Volunteers come down to the beach to distribute water guns. A line forms to sign up, you join with your heart in your throat. Everyone in front and behind you is jittery. The kids are especially vocal, groups making bets amongst themselves as to who will win between them.
Those not participating scamper away. You want to try and look for Banri, but adrenaline pulses through your chest, makes it difficult to think of much else except the amount of people you can get with the size of your water gun.
The air is thick with tension. Your feet dig into the sand.
“Ready… go!”
Laughter and delighted shrieks erupt as the beach explodes with water. The sand beneath your feet gets soaked, your eyes squint against the spray of cold water. Distantly, you realize there are some people filming the chaos—grins wide and bright on their faces.
(You asked your mother only once if you could buy a water blaster from a store. She’d looked down her nose at you, haunted, and had simply taken your hand to pull you away from the display, her cool, lotioned fingers tight around your tiny wrist.)
Your fist is tight around the handle of your water gun, memorizing the feel of it. Triumphant. Your laughter joins the chorus of other voices. With blue skies reflecting so cleanly on the ocean, your hands wet and cold, you cannot stop.
When people start running out, more water is distributed. You take advantage of the pause in chaos to search for Banri, grin splitting wide when you see him, standing where he said he’d be—watching.
Water hits you directly in the back. A startled noise squeaks from your mouth. It’s one of the local kids—Haru, if you recall correctly—toothy grin wide as he goads you to chase him. Around you, people have begun to spread across the beach. You follow Haru without much thought, pumping your water gun to spray him.
People are spreading out, chasing and running along the length of the beach. You break off to run further up, away from the crowd.
“Banri-san!” you call out breathlessly, sand sticking to your legs and feet, water running down your calves.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks. You nod, breathless, serotonin smile bright and happy. “Everyone’s getting soaked. Did you bring a towel?”
“Ah, I forgot…” You falter, sheepish. Aware of what you must look like with your clothes completely wet. Banri laughs—the sound is warm and rich. Embarrassed by other oversight, blood rushes up your throat to your face.
“That’s what I thought. I brought one,” he says, holds it up. When you duck your head in thanks, water dribbles down your chin and nose into the sand. He sends you off with the promise of keeping the towel warm and dry.
At the very end of it all, some people simply run into the ocean in their clothes. You stay away in favor of meeting up with Banri after returning your water gun.
He’s got a listless expression on his face. The towel is sitting beside him, soaking up the sun. He’s unmoving, body in a trance, and when you get closer, you can hear that he’s humming. A song so quiet it’s difficult to hear over the roar of people and waves, but you can catch snippets if you listen closely.
Déjà vu grabs you in its maw, and refuses to let go. But it’s strange and unwarranted: you’ve never heard this song before, not from Banri, at least. It sounds unlike anything you’ve heard before: beautifully haunting, sinking into your bones. Makes it difficult to focus.
“Banri-san?” you ask. Water drips from your clothes. He continues to hum. You want to touch him—to bring him back, but your body is soaked; you don’t want to get him wet. You murmur an apology and take the towel of your own volition, wiping your hands completely dry before wrapping it around your shoulders. You do feel sorry for the cold touch of your hand—brushing against his cheek without much thought.
At first, you fear it doesn’t work. He leans into the touch, eyes fluttering. And then, his eyes go round, and he jumps back, a hand snatching your wrist.
“It’s okay—I dried off a little,” you tell him, registering the alarm in his expression. “Are you alright, Banri-san?”
Rather than answer, his eyes drop to where his fingers are wrapped around your wrist. Your pulse jumps. You wonder if he can feel it.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” he says finally, releases you. “Had fun?” He smiles.
“Lots,” you say, pulling the thick fabric tighter around you. A breeze passes over the beach. You shiver. He chuckles. “You weren’t too bored, were you?”
“Don’t worry—it was fun watching everyone,” he says, brushes sand from his pants. “The beach is completely soaked now.”
“Yeah,” you say, taking a seat beside him on the wall. “You were humming something—what is that song? I’ve never heard it before.”
Banri falters. “I was?” he asks. “I didn’t realize.” He fixes you with a strange smile. “That’s a little embarrassing—usually I do it when I’m alone. Was it terrible?”
“No, no, not at all. It was quite nice. Familiar, I think?” You frown. “Though I don’t think you’ve ever sung that before. I didn’t even know you could sing.” It sounds a little rude, but he laughs all the same.
“It’s not something I do often.” The two of you watch as the beach gets cleared of water guns, volunteers carrying bags of them away. Much of the beach-goers filter out, likely to find a dry change of clothes. “Oh, that’s right—I’ve got a book to pick up tomorrow morning. Want to come with me?”
“A book?”
“I ordered it through one of the bookstores here,” he says. “It just came today. It’s a cookbook. There are a lot of tasty-looking recipes in there, so I thought I’d try it.”
Chest light, enamored by the gentle picture his smile makes, you nod. “I’d love to go with you.”
“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, “Tanaka-san is supplying me with some really nice fish—I’ll use them in some of the recipes I try.”
You laugh. “I look forward to it.”
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The sky is completely grey when you walk to the bookstore with Banri. This one you haven’t been to, yet—the one run by Sato much more convenient. But the view is nice, and he talks to you about which recipes he’ll try first.
It’s situated next to a little antique store. A prolonged stare has you realizing this is the shop you woke up at all those months ago. Thinking about it—you never got a chance to properly thank the owner for their help. Hopefully they’re here today, maybe you can pop in after Banri gets his book.
“Shall we go somewhere for lunch?” Banri suggests when he’s finished speaking to the shop owner. “Tanaka-san still hasn’t returned, but maybe—” Banri’s phone rings. “Ah, sorry, this’ll just be a moment.” He ducks out of the store. You see him pass the window and decide to check the antique shop.
There’s a little table of dishes set out—the white and blue of them nearly blinding despite the greyed out sky. There’s a stack of old leather briefcases. That bench is still there, tucked beneath the awning.
“Oh, hello there.”
You jump. The man standing in the doorway has a slight frame, hands folded behind his back. He’s got a kind, sunken face with high cheekbones.
“Ah, hello.” You bow and introduce yourself. “Are you the owner of this shop?”
“Nah, that’s Take-chan. He’s out ’n about somewhere. You can call me Suzuki,” he says, waves you off with a friendly little grin. “You’re the one Ban-chan helped all that while ago.”
Ban-chan. The nickname makes you smile. “Yes, that was me.”
“I’ve seen the two of you hanging out a lot. Are ya together?” He winks.
Your eyes blow wide. “To-togeth—ah, no, no it’s not like that. We’re friends. Um, we actually became friends after what happened at this shop. Oh, is, um… ‘Take-chan’ here today? I never got a chance to properly thank him.”
“Ah, don’t worry—Take-chan’s not the kind of person to worry about that. He’ll be happy to hear Ban-chan’s been keepin’ an eye on you. He seemed pretty worried when he brought you over to Take-chan’s shop—I remember the face he was makin’. He was real relieved when you woke up.”
You frown, curious. “Banri-san did? But… I thought that the one to help me was this shop owner here.”
“Hm? Where’d you hear that? Ban-chan’s the one that found you—over by that pier there.” Suzuki gestures down to the beach—to the pier you and Banri were at last night. You can see a hint of it from here, those long, sun-washed planks. “Said he found you passed out and asked Take-chan if you could stay here until you woke up.”
Cold seeps under your clothes despite the late July heat.
It’s coming back now—the memory of it: you’d woken up on the bench and Banri had approached you with a bottle of water. He’d approached you, and said the shop owner had found you. Had given no indication that it’d really been him all along. But what would he gain by telling you that? By lying?
Emotion, ugly and visceral, rear in your chest.
(The night before, you’d gone for a walk at the pier. You’d passed out. Banri brought you here. But you don’t recall seeing him. Where had he found you? What had he done?
“You’ve always been easy,” Naoki had told you once, before you found the strength to run. “Easy to please, easy to fool. I hope you stay that way forever.”)
Footsteps turn the corner.
“Sorry about that—Tanaka-san wanted to update me on the fish.” Banri’s voice registers belatedly. You don’t want to turn. Suzuki smiles, though, raises a hand to greet him.
“Ban-chan! There you are! Thought I’d be seeing you, what with this one here an’ all.” Suzuki gestures to you. You hardly hear him, lost in the echo of Naoki’s voice. “Good on you, Ban-chan—lookin’ after ‘em all this time. Miura wants to say hi. Take-chan’ll be upset he just missed you.”
“Takeshi-san does love to go on walks,” Banri offers lightly. He calls your name.
Each thread of muscle in your body feels tight. Slowly, you turn to face him. The emotions twisting in your chest are not as secretive as you thought—you know just from a glance that Banri can tell something is wrong. It’s obvious with the way his shoulders droop—the movement slight. But he still keeps his smile, the one Suzuki expects.
You look away. “It was nice to see you Suzuki-san. We’ve got to get going now,” Banri says, smile a perfect deception—fitting for the shrewd and cunning creature he is. Suzuki smiles back, completely fooled.
“Always good to see you, Ban-chan. Your friend, too. Come by the shop anytime.”
Your feet begin taking you back up the road. It’s a subconscious movement, one you don’t realize is happening until your ears pick up the sound of Banri’s quickened footsteps, hurrying to catch up.
“Tanaka-san updated me about the fish,” Banri says, voice light. “He says they’ll be here even earlier tomorrow than I thought. That’s great: it’ll give us time to marinate—”
Your feet stop abruptly, turning you to forcefully meet his gaze.
“You lied to me.”
His expression turns neutral. You can’t decide what would be worse: for him to deny it, or to try and make it up to you.
He does neither.
“I did,” he says. You suck in a breath. In the end, you prefer his silence.
Under the sky, shadowed in clouds, his eyes are washed out and foggy. Unbidden, a spidery chill caresses along your arms and spine.
“You lied to me,” you repeat, stricken. “What happened? What happened to being honest, Oogami-san?” you ask bitterly, and watch his posture go still with the formality. The angry tears that sting your eye are sweet in their poisonous familiarity. You’re glad his hand is hidden by the book. You’re terrified of looking at his ring finger. “Oogami-san, tell me the truth…”
There’d always been something in the back of your mind—things that didn’t quite line up: his insistence to stay dry, the way he spaced out staring at the ocean. His teeth—just too sharp. The floaty sensations you’ve felt, you’ve only ever felt with him around.
You straighten your spine, swallow your heart, and ask: “What are you?”
He doesn’t answer. You wonder if he can answer. If he has the words but prefers to watch you flail, watch you make a fool of yourself like you have been for nearly a year.
The leap happens without your consent. Your brain splits off a dozen paths and pours out of you.
(You recall a passage you’d read, once, about forest fires. How, though the destruction seems mindless and pollutes the air with ash and smoke, the result leaves the soil richer with nutrients for surviving seedlings to grow. Because though its parent is merciless, the child feeds on the destruction left behind. Uses it to grow stronger, for the next generation of forest.
You remember this, and cannot breathe. Because smoke and ash are clogging up your lungs, your throat—and the fire licking up your chest is twisting every ugly part of you to a perfect ruin.)
A wet breath hitches from your mouth. “What else is there?” you ask, with no intention of letting him answer. “Are you also going to tell me you’re engaged, too? That I was entertaining to fling around? That… that I’ve been living in a fantasy this entire time? Was it fun to watch me deceive myself?”
Banri blinks. His expression softens with understanding. You hate it. You hate that you know what he’s piecing together, hate that Naoki is still integrated so deeply into you that you’re using him to speak to Banri like this. Hate that you’re still desperate for Banri to say it was all a misunderstanding.
“Do you think I would?” he asks plainly.
No, is the immediate answer that comes to mind, but the past is floating, inflating, threatening to swallow you whole, and your eyes squeeze shut, turning away to relieve yourself of the foreign look on his face.
“I don’t know,” you whisper, arms wrapping tightly around yourself. “I don’t know.”
“I wouldn’t,” Banri says, quiet and sincere. “This,” he gestures at himself, “I wanted to keep secret. But I would never treat you like a backup. You would never be a backup.”
You look at him for truth, but the past is reaching a fever pitch, clogging your throat.
“I don’t know,” you settle on. “I don’t know you, Oogami-san. I don’t think I ever did.”
You don’t know what fire will be strong enough to eat up the emotions growing in your chest. And you’re terrified to find out, when the fire dies down again, what will be left to sprout in its wake. It licks the oxygen you breathe, grows stronger—hot and fierce in your lungs.
“Come with me,” Banri says, halting its destructive frenzy just enough for you to frown at him, confused. “There’s something I want you to see.”
Your mouth purses. “Why should I?”
“You don’t have to forgive me for lying. I shouldn’t have. But I want to show you why I did. If you’ll let me.”
Dread sinks into your gut. It would be so wretchedly easy to walk away. But he’s not Naoki, and you want things to be different.
You turn to look at the ocean—at the waves crashing and roaring together, and urge it to siphon the bitterness threatening to choke you. The gulls sing.
“…Okay,” you say, voice tight. “I’ll go with you.”
The walk is silent. You recognize where he takes you right away: the cave he guided you out of all those months ago. You don’t think you could’ve forgotten it even if you tried.
“Watch your head,” he says. He lets you enter first. “It’s… this might be a lot to take in, but please. Listen.” Sheltered in the cave, his voice echoes with the ocean.
Venturing in, stepping carefully over semi-dry algae-coated rocks, you note the separation of high tide, where the water will come to flood over the sand, leaving the higher points of the walls dry and untouched. The rock walls are jagged and spotted with tiny ocean snails and barnacles, scraping against the pads of your fingers.
Cool, shadowed sand sinks beneath your shoes. The deeper inside you venture, the more concentrated the sound is—the dulled roar of the ocean and the gentle swooping whistle of wind creating a harmony.
Months ago, Banri had so graciously let you hold onto him, eyes squeezed shut, and you hadn’t questioned what he was doing there or why he seemed so undisturbed when you mentioned spotting a huge, terrifying dark shape in the water. Your heart smoulders.
Inside the cave is salty and a bit musky—the smell of it familiar and comforting despite the circumstances. There’s an opening in the wall that allows light to stream in. That rope you were sure had been for the children to climb out of it without getting wet is still there, coiling on the ground.
It’s a sizable space, and could easily fit at least fifteen people. Had you been younger, you would’ve turned this place into a sanctuary.
Banri sheds his jacket onto the sand, tosses the book onto it. Then, his hands reach for the hem of his shirt. Your hands come up to cover your eyes instinctively, but he speaks again, imploring.
“Please, don’t look away.”
Heart in your throat, your hands lower.
Banri turns a melancholy little smile to you, and steps into the water. It ripples around his calves as he walks, and then he collapses with a splash.
You rush forward with a startled noise, uncaring of the water that greedily soaks your clothes up past the knee. Your mother would have a fit if she saw.
She might’ve said something to you before, but her words hold little importance now.
“Oogami-san—” He comes up, and your heart catches: his legs are gone.
In their place is a tail, deep blue scales reflecting beneath the surface. They shimmer and reflect light that can’t reach this part of the cave. When he moves, you catch sight of the dorsal fin on his back. You think back to the creature you saw near this very cave last year.
Your knees give out, dropping you into the water. It swallows you up to the waist. Banri glides forward. He doesn’t look hurt or betrayed by your reaction.
“That… that creature I saw,” you say, numb. “That was you?” Banri nods. A hand presses to your forehead, remembering. “The… in the bathroom. Did you…?”
“If I get wet, I transform like this,” he explains. His tail—his tail—lifts. Water dribbles off his fins, down those vividly beautiful scales. “When I washed my hands, I changed.”
“When we went fishing,” you recall, staring. “The wave came up, and you… you didn’t let it touch you.” Your gazes meet. “You said you prefer fish.” Banri reaches out, takes your hand to pull it away from your face.
“I can eat more than fish,” he says quietly. “But I don’t need to prepare it. Not like how humans do.”
Humans. Banri isn’t human. He never was. He’d saved the heads and bones of those fish. You recall the sharp peak of his teeth and shudder.
“You swam during winter,” you say, almost accusingly. Banri smiles. The sight of it makes you ache. A pleasant throb in the center of your chest, it flickers with enough strength to physically move you. The water ripples.
“I have to return periodically, or it’s painful,” he says. “It makes living as a human difficult, but I make it work.” The parts of his hair that breach the water flow around him. You resist the urge to run your fingers through it.
“Is that why you moved back here?” you ask quietly, sinking into the water.
His head tilts. “Yes, partially. Before, when I lived in the city, I’d fill my bath with salt. But it’s not the same—it never could be. I moved back here as soon as I could after I finished school.”
You nod, digest the information. You can imagine it—Banri, desperately filling a bath and chucking as much salt as he could into it. The agony of trying to turn the city into a home but being unable to resist the call of the sea. How difficult it must have been for him.
The water that fills the cave laps around your waist. It’s still cloudy, but there are blue spots that show around the grey.
“I always thought I’d live and die in the city,” you say, gaze distant. “I thought I’d get married to my first boyfriend. But he—” The words get stuck. You want to force them out, to tear them from your mouth in spite of the damage they’ll leave behind. “He didn’t want the same,” you settle for, “and I ran away.”
That fire you will remember for the rest of your life: will remember how the flames scorched you from the inside out, left you a trembling and fearful mess. You will never forget it, but things will grow in its aftermath anyways. As it always will. As it started to when you first met Oogami Banri.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “That must’ve been hard.” You nod, blink back tears.
“Oogami…-kun,” you whisper, voice trembling. “What happened a year ago? What did you… what happened?”
Banri’s gaze drifts to his reflection. The silence stretches.
“I was singing,” he says. Your fingers are wrinkling. You bend your knees to prop them up. “I was singing on that pier, and you passed by. My song, it—it’s not meant for people to hear. It’s supposed to—” His mouth shuts. Face pinched with embarrassment. “It’s supposed to attract them.”
“You didn’t know I was there,” you conclude. Banri nods.
“I didn’t know what to do—I thought it’d hurt you.”
“It didn’t hurt when I woke up,” you tell him. “Learning all of this later hurts more than if I’d known from the beginning.”
It’s not an accusation—not really. Banri hovers closer.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers, face honest. “I didn’t think we’d become so close. I didn’t think…” He raises a hand, hovers it near your cheek. Eyes wet, you allow yourself to lean the rest of the way. His hand is cold. A little slippery. “I’m sorry.”
“Banri-san,” you say. He drifts even closer, filling much of your vision. “I can’t say if I forgive you yet,” you tell him honestly, haltingly. “But I understand why you did.” You loose a breath. “Thank you. For telling me.”
His eyes flutter shut. He clings to you, and you to him. His mouth presses against your shoulder—douses the flames. He enjoys the shivers that roll through you—water pushing them deeper. You’ll have to get out soon.
But you want to remain here for as long as possible. You stroke a hand down his back—feeling the fins there: the strong line of them hard like bone against gentle fingers. To crush the embers. Banri exhales, fingers pressing shallow indents into your skin. His tail glides through the water, brushes against your calves.
“Thank you,” he says into your neck. “I’m sorry.”
You shiver. The water has finally cooled you completely.
“I was actually in a band once,” he says. That startles the tears right out of you.
“A band?” you ask, chest fluttering with quiet laughter. Banri nods, pulls away look at you.
“In high school. But I stopped after an incident. It left me a scar,” he says, gestures to his face with his hand. “It’s… it’s been a long time since I’ve seen the people I used to sing with.”
“Did you ever sing to them like you sung that day on the beach?” you ask. He smiles.
“No. It’s like any other skill you have to develop. I just never got the chance to. I like to think our band was pretty good, though.”
Your eyes drift up to the spot he pointed out. Curious, you reach up to stroke hair out of his face. Wanting a better look. Banri grabs your hand.
“It’s—sensitive,” he says haltingly.
“I’m sorry,” you apologize. “Does it still hurt?”
“No, nothing like that. It’s. Well, it doesn’t really happen with humans but our… biology is a little different.”
Your head tilts. Banri had gotten unusually sleepy when winter hit. And after the snow had melted, he’d been lively again. Like when fish’s body processes slow during winter, and they are content to float beneath the frozen surfaces of lakes. And though you do not know how much Banri shares with the creatures you are familiar with, you do know that some fish, like most other creatures, eventually reach an age mature enough to mate.
“Oh,” you say belatedly, face going warm. He nods. “Can I… can I still touch you? Just to look at it, I mean,” you add.
He hesitates. Nods. “You can.” His fingers dig into the sand when you touch him. He leans into your hand so firmly you think he’s trying to push you away. But his jaw trembles when you tuck hair behind his ear, brushing his bangs away to look at the scar.
It’s almost completely faded. You have a hard time seeing it in the cave lighting. But you run a careful, feather-light thumb over what you can see. Quiet air hitches in Banri’s nose.
“Is something wrong? You look worried,” he says.
The muscles in your face loosen. “No, it’s just…”
Banri smiles. “You can ask me anything. I won’t mind.”
Teeth dig into your cheek. “Others like you… have you met them?” you ask, almost afraid to hear the answer. “Are you… are you lonely?”
He blinks, expression softening. Turning wistful. He lifts your hand to press his mouth to your knuckles.
“No,” he murmurs. “No, not since you.”
You blink wetness away.
“Yeah,” you say, managing a smile. “Me too.”
Water licks further up your waist. High tide is approaching. You move to stand. Banri follows, lingers a moment longer, flashes the delicate, shimmering membrane of his fins for you to gaze at.
“I don’t want to separate,” he admits. Emboldened by the water, finally allowed to touch him, you reach out to cup his face in your hands, thumbs smoothing across his cheeks.
“We don’t have to stop forever,” you tell him. “Let’s get something to eat, Banri-san. Like before.”
He smiles, leans into your touch. Absorbs the ash.
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lucyjung · 3 years
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Mermaid AU Yellow and Blue
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rueitae · 3 years
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Writing Roundup 2020
This is a writing reflection I’ve been doing for myself every year for the last four years. Its a positive boost to myself see how far I’ve come and look back on my progress for the past year and look forward to the new year. 
Everyone is welcome to use this same format if they’d like to do the same! 
~~~~~~~
Stats:
Words written:
330,000, which is nearly half of all the words I’ve written on Ao3 in the last three years. 
One Shots Posted (all fics plance unless otherwise stated):
In the Arms of the Ever(pink?) Tree (4463 words)
For the Plance Secret Santa exchange. Post s8 date/not date on a snowy moon. Love confession. 
Birthday Treats (2129 words)
For Pidge’s birthday this year! Domestic family fluff, breakfast in bed, plance kids.
Begin Again (Together) (4805 words)
Canon divergence from before episode one! Pidge and Lance are established dating when alien intervention brings them to where they are supposed to be: with the Blue Lion. Just a brief look into what the AU would look like. 
Common Ground (4521 words)
A treat for my friends who introduced me to Magic Knight Rayearth and pointed out some fun character parallels. There is this beautiful art Arya made to go with it because we’re all trash for both series. Plance meet up with Fuu and Ferio post series for both couples. 
Bonded To You (1808 words)
For the Langstron Halloween Exchange! Established plance with a baby Lance is trying to keep safe from a witch who would take advantage of the child’s heritage. 
It Tasted Good (6785 words)
Pikelavar for Pikelavar Month! The premise is crack, but it's mostly treated seriously. Pike ate the Jewel of Jitan by accident and doesn’t realize it until Haggar finds them. Meklavar gets Protective.
The Remainder of Days (3188 words)
Part of my Bad Things Happen Bingo. Fantasy AU where Pidge is a minor forest goddess and Lance is her neighbor mortal farmer. 
I Love You a Lily More Each Day (3232 words)
Another of the Bad Things Happen Bingo. Canon compliant where Lance is undercover at a flower shop and knee deep in an illegal smuggling operation. 
Lease on Life (4978 words)
This one was also part of Bad Things Happen Bingo and was an experiment. It’s POV of an oldest plance kid, canon verse. Her parents’ Paladin days come back to haunt them one night. Some cute family stuff too in there. 
Ready to Dance (4135 words)
For the Valentine’s Day exchange! Post series. Lance tries to get back into the party scene and Pidge rescues him from a disastrous night. 
Loopholes (5476 words)
Technically I didn’t write this fic this year, but a very kind reader asked if I would post this to Ao3, so it was my first fic of the year on Ao3. It’s Lotura! Originally a gift for a dear friend I’ve had since elementary school. It’s a fantasy AU where Lotor stumbles into Allura’s kingdom needing help. 
Next to Me (7311 words)
Also for Bad Things Happen Bingo, this is probably one of my favorite fics of the year. This is the canon verse AU that went all wrong in s7, and Sendak succeeds in destroying Earth. Lance and Pidge end up not only his prisoners, but also two of the last humans in the universe. Ends open ended, but it became a series in the end!
Into Me (14248 words)
The sequel to the above fic. There are two versions, this and the one below. The title tells all. Lance and Pidge come to terms with their new life aboard Sendak’s flagship and do their best to keep the other comforted.
Into Me (non-explicit version) (7228 words)
Exactly the same as the fic above, only this one is SFW
Sunshine (3831 words)
A Bad Things Happen Bingo! One of my favorite concepts. Canon verse. Pidge gets sick while she and Lance are on a scientific mission. 
Showoff (635 words)
A really short fic for a friend on their birthday, featuring their plance kids!
Respite of the Heart (4181 words)
A fic I have been wanting to write for a very long time. I love the concept of Pidge as a Disney Princess in the sense she has the forest guardian theme and all these animals love her. So there’s some play on that as the Paladins stop for lunch on their journey back to Earth in early s7. Lance comes to a realization and they have a chat surrounded by the animal friends. @anchoredtetherart did a phenomenal piece to accompany it. Please look at it in awe here.
The Hardest Part (3960 words)
For Bad Things Happen Bingo! An AU of the episode The Reunion where Pidge doesn’t return when she’s supposed to. 
A Planned Sacrifice (4988 words)
Another Bad Things Happen Bingo. Canon verse. Pidge assumes that being a sacrifice for the ‘forest god’ is strictly ceremonial and at worst a wild animal. It’s actually Sendak, who no one has seen since Shiro shot him out of the Castle. He remembers Pidge and is far too pleased to see her again, tied up on a silver platter. 
Almost Forgotten, but Not Gone (3946 words)
Bad Things Happen Bingo. AU sometime in s1 where Haxus isn’t as dead as Pidge thought. 
Touch (7519 words)
Written for the Lance Goes Boom bang! It was inspired by @fenixseraph ‘s amazing art here! It’s a different take on The Way Forward, where Pidge and Lance are separated from the rest of the team and placed in their own cell. And the Red Lion causes issues. 
Chaptered Fics started/added to:
Wolf In Thieves’ Clothing (4516 words)
An AU of The Castle of Cagliostro from Lupin the Third series. Lee, you have my thanks forever for making me watch this finally. Pidge is a literal princess whose kingdom is in the middle of an internal coup. Lance is a gentleman thief who rides with his best buds Hunk and Matt. Their paths are destined to cross again when Lance goes back to the castle he used to call home. 
Game of Love (4593 words)
The most crack of the bunch. AU of Fall the of the Castle of Lions where Sendak and Haxus get away with it all. Pidge and Lance are prisoners on Haxus’ new ship, and Lance finds an opportunity for eventual escape when he learns that Haxus has a crush on his second in command. Operation matchmaker begins. (happy ending planned for all)
What Tides May Bring (20704 words)
Collab with the fantastic @anchoredtetherart for MerMay! Established plance as mermaids and guardians of their elements with adorable mer child. Then angst because they are all captured by a ‘research’ institute. 
Seasons of Magic (16546 words)
I actually added a chapter this year! Ongoing collection of one-shots with mage Pidge who lives in the country and cultivates her plant magic and makes potions with the assistance of her dragon familiar, Lance. Mostly domestic fluff. 
Too Soon and Not Soon Enough (11438 words)
Added another chapter this year to my Keith-centric AU. It’s basically VLD but five years early and they’re all literally child Paladins. Keith gets to meet Krolia earlier and its fun to go into tween friendships as they try and navigate the reality of their situation. 
Seeds (48833 words)
Added a ton earlier this year. A collection of plance fics all or mostly under 500 words. All meant to be adopted by others if interest strikes. Covers many genres.
Chaptered Fics Finished:
Resolve to Fly (75799 words)
Written for the Pidge Angst Bang. My artist @alchemie0 did an outstanding job capturing the feel of the fic. Look at the art here! Canon verse AU where Pidge encounters Haxus, who has crashed on Earth. She helps him repair his ship in excitement and good faith, which he pays back by kidnapping her. For two years she survives as little more than a housepet on Sendak’s ship. Gen.
Who's Protecting Who? (28989 words)
Also technically not written this yeah, but posted. A collab with Hush waaaay back in 2018. It's a plance Altean AU with Pidge as distant royalty and Lance as a bodyguard.
A Dish Served Cold (21533 words)
Finally finished this one! Canon verse in which Pidge accidentally runs into Sendak on an isolated planet. Sendak takes advantage of this encounter and tries to return to the Empire with her in tow. Much Pidge whump. Gen
Reflections: 
Best title 
I still really really love Too Soon and Not Soon Enough (11438 words). Because it's too soon for the Paladins to be Paladins, and for Keith it's not nearly soon enough for Krolia to return. It just feels like it has a lot of heart to it. I hope I can keep it going, but my ideas are incredibly scattered for it. 
Worst title 
Touch (7519 words). Yeah it’s a play on ‘Don’t you touch her’ but it feels soooo dry. 
Best/worst last line
Best: This was really, really hard choice this year, but ultimately, making up for the terrible title, its Touch (7519 words) 
“It feels good to escape the ship with all of his teammates, secure in the knowledge that he has a way forward not just as a Paladin, but also with Pidge.” 
- Not only did I manage to fit the title of the episode in there, it's got that hopeful tinge to it and reflects on personal growth both internally and with Pidge. 
Worst: This one isn’t necessarily bad from Begin Again (Together) (4805 words), but it could be better. It didn’t get quite the epic sense I was hoping to pull from it.
“Okay,” he smirks, hand firmly on the throttle. “Operation save Earth starts now.”
Looking back, did you write more fics than you thought you would this year, less than you thought, or about what you predicted?
Definitely wrote way more. Even with posting two fic that are essentially the exact same, I still ended up writing nearly half of my total Ao3 word count this year. (330,000/670,000). Doing Bad Things Happen Bingo was a bit part of that - I was very inspired at the beginning of this year - but also there were many events I participated in (8 total!!) on top of my personal projects. 
What’s your favorite story this year? Not the most popular, but the one that makes you the happiest.
A really hard decision this year, because there are several that make me really happy. I think oddly enough though, it’s Game of Love (4593 words) because of its potential and how much crack it is. It has such whacky rom-com energy to it but also that underlying angst of the situation I can fall back on. My favorite trope to explore is what happens to the characters when they’re captured. I just really enjoy the concept and the challenge to make such a concept believable with minimal suspension of belief. 
Okay, NOW your most popular story.
Using kudos as my gauge (and not counting the chapter fics), the winner is: 
Respite of the Heart (4181 words)
Not surprising because Ivy’s art is STUNNING.
Story most underappreciated by the universe?
I think that’s It Tasted Good (6785 words), the pikelavar fic. Pikelavar is underappreciated in general
Story that could have been better?
For all I was excited to write Sunshine (3831 words), it didn’t quite fall the way I had imagined in my mind. I don’t know if it was the structure or I was running out of steam or what. All i know is that I wanted more but all I could concentrate on was that scene where he’s caring for her in bed. Maybe I was just too ambitious.
Sexiest story?
No brainer it's Into Me (14248 words). Literally. Which really shocked me that it happened. Didn’t think I’d write any smut at all, let alone this year. This particular fic just kinda called out for it 
Saddest story?
The prequel to the above fic: Next to Me (7311 words). How much more sad can you get than Earth being destroyed, being Sendak’s prisoners all while trying to tell each other ‘i love you’ without seeming weird because you’re the last humans in the universe. 
Most fun?
I think it's Ready to Dance (4135 words). Just Valentine’s fluff and impromptu slow dancing in the park at night. 
Story with single sweetest moment?
I’m picking What Tides May Bring (20704 words). Listen, mer Lance and mer Pidge playing with their mer baby in their domestic paradise is probably one of my favorite things I’ve ever written. Dad Lance has my heart. 
Hardest story to write?
The last chapter of A Dish Served Cold (21533 words) was like pulling teeth. I’m pretty happy with it in the end but at the time man it was so hard. 
Did you take any writing risks this year? What did you learn from them?
I wrote smut. It was...weird? But also strangely calming. I wrote more for another fic but it's still a WIP. I definitely need to be in the mood to write it. 
Proudest Achievement:
The Pidge Angst Bang. Resolve to Fly (75799 words). Look at that word count. I only wanted something under 3k at first, so it was just going to be Pidge meeting Haxus. But by the time I finished that part it was already 10k. So even though I was going through a rough part of my life, I just kept going and it ended up being my therapy. I’m really proud of the fic and I love my artists’ pieces. It really lifted my spirits. (You should all really go check out the Ao3 collection of all the bang stories and art they are AMAZING you won’t regret. If you love Pidge angst they are all must reads.)
What are your fic writing goals for next year?
I’d like to finish my Bad Things Happen Bingo card and then focus on my current WIP, that includes the Seeds collection. There are days I still feel a bit overwhelmed, and I’m still trying to find a routine after moving. I’d like to do more events too, but I think I need to be more selective about which ones I do. I don’t want to burn myself out. 
Apart from that, I’d really like to try and give back to the community more. I’d like to start consciously writing fics for others without an event to go by. 
Past Years:
2017
2018
2019
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lazella · 4 years
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Mermay 2020 Day 4: Adjustment Period
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Coral was definitely a woman who loved her simple village life. She married Maury who lived to fish and worked on making their house a home. She gave birth to a son who was following in his father’s footsteps to become a fisherman as well. Though raising Ronan had its ups and downs. When he was a boy, Ronan loved looking for the oddest things to bring home. At first it was just odd shaped rocks and shells, but then she had to put her foot down when he started bringing animals home. Coral had hoped that he had grown out of that fascination when he got older.
But he just had to bring an honest to god mermaid home!!!
Now Coral wished that Ronan just brought in another two-legged cat again. At least you can look up ways to take care of such an animal. No such luck with mermaids. The young mermaid seemed rather intelligent but just awkward, no doubt confused by her surroundings. With it being so late, all Coral could do was to make the couch into a makeshift bed and see what sort of seafood they had to make a late supper.
Ida didn’t seem to mind. She loved the feeling of the blankets and was amazed with the electric blanket when she was shown how it worked.  Maury got to talk about how electricity works for a good hour as Ida thought it was just magic. Ronan showed her books and began teaching her how to read English. No doubt she was going to need some entertainment until they could find a solution to her mobility problem.
They enjoyed a meal of crab cakes and vegetables which they found that mermaids really love seafood. Ida explained that much of her diet consisted of seafood…raw seafood that is. Thankfully she enjoyed the cooked version. Coral was going to have to look into their food budget as they were going to have to get a lot more fish in the house. Maybe there was a place that delivered sushi somewhere.
It was the next morning, Ronan and Maury already left to get an early start on their daily fishing so that they could help Ida settle in later. Coral rose herself not too long afterwards and went to check on Ida. The mermaid was all wrapped up in the blankets sleeping soundly. Deciding to let the girl sleep, Coral went to set up an extravagant bath. Sooner or later Ida would notice the dried salt on her skin and her hair all messy and tangled. Looks like the first thing on the agenda was hair and skin care lessons.
Once that bath was full of hot water and bubbles, Coral went down to get breakfast going, breakfast fish tacos to be precise. Coral counted on the smell to rouse Ida so they could get their day going. Taking the finished plate, Coral placed the meal on the coffee table allowing the scent to fill the room. The effect was instantaneous, Ida sat upright wide awake.
“What smells amazing?!” Ida asked looking around.
“Breakfast my dear.” Coral held up the plate, “I bet you are hungry.”
The plate was completely spotless in minutes, “This is only my second meal on land…and already I think human cooking is the best thing in the world.”
“I’ll take those compliments to heart.” Coral smiled.
Ida then realized that there were some people missing, “Where are Ronan and Maury?”
“They went to the docks to get an early start to the day’s fishing.” Coral explained, “You see, fishermen need to work every day during the fishing season to make good money as the markets only buy fresh fish. If they catch too much in one day and it doesn’t sell, the fish could spoil and that’s wasted money.”
Ida nodded taking in the information, “And this is their work everyday?”
“There are some parts of the year where they don’t fish. Certain types of fish are only available in certain parts of the year. Also, it’s against the law to fish out of season. Fishing too much can hurt the fish population.”
Ida mulled over the information, “That explains why I see shadows of boats in only certain parts of the year. So this is a fishing day for them?”
“It is. But since they got an early start, they’ll come back early. Ronan was really excited to spend more time with you.” Coral teased.
A small blush creeped across Ida’s face. “So…what do I do now?”
“First things first, you are getting a bath.” Coral continued knowing Ida was going to ask more questions, “A bath is a necessity for living on land as we are not constantly in the water. You’re probably feeling the dry salt on your skin and you’re gonna have to learn how to take care of your hair.”
Ida held up the now rather tangled mane of her hair, “I suppose so.”
“My dear…let me introduce you to the wonder of bath time.” Coral grinned.
Let’s just say that Ida was in the bath for a good two hours. Turns out mermaids had no idea that water could be hot or could make bubbles. It took some time for Coral to help Ida scrub every inch of her as well as under her scales. Then it was time to tame the massive head of hair. Coral didn’t bother trying to time how long it took to detangle the hair, but she did use up her entire bottle of detangler spray. Fortunately, Coral knew how to tie the tightest of braids securing each strand then rolling it all up into a bun.
Ida was certainly impressed, “I never knew you could do all of this with hair.”
“I’ll be more than happy to teach you but first….” Coral slammed a huge stack of books onto the table, “Lessons on living on land.”
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Any more mermaid aus? I’ve blasted through your tag already....
Happy MerMay! Have a masterlist!
Stars shine bright above you, the ocean whispers below you - captainhurricane @aarnivalkeaa
16k. (Teen).
Keith keeps looking up at the stars, when he could be looking down at the ocean.
Baby I’m preying on you - reetsu
ongoing, 5/? chapters, 9k. (Explicit). Contains: rape/non-con, abo dynamics.
“Why are you doing this?”“Because Shiro loves you. That’s why I’m going to ruin you for him.”
[mermaid au where Kuro does something very terrible to Keith]
when freedom called my name - psyraah @shiroganedefencesquad
3k. (General).
Keith saves a merman. In the process, he saves himself.
“Let him drown!”
Keith winced. That voice was unmistakably Sendak’s. No one went against Sendak and, well, that was going to be that.
Deciding not to think about how much longer he had before they tossed him over the side of the ship, Keith peered through the hole in the hull to the wide expanse of the ocean outside, chains scraping on the damp floor as he shifted. He wondered where the mer had gone. Had he been able to find his family? Keith could only hope so—it had never felt right for the creature to be held captive. Keith had seen many atrocities in his years on the ship, but there had been something so wrong about holding the mer. The pained defiance in the creature’s eyes, the deep sorrow it held. It had been without its family.
Keith knew that feeling all too well.
So in the end, it had been an easy decision to make. An easy decision to choose freedom and life, even if it meant he condemned his own.
Stolen Fishes & Eggcellent Wishes - SuccubustyKisses
4k. (Explicit). Contains: NSFW content, oviposition.
“Keith, you know if I do something you don’t like all you have to do is say so and I will never do it again. I would never pressure you into anything.” Shiro lets out the same sentence he’s said many times before in many different ways.
The pufferfish drops into its new tank and Keith turns to Shiro, confusion knitting his brow as he holds the plastic bag to his chest.  “I know that, Shiro. Why would you think you did something wrong?”
“Because every time I try to get intimate with you, you run away like I lit your ass on fire.” Shiro tries to not sound dejected, but he knows he fails as he looks up into Keith’s guilty face.
Sighing loudly Keith steps down from the stool. “I know, Shiro. I promise, it will all make sense soon. Just… please bear with me a little bit longer.”
Of Two Worlds - teicakes
16k. (Teen).
Shiro had always loved the stars.
He’d spent countless nights watching them twinkle overhead, spinning slowly around his head like a great distant halo. He’d tracked their patterns, followed his favourite constellations over the horizon and greeted them when the reemerged seasons later. Shiro had counted every falling star he’d seen, a running tally etched in the soft stones that made up his home. Some of them would spin around the horizon out of sight, or others would burn out in the middle of their path. No matter his best efforts, he’d never managed to find one that made it down to Earth.
Star 143 was different though.
Star 143 brought Keith.
Or else, Galra Keith crashes down to Earth only to befriend a stargazing merman who can’t take his eyes off him.
The Mermaid of Lake Altea - flukeloops @shiroisthenewblack
24k. (Mature). Contains: NSFW content.
The Mermaid of Lake Altea has been a story passed from camper to camper for almost ten years. It’s the tale of a lonely young mermaid who gets rejected by her crush when they find out she has fins. When camp counselor Keith hears it, he becomes obsessed with uncovering the truth. While projecting his own loneliness on the mermaid, he also tries to uncover his handsome, co-counselor, Shiro. Keith has fallen hard and fast for him, but there’s something mysterious about Shiro as well. What’s his connection to the mermaid? Will Keith’s quest for a mythical creature sabotage his quest to get with Shiro?
The Alien at Camp Marmora - flukeloops @shiroisthenewblack
ongoing, 6/10 chapters, 19k. (Mature).
Shiro and Keith are back at Camp Arus and madly in love. Alfor has to take a week off to tend to personal matters and has left his friend Kolivan in charge. Kolivan presents the staff and campers with Camp Marmora: a grueling 5-day challenge that tests their bodies and maybe even their minds. Will Shiro and Keith’s fairy tale romance stand through it all? What will the challenge reveal about both of them?On top of it all, the longer Shiro stays in human form, the worse his legs hurt. He’s afraid that he and Keith’s worlds will drift too far apart if he has to live in the water.[SEQUEL to The Mermaid of Lake Altea]
The Aquamarine Oath - gingayellow
584 words. (Teen).
Keith is rescued from the ocean by a stranger who seems friendly, but won’t leave his spot by the rocks.
Siren Song - TheAnxiousAce
ongoing, 6/? chapters, 6k. (Teen).
A Mer’s rite of passage, their transition into adulthood, is simple: choose a human, captivate them with song, and drown them.
What’s not so simple is what happens when a Mer chooses not to. And slowly falls in love.
Or: The Mer!AU nobody asked for.
no luck in swordfishing - shoutz @shoutzwastaken
6k. (Mature). Contains: graphic violence.
There are giants out there in the canyons, and a good captain can’t fall asleep.
“Hello? Are you okay?” Shiro calls as he sets foot on land. This island, unlike the bigger coast, is covered in sand from years of waves lapping against the shores. Shiro can see drag marks in it from where the stranger must have pulled himself onto land, disappearing where the tide has washed the indentations flat.
Shiro doesn’t think about why he had to drag himself onto shore until he gets a better look at his legs.
What he had thought were shiny or wet pants of some sort aren’t actually pants at all. He steps closer, and freezes. The guy doesn’t even seem to have legs, instead sporting one long appendage where two should reside. Tail is the first word that comes to mind, but it’s a ridiculous thought. Right? Mermaids aren’t real.
Right?
in the deep, deep blue i found you - captainhurricane @aarnivalkeaa
2k. (Explicit). Contains: fem Sheith, NSFW content.
Keith has been a diver all her life. She’s never found anything or anyone quite like Shiro.
series: Ocean of Storms - radiofreekerberos @radiofreekerberos
ongoing, 4/? works, 17k. (Teen).
When Shiro was ten-years-old, he lost his right arm in a boating accident and found a mystery. Part one of the Ocean of Storms series.
A light rain began to fall and the sea turned choppy, dark waves sloshing over the sides of the boat. Shiro barely noticed, his eyes cast unseeing at a fixed point on the horizon until something suddenly caught his eye, a luminous spot in the water. His brow knit as he watched it slowly gliding towards him; a lavender glow just below the choppy surface. It veered off at the last minute to glide alongside the boat, and Shiro tracked its movements with fascination. Whatever if was, it wasn’t very big. Maybe roughly his size, though most of its length seemed to be made up of a long and powerful tail.
series: Land and Sea - Angelicat2 @iamstuckinfandom
ongoing, 2/? works, 8k. (Teen). Contains: graphic violence.
When Shiro almost drowns in the ocean, he remembers waking up to the person who saved him. Months later, he finds him again.
“Thank you,” Shiro muttered as he grinned, feeling relief flood through his body, “For saving me. What’s your name?”
“Keith,” Keith stated with a somewhat raspy voice as he watched Shiro, “What’s yours?”
“I’m Takashi Shirogane, but everyone calls me Shiro,” he felt his cheeks warm up at the look Keith gave him, “But you might know that already.”
“I guessed,” the boy shrugged as he glanced away, “Heard…rumors.”
“Are they bad or good rumors?”
“Not sure,” Keith raised a brow, but Shiro could see the slight grin on his lips, “But the one about you being a damsel-in-distress was right.”
Cold Corners - catpoop @swummeng-geys
1k. (General).
Sheith Month ‘17 - 10/8: Prosthetic
(Merpeople!AU) Keith remembers Shiro’s capture like it was yesterday
Indigo - LittleKazoo
5k. (Explicit). Contains: NSFW content.
Shiro’s world was literally turned upside down when he was saved from drowning by a certain ocean beauty.
A Hidden Treasure in the Sea - TheNightOwls
2k. (General).
Nothing ever goes as planned, does it?In which Shiro is met with a mysterious figure when going out for his early morning jog.
Waters Of Red And Black (Sheith Positivity Week 2k17) - bisexualinspace
6k. (General).
Everything I wrote for Sheith Positivity Week 2k17!MerKeith and MerShiro.
every breath you take - arahir @arahir
ongoing, 4/6 chapters, 25k. (Explicit). Contains: NSFW content.
Keith takes a swim, gains a secret admirer, and finds something to live for.
There’s a cut on his bottom lip, a row of tiny lacerations that smart when he pulls at them to get a better look.
He doesn’t notice the bruise on his upper arm until the next day. He catches the edge of it at the corner of his eye when he’s pulling on a fresh shirt: blue lines, like stripes, but when he turns and twists to see how they ring his arm, he realizes what they look like.
The lines are like fingers. It’s a handprint.
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randomtrashmagines · 5 years
Text
Going to do a bit of rambling since I haven't actually gone into my purpose for doing this blog or anything about myself really. It’s all over the place, my scatterbrain is strong tonight. 
The main purpose, I work ALOT between April and October. Like live in management of my families motel, ALOT, now add a toddler on top of that noise. Flashback to the summer of 2017. I was averaging 90+ hours a week running the front desk here, while 5-10 months postpartum. I am an introvert, a socially awkward introvert. I naturally went into depression. I had actually been depressed but didn’t realize it until then. 
I started antidepressants which worked for a hot minute and cause weight gain, that was wonderful. I hated myself so fucking much because of it. Switched to another and started counselling. That one stopped working and I decided I didn't want to play the pill roulette. I stopped taking them in February of this year, started working out and dieting to a point where I feel better about myself and got back into my nerdy hobbies that I had lost interest in because of the depression. 
Some of my depression happened when I moved to where I am now. I’ve been here for several years now, and in that time I had to back off the hobby I loved the most, the hobby that gave me self confidence, and made me the happiest...well besides writing smut for my best friends.  That was cosplay. I went to the first con since I got married in 2015 back in March and it was the eye-opener I needed to see that I had lost a piece of myself. I wanted to make more cosplays, and I still do. I had a cosplay page but I deleted it a few years ago for some reason...
I felt good enough to get back into drawing and writing to where I started this as a headcanon blog where I could just throw my ideas and dirty trash cannons up, I did a couple but while wanting to participate in mermay I got the bright idea to combine it with one of my favourite games which switched this to an MK sketch blog. I was going to do some Thrones mermaids but I was more inspired for the MK ones. I genuinely didn't think people would like my stuff. I’m self-conscious about my written stuff sooooooo I don’t post, like any. 
My depression may be gone my anxiety has gotten worse over the past few years, but I’ll take that over depression any day. 
But anyway, this blog is helping me cope with my crazy work schedule by keeping me in my happy place and getting me through this season. Which is a fucking lifesaver because I’m not happy doing this work but I feel obligated because if I leave my husband goes too and it's his family that needs us. Even though his mother thinks that someday I can be this extrovert who doesn't need a creative outlet to stay sane. Yeah...okay. Cool story. 
When I say I appreciate you guys, I mean it with every fibre of my being. Thank you for liking my stuff, thank you for liking it enough to ask for more. You’re keeping me afloat from the horrid black pit of self-hate hell. 
@serenaqueen181 thank you for being my desk relief and yay or naying my sketches. Lol. Now we need to get to October so we can start that cosplay workshop in the lobby.  
NOW, to the stuff about sketches! 
Update on requests. I’m not doing them in any particular order. Mostly things I think the ref I’ve already found would work for or ones that I’m inspired to do atm. I have about 5-7 I need to do or decline. I keep losing my list or my kid runs off with it, so I don’t have an exact number. 
I switch moods like crazy so just because I don’t do something now, doesn't mean I won't later. One day I could be like I REALLY WANT TO DRAW SINDEL! And tomorrow is maybe like Kotal or a whole other fandom or something. Unless its Kano, I’m always in the mood for Kano. Maybe someday I’ll make a list of series and stuff I’m into. But today is not that day. 
I promise Subscorp will happen, I’ve tried numerous times but I wasn't really digging how they came out. :(
Oct-March I should be way more active...Hell even September, hopefully. I don’t work during those months so fingers crossed. Should be working on D&D stuff cause I would like to get that comic off the ground X_X. But for now, while it’s balls to the wall busy I’m going to do what I can. 
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timeisacephalopod · 6 years
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Regarding ideas for after Inimitable, perhaps WinterIron Space Au? Setting it on another/multiple planets would leave plenty of room for worldbuilding. If Space is too open of a prompt, mermay is going on right now, so perhaps something with mermaids? No matter what you end up doing, I look forward to reading it! I always enjoy your writing.
I kept this around because I wanted to write a mermaid AU for you (and because I don’t typically write creatures like that so its a challenge). After seeing The Shape of Water I told myself I ain’t no monster fucker here I am writing a fuckin Shape of Water AU featuring Tony/ Rhodey. I have no clue if you even like that pairing but Ive had the idea floating around for some time so here goes. Sidenote: This got ridiculously long.
***
Rhodey is probably lucky that Sam has his back otherwise he’d be late to work every day. He has no idea how he manages given that he gets up on time every day, leaves with plenty of time to get to work every day, and yet he still only manages to punch in barely on time. “Rhodey, you seriously need to get your shit together,” Sam mumbles at him, handing him his punch in card. 
He sighs, punching in, and sticking his card in the right slot. “I told you, I always leave with time to spare but this always happens,” he says. “Thanks though.”
Sam gives him a look but allows Rhodey his excuses before they set off with their daily tasks. Its the same shit every day and Rhodey has to deal with the fact that he’s smarter than everyone else in this fucking building. Sam too- while all the white guys were trying to figure out the math he and Sam usually have all their problems solved and then they’ve solved unanticipated problems with the new math before anyone even figures out the initial problem. But being smart and black isn’t exactly easy and even when Rhodey did manage to convince someone to listen to his solutions they resented him for having a solution to begin with.
So he and Sam clean things even though they’re way more qualified to do the jobs around them than the people currently working literally any other position. But Sam makes the work fun at least so when they’re outside of the prying eyes of those around them they talk about everything and anything under the sun. They’re talking about which color is the beset color when they’re interrupted rudely.
They get their orders to go clean a usually classified space and Sam exchanges a look with him before they shrug and move off to do their jobs. “You ever wonder if they send us to do these jobs because they think we’re too stupid to understand what we’re looking at?” Sam asks in a low voice as they move down the hall with their cleaning cart.
“I know for a fact that’s why we get these jobs,” Rhodey says.
“Too bad no one else likes black people either- it’d be kind of nice to sell these assholes out to prove a point,” Sam says.
“Probably not worth the results though,” Rhodey points out. “Better to just deal.”
Sam lets out a long sigh and they let themselves into the room they’re sent to clean. Rhodey’s eyebrows shoot up and he doesn’t have to look at Sam to know he’s had the same reaction. “What the hell happened here?” Sam asks softly.
Rhodey looks over the large amount of blood and water in the room and shakes his head. “I have no idea,” he says softly. They slowly set to work, cautious in case whatever it was that resulted in all the blood was still around. It takes awhile before Sam lets out a yell and jumps back, catching Rhodey’s attention. He looks over and raises an eyebrow. “Is that…?”
“A finger? Yeah. That’s… nasty,” he says. Rhodey wrinkles his nose and grabs a bag from the cart and carefully holds it open for Sam. He looks at the finger, than the bag, and back at the finger again before he raises an eyebrow. “You expect me to pick that thing up?” Sam asks and Rhodey shrugs.
“You found it, you deal with it,” he says.
“Yeah, I found it, you deal with it. I did my dues almost stepping on that thing,” he says.
“I am not touching that thing. You found it, your problem.” Rhodey rustles the bag a little and Sam gives him a dirty look, gingerly leaning forward so he can pick the finger up. He all but throws it at Rhodey, who lets out a loud yell and fumbling a little but ultimately catches the severed digit in the bag. “You are nasty. You can take this thing to its owner now, I want nothing to do with it,” he says, wrinkling his whole face in disgust.
Sam rolls his eyes, “fine, but you get stuck dealing with the mess,” he says and Rhodey sighs. 
“Fine,” he mumbles. A quick glance around tells him its not that much work, but its enough work that its time consuming. Sam runs off and Rhodey sets to work on the floor, mumbling to himself as he sets to work mopping. 
He’s almost done the floor when he notices movement out of the corner of his eye. At first he thinks Sam might have taken pity on him but he realizes the movement is from the wrong part of the room. When he looks over he doesn’t find anything so he goes back to work. It takes a few more moments but the movement happens again and this time when Rhodey looks over he catches what caused the movement.
Its… shocking to look at. Some kind of fish… man… thing. The red and gold scales are quite striking though, and so are the long, gossamer fins fluttering around his body. Its the gash in his side that catches Rhodey’s attention though because its darkening the water around it as blood leaves the body of the man in the tank.
The fish looks down, covering the wound with his hand before he swims off. Rhodey frowns, unsure what to do.
***
Its a whim to cook more eggs than he usually eats in the morning and its more of a whim to eat lunch in a room he isn’t supposed to be in but he also knows no one will look there for him. Its rare that people paid much attention to the help around them. He sits at the edge of the pond like space in the middle of the room, curious to see if its connected to the tank he last saw the fish guy in. He settles in, eyes on the tank as he eats his eggs.
That’s probably why he doesn’t notice the fish man sneak up on him, swimming quietly enough that Rhodey jumps when a scaly hand reaches out of the water and snatches one of his eggs off the side of the pond before swimming off, far less quiet about his retreat. Rhodey settles himself back in after a moment of watching the water before he turns his back to the pond again. Its on a whim that he looks over at the tank and he’s surprised to find his companion there, watching him with the egg in his hand. 
Rhodey shakes his head, smiling a little before he turns back to his food. He notices that the mermaid doesn’t eat the egg until Rhodey does. It’s an obvious test to see whether or not the food is poisoned and its smart. It doesn’t occur to him until he’s on his way home that the fish had also intentionally watched his reaction to his stolen food. He wonders if he passed the test.
***
Tony really hates that Rumlow guy. He seems to think Tony has some secrets to unlock and even if he could communicate with these people in a language they’d immediately understand he wouldn’t give them information on principal. He doesn’t like being treated like shit for no reason. He does, however, rather like his lunch dates with the dark skinned man that feeds him… well, something. Whatever the oval object is it tastes much better than whatever the hell Rumlow tries to feed him. Plus he’s sure that the food is drugged because he always feels groggy after eating. Rhodey’s eggs- he had eventually learned his name thanks to that friend of his calling after him- at least help him avoid eating Rumlow’s food. Not much, but enough that it gives him more strength to figure out how the hell to get out of here.
Rhodey is feeding him eggs and chattering about his day- he’s figured out quickly that Tony understands even if he can’t respond- when the door opens. Rhodey lets out a soft string of curse words before he grabs his bag and runs off around a corner and Rumlow marches in. Tony sinks into the water a little, glaring at the man. He bit one finger off, he’ll go for his hand next. Fucking prick.
“What are you doing near the edge of the water?” he asks. Tony growls at him for lack of a better response. 
Rumlow rolls his eyes, “get him out,” he says to his goons. They exchange a look with each other because they aren’t too stupid to miss the fact that the water is Tony’s territory. No one really fared well with him in here even with the fucking collar around his neck. He’s working on picking the lock on that.
They do eventually manage though because Tony still has whatever drug he’s being fed in his system and by now they’re used to this. If he were faster it wouldn’t be a problem, but he’s not so here he is, on the ground outside of the water gasping a little for breath. He can breathe outside of water but not much and not for long so he tends to save that for the real emergencies. When Rumlow asks him a question he knows Tony can’t answer and proceeds to electrocute him with that stick thing it quickly escalates to that emergency status. If not for his superior hearing he would have missed Rhodey’s small gasp but his hearing is built for water- he hears better than humans. Its a good thing now because Rhodey would have just given himself away if that weren’t true.
When Tony get prodded with that thing for the third damn time he notices the egg. He’s lucky Rumlow hasn’t noticed yet, or his goons, but he does notice a third human hanging back a little, examining the situation a little. His skin is a little darker than those around him and Tony has come to recognize that this gives him a lower status. He’s not sure why exactly- in his experience the darker skinned ones tended to be nicer. In his own home the pale parts of his skin are mostly irrelevant. They live too deep to see it most of the time and really only rise up high enough to see the colors of their skin during mating seasons. Tony happens to know he’s quite pretty- his striking colors are rare, but its fin color that matters, not the rest. But he supposes humans don’t have fins so they have no choice but to care about the rest.
“You need to stop, he has to go back in the water,” the man tells Rumlow but he’s shaken off.
“Shut up. You’re only here because you’re supposed to be an expert on sea life,” he snaps. “And when this one is dead you can be an expert on him too.”
Tony lets out an annoyed squeak and gets electrocuted for his efforts but the slightly tan man pulls Rumlow back. Bad idea considering he nearly gets prodded too. “You can’t kill him! He’s a rare species, you need to put him back in the sea!” he yells.
“You better stay in line or-” Rumlow starts but the other man rolls his eyes.
“Or what, Rumlow. You pulled me out of a war zone- you think you can do better than me watching my family die?” he asks. The room grows uncomfortably silent for a few moments before Rumlow, to Tony’s surprise, backs down.
“Put it back in the water. I’ll put in the order to euthanize it,” he says, looking at the other man as he says it. The other man offers a protest that’s quickly shot down and Tony is tossed unceremoniously back into the water.
When the brown man looks over to him Tony looks pointedly at the egg. Rumlow and his men are leaving, but he’s hoping he can communicate with this one. He follows Tony’s gaze and his eyes widen a little before he turns back to Tony, who looks pointedly to where Rhodey is hiding. Thankfully for him Rhodey is half leaning around the corner and jumps back behind it right as the other man looks over. He considers this for a moment before he nods to Tony, “I wil be back for you,” he says softly before bending and tossing him the egg. Tony catches it and disappears back into the water.
***
Rhodey is skulking the area around the classified room out when he feels a tap on his shoulder. He jumps, spinning around and relaxing when he recognizes the man. “Uh, hey?” he asks more than states.
“My name is Yinsen and I’m going to make the assumption that you care about the fish in that tank. You feed him.” Rhodey nods because he doesn’t know what else to say really. “We need to get him out and you would know this building much better than I would. And we have two days to do this.”
Rhodey swears under his breath, “I… might have some help we can use,” he says, hoping to hell Sam will go along with this.
***
Sam frowns at him, “why the hell do you care about the fish guy?” he asks as the man takes an egg gingerly from the side of the pond.
“Because he’s nice. He doesn’t seem to care much that I’m black,” he says. He listens to Rhodey, he knows this because he once gave a suggestion for getting that collar off and he followed Rhodey’s suggestions immediately. There was no hesitation, no condescending looks, nothing. He just listened and followed Rhodey’s advice.
“I don’t care if you’re black either,” Sam points out and Rhodey rolls his eyes.
“You’re also black, that doesn’t count. He listens though, and he’s intelligent. Plus they’re torturing him in here, you can’t tell me you’re alright with that,” he says. Sam is a better man than that, Rhodey knows. Off to the side Yinsen lets them work it out while he unpacks some things from a bag. 
He goes to hand the mermaid a sandwich before he pulls it back fast, “wait, this has fish in it, is that cannibalism?” he asks more to himself than their current companion but his musing are interrupted by a hand sticking out of the water. Apparently not. Yinsen hands the sandwich over and turns back to Rhodey and Sam. “Are we all in agreement?” he asks and Rhodey turns to Sam, raising an eyebrow. 
Sam lets out a soft sigh. “I’m going to regret this,” he mumbles.
*
Rhodey is in too deep with his fish stick but Sam doesn’t want to tell him that. He brings the damn thing lunch every day and its clear that this is an expected activity that, in the fish’s defense, it clearly enjoys. They plan based on Rhodey and Sam’s knowledge of the building and Yinsen’s knowledge of their fishy friend which is, admittedly, not much.
They’re prepared to move the mermaid when it reaches out to Rhodey, gently, holding its hand out. Rhodey frowns at it for a moment before it shakes its head and makes a ‘come here’ gesture that has Sam prepared to launch this thing off a building. Rhodey, damn idiot, goes over though and the fish reaches up and carefully presses its hand to Rhodey’s cheek. Sam lets out a yell when the fucking thing lights up and Rhodey gasps softly. He steps forward to help a guy out but Yinsen holds him back. It takes a few moments but Rhodey pulls back. 
“He used to live in the Mediterranean Sea. In our language his name translates roughly to ‘Tony’,” he says. Yinsen gasps softly and Rhodey grins. “I knew you were smarter than Rumlow gave you credit for,” he says.
“Yeah, fuck Rumlow. And honestly fuck this psychic fish, lets just get this thing the hell out of here so we can go back to our regularly scheduled lives,” Sam says, waving a hand around.
“Can you-” Yinsen starts, walking towards Tony but he quickly pulls back, giving Yinsen a suspicious look. Yinsen looks hurt about it but Sam rolls his eyes.
“Dude has been tormented and tortured by scientists, he probably isn’t too keen to let you test out his… powers,” he says. The fish- Tony he guesses- gives him an appraising look then before seemingly approving and swimming away from Yinsen a little and towards Rhodey. Well isn’t that just freaking sweet. He shakes his head and moves the laundry basket closer to the pond.
“Alright fishy, get in the basket,” Sam tells him.
Rhodey gives him an offended look, “you could at least use his name,” he says.
“I don’t care about this fish’s name, I just want to get him out so I can go back to not worrying about being killed by Rumlow or something equally awful,” he says. “So in the basket,” he tells Tony.
Rhodey nods to him and Tony dives back into the water, prompting Sam to make an irritated noise. He resurfaces a few moments later lacking his metal collar though so Sam guesses that disappearance was necessary. They have to help him into the basket, which is only made more difficult by Tony’s clear preference for Rhodey but when Sam spies a few gnarly scars on his body he can see why that trust extends only to one person. They achieve their goal though and that’s when the move onto the second phase of the plan. Getting him through the building.
Thankfully Rhodey pushes the damn cart because Sam is too nervous to do much more than focus on being normal as they move through the halls. They’ve prepared for this of course, but preparation doesn’t do much to actually prepare you for the real thing. They make their way around the final corner when the alarm starts going off and Sam swears along with Rhodey and they start running. Sam all but throws himself in the back of the van, yanking the basket in as Rhodey tries to shove it into place. A gun goes off close to them and Rhodey yells, giving the basket one last shove before they’ve successfully got it in and he slams the doors shut.
Tony sticks his head out of the wet towels he’s currently housed in and Sam shoves his head back into the towels, “don’t stick your head out to be seen! Jesus Christ,” he mumbles just as the lights go out and Rhodey throws himself into the passenger seat.
“A little late,” Yinsen tells Rhodey as he steps on the gas.
“Just on time, we were a little early. I know my way around these systems, I could probably do a better job building them,” he says. Probably is giving the idiots who ran this place way too much credit. Both he and Sam were much smarter than any of the morons hired to work here. It had been easy to rig the system to go black for a solid half an hour while they made their escape. That and if they didn’t black things out they wouldn’t make it past the electronic gate.
*
Releasing Tony had been difficult, especially when they nearly got found twice but they managed. Tony hadn’t wanted to go, lingering way too long looking at Rhodey before he finally takes off into the sea.
*
It takes a long time for him to find Rhodey again and when he does he’s older. He lives by the sea now though so Tony works on getting as close as possible. The first thing he leaves for Rhodey sits there for almost a month before he finally finds it. Its a fluke that his second gift is found within a week, and after the third gift is found Rhodey knows to stick around for awhile.
When Tony finally catches him there he swims over enthusiastically, probably scaring the hell out of the kid he got stuck bringing with him but Peter will stay far enough behind to be safe. He’s heard the stories, seen Tony’s scars, he knows better than to be seen by humans. Rhodey grins when he sees him though and Tony reaches out immediately, pleased when Rhodey leans forward to offer his hand. He pulls Rhodey closer, laughing mostly to himself when Rhodey looks briefly alarmed.
He presses as close as he can, carefully pulling Rhodey’s head towards his own until their foreheads touched. Its a lot easier to do this that way. I’ve been looking for you he thinks at Rhodey.
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loreli1313 · 6 years
Text
Okay, trying once more....
Notes:    
I wanted to write a Flint/Hamilton mermaid AU (especially since it is mermay) but this came out first, so I guess it will do for now. Historical note: bathing in a tub like the one in this story was not super common in the 1700's, but Thomas is an aristocrat and I feel like he would enjoy a good bath so...liberties? Just try not to think about the poor servents who had to empty the tub.
             Work Text:          
It is three hours past the appointed meeting time when Lieutenant James McGraw, breathless and jittery with haste, is admitted to the home of Lord Thomas Hamilton and directed to wait in the library for his host. He is alone in the room and takes the opportunity to right himself; London is experiencing a hotter and more oppressively humid spell than is customary for the season. James smoothes the hair from his forehead and back into its orderly que and is nervously fiddling with the wide cuffs of his naval jacket when the library door creaks open.
“Apologies, my Lord—“ he begins before the rustle of silk and a soft purr of acknowledgement gives way to the sight of Miranda, lovely in her grass green gown, gliding to meet him. “James!” She embraces him, kissing his cheek which makes him blush redder now than it did a week ago when the only affair was taking place between themselves. It was somehow a more intimate gesture, that casual kiss, after knowing she had witnessed the glorious and dangerous confession of his love for Thomas. James ducks his head to hide the flush,
“Forgive me, Miranda, I was supposed to have met Thomas three hours past, but duties at the Admiralty kept me detained.”
“Not to worry my dear Lieutenant, Thomas only paced the floor inconsolably for a fraction of the time, sighing like a lovelorn—“
“Miranda!”
“Oh James I tease! You know I do! Come along now; my darling husband has instructed me to fetch you up and bring you to him” her eyes twinkled mischievously, “he is enjoying a brief respite from this damnable heat.” She turned and led a bemused James from the room, up the stairs and down a corridor that as yet, James had only traveled in darkness or in thrilling secrecy. Thoughts of Thomas and Miranda’s bed chamber and the pleasures to be found therein were making James’ breath come faster as he followed Miranda’s green gown down the hall and to the door of a room he had not entered before. She opened the heavy wooden door only a quarter of the way, pausing at the scene within, still blocked to James’ eyes. “He is beautiful, isn’t he?” She stood for a moment with fond, distant eyes before turning and ushering a now dry-mouthed and nervous James into the room.
“Have fun!” he felt her breath warm against his ear before his feet carried him forward and the click of the door shutting behind him punctuated his arrival.
The floor of the room was luxuriously tiled in hues of blue and turquoise, bare of ornament except for the dully gleaming silver tub in the center, in which Thomas Hamilton, pale and glistening with water droplets, reclined. The glottal sound of James forcing himself to swallow seemed a louder noise than should have been possible, almost as loud as the pulse beating reedy in his ears. Thomas opened his eyes, bluer in his current surroundings and brightened by the refraction of light and water and silver playing across his form.
“James! I am so glad you are here! I feared that you would not have time for me today at all.”
“Apologies, my Lord,” James was aware that he was being overly formal with the title, but just now, with Thomas unclothed and wet before him, the distance of the formal title seemed a matter of self-preservation. He cast his eyes about the room restlessly, trying to avoid fixing them on the temptation before him, and doubting that his mental focus could be recovered for the day. “I would not have been kept from you—from our appointment, that is—but at the insistence of Admiral Hennessy—um—that is I was required… required to--”Water rippling alerted James to movement—he realized his eyes had been solidly on the tile at his feet as he rambled.
“There is no need to apologize, I am aware that you have other demands on your time. However I should perhaps offer my apologies to you, it appears I have shocked you. I did not mean to cause you discomfort by receiving you in such an – unconventional—manner. I had arranged for a bath to cool me and I had just stepped in when you arrived. I do hate to waste all this lovely water, and in my eagerness to see you I may have been led by impulse more than propriety.”
James was looking at Thomas now, and as he did so he sensed that Thomas knew exactly what kind of “discomfort” James was currently experiencing. They had kissed—yes—kissed and fumbled and spent in one another’s presence, but James had not yet seen Thomas fully naked, and now that he had the opportunity he felt a thousand fantasies rush through his brain.
“Imagine, you not being led by propriety.” James licked his lips as he made his decision. He approached the tub with intent now, like a man compelled. And he was,came the thought as he fell to his knees by the side of the silver basin and reached for Thomas’ mouth with his own. “You are a siren, Thomas, here to tempt me.”
Thomas drew back to laugh delightedly before reaching his arms over the side to begin working at the jacket his lover wore. “A siren? Are all sailors so easily mislead when it comes to spotting mythical creatures? If so it explains a great many reports of sea monsters and maidens”
“Nonsense” James was free of his coat and rolling up his sleeves. “You are the very picture of a mermaid.”
Thomas’ eyebrow arched in question before drawing James’ hand down into the pleasantly cool water to grasp his hard and quite substantial cock.
“Fine, “James conceded with a light squeeze to the contrary evidence, “a merman then.”
Thomas started to breath more forcefully, and undulate softly in the water, seeking friction and sensation with an abandon that left James in awe.
Watching his lover, James noted the aptness of his comparison. Thomas’ body was pearl-pale, almost luminescent in the in the dappled light of the room. His normally golden blond hair was rain dark, disheveled, while his lips and cheeks flushed shell-pink. The water that covered him from the hips down obscured in such a way that his pale legs curled beneath him could almost have been a silvery tail.
Thomas allowed James to continue stroking him until the pleasure began to build too quickly, at which point he stilled the hand upon him and turned in the water, motioning for James to stand. This alteration put Thomas’ face just at the level of James’ waist. He turned and nuzzled at James’ still clothed lower body, pressing cheek and nose and softly parted lips to the fabric stretched taunt over his lover’s arousal, leaving dark, wet patches that felt incredible against sensitized flesh. James waited breathlessly as Thomas freed his straining erection and considered the length with a kind of fevered calculation.
“Thomas, you can’t mean to—“ James began, but stopped short the moment Thomas placed a soft, open mouthed kiss at the tip. James’ hands went immediately to the rim of the tub, gripping as fiercely as he was able. He had been on the receiving end of this act before—a couple of paid companions at the docks and a fellow sailor or two, back in the days when he was certain enough of his anonymity to engage in such—but Thomas—God! James wasn’t sure his soul wouldn’t leave his very body. Another gentle kiss, bestowed with reverence, and then Thomas was opening wide, engulfing as much of his lover’s cock as he could take in a single go. A keening noise rose from James’ throat. Thus encouraged, Thomas drew back and repeated the motion, sinking down a little further.
“Oh God! Thomas! That feels…fuck, so perfect.”
Thomas groaned in response opening his jaw wider and pausing with James’ tip at the back of his throat. He looked up at James, blue eyes shimmering through water-beaded lashes and swallowed slowly and deliberately. James made a noise that sounded almost tortured and only his iron grip on the silver rim kept him from melting to the floor. Thomas withdrew again, drawing in deep breaths and giving James time to master himself before resuming his worship of his lover’s cock. Deep sucking alternating with slower bobs of the head, and all the while his tongue licked and traced and circled James with a skill born of genuine enthusiasm towards the act.
Trying to prolong the pleasure warred with the desire to spend immediately. A part of James wanted nothing more than to fuck into his lover’s mouth and yield to the building desire to lose all control. In the past, James had not been overly careful with his partners; but Thomas, oh how very different everything was with him. The thought of using him roughly was both blasphemous and exhilarating. Would he allow it? Surely Thomas would not have experienced such treatment before.
As if sensing James’ reluctance, Thomas paused in his motions, pulling off, and then reaching to pry James’ tightly clenched fingers from their grip on the tub. He spent a few moments kissing and then sucking down each finger one at a time, watching the effect on both the face above him and the cock that twitched impatiently just inches from his mouth. Once each finger had been seen to, he placed the hand on the back his head and set his mouth in a soft “O” with the head of James’ cock resting against his lips. He locked eyes with James again, his message flawlessly conveyed.
“Fuck, Thomas.” James was having trouble drawing in enough breath to sustain him. He pushed slowly, watching as his cock disappeared past Thomas’ swollen lips, then he repeated the motion faster, and again, fingers clutching in the short damp strands of hair and forcing his lover’s head down to meet his arousal. ‘It’s too much’ was his last coherent thought as his hips began to flex and push helplessly forward, losing rhythm and restraint.
Thomas was groaning around the hot flesh in in his mouth, fingers pawing at the muscled thighs in front of him as James began to climax. Despite having no intention of pulling off, James’ tight grip on the back of Thomas’ head meant that Thomas could do nothing but swallow frantically around the cock shooting its seed down his throat. Unable to keep up with the volume of his lover’s spend, he sputtered and choked just a bit, his eyes watering and jaw protesting as seed spilled from his lips. The hand on Thomas’ head went from gripping to caressing as the last waves of climax dissipated, and Thomas was able to draw a shaky breath.
James watched in a daze as Thomas cleaned him thoroughly and let him slip from the warm heaven of his mouth when it became too much. “Fuck” he said once more as his legs gave out and he fell back to his knees.
Thomas made a small, needy hum in agreement and shifted so that he was once more reclined in the water, looking paradoxically smug and desperate. “Please James” he keened, reaching for his lover again.
“What do you need, love?” James asked, purely for the joy of hearing Thomas say it. The feverishly bright eyes, pupils wide and dark, and the pretty coral cock jutting up from the water proclaimed exactly what his lover needed.
“Touch me James! Oh please, I ache for you!”
“What an enchanting siren-song that is,” James replied as he took Thomas in hand. The slide of flesh on flesh with the cool water around in between was a heady feeling, and soon Thomas was gripping the ledge above his head as he moved in time to James’ stroking. Water was lapping out and over the sides, drenching the knees of James’ pants and his discarded coat, but nothing could shift his focus from the writhing siren before him.
“I can imagine spotting you while out at sea, a merman come to lure and bewitch honest sailors into your embrace. I could not resist you,” he shifted to place a kiss against Thomas’ temple, “How could anyone?” came out in a growl as he worked more intensely at his lover’s cock.
Thomas nearly screamed at the more forceful stimulation and began to thrash his head from side to side. “Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes.” he chanted bucking into James’ calloused hand. Two more sharp strokes and he was spilling, white pearls across the water’s surface and slipping through James’ fingers.
James watched Thomas fall back against the tub, eyes closed and chest heaving before following suit and collapsing to the floor again. He lay prone there, tepid water soaking into him from the puddles on the tile. Neither of them spoke.
Gradually, James’ mind found its focus, and he rose awkwardly to his feet, wincing at the protest from his aching knees. Sodden garments clung to him and James had no doubt that he made for a very pitiful picture. He was prevented from mentioning this by Thomas, who also seemed to have recovered, and rose without a shred of self-consciousness from the tub.
“Hand me that towel, if you will?” he indicated a cupboard in the corner with a towel and dressing gown hanging on it. “And you will have to get out of those wet clothes immediately. I will fetch you some things of my own and lay yours out to dry.” James did as instructed, remaining silent as Thomas dried off and donned the dressing gown. The last hour felt like something that happened in a dream, and James was afraid of shattering that dream with the wrong words. He knew better than to think that Thomas was unaffected by their trysts, but the sudden and fierce longing that welled up in him, even after (especially after) physical release should have banked that fire, left him wrong-footed. Even now, the thought of wearing his lover’s cloths settled hot in his belly, not lust entirely, but an emotion he feared to examine. Thomas anchored him with a shy hand placed on his now bare shoulder.
“You don’t have to say anything, love.”
James turned to meet Thomas’ gaze. There was understanding in his smile, and a bright hope in his eyes. James had to kiss him again.
“ I cannot say anything, I don’t know how to say it, but –“
Thomas nodded into the shared breath of their kisses, “I understand”
And James believed that he did.
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