#selkie fic

[selkiefinalist]

every new shade of green

pairing: nathan mackinnon/erik johnson | rating: e | words: 57k | warnings: none | hours of sleep i sacrificed to write this: priceless

EJ woke Nate up before dawn had even cracked the sky.

#the mortifying ordeal of promoting your own stuff #selkie fic #selkie fic tag #hockey rpf #nate/ej #ej/nate #what is writing? #i don’t know her #still screaming #kat if you see this someone quoted one of your text posts in a comment 😂 #the community nature of fandom <3

[grogusmum]

Seven Tears Part 4

SELKIE!EZRA X F!READER

W/C: 3300ish

SERIES SUMMARY: Months after being abandoned, she does something rash and summons a selkie, who wishes to bring her comfort and maybe more.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Pearl must face her past, though they have the support of her family, she and Ezra will be pushed toward a big change.

WARNING: Olde Timey gender norms, sexism, spouse abandonment,Though set in Ireland, and Ireland's predominantly white, Reader is physically undescribed, as are her blood relatives, her missing spouse and his family are white, a catholic confession and bs, fisticuffs, the f-bomb just once, you know Jamie deserves it, angst (but you know it’s me, so soft angst, mentions of food, throwing up, pregnancy (?) Ezra is a selkie, yes, it deserves its own warning. Excessive use of pet names.

(as always see something say something. please let me know in my DMs if there is a warning I missed)

NOTES: The events of Swept Away are mentioned, it's is an 800-word drabble, you may want to read if you haven't. 💚 thank you lovelies!

PART 1

PART 3

Gaeilge translation

mo bhuachaill my boy

leath choróin half-crown

Tapadh leat Tilda agus Fergus Thank you Tilda and Fergus

Go n-éirí an t-ádh leat May luck rise to you

A ghrá love

Ezra spends the late morning at the pub, on top of spending early mornings gutting fish at your family’s fish mongery. Fergus and Tilda are always happy to give Ezra odd jobs when they have them. When they run out of things for him to do, he walks down to the water to have a visit. 

Watching the crashing waves, the briney air filling his lungs, he thinks back to the wedding party, you dancing with your kin, legs kicking out and crossing, the jumps, the skips and turns, your arms linked with your cousins. Your eyes alight, smile broad. When you came to pull him in to join the dance, you were glowing and breathless, reminding him of when he brings you to your peak. Ezra becomes restless thinking about it, hoping you will be home soon. 

He wants to be like Fergus and Tilda, who get to work together. He told Tilda so, and she gave a hearty laugh, it is not all it is cracked up to be, mo bhuachaill (mu VOO-uh-{k}hill) she had told him as she patted his cheek. Fergus agreed with Ezra, telling him it was wonderful to be close at home while he did his day’s labor, then he looked upon Tilda, with 60 some year old eyes that held all the love of a newlywed. They paid in meat pies and a couple of half-crowns for the morning. 

Ezra makes his way to the house and put up one of the pies to warm in the oven for lunch. You arrive soon after, the brisk air following you through the door, ready for lunch. 

“My stomach is positively howling,” you tell him taking off your scarf, hat, and coat, then kicking off your boots. "What smells so delicious?"

"Well my pearl, luckily I have spent several of my morning hours, working at the pub in exchange for some savory pies, and two shiny leath choróin (leeth COR-on). Ezra pulls you into his warm arms. 

“It will be ready to eat as soon as I taste your delicious lips,” his mouth meets yours needily, sealing it to yours, and presses against you. You smile and return his affections, your hands in his hair. 

Then he gives a wet open-mouthed kiss on your neck, nuzzling with his nose and nipping at your collarbone and the crook of your neck, what you have come to understand is his way of greeting you. When you come up for air, you murmur, food with a laugh. Ezra laughs, going to the hob for the pie. You eat in companionable quiet, playing footsy under the table in your socked feet, as your hands and mouths are occupied and smile cheekily at each other.

After lunch, the pair of you head back to the strand and walk the length of it. The tide is out and seabirds are getting their own lunch. Chatting about your mornings, how your mother and father are doing, and your brothers, how Tilda and Fergus are fairing. There is no big news, just every day this and that and then you throw up your entire portion of the pie. Ezra's soft brown eyes become wide, his brows shooting up.

“A stòr! You are unwell, let me get you home.”

You already feel better, but you nod. Ezra gives you a temperature-testing kiss on your forehead and shakes his head. You shrug. But you both remember your fainting spell on your Da’s boat. And you count a calendar in your mind. He keeps his hands on you as you traverse the steep path, one hand holding yours and the other on your lower back. Once you are on level ground he pulls you to his side. While all of this is not too unusual, there is a feeling that he is treating you as though suddenly made of porcelain. 

When you arrive at your little home, which no longer shows signs of neglect. The front door has a wreath on it, the window boxes are empty due to the time of year, but no longer have dead plants hanging out of them, and the other debris that Ezra noticed upon his arrival, is cleaned up. A testament to your renewed happiness. You put key to lock but the door swings open before you turn the key. All thoughts of your health gone.

Ezra immediately puts you behind him as he enters, puffing up. He calls to the house at large. Jamie comes around the corner, and you instantly see red. You push passed Ezra ready to give him a piece of your mind. How dare he come into your home like this, uninvited, while you are not at home, after his behavior at the wedding and the tavern. You storm up to him and then out of the bedroom comes Colin, a dark bundle of sleek fur gripped tight in his hand, and you are brought up short, looking like you have just seen a ghost.

Ezra, on the other hand, is not thrown. Colin has his pelt, so he moves quickly, flaring his nostrils, his head down, and eyes up, menacing. He makes a sound you have never heard from him before. Animalistic and threatening. He would have Colin on the ground in a trice, but Jamie is on him. You shout. Ezra manages to wrestle Colin to the floor. But Jamie has something in his hand. You see it flash, a knife, you go to grab his arm, and Jamie shakes you off. Ezra, seeing this out of his periphery, turns to help you, his boot on Colin's throat. Jamie shoves you, and you are down on the floor. Ezra becomes truly feral now, eyes black, he bellows. Going for Jamie, no longer caring about the pelt, only you. He defies myth again. Jamie's knife hand goes up, and the knife catches Ezra's cheek. 

“Stop!” You shout with all the air in your lungs from the floor. The men mercifully seem taken aback and do just that. You pull a handkerchief from your coat, kneeling beside Ezra, you press it to his cheek, “I am so sorry, my love.” 

You stand and Ezra gets up, holding the now dark red scrap of material.

“How dare you, James Michael Kelly!! Get the fuck out of my house! NOW!” Jamie turns tail and leaves. “AND YOU!” you turn your full attention to Colin and stalk toward him, and he has the good sense to look ashamed, at least for now.

“How dare you? Come back here like you’ve caught me in wrongdoing?! Where have you been, Colin Patrick Kelly? You leave me for months and months, doing what? Heaven knows! And, and then you come here, now? To what? For what? I have found another.”

This is what the toe-headed man needs to shove aside his shame.

“You didn’t find another,” he spits, and shakes the pelt at you, taunting You flinch, then Colin looks you up and down disgusted. “You summoned a selkie!” 

Your eyes fill with angry tears, and you hate yourself for it. But  Ezra will not have it, he takes you in his arms, dark eyes on Colin’s light ones his head tipped back.

“There only one here who should be rueful and repentant. And I am looking at him. You deserted your wife, left her like a coward. Left her in a way she could not move forward. You should be standing before her, all sackcloth and ashes. You caused her to call on a selkie. And oh yes I came,” Ezra turns from Colin to look at you. He wants there to be no mistake. “I came because I already loved her and will love her better than you ever would or could.” He makes show of kissing you, holding your cheek in his free hand, then turns back to Colin pointing at his pelt, “Now drop that and go, tis not your property.”

His eyes take on a dangerous glint-

“Trust me when I say, you would not care to have me take it from you.”

Colin seems to be sizing Ezra up, then looks at you, his face a mask. 

“She is still my wife, and this is my house,” he says finally. 

“You can not be serious, Colin. You want to come back to me?” 

“Not so much as I do not want some other ‘man’ having what is mine.” 

It is here, that Ezra punches him hard across the face, and Colin goes down hard. Ezra picks up his pelt and takes you from the cottage, headed, he is not sure where. You do not speak, walking in a daze, but you do have a destination. Your parents' house. 

You let yourself and Ezra in, and your mother sees the stricken look on your face, and though completely forgotten by Ezra, his bloody cheek. She hollers for your father and pulls Ezra into their large kitchen to look at his wound. You follow feeling a little lost. You sit on the stool you used to watch your mother cook from, and the warm light of the kitchen and familiar smell soothes you slightly. 

But it is not to last for as soon as your father enters and your parents look to you to explain, you burst into tears again. You try to get through the story, but Ezra mercifully takes over, and when he is done your parents are livid. Your Da takes off almost immediately, not before giving your forehead a kiss and patting Ezra's shoulder, giving it a warm squeeze. After settling you both to rest with hot toddies, your Mam tells you to remain at the house and leaves as well. 

Patrick is in a state as he marches to your home. Seeing Ezra's face bloodied, you hardly able to speak for wailing in fear, confusion, and despair in his head. He knows in the eyes of the church and by the letter of the law, you have nary a leg to stand on. You are still married, and the house is legally Colin's, not that he contributed more to it than you or your family but the deed is in his name because that is what is done. A woman like you needs to count on decency of family, friends, and neighbors to use their heads and hearts to not condemn her. He has been proud to say that other than the likes of Jamie and a very few, Patrick’s village has not let him down, not let you down. But that is all going to change now that Colin was back, not with everyone but with many. Enough to make things difficult.

Lost in the argument running inside his mind, Patrick comes upon your red door suddenly. Seeing a light through the mullioned window, he hammers on the door. It swings open and Colin has the good sense to not look surprised. 

“Da- Partick.” Colin corrects.

“Go one further, you can call me Mister Brennan.”

Colin again shows some common sense, and nods somewhat sheepishly. Patrick scrutinizes him.

“Why sir, could you not show this deference to my daughter I wonder,” Patrick muses. “What is your plan? Do you really intend to get back in her good graces? Do not answer that.”

“Jamie contacted me and told me she is-  she’s shacking with a selkie man. In my house no less!” 

“And would you care about the integrity of your house so much, if she were haunting it on her own? Mourning her ‘lost husband’. Would you have run home then? Do not answer that. I am here to tell you to remove nothing from this home. Better yet, stay at your dear brother's place. While this gets sorted. Got me? This, you can answer.” 

“Yes. I got you.” 

Deirdre marches to the stone church in the heart of the village. Murmuring, as she prays on each bead of her rosary. She enters the building, crosses herself with her deft fingers after they dip in the ornate vessel of holy water, and then makes her way to the dais. The smell of frankincense and myrrh comforts her, on bended knee, she crosses herself again before the altar and goes to the confessional. The door slides open the instant she seats herself.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been one week since my last confession."

'"May almighty God have mercy on you, and having forgiven your sins, lead you to eternal life. Amen," Father Liam O’Brian intones.

Deirdre confesses her venal sins and does her act of contrition, is given her penance, and is absolved of her sins. But Deirdre lingers, and the priest sits with her, patiently.

“What is weighing on your heart, Dierdre?” He asks after several moments stretch.

“Colin has returned, Father.” It is a whisper as if so large a sin for even the confessional.

“Holy Ma- Colin Kelly?”

“The same.”

“Let us walk, Deirdre,” he says, and stepping out of the confessional, Deirdre follows. Father OBrian guides her out into the garden behind the church next to the rectory. She tells him the story, right up to dressing Ezra’s cheek, and the vicar listens. Nodding in places where he is familiar with the story, when Colin disappeared, remembering counseling you in those first weeks, the wedding of your cousin Courtney, as he was the officiant, recollecting you introducing Ezra shyly, yes, you only identified him as a friend to the priest, but you knew, he knew Ezra was more.

“What recourse do we have?”

“In the sight of God, your daughter is married to Colin Kelly,” the priest says solemnly.

“He deserted her, for all most a year, doing who knows what, and only returned for what he sees as his property. And that includes my daughter.” bristles Deirdre.  

“What he was doing is between him and God, he must seek forgiveness of course.”

“What about her? What about her and Ezra?”

“I needn’t remind you that she has been living in sin for some time, and we have all turned a blind eye, passing no judgment upon her. She was suffering, we all knew it and felt for the girl but her husband is claiming his right to her," Father O’Brian clears his throat uncomfortably, “E-Ezra must go back to where he came from, and she needs to repent her sins, then weave and cleave to her husband. I am happy to council her-”

“Father Liam!”

“Did you expect a different answer, my child?”

“Do not. I knew you in short pants!” 

Deirdre only feels the slightest pang of guilt, she must make up for it, but for now, she storms toward home. She kicks herself. She should not have expected a different answer… the rosary moves in her hand, and she looks to the Mother Mary. You want something from the son, you talk to the mother, she reminds herself.

Ezra cradles you on the large sofa in the parlor of your parents' home. You both discuss what they are possibly up to. You have a good idea, you roll your eyes as you tell him your mam is most definitely praying, and da… well, good luck Colin. You check on his cheek, it was going to scar, perhaps not too badly but-

“We have been fully derailed, moonbeam, we went back to the house because you were not feeling well.”

“True, my stomach hurts, but I don think it is for any reason except for Colin turning our lives upside down and shaking it like a blasted snow globe.”

“Is that really all it is? I think we have a real problem, A ghrá (uh GRAWH).”

“What do you mean? I mean I know, but-” You look over at the seal skin, panic rising. “Please, Ezra, my love- “

Ezra knows at once what you are thinking, he holds your face in his hands, he tells you something in the old language, and his eyes and voice are soothing as always. You are proud that you know what he is saying most times when he reverts to it, but this time it is more Irish than you have, you tell him you do not understand. He kisses you in response, putting his forehead to yours.

“I said, ‘do not be afraid my love, and always remember, if you want me, I will not go anywhere without you.’”

“But-” you begin, but Ezra kisses your forehead.

 “I will take care of it, though I fear it will more change than I planned. I cannot help but wonder if you will be willing.” 

“What do you mean more change than you planned? I will go with you, Ezra. Anywhere.”

Ezra’s eyes flash, perhaps a little greedily, then he kisses you hard and wanting.  

“Let us not get ahead of ourselves, Pearl. I must speak with someone first.”

He plans to wait until one of your parents returns. It is your father, he had met up with your mother and she explained where she had gone and what happened. And that she is on her way to speak with your eldest sister Felicia, instructing her to talk with the boys about the situation. The family is to come together for dinner tonight. Your Da is not sure you will be up to such a thing, but Dierdre is firm in her belief that the family must surround and protect you. 

You have dozed off on the couch, so Ezra carefully extracts himself from under you and murmurs to Patrick that he has an errand to run. 

“Will you be back for supper?”

“I would not dare miss Deirdre’s sumptuous cooking, perish the thought,” Ezra says a hand on the older man’s shoulder. 

Ezra makes his way to Fergus and Tilda’s, they can see his distress the moment they put their eyes on him. Tilda brings him before the fire to warm him. 

“Tell me mo bhuachaill what has happened,” her dark eyes leveling his, a reassuring hand on his knee, she gives it a squeeze.

“Her husband has returned, he wants to stake his claim,” Ezra looks disgusted, and then anguished. “I reckon she is with child. Mine, of course.”

Tilda puffs her cheeks and then lets the air out in a burst through her nostrils but stays silent. 

“You reckon, how?”

“I can tell she has skipped a moon cycle... she's had a fainting spell, and then today she threw up. I am not sure, but-”

“Have you spoken with her?”

“I was going to, and then-”

“The husband”, Tilda finished.

“The husband.”

“You know the archipelago off Port Noo?”

“Of course”

“My kin built some cottages on Rón Inis (Roan Inish), they are still there. I imagine they need some attention… but they were built good and sturdy. The other option is well-”

Fergus comes up behind Ezra and hands him a slip of paper with instructions to get to the Island.

“Thank ye, Fergus.” Ezra folds the paper and pockets it. “The other option, well, Pearl will have to want that so deeply in her heart for it to be- and it cannot happen until after the child comes.” 

“When will you leave?” Fergus asks.

“As soon as possible, I suppose.” 

“when its time, let us pack some food for you, some salted meats- there are no iceboxes there.”

Ezra looks at them with gratitude, that he seems unable to express. 

“Cat got your tongue, young man? Ha, a first!” Tilda teases good-naturedly.

“I will miss you.”

“Us too Ezra. Son,” Fergus says as Ezra stands. They hug, and Fergus claps his shoulder. "This is not goodbye, but so long.”

Ezra hugs Tilda, holding tight. She puts her hand on the back of his head, and he lowers his head into her shoulder. 

“I have to get back to her.”

“Yes, you do.”

“Tapadh leat (tapah lat) Tilda agus Fergus.”

“Go n-éirí an t-ádh leat (Guh n’ayr’ee an tah leath),” Tilda said lovingly.

to be continued...

Part 5

Gaelic translation:

mo bhuachaill my boy

leath choróin half-crown

Tapadh leat Tilda agus Fergus Thank you Tilda and Fergus

Go n-éirí an t-ádh leat May luck rise to you

Rón Inis Island of Seals

A ghrá love

THANK YOU FOR READING! 💚

You can find more of my writing here MASTERLIST and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

#ezra (prospect) x f!reader #ezra prospect #selkie!ezra #ezra selkie au #selkie #ezra (prospect) x you #selkie!ezra x f!reader #selkie fic #selkie au

[theindiscreetbookworm]

Chapters: 1/3 Fandom: Our Flag Means Death (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Israel Hands/Lucius Spriggs, Past Blackbeard | Edward Teach/Israel Hands - Relationship Characters: Israel Hands, Lucius Spriggs, Blackbeard | Edward Teach, Jim Jimenez, Frenchie (Our Flag Means Death), Fang (Our Flag Means Death), Ivan (Our Flag Means Death) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Selkies, Selkie Israel Hands, Lucius Spriggs Lives, but we definitely start with him drowning, Lucius Spriggs Lives in the Walls of the Revenge, Canon Related, Post-Season/Series 01, Edward Teach is the bad guy, (kind of), (sorry), Bittersweet Ending Summary:

“What are you?” Selkie. The word sounds like a bell’s chime in his head, and Lucius knows. He’s heard the stories, the legends of seal women from the north that folks told back home. He’d never taken them for truth, not once—not even when Jenkins came back to town from the sea with a dark-eyed new wife in tow and the whispers had swirled throughout the autumn of the reticent new bride and how she lingered at the edge of town some nights, staring back towards the coast. Slowly, Lucius’s mind catches up and he processes what the selkie first said. “There’s a selkie on the ship?”

~~~

The only reason Lucius survives when Edward throws him off the Revenge is the selkies who pull him back to the surface of the water and give him time to breathe. They bring him back to the ship with one piece of information: one of ours is on board. Living in the passageways hidden in the walls, Lucius has to find out who it is; who's been a creature of legend hiding in plain site the whole time and, more importantly, what they have to do with his survival.

#selkie fic selkie fic selkie fic!!! #selkie fic #here is my fun tiny fic #it is emotional and a bit of a mess #and i love it #it's coming out now before i know how exactly lucius survives #not that it matters but it kinda matters to me #it's got everything #drowning #mythical creatures #angst #it's great #ofmd fanfic #our flag means death fanfic #sprizzy #lucius x izzy #my writing

[aunicornsrevenge]

They are so fun to write cause every interaction has to go through the filters of

1. What is actually objectively happening

2. What ed is clearly (and reasonably) interpreting that as

3. What stede is so wildly misinterpreting it to be

#babygirl he is not sleepy he wants to smooch.... #i don't think stede is 100% oblivious in canon but also he is so stupid #i love him #selkie fic

[martelldoran]

seven sentence wip tag game

i'm always a sucker for these and since @kalee60 tagged me i thought i would share an itty bitty snippet from my selkie fic which is slowly being written.

here's a small snippet from chapter 3:

Steve grips the edge of the bar so tight he feels the wood start to strain and buckle. Thin splinters crack under his fingertips.  His heart hammers so hard he thinks it might beat right out of his chest.

“You blame them?” he asks, voice hoarse.

“And you don’t?” Annie snaps back. Unshed tears glimmer at the edges of her amber eyes.  “You think it was just the dusted we lost?”

for now that's your lot but if you want to ask me anything about said selkie fic to get some creative juices flowing... 😘

i will tag @darter-blue @allegedlyann @becassine and @oh-i-swear-writes with no pressure if they'd like to share a snip of what they're working on

#my writing #selkie fic #i will finish this fic if its the last thing i do

[ghost-bxrd]

Thoughts on selkie jason todd?

SELKIE

Look I’m a sucker for mythological creatures and selkies hold a soft spot in my heart (although I get anger issues reading the og myths most of the time because literally the number of people that considered it okay to steal the selkie’s seal skin and then had the audacity to be sad when the selkie found it and LEFT is frankly astounding, like, bro).

But Selkie!Jason is such a sweet concept I’m just gonna list some headcanons below 💚

Remember Jason’s red hoodie? That’s his seal skin. Living on the streets, the only truly secure place for him to keep it was on him. And the first time Alfred took it to wash it (not realizing what it is) he went downright feral thinking Bruce was trying to trap him. The hoodie was returned to Jason posthaste, but Bruce and Alfred simply assumed that Jason was so protective of it because his mom gave it to him or something.

Once Jason gets used to the manor he takes to safely stashing his seal skin in his room. Bruce and Alfred held to their promise of never going inside without their permission, so he finally relaxed after a couple tense months.

Bruce finds out about Jason’s Selkie heritage by accident when Jason sneaks out of his room at night to take a dip in the pools deep inside the cave system running below the manor. Bruce panics when Jason goes inside and doesn’t come back up for air for several minutes and dives in after him. Only to come face to face with a wide eyed baby seal.

It takes forever for Bruce, Dick, and Alfred to find Jason in the cave systems afterwards. Dick manages to coax him out by pretending to drown until there’s suddenly a little seal pup nudging him back towards the surface.

All the cuddles. Have you seen baby seals? They are ADORABLE.

Jason ends up feeling safe enough to just— leave his seal skin lying around the manor. At first it’s a test, to see what the others will do now that they know. But everyone either pointedly ignores it or picks it up to hand it back to him if they need the space. Eventually Jason even allows it maintain its natural form of actual seal skin instead of a disguised hoodie or jacket.

When Jason dies, his seal skin is still lying on the armchair in Bruce’s study where left it. Nobody dares to touch or move after Jason’s death. Bruce cannot bear to bury it with his son.

(When Jason comes back he thinks Bruce stole his skin)

#Selkie Jason Todd #Selkie au #Selkie #there are some awesome Selkie fics on AO3 btw! #so definitely check the Selkie Jason tags #jason todd #batfamily #dick grayson #batfam #robin #bruce wayne #batdad #red hood #batman #alfred pennyworth #Nightwing #we’re pretty close to mermay aren’t weg

[bones-of-a-rabbit]

the ocean loves her children, you see.

There's an old story selkies tell their children. The ocean loves her children, you see: if you ask for her help, she will gift you the things you need, even if they are not what you want. So most seafolk- sirens, merkin, sea monsters, etc- were once like us: the soft and gentle selkie folk, who love the ocean and the world she gives them. But they were once in need of the ocean mother's help, and their hearts cried to her- and she answered them in kind, changing them beyond the magic their shapeshifting allowed. And so they survived.

You were lost from your family, in a strange sea, and had tried to help a struggling sailor. When they had turned on you, wanting your skin, you were shocked, scared, confused, angry, and you screamed your heartbreak so deeply that your throat went raw- and the ocean mother gave you new gifts, and you used them to tear the sailors apart.

selkies are meant to be soft, kind, the gentlest of the ocean's children. and in your moments of pain and betrayal, you had chosen to forsake those things. your rage and agony tore the water red and frothy, until there were no sailors left to rip apart.

you fell into despair, then. you tried to rip the scales from your back, tear the fins from your bones, but all for naught. then you slept. you did not want to wake. but the ocean heard the weak cries of your heart, and carried you to a new home.

you woke to another boat. more sailors. you were terrified. of them. of yourself. one spoke to you, fed you, tended your wounds. you were scared- scared of him. scared of how your heart longed to be healed by him.

later, you would love him. and, later still, you would feel whole again.

#sea monster au #sea monster reader #blood #tw blood #injury #tw injury #bones of a rabbit au #doodles #sketches #short drabble #ramble fic #lore #bones of a rabbit lore #selkie lore #idk i just like thinking up lore for my own dumb aus okay sue me skjdfsjdfh

[synesthete-sylke]

selkie smajor selkie smajor selkie smajor !!

the fact pirates!scott could've been secretly mer,,, please the angst would be so good

also scott as a chubby little seal would be so funny, he'd break into the kestrel's base to eat their snacks and to avoid being caught turn into a seal whenever someone walked by

imagine going to eat your 3am shredded cheese and you walk into your kitchen only to find a harbor seal covered in jam eating all of your pastries.

how did he get there? why is he eating that and not the fish? how did he open drawers with flippers? these are all questions scott will not answer!

#sylke's art #scott smajor #smajor #smajor1995 #smajor fanart #pirates smp #scurvyblr #pirates smp fanart #lil bit of #traffic life fanart #selkie #(even if it's not accurate to mythology) #(at all) #he's just a little gremlin and i love that for him !! #sausage would be enabling this little bastard i know he would #oh and the reason i chose a harbor seal #rather than any colourful fish species #is because it's one of the several marine mammals known to have homosexual members!! #also because scott's chaotic enough to pull off being a seal #!! someone should write a fic where another pirate (probs martyn) catches a seal and whoops #he just stabbed scott #that's not good

[britany1997]

Signed, Sealed, Delivered…I’m Yours

Paul x GN Selkie Reader

Paul x creature partner is my favvvv, think he would be so cute with a selkie reader🥰🥰 hope y’all love this! Not sure if there will be more yet but I plan to keep it fluffy regardless:)

(Also Paul is on the Santa Carla ocean conservation board because of Fishy, so he’s an advocate for all sea creatures🥹)

Warnings: reader is mentioned to be nude a couple times because in selkie lore, they are when they shed their seal skin🤷��‍♀️ (readers body not described)

Paul’s teeth tore into the skin of some asshole’s neck. He was sure at one point he’d known his name, but after an endless night of sharing joints, it was long forgotten.

Paul wasn’t picky about his blood, but stoners were his filet mignon. They had a sweet and spicy flavor, and they always left him with a buzz.

This one was yummy, but he’d been insufferable. He wore a scarf and wire rimmed glasses he didn’t need, he was a philosophy major who’d met both of his girlfriends in his gender studies class, and ten minutes into their conversation, he’d explained to Paul that it was actually pronounced “Van Goff” and not “Van Go.” Paul had quickly moved him from his smoke circle list to his dinner list.

As he sucked the last drops out of Mr. Pretentious, Paul let his body fall to the sandy ground underneath the boardwalk.

He checked his watch, there was still time before sunrise. Paul couldn’t think of anything better to do with the rest of his night then ride out his high on the beach.

Dwayne seemed to like it after all.

Paul snuck away from his dumping grounds and began to stumble towards the shore.

He paused, rubbing his eyes.

He had to be hallucinating, because reclining on the sand was the most attractive person he’d ever seen in his unlife…

…totally naked. God what was in that weed.

He rubbed his eyes again. You were still there.

So this was why Dwayne loved the beach so much.

You were radiant. Alluring in a way that made Paul swear he’d dreamed you up. No person was that perfect. He was over the moon instantly.

A look of pure determination washed over his face as he desperately tried to conjure the words to speak to you. He scowled as he thought this would have been a lot easier if he was sober.

After a few minutes, he realized he’d better come up with something quick because he’d been fumbling around behind you for an almost unacceptable amount of time.

Just as he was about to approach you, he watched you shiver as a cool breeze blew past. Your arms crossed over yourself, rubbing your shoulders as you tried to keep warm.

Paul softened. He may have been a bloodthirsty, vicious vampire. But dammit, he was also a gentle man.

His eyes scanned the shore until they landed on a sleek leather coat.

Paul strode to your side and picked up the coat, smoothing it out a little.

You whirled around, fear blooming in your chest at the sight of a strange man holding your coat, your only escape to the ocean.

But instead of keeping the coat for himself, he flashed you a warm smile and held it out to you.

“You must be freezing,” he said, maintaining impressive eye contact as your naked body graced the sand.

Your jaw dropped. You’d heard many horror stories from elder selkies about the cruel and savage human men who would hunt down stunning selkies, only to take their coats and lock them away. Confining the selkies to the land, and shackling them to the men who’d stolen from them.

The captured selkies would be forced to live as humans while their hearts ached desperately for the world beneath the water.

You’d met some of your kind who’d suffered this terrible fate and escaped, but some you knew had never returned.

But this sweet, handsome man, he was giving you your coat? You’d never heard of such a kind human man.

You took the coat from his hands, half expecting him to yank it back, but he didn’t, he let you take it. “Thank you,” you uttered reverently, folding the coat over your arms.

“No problem baby,” his smile widened, “what’s a babe like you doing out here so late?”

Your eyes narrowed in confusion. “I- I’m not a baby,” you told him. You had thought you looked like any regular adult human in this form.

Paul’s eyes widened, “oh uh, no sorry that’s not what I meant,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “It’s like uh…well you know it’s a nickname.”

He was wayyy to high for this.

“Nick…name?” You rubbed your temples, “but my name is not nick…” you trailed off, confused.

Paul’s head was pounding. “No, sugar, it’s like um…it’s like a nice thing to call someone you know?”

Your face flashed with something Paul thought resembled understanding as you nodded slowly.

“Damn babe, you from outer space or somethin?” He asked, only half-joking.

“No,” you replied.

“Mkay,” he shrugged, hey he had secrets too, one of them was currently decomposing under the boardwalk.

He noticed your shoulders shake before realizing the coat was still in your arms, “you’re not gonna put that on sweetheart?” he asked.

Your lips pulled downward. You weren’t ready to change back yet. Not when you were having such a wonderful time with this man. He was teaching you important human things. You figured you’d better stick around.

You vigorously shook your head no.

Paul mirrored your frown. He couldn’t let you freeze to death. “Alright baby well at least take mine,” he offered as he shrugged out of his own jacket and placed it around your shoulders.

You could have melted into a puddle right there.

This man hadn’t just returned your coat. He’d given you his coat as well. What a strong man he must be to brave the cold. He would be the perfect mate.

You practically purred as he buttoned the jacked around your shoulders. You leaned in to nuzzle against his shoulder. “You’re so strong” you hummed, “so warm, so handsome.”

God bless the beach.

Paul beamed, “yeah baby? I hit the gym every now and again, nothin special.” He flexed his bicep with a smirk.

“Mmm,” you hummed, moving closer to press your cheek to his chest, wrapping your arms around him, desperate to be close.

A goofy smile spread across Paul’s face as he couldn’t imagine a man on earth as lucky as he was.

Then he remembered. Daylight.

His watch confirmed his fears, it was time to go.

“Listen sugar, I could do this all night but I’ve gotta get going,” he cursed his Sun intolerant vampire body, “but give me your number honey and I’ll call you anytime.”

You glanced up at him, confusion written all over your face. “Which number do you want?” You asked.

His brow furrowed, “home, cell, work, whatever you have babe.”

“Three?” You guessed.

Paul shook his head in disbelief.

“Let’s try this, where do you live baby?” He asked.

You smiled, you knew this one.

“With you,” you purred, wrapping yourself around him once more.

Paul raised an eyebrow, “what?”

“I live with you now,” you informed him.

Paul stood still for a second, processing as you held him.

“Yeah ok,” he said, taking your hand and tugging you toward his motorcycle. Best night ever.

TLB Taglist❤️: (comment to be added)

@6lostgirl6 @misslavenderlady @crustyboypix @arenpath @anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @kurt-nightcrawler @ria-coolgirl @gothamslostboy @vampirefilmlover @lostboys1987girl @solobagginses @dwaynedelight @dwaynesluscioushair @warrior-616 @sad-ghost-of-garbage @chiefdirector @its-freaking-bats @arbesa-mind @f4iryfxies @mickkmaiden333 @bitchyexpertprincess @katerinaval @rynsfandomsfun @softchonk @walmart-cereal @fraudfrog @memphiscity69

#the lost boys #paul lost boys #the lost boys fic #tlb #tlb 1987 #the lost boys 1987 #lost boys #paul the lost boys #Paul x gn reader #Paul x gn creature reader #Paul x selkie reader #Paul x creature reader #Paul x you #lost boys Paul #selkie reader #gn Selkie reader #vampires #vampire fic #lost boys fic #lost boys fluff #the lost boys fluff #fluff fic #vampire fluff #non human reader #Paul fluff #gn reader #lost boys 1987

[0rchidm4ntis]

Son of the Sea

#micas art #twst #twisted wonderland #twst silver #silver vanrouge #selkie au #ell's amazing fic and my trip to the ocean yesterday spurred this on! #i have a few ideas id like to explore with my art for this au but theyre gonna take me a bit of time to work out #i just thought id get this idea out first bc the image of baby silver all wrapped in his big warm comfy coat would not leave me alone #this niche little au means so much to me :'))

[selkiefinalist]

5, 13, and 33 please! So excited for this fic!

la you sent this back in august i think and i have no idea what the questions even were so i'm just going to make up questions which is probably more enjoyable* for both of us:

5. in the final days of finishing your fic, did you listen to 'horses' by maggie rogers on relentless repeat and if so why and what feelings did that spark in you?

yes and i don't even know why! maggie rogers i'm sure is fine but i can’t say i’m a particular fan. however i was at work and put on her most recent album on a whim and then that song came on and honestly (no shade maggie you’re great i’m sure) it’s kind of annoying/grating but in that moment it became the only song i could listen to for like three days as i was in the final throes and it carried me all the way through, it has a particular achiness that exactly matched what i was looking for. i was waiting to get the oil changed in my car, trying to tweak the last scenes on my phone, good ol’ maggie wishing she could be like those horses for just a minute, and i’m sure the people at the car place thought i was deranged

putting the rest under a cut because i am at all times afraid of annoying people on my own blog, which is a normal sentiment

13. did anything spooky or unlucky happen to you whilst writing your fic?

regretfully i was only haunted by my own shortcomings. maybe next time!

33. you mentioned, several times probably, how you would publish this fic and then ‘run screaming into the woods.’ did that happen?

well, no. saturday i did go running on a street surrounded by trees (pictured below) but i was still riding that joy of being done and the anxiety of having posted hadn’t quite hit yet. so it was very pleasant. i did have to listen to horses like five more times on the course of that run but i think it’s out of my system now.

*i can’t remember what this asterisk was for <3

#replies #ferryboatpeak #what is writing? #i don’t know her #selkie fic tag #selkie fic

[grogusmum]

Tea and Toast

SELKIE! EZRA X F!READER (Seven Tears AU but can be read stand alone)

SUMMARY: for Writer Wednesday. Ezra tries to treat you to breakfast.

WOOD COUNT: 500

WARNINGS: food, nuzzling, selkie Ezra always requires his own warning

GAELIC TRANSLATIONS:

m’fhíorghrá my true love

There was no reason to wake early. No work today, it was yours and Ezra’s to do as you wish. But Ezra was awake, he had gotten used to the early mornings.

Ezra could think of no better use of the early hours of the morning than to watch you sleep.

He watched your chest rise and fall, your face free of the worry that crossed it more often than he would like. He smiled at the little sounds you made, sometimes sweet soft snores, sometimes breathy moans that stirred him. There were mornings when he woke you, already slotting his hips between your legs. 

But not this morning. This morning as he watched you, gently brushing a finger over your eyebrow. Tracing it again and again. You smiled in your sleep, murmuring his name. He slowed his ministrations to a stop, he wanted you to sleep a little longer.

In the kitchen, Ezra muttered in frustration and then laughed.

"Ezra, you have many talents but you, my fine fellow, are no culinarian," he said to himself looking at the mess on the hob. Potatoes overdone, bacon underdone, the eggs… his third try. 

"Well, good morning," you smiled, leaning on the door jam of the bedroom, "rough going?"

"Pearl," he turned the heat off and strode over to you, "I wanted to surprise you, so many times we have cooked together. I thought-" You interrupted him with a kiss.

"Thank you, M’fhíorghrá (MEER-ggrah) thank you for trying," you kissed each quadrant of his face, his forehead, his chin, his left cheek, then his right, and finally his nose. He hummed pleased. "So, what is edible?" 

He gave his bark of a laugh.

"Hot water for tea and toast…pitiful."

"I'll get the marmalade," you gave his nose another kiss.

Since your breakfast was just tea and toast you sat on the settee in front of the woodstove, sock footed, looking at the morning papers. Reading aloud to one another when you found an interesting bit to share. 

"Da offered us the boat today."

"Did he?" Ezra looked up from the paper.

"Yea. Wondered if we fancied a trip to the islands."

"I would indeed."

You folded your paper and stood for a stretch. Ezra seized the opportunity and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you into his lap. You laughed, wrapping your arms around him, as he burrowed his face in the valley between your breasts nuzzling you.

You pulled away and stood again, and Ezra huffed through his nose, but he wore a cheeky smile.

"We should dress if we are going," you explained, your hand on his cheek.

"Okee," Ezra stood, then he made to haul you to the bedroom. You called out his name, laughing.

He backed you to the bed until you tumbled onto it, and he dropped down on top of you.

"Well, we are closer to getting dressed, I suppose."

"We surely are, Moonbeam, so let us take a moment to celebrate the progress we have achieved.”

THANK YOU FOR READING! 💚

You can find more of my writing here MASTERLIST and if you would care to be tagged for this or any of my writing fill out my taglist form

@writer-wednesday

#selkie ezra #selkie!ezra #ezra selkie au #ezra x fem!reader #ezra x you #ezra prospect #selkie!ezra x you #selkie!ezra x f!reader #selkie #selkie fic

[hamsterclaw]

Legend

The man you help one day insists that he owes you everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x F! reader

Rating: 18+

Genre: Selkie! JK, smut, angst

Word count: 10.6k

Warnings: Sex, swearing, knotting

It’s early, but you prefer walking along the beach when there are less people. The sun’s up, barely, there’s a light salty breeze blowing your hair in your face and there’s movement out of the corner of your eye. 

Three men fighting over what seems to be – a fur coat?

You don’t want to get involved but two of the men are fully dressed and the other one is naked so it seems unfair that the pair are trying to take the fur coat off him. 

‘Hey!’ you shout, before you can talk yourself out of it. ‘Back off!’

You wave your phone. ‘I’m calling the police!’ 

The two men exchange a look and shove the naked man into the sand. Then they’re off. 

You approach the naked man warily. ‘Are you ok?’ 

He looks up at you, dark hair in his face, almost covering his eyes. He’s slim but there’s bulk to his shoulders and arms, a ridge of muscle along his abs. 

He gets up suddenly, overbalances, and you take a step back so he doesn’t fall into you. 

The fur coat’s back on his shoulders, you’re glad for him given, judging by his bare legs under the hem of the coat, he’s stark naked otherwise. 

‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘For helping me.’ 

‘Don’t worry,’ you say. You smile and move past him to continue your walk. 

He says, ‘I owe you everything.’ 

His words make you turn back, slightly nervous at the seriousness of his tone. 

‘You’ve very welcome,’ you say, ‘I didn’t really do anything.’

You’re a few metres down the beach when you realise he’s trailing behind you. 

‘I have to return your kindness,’ he says, when you stop dead and turn around to look him fully in the face. 

Shit. What is this guy on?

‘You can return it by living your life,’ you say, nodding encouragingly. ‘Away from me.’ 

He considers this carefully. ‘Do you feel threatened by me?’ he asks, keeping his distance. 

You eyeball him from the top of his mussed hair, to the ridiculous fur coat he’s got on in the middle of summer, to his bare feet, and can honestly say that you don’t. 

‘You don’t owe me anything,’ you insist.

‘Can I try to repay you?’ he asks. He pushes his hair away from his face, like seeing more of him will change your mind. 

He’s got an interesting face, wide eyes, beautiful skin, a mole under his bottom lip that draws your gaze. 

You sigh. ‘Can you do yard work?’ 

***

Half an hour later your new acquaintance is standing beside you, regarding the mess that was your grandmother’s yard quizzically. 

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ you say. ‘This isn’t worth it. You’re free to go, you don’t have to help me with this.’ 

‘That’s not what I was thinking,’ he says. He looks at you worriedly. ‘How would you have done this alone?’ 

‘It would have taken me longer without your help,’ you allow. 

‘Your hands are small,’ he says, critically, brows furrowed. ‘And your arms —’ 

‘And you’re wearing a fur coat in summer, there’s no judgement here,’ you interrupt, raising an eyebrow at him. 

‘It’s a pelt,’ he tells you, huffy. 

‘There’s probably something up in the loft that’ll fit you,’ you say. ‘Stay here. I’ll go up.’ 

When you get back down to the yard, you’re greeted by the twin mounds of his very firm buttocks. 

‘Holy shit. Get some clothes on,’ you say, turning your eyes up hurriedly as he approaches you. 

‘I see people on the beach wearing tiny clothes that don’t cover much more than this,’ he tells you. 

‘Well you’re not on the beach, you’re in my yard. And in this house we wear clothes,’ you retort. 

You shove the bundle of clothes you’ve found into his chest, and turn your back as he gets dressed. 

When you look around again, thankfully, he’s decent. 

Your grandfather’s clothes are a size too large but it’s probably just as well given your new friend’s penchant for getting naked at the slightest opportunity. 

‘Just to be clear,’ you clarify. ‘This isn’t indentured servitude just because I helped you this morning. You can go whenever you want, ok? You don’t owe me a thing.’ 

‘I owe you everything,’ he says solemnly. 

‘Are you even listening,’ you grumble. 

You decide you’ve spent enough time arguing with him. He looks strong, and willing, and the yard isn’t going to clear itself. 

He works hard, genuinely like he believes he owes you something for scaring those guys off, carrying the weeds you clear out to the bins, seemingly tireless.

By lunchtime you’ve made decent headway. You get up, ignoring the way your knees protest after kneeling in the dirt for so long, and say, ‘come in, let’s take a break.’

‘I don’t need a break,’ he tells you earnestly. ‘I’ll help you finish this.’

You furrow your brow at him. ‘We’re not carrying on unless you eat something —‘ 

You realise you don’t know his name.

‘Jungkook,’ he supplies helpfully, ‘of the Jeon clan.’

You stare at him. ‘I’m Y/N L/N.’

‘Clanless,’ he murmurs to himself, nodding like that explains things.

You frown. ‘We don’t have clans where I come from,’ you start, and then you close your mouth. Why are you arguing with this dude?

‘Fine, Jungkook, let’s have lunch.’

***

For someone who didn’t want to take a break, Jungkook sure seems hungry. 

You watch, bemused, as he wolfs down his sandwich and salad.

‘More?’ you ask, holding out half of your own sandwich. 

He accepts, and the sandwich disappears in three quick bites.

When he’s finally satiated, you go back outside and get back to work.

The sun is starting to drop when you turn to him a little awkwardly. 

‘Hey, Jungkook. Thanks so much for your help today. It would have taken me ages to do this myself.’

He looks at you seriously. ‘You shouldn’t be doing this yourself.’

‘Yeah well, I’m clanless remember?’ you say, jokingly.

He shakes his head. ‘You need help.’

‘You’re not the first person to tell me that,’ you offer.

Jungkook’s unamused. 

‘I’ll help you,’ he says, like that decides it. 

You want to keep arguing but you’re tired, and it’s late, and he does good work.

‘I’ll be back in the morning,’ Jungkook says. He’s got redressed in his pelt, placed the folded clothes you loaned him neatly on the porch. 

You open your mouth and shut it again, and Jungkook takes this as assent.

‘Wait,’ you say, as he walks away.

He turns back to you, and there’s something about the way his profile looks in the fading light that makes your heart beat a little faster. 

He’s beautiful.

‘What do you want for breakfast?’ you ask.

He turns fully to face you, eyes crinkled in a smile. ‘You don’t have to feed me. I’m the one who owes you, remember?’

‘You honestly don’t—‘

You stop talking when you realise he’s too far away to hear you anyway.

***

The next morning, you’re awakened by noises coming from the back garden. You stumble to the window and are greeted by your new friend Jungkook’s shirtless back. 

His muscles ripple in the sunlight, and he’s already worked up a sweat somehow. 

You lift up the sash window, and he turns at the sound. 

His face lights up at the sight of you, and you’d be lying if you said the sight doesn’t make you feel a little giddy. 

‘What –’ 

Your voice comes out as a croak, so you clear your throat and start again. 

‘What do you want for breakfast?’ 

‘Surprise me,’ he says cheerfully. 

He turns back to the thatch of brambles he’s hacking through. 

‘Hey,’ you call again. 

You swipe a hand over your dressing table, grab the sunscreen you apply religiously. 

You toss it out the window, at his feet. 

‘Put sunscreen on.’ 

Jungkook picks it up like he’s unaware of the concept of sun protection. 

‘Can you show me how to use this?’ he asks. 

He’s looking at you quizzically, all bare chest and gleaming skin, and you back away from the window before you say something you’ll live to regret.

You’ve got breakfast in the pan on your grandmother’s old Aga when Jungkook pops his head in the back door.

‘It’s hot today,’ he says.

‘You look hot,’ you agree.

Then you realise what you’ve said. 

Thankfully, Jungkook seems to have missed it completely, walking into your kitchen, looking around curiously. 

He stops in front of a painting on the wall of a lighthouse by the sea. 

‘This looks like it was painted around here,’ he says. ‘I’ve been past this lighthouse.’

‘Would you like the painting?’ you offer. 

At his surprised look, you hasten to explain. 

‘I live in the city. I came here because I inherited this house from my grandmother after she died.’

You wave a hand. ‘I’ve got to pack up her things, get rid of what I can, and then sell this place.’

‘If you like the painting then please take it,’ you say. ‘It’s got no sentimental value to it.’’

‘I don’t have a lot of things,’ Jungkook replies.

He watches as you serve up two plates, lay the table. 

He takes a seat opposite you. 

There’s silence for a bit as you both eat, then Jungkook asks, ‘Isn’t there someone who can help you? It seems a big job.’

‘My parents live abroad,’ you tell him. ‘I don’t have any siblings. Just me.’ 

‘Your mate?’ Jungkook suggests, around a mouthful of eggs. 

You nearly choke on your coffee. ‘I don’t have a – mate, at least not in the sense you mean. I have friends, and they’re stopping by in a few weeks.’ 

You shrug. ‘It’s quite a personal job. I want to make sure my grandmother’s things are handled properly.’ 

You look out the window. Sitting, like this, you can’t see the sea, but if you were to stand, you could see the ocean from every window of this cottage. 

‘I used to spend my summers here, with her,’ you tell Jungkook. 

‘I’ve lived here my whole life,’ Jungkook says. 

You exchange a smile. 

‘I can help you, with anything you want,’ Jungkook tells you earnestly. 

You look at him for a long moment. ‘I can pay you.’ 

Jungkook almost looks offended. ‘I told you I owe you for helping me,’ he insists. 

‘You don’t owe me a thing.’ 

‘I owe you everything,’ he says again, so firmly you don’t have the heart to argue it. 

You get up. ‘I need to stop by the store and get more supplies this morning.’ 

Jungkook says, ‘I can get the brambles cleared today.’ 

You hesitate, then decide to ask. ‘Do you want anything from the store? Is there anything you like to eat?’ 

Jungkook’s smile is shy, a contrast from the fact that he’s parading around shirtless. 

‘I eat anything,’ he tells you, but you get the sense he appreciates that you asked. 

He’s turning to go back into your garden when you stop him. 

‘You should put sun protection on,’ you tell him. 

You squeeze sunscreen onto your palm, show him how to rub it in.

‘On my back, too?’ Jungkook asks, once he’s covered his face. 

You look at him carefully, trying to gauge how serious he is.

‘Yes, on your chest too.’ 

Your voice comes out unusually high-pitched, and Jungkook gives you a funny look as he rubs suncreen into his chest.

You’re trying not to stare at him, acting like it’s the first time you’ve noticed the glorious sea view outside.

‘Can you help me with my back?’ Jungkook asks.

‘Sure,’ you say, gulping a little.

You dot sunscreen on your palm, start rubbing it into his shoulders. His defined back muscles flex under your hands as you rub more cream in.

Jungkook looks down at the waistband of your grandfather’s shorts thoughtfully, and you toss the sunscreen on the table, grab the keys hurriedly.

‘I’ll get you a hat, too,’ you call as you practically run out the front door.

‘See you later Jungkook!’

***

The line at the store’s longer than you expected, you’re looking around for the shortest queue when you spot him.

‘Y/N!’ 

‘Namjoon!’

You step into Namjoon’s hug. He’s always been taller than you but in recent years his build has filled out. You can barely get your arms around him now.

‘I heard you were back,’ he says, smiling at you, friendly. Just for a moment, a shadow crosses his face.

‘I’m sorry about your grandma,’ he says.

‘Thank you,’ you reply. You pull your arms down, clasp your hands awkwardly together. 

‘I’m clearing out her old things,’ you tell him.

‘Need a hand?’

‘I’ve got someone helping me,’ you say.

Seeing the change in Namjoon’s expression, you hasten to explain.

‘I met him yesterday,’ you say. ‘Some guys were hassling him on the beach. He was grateful so he’s helping me clear out the yard.’

Namjoon frowns. He’s one of your childhood friends, you used to look forward to seeing him in the summer.

‘Is he an ok guy?’

‘He seems perfectly nice,’ you say. ‘He doesnt seem like a creep or anything.’

‘Well, you can always call me if you need anything, ok? Maybe we can grab dinner one of these days.’

‘I’d like that,’ you say. 

Namjoon dimples at you. ‘Maybe this weekend?’

‘Sure,’ you agree.

You pay for your things, load up your car and, on impulse, pick up ice cream for you and Jungkook on the way back.

You’re holding your cups of ice-cream carefully, walking around the side of the house to the back, when you hear voices.

You feel a twinge of alarm as you round the corner to see Jungkook and another man you don’t know having what seems to be a heated conversation.

‘Jungkook?’ you call.

The man you don’t know turns and gives you a long look. 

It doesn’t seem friendly.

You’re suddenly aware that you don’t know Jungkook well, you don’t know this man at all, and your nearest neighbour is over a mile away.

Jungkook steps forward, like he senses your apprehension. ‘This is Jimin,’ he tells you. ‘He’s part of my clan.’

Jimin gives you another searching look, but he eventually says, ‘Hi.’

Alarm bells are going off in your head.

You take a step back.

‘My friend Namjoon’s coming over,’ you tell Jungkook and Jimin.

It’s a complete lie, but it’s all you have.

Jungkook says, very gently, ‘Jimin’s leaving. He just came to see where I was.’

You take another step back, ice-cream forgotten.

‘Sure,’ you say. You’re trying your best to sound normal, past the rising panic.

You turn and head back to your car.

It’s only after the car door is closed behind you that you finally feel like you can draw a breath.

The rapping on the window makes you scream.

It takes you a moment to realise it’s Jungkook, another moment to notice that he’s chosen the passenger seat window to knock on even though you’re in the driver’s seat. 

Like he wanted to give you distance.

You lower the window.

‘I didn’t mean to scare you,’ he starts, and he sounds so genuinely upset about it that it goes a long way towards assuaging your fears.

‘No, I —‘ 

You sigh and give up on protesting when you realise it was pretty obvious you were uneasy.

‘It’s ok, Jungkook.’

He says, hesitantly, ‘I want to stay and help you, but if me being here is making you uncomfortable, I’ll go.’

You don’t know how to make this decision now that the ball’s in your court.

So you postpone it, like you’ve done with so many other decisions in your life.

You unlock the car doors. 

‘Do you want ice cream?’

***

Jungkook, it turns out, likes ice cream quite a lot. Somehow, you’re not surprised.

He’s scraping the sides of the cup like he wants to get every single lump, so you pass him your half-eaten ice cream.

He accepts immediately, wide-eyed and so thrilled that it amuses you.

It’s hard to imagine him ever hurting anyone.

‘What’s your favourite flavour?’ you ask.

‘All of them,’ he replies, chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth.

You laugh. 

‘I’m sorry about Jimin,’ Jungkook says.

He’s not looking at you now, swirling his tiny neon spoon in his cup. 

‘He’s scary when he’s angry, even though he’s so small.’

He hadn’t seemed small to you, although you guess Jungkook’s bigger. 

‘What’s he mad about?’ you ask.

‘He doesn’t trust people,’ Jungkook answers. He glances at you. ‘He thought maybe you were forcing me to help you.’

You snort. ‘How?’

Jungkook doesn’t answer for a moment.

‘Your grandfather,’ he says, changing the subject. ‘There aren’t many photos of him.’

‘He left my grandmother,’ you say. 

In all honesty, you don’t know much more than that. It had all happened when you were very young, your mother hadn’t told you anything about it, and your grandmother had always refused to discuss it.

Jungkook reaches out, fiddles with the dial on the car radio.

‘We should bring the groceries in,’ you say, remembering.

‘I’ll carry them,’ Jungkook insists.

He looks affronted when you try to take a bag off him.

‘I’m much stronger than you,’ he says, huffy.

‘Fine. Carry it all then. Can you make lunch too?’

***

You end up fixing lunch for you and Jungkook with leftovers and deli meat. You sit on the swing on your grandmother’s porch as you eat. 

It’s a hot day, you’re grateful for the light breeze even though it’s barely making the leaves rustle.

Jungkook glances at you as he takes a swig of water, and you hold his gaze. 

‘I’ve got some guys coming to collect the clippings and yard trash next week,’ you say. ‘Think we’ll be done by then?’ 

Jungkook nods, earnestly. ‘We should be.’ 

‘Do you have another job or something? Don’t feel obliged to stay, like I said you’ve helped me so much already.’ 

Jungkook says, firmly, ‘I owe you a debt, please let me pay it.’ 

You search his face. ‘How will I know when the debt is paid?’ 

‘I’ll know,’ Jungkook says. He seems unconcerned, sure of himself. ‘I’ll know, and I’ll take my leave then.’ 

‘What if I get sick of you before then?’ you ask, teasing. 

‘Unlikely,’ Jungkook says, confident. ‘I’m well-liked.’ 

You frown a little as you mull this over, only to catch him watching you, a spark of mischief in his eye. 

‘Are you fucking with me?’ 

Jungkook blinks. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’ 

He’s all round-eyed innocence as you look at him suspiciously. 

Finally you get up. ‘Come on, we’d better carry on, then.’ 

***

You’re up in the loft, trying not to feel overwhelmed at the sheer amount of things around you.

The trappings of a lifetime.

You pick up the item closest to you, a small wooden box with a mother of pearl inlay on the lid.

Inside, there’s a pretty champagne pearl set on a thin gold chain. 

You smooth the pad of your thumb over the pearl, admiring the way it gleams even in the gloom of the loft. You put the necklace around your neck, set the box aside, and reach for the next thing.

In the next few hours, you sort old clothes, separate items into charity and junk piles and start bringing things down.

You’re three steps from the bottom of the folding ladder when you lose your balance.

You don’t have time to make any sound when you’re steadied by strong arms. 

‘Easy, I’ve got you,’ says Jungkook.

He helps you down the last few steps, takes the armful of clothes off you.

‘Thanks,’ you say, gratefully.

‘I’ll bring things down,’ Jungkook says. ‘Is there a lot up there?’

‘We can take turns,’ you say. ‘There’s a lot.’

Jungkook mutters something about human materialism which you don’t quite understand but you’re distracted by the way he looks. 

His neck is stretched, the line of his jaw sharp as he peers up the steps. His profile is beautiful.

He looks back at you, catches you staring at him.

‘I did tell you, didn’t I, that I was well-liked?’ he says, a twinkle in his eye.

He’s definitely fucking with you.

You say, casual, ‘you did mention that.’

Your eyes meet.

Then his gaze drops to the pearl necklace you have on.

‘Was that your grandmother’s?’ he asks.

He reaches out, hesitates, then, when you nod, lifts the pendant gently.

‘It’s a natural pearl,’ he says, something like awe in his voice. ‘These are very rare.’

‘My grandmother loved the sea,’ you say, your voice dropped to a whisper, you’re not sure why.

Jungkook looks down at you. Like this, he’s so close you can see a tiny beauty mark on his lower lip, a small scar on his cheek.

Imperfections that only make him seem more perfect.

He’s not touching you at all, but you can feel the warmth he radiates. 

For the first time, you notice he smells faintly like the sea.

You like it.

Jungkook’s gaze is so intense you have to look away.

He lets go of your necklace, and takes a step back.

You try not to feel disappointed.

‘I need to go,’ Jungkook says. ‘I’ll be back tomorrow.’

‘Sure,’ you say, too quickly, with a nervousness you can’t explain.

He turns, descends the stairs.

You push the fold up ladder to the loft up, re-fasten the catch, trying to calm your fluttering heart.

‘Hey,’ Jungkook says.

He’s climbed back up, is holding out his pelt to you. 

‘Can you keep this for me until tomorrow?’

‘Sure,’ you say, lifting your arms out for it.

It’s heavier than you expected. 

‘I’ll keep it somewhere safe,’ you reassure him.

Jungkook says, ‘I know you will.’

He smiles at you, and jogs back downstairs. He stops at the foot of the stairs, waves, and then he’s off.

***

You’re not sure what to do with Jungkook’s pelt when you go to bed but you know it’s important to him, so you end up laying it at the foot of your bed.

It’s hot and sticky tonight, the air ruffling the thin gauzy curtains isn’t providing any respite.

There’s a knot, low down in your groin, a neediness between your legs.

Unbidden, Jungkook’s face floats into your head.

His pretty eyes. The way his jaw clenches whenever he catches you doing something that he thinks should be his job.

The feel of his arms caging you in when he stopped you from falling down the steps earlier.

You look down at your body. Your nipples are hard, pressing against the gossamer thin cotton of your sleep tank. You run a hand over your breasts, pinch restlessly at a nipple.

Your moan sounds obscene in the quiet of your room.

Your cunt tightens, and you slide a hand between your legs for relief.

The pads of your fingers press against your swollen bud, and you moan again.

Jungkook’s naked back, muscles glistening with sweat.

The feel of his bare, sun-warmed skin under your fingers.

You’re breathing faster now, bucking your hips into your own hand as you press two fingers into your warmth.

You imagine Jungkook’s hands inside you instead of your own.

His smirk when he told you he was ‘well-liked’.

You don’t doubt it.

Your need builds as you touch yourself, legs splayed, toes pointed.

Your foot touches Jungkook’s pelt, and you sit up, breasts heaving, nipples pointed, hard.

You reach down for Jungkook’s pelt, bring it up to your face, and inhale. 

It smells like him. 

You pull it to your chest as you finger yourself, and the friction of it on your sensitive nipples tips you over the edge.

You come with a whine, a gasp, gushing stickiness between your thighs, thinking of Jungkook.

***

You wake up late the next morning, the sun’s high in the sky by the time you get out of bed.

You look out the window and see Jungkook’s now familiar back in a corner of the garden.

‘Morning!’ you call before you remember exactly what you did with Jungkook’s pelt last night.

You don’t wait for a reply, leaning back from the window quickly. 

Thankfully you hadn’t got any cum on his pelt. 

Shit. What got into you?

You groan inwardly as you traipse to the bathroom to brush your teeth.

You run lightly down the stairs, only to skid to a stop when you see Jungkook lifting his pelt from where you put it on the couch before you went to sleep.

He’s been sniffing it.

You blink, straighten your back, and say, brightly, ‘What do you want for breakfast, Jungkook?’

You do, after all, come from a long line of women who’ve made a lifetime about not talking about things they don’t wish to talk about.

Jungkook looks at you, a little sweaty, dazed. His pupils are huge, his eyes dark.

‘Anything,’ he says. His voice has dropped to a timbre you haven’t heard before from him, low, almost a rasp.

‘Sure,’ you say, turning smartly to the kitchen.

It’s a good twenty minutes before Jungkook joins you in the kitchen.

He looks flushed, damp like he’s been splashing water on his face, but he looks more like his usual self.

You put a plate of pancakes in front of him. Your hand brushes his accidentally, and he moves his hand back like he’s been scalded. 

‘Shit, sorry,’ you say, flustered by his reaction. 

Unsure what else to do, you take a seat opposite him, and start eating. 

After a moment, he starts eating too. 

You give yourself a moment so that your voice won’t betray you and then say, ‘I’m going to be clearing out the loft again today.’

Jungkook takes a moment to reply. 

‘I can help bring things down.’

‘Great. Thank you.’

You push the remaining pancakes towards him. 

Jungkook clears his throat. 

‘Have you, uh, done something to your hair? You look pretty.’

‘Nothing special,’ you answer.

You flick your gaze his way. 

‘I’m well-liked too.’

Jungkook nearly chokes on the mouthful of pancakes he’s chewing.

He gulps down water, eyes watering.

You smile at him as you clear away your plate. 

***

Jungkook grunts as he sets a box down next to you.

You’re trying hard not to notice exactly how he’s worked up a light sweat, just enough to make his skin glow and his t-shirt stick to his torso.

Jungkook lifts his arms over his head, stretches. The hem of his t-shirt lifts two inches above the waist of his jeans. 

You fight the sudden urge to bite his taut skin.

Jungkook rakes a hand through his damp hair. It’s wavier today, curling around his face prettily.

You’re struck by the duality of his pretty face and his distinctly masculine body. 

To hide the warmth in your cheeks, you look down into the box he’s just brought down.

There’s a stack of letters, shoved haphazardly into torn envelopes. 

You pick one up and begin to read.

Dearest,

I thought of you today. When Ara gets mad, she furrows her brows and tilts her head, and she looks exactly like you. 

I know we chose this life, but it doesn’t make it any less hard.

All my love, always,

Dasom

You wonder why the letter’s with your grandmother and not your grandfather, if he ever got to see it.

You pick up the next.

Dearest heart,

Your uncle stopped by today, and as you can probably guess, he didn’t have any pleasantries to share.

One day I’ll be kinder, but today is not that day. 

I shooed him off with the driftwood you salvaged from the cove.

You would have been proud of me.

Look after yourself, my love, I cannot wait for when you come back to me.

All my love, always,

Dasom

You smile to yourself, amused. Your grandmother was dainty, with the petite stature of many women of her generation, and yet somehow it isn’t a stretch to imagine her shooing off a man twice her size.

Beneath the letter is a photograph, a faded black and white, of your grandparents. You smile fondly at it, at the way your grandmother’s smiling brightly at your stoic-looking grandfather. 

You notice something just in the frame that gives you a jolt of recognition. At their feet, what you thought initially was a rug looks on closer inspection to be a fur skin of sorts.

It reminds you, oddly, of Jungkook’s pelt.

A shadow falls over you.

‘Are those your grandparents?’ 

You look up, startled, and the photograph slips from your hand.

Jungkook leans down to pick it up, looks at the photo. He blinks, frowns a little.

‘They’re my grandparents,’ you tell him.

Jungkook asks, with a new note in his voice, ‘Why is there a pelt in this photograph?’

You have no idea.

‘Was one of your grandparents a selkie?’ 

You blink, totally confused.

‘What’s a selkie?’

Jungkook’s examining the photo closely. ‘It looks like the pelt’s your grandfather’s size.’

‘Rewind,’ you demand. ‘What’s a selkie?’

Jungkook looks at you like he’s debating something in his head. 

Finally, he says, ‘I can show you. We’ll have to walk down to the sea.’

***

It’s a glorious late summer day, you can feel your confusion and curiosity lifting as you and Jungkook walk down your grandmother’s path to the beach.

He’s got his pelt with him, slung carelessly over his shoulder. 

His steps are lighter the closer you get to the sea, it’s like he feels as unburdened as you.

When you get to the water’s edge he stops, turns to you.

‘Will you wait for me?’ he asks. ‘I’m about to show you a lot, I’m worried about how you might react, so will you wait here until I come back to you?’

He’s so serious about it, you can’t protest.

‘Where are you going?’ you ask.

‘I won’t be far,’ Jungkook says. ‘But I promise, I’ll come back to you.’

He’s already slipping off his clothes, barenaked in the sun, and you avert your eyes hastily.

‘When you said you had a lot to show me—-‘ you start.

Jungkook turns his head. He smiles, more than a hint of mischief in his gaze. 

‘Wait for me.’

He slips his pelt over his shoulders, and dives into the water. 

He’s a strong swimmer, a few hundred yards out already.

There’s a strange tingling in your stomach, a fizzing in your veins.

You wonder if you’re about to be profoundly changed.

You can barely see him now. 

Hold it.

You can’t see him at all.

Shit!

Is he caught in the current? 

You take a few frantic steps out into the surf, panicked, unmindful that your entire bottom half is wet.

‘Jungkook?’

Your first shout is weak, barely carrying, lost in the crash of the surf.

You try again.

‘Jungkook?’

You take another few steps out, you’re deep enough to swim but you can’t see anything in the sea.

Your eyes sting with salt and the sun as you surface.

‘Jungkook!’

There’s a dark shape in the water, a ripple through the waves, and you scream as the shape brushes past you.

It turns, heads straight to you, and you dive into the water to swim away from it.

It follows, and every shark story you’ve ever been told jumps into your head.

You’re not as good a swimmer as Jungkook, but you did spend a lot of summers at the seaside growing up.

You head back to shore, kicking strongly, and by the time you’re knee deep you’re exhausted from the adrenaline.

You realise the creature’s followed you to the shore.

It’s not a shark at all.

It’s a seal.

It stays half submerged.

It looks like it’s looking straight at you.

Like it’s waiting for you.

Jungkook’s parting words pop into your head.

Wait for me.

You take a step closer. The seal stays where it is, facing you.

There’s something familiar about the tilt of its head.

The world rocks on its axis, and you?

You slip down into the sand in a dead faint.

***

You wake to sunlight that’s too bright, and Jungkook leaning over you.

His expression’s panicked, his eyes wide and worried.

You wince a little, raise your hand over your head to block out the light.

Jungkook’s saying your name, so you squint up at him.

‘Jungkook?’

‘Are you ok?’ His words come out rushed, urgent.

‘What happened?’

It comes back to you in a flash.

You groan and try to sit up.

Jungkook helps support you, hand flat against the small of your back.

‘Where did you go?’ you ask, a dumb question because you’re not sure if you’re ready to ask the question you really want to ask.

Jungkook says, ‘I went into the ocean, then I—-‘

He breaks off, then says, ‘Then I came back to you.’

‘There was a seal,’ you say carefully.

Jungkook just waits.

‘Jungkook, what’s a selkie?’

Jungkook smiles at you, gentle. 

‘I just showed you.’

***

You’re looking out of the window of your house  as Jungkook makes you tea. He’s been hovering around you like a worried mother hen since the beach, no matter how much you reassure him you’re ok.

His pelt lies beside you on the couch, thrown carelessly next to you as he rushed to fix you a drink when you got back.

You reach out gingerly and run a hand over it.

It’s warm, sleek, the short fibres bristling under your palm when you brush the wrong way.

How had you not recognised it as sealskin before?

Jungkook comes back, carefully holding a mug. He sees you touching his pelt, and you pull your hand away.

‘I don’t mind, if you touch it,’ he assures you.

You say, ‘I like how it feels.’

You sip the tea Jungkook’s just given you.

‘Tell me about selkies,’ you say.

Jungkook sits next to you on the couch. ‘I have a clan. Jimin, whom you met the other day, is part of it.’

‘We mostly live close to the sea. We can take either form—‘

At your expression, he clarifies, ‘I can be seal, or human.’

‘And the pelt?’

‘It’s part of my seal form,’ Jungkook tells you.

You have more to ask about his pelt, but Jungkook changes the subject.

‘Your grandfather was selkie,’ he says.

‘Is that common?’ you ask. ‘That selkies marry humans?’

‘It’s not unheard of,’ Jungkook says. ‘Some clans frown upon it.’

‘My grandfather left my grandmother,’ you tell him.

‘I’m sorry.’

You shrug. ‘I don’t know much. My grandmother didn’t talk about it.’

You turn to him. 

‘I found all these letters she wrote him, I don’t know if he ever got to see them.’

Jungkook’s thoughtful. ‘I can ask around, if you want.’ 

He gets up. ‘I should go. Jimin wanted my help tonight.’ 

He gives you a careful look. ‘Will you be all right?’ 

‘No wonder Jimin’s a selkie,’ you say. ‘I bet his bark is worse than his bite.’ 

Jungkook gives you an exasperated look. 

You’re on a roll. ‘Don’t worry I won’t tell anyone. My lips are sealed.’ 

Jungkook tosses his pelt at you. ‘Shut up.’ 

You struggle to extricate yourself from under his pelt. ‘Don’t you need this?’ 

‘Nah,’ Jungkook says, casual. ‘Besides —’

His voice drops low as he tilts his chin at you. 

‘I like the way it smells when you look after it for me.’ 

Now you’re the one stammering and heating up. 

Jungkook smirks at you and lets himself out. 

***

Jungkook loads the last of the boxes into the back of your car and shuts the trunk. 

He’s stepping back from the car when you ask, ‘Hey, you want to come with?’ 

Jungkook considers this. 

‘We can get ice cream,’ you offer. ‘You’ll have to put a shirt on, though.’ 

Jungkook’s already pulling his t-shirt over his head and sliding into the passenger seat. 

‘You’ll need someone to help you unload this stuff at the charity shop,’ he reasons.

‘Chocolate or vanilla?’ you ask.

‘Both?’ suggests Jungkook hopefully.

You smile affectionately at him. ‘Anything you want, doll.’

Jungkook pouts. ‘It sounds like you’re making fun of me,’ he complains.

‘Don’t be seal-y,’ you say.

Jungkook groans. ‘I don’t know if ice-cream is worth this.’

You chuckle softly to yourself as you pull out of your drive onto the road into town.

***

Jungkook waits patiently on the kerb outside as you speak to the owner of the charity shop.

When you’re done you smile up at him. 

‘Ice-cream?’

‘Sure,’ he agrees amiably.

He doesn’t say much until you’re back in the car, ice-creams in hand.

‘Are you ok?’ he asks.

You glance at him but he’s not looking at you, licking up the rivulet of cream that’s trickled down the side of his cone.

‘Yeah,’ you say.

‘Your grandmother was more than what she left behind,’ Jungkook says.

He’s still not looking at you.

‘She was.’

Unexpectedly, your voice cracks, you clear your throat abruptly in an attempt to hide it.

He’s looking at you now, when you’re trying to look away, to discreetly wipe the tears pricking your eyelids.

Jungkook reaches out, and, without comment, thumbs the tears off your cheeks.

You finish your ice creams in silence.

When you pull onto your drive and kill the engine, Jungkook turns to you.

‘Tell me another seal joke.’

‘What type of music do you like?’ you ask. ‘Club hits?’

Jungkook laughs. 

He looks so pretty like this, dark hair wavy and tousled, golden skin gleaming, that you lean forward and kiss him.

His laughter stops, and you aren’t given time to fret about whether that’s a bad thing because he’s nudging closer, seeking your lips as you pull away.

There’s a sigh, and you couldn’t say if it’s from you or him, don’t care anyway, because he’s kissing you back, and it’s good.

He tastes like chocolate, and salt, his lips firm, his tongue teasing at the seam of your lips until you part them for him.

He licks into your mouth with a sweet urgency that makes you squeeze your thighs together.

His hand’s stroking the exposed skin of your back where your t-shirt’s ridden up, and his skin warms you more than the sun.

‘Jungkook,’ you murmur, as he presses kisses down the column of your throat, ‘wanna go upstairs?’

‘Yeah,’ he says. He pulls away, eyes dark, lips pink. ‘Yeah.’

***

You’re on your bed, half-undressed because Jungkook’s taking his time kissing along your breasts.

He’s shirtless, his beautiful chest toned and golden, flat nipples pebbling under your hand.

You brush a hand over the front of his jeans, thrilled by his hardness.

He groans, tugs at your shorts, lifts your hips up like you weren’t going to do it for him anyway.

He stares at the scrap of pink lace between your legs, so rapt you’re shy until he presses an open mouthed kiss to your folds.

The whine that falls involuntarily from your lips surprises you with its neediness.

Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind.

He tugs your panties half down your thighs, spreads you apart, and kisses you again.

His tongue slides between your folds, wet, insistent.

You’re throbbing, sensitive, as he licks you again and again.

He moans as you get wetter, slicker. 

‘Swollen,’ he pants against your cunt. ‘Need me to lick you.’

You’re beyond words, bucking your hips so you can get more of the delicious pressure of his tongue where you need it.

‘Inside,’ you moan. ‘Need you.’

‘Yeah,’ Jungkook agrees. 

He shoves his jeans down, draws out his cock.

Your mouth waters. He’s pretty. Thick, precum glistening on his head.

Jungkook strokes his cock between your folds, making himself even wetter, and you cry out at the feel of his cock head against your clit.

‘Shit. Do that again.’

He nudges himself against your clit, rubbing precum against you. ‘Like that?’

‘Yeah,’ you gasp.

Jungkook swears softly. ‘I need to be inside.’

You still as he pushes in, the hard blunt head of him stretching you as he slides in. He thrusts shallow, slow, and you’re wound so tight you could scream when he groans, deep in his chest, and fills you all the way.

He rocks his hips against yours, the head of him nudging at your front wall. You’re wrapped around him somehow, you don’t remember doing it but you thighs are around his hips, ankles crossed, holding him tight to you as he thrusts.

Jungkook groans, reaches out to grab your breasts as he makes them bounce with every lunge of his hips.

He’s so fucking strong. You knew that, you’ve seen him carry things, but you’d never put it together that he would be strong like this too, his body moving against yours like he was made to fuck you.

He slows, panting, canting his hips, changing his angle, grabbing at your thigh when your ankles unlock.

‘That’s it,’ he grunts. ‘That’s it, fuck me back.’

He throws his head back as you lift your hips to meet his, sweat gleaming on his throat.

‘Jungkook!’

‘Take it,’ he moans.

You cry his name repeatedly as you come, a pulse of pleasure so intense you lose track of everything that isn’t Jungkook and his cock inside you.

Jungkook’s grinding against you, filling you up, mouthing at your neck, when he cries out and pulls out abruptly.

You moan in protest, and he kisses you, deep, long. You can feel his heart pounding against you.

‘Tried to knot,’ he mumbles. ‘Sorry.’

You have no idea what he’s talking about but you’re enjoying the feel of him holding you too much to care.

You’ll ask later.

***

Jungkook, it turns out, is beautiful when he sleeps.

He’s splayed beside you, face down in your bed, the sheet loose over his hips. 

His face is slack with sleep, brow unfurrowed, lips parted in an ‘o’ that makes him look surprised.

He’s adorable, and the warmth in your chest as you watch him sleep surprises you.

You turn over, face the open window.

A moment later, Jungkook’s moving, curling himself around you, his chest pressed to your back.

‘Can’t sleep?’ he murmurs, his husky voice against your ear making you shiver.

‘I’m trying,’ you tell him.

You can feel him, hard, as he curls his body around yours. 

‘Let me help,’ he says. 

He reaches round to touch your naked breasts, arches your back, slides his cock between the cleft of your ass, entering you shallowly until you’re gasping and moaning.

Then he fucks you again, and it’s even better than the first time.

***

You’re trying not to stare at Jungkook as you have breakfast together, but it’s hard when you can still feel the imprints of his hands on your body.

Your only consolation is that Jungkook seems to be struggling as much as you are. 

His eyes flit between your neck, where he left a hickey close to your ear, skim over your breasts, and eventually his gaze lands on your face.

When he sees your smile he returns it, endearingly shy.

‘I had a good time last night,’ you say.

‘Me too,’ he replies.

You’re still smiling at each other like idiots.

There’s a knock on the door, and you look up, surprised.

You open the door to an unfriendly expression on a fiercely pretty face.

Jimin lifts a brow at you. ‘Is Jungkook here?’

Jungkook’s up. ‘Jimin?’

‘We have to go. Taehyung’s hurt.’ Jimin throws you a look that makes you step back.

He’s furious, and his next words hit you like a slap. ‘Fucking humans.’

You’re not given a chance to react, as Jimin’s already turning away. Jungkook throws you an apologetic look, but he doesn’t say anything. 

Then they’re gone. 

***

You’re nervous, waiting by your front door like it’s the first date you’ve ever had, and it’s not even a date. 

Namjoon’s picking you up and you’re going into town for dinner. 

You haven’t seen Jungkook since he left with Jimin. Granted, it’s only been a couple of days, but you’ve got used to having him around. 

For the thousandth time, you wonder what he’s doing. You hope he’s ok. 

There’s the flash of headlights in your front window, you’re opening the door before you realise you’re moving. 

Namjoon pulls to a stop, gets out, and you have a flash of realisation. 

He’s dressed up for this - shoulders and chest broad and strong against a crisp blue shirt, slacks that hug his ass and make his legs look even thicker. 

‘Hey,’ you say, feeling suddenly shy. 

This feels different from the Namjoon who used to collect shells and catch crabs with you when you were kids. You know he’s different now, but you’re still getting used to it. 

He walks over to open your door for you. 

‘Hey,’ he says. He smiles, and the flash of dimples makes you feel more at ease. 

‘Hey,’ you say again. 

‘Hey,’ he replies. ‘You look really pretty.’ 

You put your hand over your grandmother’s pearl, hanging in your decolletage. 

‘Thanks,’ you say. ‘You look good too.’ 

You slide into the passenger seat, look up just in time to catch the way Namjoon’s gaze drops to how your skirt’s ridden up your thighs. 

There’s a beat of nothing, then you hastily pull your skirt down, and Namjoon straightens up to close your door. 

At the restaurant, Namjoon leans back in his chair across from you. His arm’s slung casually over the back of the chair next to him – you’ve never seen his shoulders look so broad. 

‘How are you getting on with clearing out your grandmother’s house?’ he asks. 

‘We’re doing well,’ you tell him. You take a sip of your wine. ‘The loft’s almost empty, that was the biggest task, and the garden looks pretty good now.’ 

You see the way his brow rises slightly at the ‘we’. 

‘Remember that guy I told you about in the store? Jungkook? He’s been helping me.’ 

‘I’m glad you have help,’ Namjoon says. ‘If you need any extra hands, I’ve got time next week.’ 

‘I think we’ll be ok, but thanks,’ you tell him. 

‘Are you staying?’ Namjoon asks. ‘After you finish clearing out the house?’ 

He shifts a little, and his thigh brushes yours under the table. 

You try to ignore the rush of heat through you at the unexpected touch. 

‘I might stay for a bit,’ you say. 

You’d love to say you’re going back to where you were living, but the honest truth is, you feel untethered. 

Your friends in the city were great, your little apartment is your sanctuary, and your job was ok, but since being back you’ve felt a distance between you and your old life. 

You’ve never felt so strongly that there’s more out here for you. 

Namjoon tilts his head. ‘It’d be great to see more of you. My mum’s always asking after you.’ 

You laugh. ‘I miss her a lot too.’ 

‘She thinks you and I would be perfect together, she was more excited than me about our date.’ 

You roll your eyes. ‘Surely she knows, Namjoon, that you don’t really date.’ 

Namjoon pretends to be hurt, but the twinkle in his eyes gives him away. ‘We’re in a nice restaurant, I wore a nice shirt, how can you say this isn’t a date?’ 

You pretend to be thinking. 

‘Is this table too small, do you think? Because your thigh keeps brushing against mine, and —’ 

Namjoon laughs, sips his wine. ‘I also like that pearl you’ve got on that’s hanging between your tits. Like I needed more reasons to look there.’ 

You laugh. ‘It’s my grandmother’s!’ 

‘That ivory colour suits your skin tone,’ Namjoon says. He dimples at you. 

‘Shut up,’ you grumble. ‘Eat your food.’ 

‘Load up on carbs, baby,’ Namjoon suggests. ‘We’re going to burn them off later.’ 

You ignore him. 

***

Namjoon pulls up outside your house, gets out to open your door for you. 

He looks at you hopefully. ‘Are you gonna invite me in?’ 

You laugh. ‘No. I’m fine with being the only woman in town you haven’t fucked.’ 

Namjoon laughs, cups your arm as he walks you back up to your front door. 

There’s movement in the shadows, and you realise Jungkook’s been waiting on your front porch. 

He steps forward, eyes you and Namjoon. 

Beside you, Namjoon stiffens, turns towards you. 

‘Hey, Jungkook,’ you say. ‘This is Namjoon. Namjoon, Jungkook.’ 

Jungkook nods at Namjoon. 

Namjoon turns more, putting himself between you and Jungkook. 

‘I can probably take him,’ Namjoon tells you, in a stage whisper. ‘If you want me to get rid of him.’ 

You roll your eyes. ‘No one’s getting rid of anyone. Thanks for dinner, Namjoon.’

Namjoon gives Jungkook a long look, then leans down deliberately to kiss you on the cheek. 

‘Call me later,’ he says.

You wait until he’s got back in his car and driven off before turning to Jungkook. 

‘Hey,’ you say. ‘How’s your friend?’ 

‘Taehyung? He’s ok. He was hurt but the clan’s looking after him. He’ll be fine,’ Jungkook tells you. 

‘What happened?’ 

‘Some guys out in a fishing boat thought it’d be funny to try to catch him,’ Jungkook says. His eyes are serious. ‘There are some pretty cruel people out there.’ 

‘I’m sorry,’ you tell him. 

You reach out to touch his arm, and he pulls back like he doesn’t want you to touch him. 

You drop your hand, stung. 

‘Is there much left to do? Have you made progress since I Ieft?’ Jungkook asks. 

There’s a distance to his voice now, a coolness you’ve never felt from him before. 

‘Yeah,’ you lie. ‘I’m almost done, actually.’ 

‘That’s great,’ Jungkook says. He’s barely looking at you. 

‘Yeah.’ 

‘You probably don’t need my help anymore,’ Jungkook says. 

You’re too upset to hide it, so you’re glad for the darkness around you. 

‘Thank you,’ you say. ‘Thanks for helping me.’ 

Jungkook doesn’t say anything. 

You fumble through your bag, looking for your keys, trying hard to see through the sheen of tears suddenly in your eyes. 

‘Here,’ Jungkook says finally. He reaches into your bag, plucks out the keys, unlocks your front door. 

‘Yeah, thanks,’ you say. 

You risk a glance up at his face. 

‘Are you — are you going?’ 

‘Yeah,’ he says. There’s something like regret in his eyes, but maybe you’re over-reading his expression. 

‘Ok. Thank you.’ 

You step into your house, and very slowly, close the door behind you. 

You tell yourself it’s probably for the best. 

***

You have no idea why you keep coming back to this spot on the beach, apart from it was the spot Jungkook picked to profoundly change your world view. 

It’s usually deserted, but today the usual serenity of the vista is marred by shouting. 

You approach, and to your horror, there’s a seal on the shore, and a couple of guys standing over it. 

You rush forward. ‘Hey!’ 

You have the oddest feeling of deja vu. It’s not the same, not the same at all, but this reminds you of the first time you met Jungkook. 

You see the swing of a piece of driftwood, and you jump forward. 

At the last moment, the guy who had been about to hit the seal manages to swing away so he doesn’t hit you. 

You ignore him. 

‘Get back in the water,’ you say. 

The seal looks at you, watching, waiting. 

‘Fucking go,’ you plead. ‘Please, just go.’ 

You think it’s Jungkook but you really have no idea, you’ve only seen him in seal form once. 

You wait until he moves, before turning back to the guys. 

‘Why would you even do that?’ you ask, angrily. ‘It’s a seal!’ 

The guy scoffs. ‘What’s it to you, bitch?’ 

You clench your jaw. ‘You’d better walk away, asshole.’ 

The two guys stare at you, but you’re too angry to care. 

‘Hey!’ comes another voice. 

You all turn to see Jimin approaching. 

Fuck. Just what you need. Another angry man who hates you. 

You turn back and realise the seal’s gone. 

‘Come on,’ Jimin says. To your astonishment, he steps between you and the men. ‘Come on, Y/N, let’s go back home.’ 

You’re so surprised that you allow him to lead you away from the men. 

Eventually you look at him. ‘We don’t even have the same home.’ 

‘Yeah, I’m aware of that,’ Jimin says, dry. 

‘Guess you saw those assholes.’ 

‘Jungkook should know better.’ 

You try to ignore the flare of hope in your chest at the acknowledgement that it was Jungkook on the beach. 

‘I guess you think he should know better about a lot of things,’ you say, spiky. 

Jimin hums. ‘You didn’t hurt him but there are a lot of cruel humans out there.’ 

You’ve reached your door. ‘Yeah.’ 

You turn to Jimin. ‘I hope he’s ok,’ you say. ‘Look after yourself, Jimin.’ 

You don’t think there’s anything left to say. 

***

You fall into a routine of sorts as the days click into place. 

Jungkook had been right, the garden didn’t need any more work after he left. 

The loft’s empty now, apart from a box of letters, some of which you’re waiting to have the emotional headspace to read. 

After the loft, emptying the rooms is easy. The house still has its memories, but you no longer feel laden with the past. 

It’s a week after you saw Jungkook on the beach that you wake to find his pelt on the step up to your kitchen door. 

You pick it up carefully, look around like Jungkook might still be around even though your instincts tell you that you’re alone. 

You place it on the couch, wonder what the hell you’re supposed to do with it, why he would even leave it with you considering he doesn’t want to see you. 

You remember the picture of your grandparents and your grandfather’s pelt, and re-open the last box from the loft. 

Letter after letter, tiny fine trinkets, a lock of your mother’s hair tied with a ribbon. 

Another picture, this time of you, on your grandfather’s lap. 

You don’t remember much about him apart from that he’d been kind, and that he’d seemed to love your grandmother. They’d seemed to have loved each other. 

You unfold another letter. The paper’s crisper than the others, like it’s been wet and dried. 

Dearest, 

I don’t have any regrets about the life we chose. I’ll always cherish our time together, short though it was. 

Today is hard. I’m angry, and I’m upset, and I miss you so very much. 

I wish you’d chosen me instead of your clan. 

I wish I’d told you what I wanted before you left. 

I hate that we are apart, and today, I almost hate you. 

I don’t mean that. Maybe I do. 

Most of all, I wish I could tell you, my love, that even on days like this, it was worth all our while. 

It was worth it. 

All my love, always

Dasom

Tear prick your eyelids, and you blink them back hurriedly, but not quickly enough. A fat teardrop lands in the middle of the letter, and you realise now why the paper is crisper than the others, why the ink in some spots is smeared. 

Your grandmother was crying when she wrote it. 

You’re re-folding the letter, about to close the box, when you spot another letter at the very bottom. 

It’s written on different paper, and when you unfold it, in different handwriting. 

Dasom, 

You know I’m not one for writing, you always wrote so much more beautifully than I did. Did you get the pearl? I found it last year, and it’s always reminded me of you. 

I want to ask how Ara is but I see her sometimes by the shore, with Y/N, and they’re perfect. 

Loving you was the best thing I ever did, and I think that every day. 

All my love, always

Dal

You’re crying so hard you can barely breathe. 

The knock on your kitchen door startles you. You wipe your tears away hastily, and open the door. 

It’s Jungkook. 

He’s wet, and it takes you longer than it should to notice that it’s raining. 

Jungkook leans down so his face is closer to yours. His eyes are worried. ‘Are you ok?’ 

‘I’m fine,’ you tell him. ‘I was reading old letters.’ 

‘Thank you for helping me,’ he starts, ‘that day on the beach.’ 

‘Which one?’ you joke, tearily. 

Jungkook smiles. ‘You’re always saving me,’ he agrees. 

He steps closer, and you realise he’s trying to stop the rain from reaching you by shielding you with his own body. 

You step back, into your kitchen.

‘I can’t sleep,’ Jungkook tells you. 

‘Want a hot chocolate?’ you offer. 

‘Always,’ Jungkook admits. ‘But I don’t think that’s why.’ 

You look up at him. 

‘I belong to you,’ Jungkook tells you. 

Your heart begins to pound. 

‘I always have,’ he says, eyes intent on you. 

You turn to give yourself some space. ‘I’ve told you, Jungkook, you don’t owe me anything.’ 

Your voice comes out firm, confident. 

‘I owe you everything,’ Jungkook says. 

‘You don’t owe me a damn thing —’ 

You’re cut off by Jungkook stepping forward and leaning down to kiss you. He’s gentle as always, his arm wrapping loosely around your waist to hold you as your lips meet. 

Jungkook says, ‘Have you packed your bed?’ 

He’s backing you gently out of the kitchen, heading to the stairs. 

‘Jungkook we can’t —’ 

He stops. ‘Don’t you want to?’ he asks. 

‘Yeah, fuck, ok. We can.’ 

***

You’re loose, still boneless from your orgasm, when Jungkook goes to fetch you water from the kitchen. 

He comes back with a glass of water, and his pelt. 

‘Kinky,’ you say, teasing. 

‘I didn’t tell you about pelts before,’ he says. He scoots in next to you, brushes your hair away from your face. 

‘I have something to tell you about your pelt too,’ you confess. 

At his expression, you say, quickly, ‘You go first.’ 

‘The reason I was so grateful to you when you helped me that day at the beach is that you stopped those men from taking my pelt,’ Jungkook tells you. 

He looks at you. ‘For a selkie, a pelt is the source of our ability to change form.’ 

‘If those men had taken my pelt, I’d have been stuck in human form permanently.’ 

‘You should take better care of it,’ you scold. 

Jungkook’s still looking at you. ‘I did. I left it with you.’ 

The realisation makes you sit up. ‘You should have told me how important it was!’

Jungkook says, simply, ‘I trusted you to look after it.’  

You groan. ‘Why would you trust me like that, Jungkook?’ 

Jungkook rolls over, on top of you. 

He’s heavy, but that’s not the main reason your breathing’s quickening. 

‘I have more to tell you,’ he murmurs, voice husky now. 

‘Yeah?’ you ask. 

Jungkook leans his head down, tugs the sheet off you with his teeth. 

His eyes darken as your breasts are bared to him. 

‘I almost knotted you,’ he tells you. 

You’re distracted, because he’s grinding against you, and you can feel exactly how hard he is. 

‘Hmm?’ you ask. 

Jungkook nudges his cock between your legs, pushing himself in an inch. Two. 

You close your eyes. ‘Fuck, Jungkook.’ 

‘Knotting’s an important thing for selkies,’ Jungkook explains. 

You have no idea how he even has the presence of mind to still be making full sentences. 

Shit, you can’t think! Not when he’s inside you like this. 

Jungkook moves, a shallow thrust that makes you moan. 

‘When a selkie meets his mate, his biological response is to knot.’ 

‘Shit, Jungkook,’ you gasp as he moves again. ‘Can we talk about this later?’ 

Jungkook’s breathing hard as he moves again, and you’re pleased you’re not the only one hot and bothered by what he’s doing. 

‘No,’ he says. ‘We need to talk about it. I’m worried I might —’

Your eyes snap to his. 

‘What’s knotting?’ 

Jungkook stills, but you can still feel him, hard and throbbing inside you. 

‘I’ve never knotted anyone before,’ he tells you. ‘But the other day, I nearly knotted you.’ 

Now he has your full attention. 

‘After I come, the base of my cock swells inside you.’ He looks shy, which is a lot considering he’s inside you still. 

‘It’s biological. To keep my sperm inside you.’ 

‘I’m on birth control —’ 

‘I know,’ he says. ‘But selkies haven’t evolved to get past that yet.’ 

You laugh. ‘Are you saying your cock gets even bigger after you’ve come?’ 

Jungkook buries his face between your breasts, but he’s still so hard. 

‘Fuck. Ok, show me.’ 

‘It might hurt you,’ Jungkook says, touching your cheek. 

‘You’ll look after me, won’t you?’ 

‘I will,’ he promises. ‘Fuck, I will.’ 

He starts moving again, grunting as he thrusts. You curl your hand around the nape of his neck, holding him close as he grinds against you. 

‘Jungkook I —’ 

‘Yeah,’ he says. He presses kisses to your cheeks, to your neck, as you tighten around him. 

You cry his name again as you come, hear his answering moan. 

Jungkook’s thrusting slower now, movements getting more erratic as he reaches his peak. 

He seals his lips to yours as he comes, groans deep in his chest. You can feel him twitching inside you as he fills you. 

There’s so much come you can feel it leaking out of you. 

Jungkook strokes your face, kisses you. ‘I’m going to knot,’ he tells you, voice strained. ‘Can I?’ 

‘Yeah,’ you say. 

You turn your face into his hand, press a kiss into his palm as he swells inside you. 

You shift a little, and Jungkook says, hoarse, ‘You’re doing so well, shit, it feels so good.’ 

He moves, once, and you moan at the pleasure of it. 

‘Does it feel good for you?’ Jungkook asks. He makes the same movement again, and you moan again. 

‘Yeah,’ you tell him. ‘I like it —’ 

Jungkook groans. ‘I like it too, baby.’ 

He reaches between your bodies, strokes your clit as he moves, and between the fullness inside you and the way he’s touching you, you come again.

Jungkook swears, pupils so blown his eyes look black. ‘I can feel you,’ he tells you. ‘Fuck, I can feel you.’ 

You bury your face in his chest, breathing in the scent of him as he holds you tightly. You have no idea how long the pleasure goes on for, if it even stops. All you know is the feel of Jungkook all around you, inside you, and it all makes sense to you. 

***

Your grandmother’s grave is a simple one with a small flat polished headstone. The inscription reads, Dasom, loving mother to Ara and grandmother to Y/N, and loving wife to Dal. 

Yours are the only flowers in front of it, but as you set them down you notice the square laid carefully on the ground. 

It’s part of your grandfather’s pelt, you’d know it anywhere. 

You look up at Jungkook, hesitant. ‘Does this mean –’ 

‘When a selkie dies, his pelt is given to his loved ones,’ Jungkook says. 

You don’t put much stock in physical things, especially not now when you’ve seen firsthand how none of it matters, really, but you like that your grandfather’s pelt is with your grandmother. 

You hope it means they’ve found each other again. 

Jungkook holds out his hand to help you up, and you walk down the path together. 

Author note: For Memes @madbutgloriouspond , because your friendship and kindness means the world to me.

©hamsterclaw 2023

#bts smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook fic #jungkook smut #selkie jk

[spoilers-ahead]

okay!! now that it’s not 2am for me, i’m going to post my selkie!jason todd hc’s straight up au apparently! 

(uh. this was supposed to just be a list of hc’s but i got slightly,,,, carried away)

his selkie skin looks like an oversized red hoodie in his human form, and is just warm enough to help him survive new england winters.

when the summer heat becomes unbearable, he slings the hoodie around his waist

alternatively, he just coasts it out underwater. perks of living in a coastal city!

willis todd was a selkie. he used to tell jason stories of what it was like to swim through the big, wide ocean. of how freeing it felt. how different it is, from the smoggy, heavy air of gotham --- different, but both theirs, in their own right.

but to be honest, jason doesn’t remember much about the stories he was told, or really, anything about willis --- he had been in and out of blackgate for most of jason’s life, working for two-face to try and make ends meet, before dying. 

what jason mostly remembers, are the warnings. don’t let anybody know you’re a selkie. don’t let anybody find your skin. they will find it, and they will use it to control you. even decades later, jason would still remember those warnings. 

catherine is the one who teaches him how to swim, who helps him trial-and-error his way into putting his skin on, and learn how to make the transition seamless. 

after she dies, jason spends three months as a seal, to just... exist. forget.   

although jason technically lives on the streets, whenever he can;t find food, whenever he can’t find somewhere warm to sleep, whenever just being human becomes too unbearable, he spends the night as a seal. he ends up spending more time in the ocean, than on land.

that’s not to say he’s very good at being a seal --- he barely knows how to swim, has to learn how to fish the hard way. 

when bruce finds jason stealing his car tires, he marvels over how nice jason’s hoodie is, soft and fluffy even after all of jason’s time on the streets, especially given the condition jason is in, ribs showing from malnutrition, and the worn and raggedy shape of the rest of his stuff.

jason is skittish when he goes to live in the manor, even after a few weeks. he always adopts an expression particularly similar to a cornered wild animal around alfred in particular, alfred, who keeps on trying to take his hoodie away, purportedly to wash it.

alfred eventually gives up on trying to force jason to wash it --- he figures that as jason becomes more comfortable living at the manor, he’ll wind up telling them why he’s so protective over that hoodie, and they can work something out then. 

whenever wayne manor overwhelms jason with how big and how decadently expensive all the decor is, jason runs away, run to the ocean. 

jason doesn’t actually end up telling alfred and bruce that he’s a selkie --- bruce just has a ridiculous amount of motion alarms, which are triggered every time jason ran off. he had followed jason the third night, and saw him transform. 

bruce doesn’t tell jason that he knows, assuming that jason kept this a secret because he didn’t fully trust either of them. he would later learn that he was right in this assumption (a rare win for bruce in terms of emotional awareness)

except jason doesn’t fully trust either of them, even after a few months. bruce impulsively decides to do a few things --- a) tell jason about batman and robin and his crime-fighting secret identity, and b) tell jason he already knows about him being a selkie. 

jason is absolutely bamboozled by the fact that bruce knows, and yet hasn’t tried to take his hoodie to control him, or to stop him from playing in the ocean for a few hours. 

in fact, (under alfred’s encouragement) bruce offers to take him to the ocean during the day, so he can get “a proper night’s rest that a growing young boy such as himself would need”

jason remembers what his father told him, to never trust anyone, never let his guard down. but bruce has known about jason being a selkie for so long, and he didn’t take his hoodie or try anything. of course he can trust bruce. 

and when he tries on the robin costume for the first time, it fits perfectly. just like his hoodie, his second skin. it fits just like magic. 

oh, it’s a little loose in some places, the legacy of dick fucking grayson a little heavy sometimes, but he’ll grow into it. he’ll make himself, if he has to. 

also, jason finds the fact that even though he’s a friggin’ selkie, his callsign is a bird (a robin, no less) incredibly ironic and funny 

being a selkie is actually so useful for vigilantehood. the amount of people who talk freely, openly, and loudly about their drug smuggling plans near the ports is quite frankly, ridiculous.

honestly, towards the end of his robin years, jason remains genuinely surprised nobody catches on to him or his tactics yet. bruce is very proud.  

even though jason is safe, has been safe for three years, and trusts bruce with his life, his skin, and everything, old habits are hard to break. so he has his hoodie on when he goes to find sheila. 

and anyways, he wants to see if sheila is a selkie too. he’s taking biology right now, and they’re learning about punnett squares. jason’s never met another selkie before, other than willis who he barely remembers. there’s a possibility that sheila knows something, anything, so he has to try. 

sheila gets a glint in her eyes when jason mentions that he’s a selkie, tells him that while she’s not one herself, she’s familiar with the myth. she has long suspected that willis was a selkie, she tells him, and she’s glad to have confirmation. 

jason positively vibrates with excitement, can’t wait to ask, to pester his mother (mother!) with questions upon questions until. 

until. 

sheila doesn’t do anything after she gives him to the joker. she just smokes and smokes. and she doesn’t tell the joker about his hoodie, despite how it would have been much easier for the joker to destroy him that way. much more painful too.  

small mercies, he supposes, in between hacking coughs that brings blood bubbling up his lips. 

after he dies, his hoodie is ripped and in tatters from the crowbar, with burns along the edges from the bomb. bruce has to carefully peel it off his body. 

when jason was alive, his magic kept the hoodie in perfect condition, always. even when the rest of him was covered head-to-toe in mud, or dripping sludge from the nasty gotham sewers. 

bruce stares at the same hoodie, blood-soaked and mangled, so incredibly dissonant from how he remembered it on jason, when he was bright, whole, and alive. 

he can’t stand it. the hoodie that was so precious to jason, that was jason, at the core of him, in this state. dirty and ripped and devoid of the magic jason had exuded. 

in a moment of desperation, late at night, bruce asks alfred to teach him how to sew. he doesn’t dare to practice on jason’s beloved hoodie --- instead, he starts with the suits in his closet, grabbing the first one he sees, regardless of price. rips a hole and sews it back together over and over until he perfects his technique. 

and then he washes the fabric gently, using baby fabric cleanser and scrubbing for hours upon hours until the last traces of the deep-set brown stain from jason’s blood washes down the drain.

he painstakingly sews the scraps of fabric back together with a red thread, carefully sourced to match the hoodie to try and make it flow seamlessly like it used to. 

it doesn’t work, not exactly. despite his best efforts, the creases bruce had carefully sewn together are prominent and thick like scars, littering the  soft fabric.

so he gives up. he hangs it over the grandfather clock entrance to the cave in his study. brings it with him every time he visits jason’s grave, because he doesn’t ever want to keep jason’s hoodie away from him, but he also can’t bear for it to get ruined. 

dick visits him. a rare occurrence, these days. 

dick yells at him, as he is wont to do. 

these days, it feels like they spend more time angry at each other than not. dick says that this isn’t right. isn’t fair to anybody, not to alfred, not to himself, definitely not to jason. he rants, jason deserves to be remembered as he was in life, not frozen in death. 

perhaps he is right. bruce is not unaware of the state of violent, cutting stasis he is in, this putrefaction of his life. and he is certainly not unaware of how it is affecting the people around him. dick. alfred. the neighbor’s kid, the one who wants to be robin.   

bruce tries. not for himself, but for tim. for alfred, for dick. even for stephanie brown, who sometimes, when she smirks just right, or says something with just the right twang, he swears he can see jason in her. 

he still can’t bear to put the hoodie away, because jason deserved better than to be forgotten, so he folds it gently and places it in his closet instead. 

he also can’t bear to look at it for very long, so he forces himself to every single day. 

it’s different from the glass case that houses robin’s tattered suit in the cave --- that, is a reminder of how he failed robin. this, this is salt in a constant, stabbing, festering would, reminding him of how he failed his son. 

it was stephanie, that eventually helped him figure out what to do with the hoodie. when she was young, young enough to cry at ripped pants and skinned knees, young enough that her mother hadn’t touched the drugs yet, her mother would dry up her tears, give her a hug and a kiss on the forehead, before patching her pants up. 

what not many people know, is that before crystal brown set her mind on becoming a nurse, she wanted to be an artist, first. and so she grabs her old set of embroidery needles, and stitched little designs. dogs and cats. stars and planets. tools and gadgets. 

bruce doesn’t react, doesn’t even move, even as stephanie finishes her story. she hangs there awkwardly for a second, stares up at jason’s suit, waiting for him to respond, before shuffling towards the exit of the cave. 

thank you, spoiler, bruce manages to croak out. 

ah, yeah, she says, shrugging lightly while slouching in on herself, any time, boss. she walks out, and bruce watches her go from the reflection on the darkened computer. 

that night, he takes out jason’s hoodie, smooths it out, grabs his threads, and stitches. 

he stitches on constellations, argo navis, for jason’s namesake in the greek myths he had loved so much. a tiny seal, playing with beach balls. little books, with quotes on the sides. a robin, big and bold. 

he tries to make it as true to jason as possible, not just in death and in bruce’s memories, but as he was in life.

jason wakes up abruptly.  

he wakes up in a coffin, cold, alone, and with a gaping hole in his chest. getting dipped in the lazarus pit only made it worse, only made him all the more aware of what he was missing, all the more conscious of it. 

he doesn’t bother trying to learn how to swim with two arms and two legs, instead of two fins and a tail. it doesn’t feel the same. it only reminds him of what he’s lost. 

sometimes, on sleepless nights that happen more often than not, he wonders what would have happened if he still had a hoodie, still could swim. 

if he still was robin. 

and he doesn’t have access to the cave anymore, or to the titan’s tower, or the watchtower, and his memory of the past is still patchy and shitty in some places. 

so in a burst of impulsivity fueled by the person he no longer is, he prints out photos of robin’s costume from the internet and recreates it on his own. 

if his skin is gone, then fine. fine! he’s perfectly perfunctorily aware that nothing about this resurrection of his is natural. if he doesn’t think too much about it, he’ll be alright. his hoodie, his skin, that was something he was born with, a birthright that died with him. 

but robin, robin was something that he helped shape. robin was something that he worked for, changed himself for. 

and the makeshift robin suit --- it doesn’t fit him, not anymore. no, it feels wrong, like a child playing with their parent’s suit. or --- he realizes, perhaps more accurately, like an adult realizing they no longer fit in their favorite clothes. 

and --- and --- what was the point of it all? what was the point, of trying to make bruce proud of him, of getting dick’s approval, of trying to futilely save people over and over again from the same gallery of supervillains who keep on escaping from prison?!

and what was the point of carving out a space for himself if the joker was just going to beat him out of it, and if tim drake was going to insert himself in the hole he left behind?

and then the next thing he knows he’s in titan’s tower hitting tim drake over and over again because who let him? who let him take jason’s role as a son, as a brother, as a hero? how dare he?

but when he’s slit tim’s throat and torn the ‘R’ off his chest, jason doesn’t feel any better. the robin suit still doesn’t fit. his hoodie’s still gone. 

he’s starting to think it never will, not again. 

sometimes, when he gets tired enough to let his mind wander, he wonders what happened to his suit. 

he’s pretty sure he died with it, so either the hoodie is with the joker, batman, or... gone entirely. (it’s not like they found willis’ skin after he died. maybe selkie skins just disappear in a cloud of sea foam once they die, or some little mermaid shit like that)

it’s a cold comfort, that nobody can manipulate him now. nobody can control him --- not even batman. 

(bruce had thought about it. when he first had his suspicious regarding who the red hood was, before he knew there was any trace of the son he once had left. he thought about using the hoodie, using jason’s selkie skin to coerce him, at least to stop murdering people, to stop hurting their family.) 

(he would never go that far, in retrospect, or at least, he doesn’t think he could ever. to do that to jason, betray his trust so thoroughly and completely... but it would be a lie to say that he didn’t consider it.)

bruce reflects on this as jason reveals himself, the joker tied up at his feet with a gun pressed to his head, and venom spitting from his son’s mouth.  

but when he lifts the batarang to hit jason’s gun, or wrist, or anything that’ll force him to drop the gun, he realizes that his hands are shaking. 

and when he throws the batarang, he knows a millisecond after he’s let go, that he’s miscalculated the ricochet. 

so when jason escapes that night, bruce knows he’s fucked up. 

jason goes off the maps, completely. bruce doesn’t know where he is, if he’s safe, if he even made it out of the explosion that night. 

it takes weeks. weeks for bruce to track jason down, from meticulously documenting the dropped threads of where the red hood was pulling strings in the gotham underworld behind the scenes, to tracking security cameras with facial recognition. 

once bruce manages find where he’s staying, make sure he’s safe, he knows what he wants to do. and, he knows what he needs to do. 

jason gets a package in the mail, five weeks after his disasterous meeting with batman and the joker. unmarked, unsigned, no return address. 

when jason opens the box gingerly and carefully, he holds on to his skin for the first time in years. and then, and then, and then --- something right slots into place. his fingers brushed gently over the tiny spotted seal he knows he used to look like, the books he remembered ranting to bruce about for hours on end. 

the robin, on the top left, over his heart, big enough to have changed him, yet small enough to not define him. 

it’s not perfect. it doesn’t even fix anything, not entirely. he still fights with bruce most times he sees him, tries to punch dick in the face, steadfastly ignores tim and steph the entire time. 

but it’s something. it’s something, and the next time nightwing, batman, spoiler, and robin fight a gang on the docks, the red hood gives them a helping hand before jumping back into the ocean and swimming away.

fin!

wow this got long

#jason todd #bruce wayne #alfred pennyworth #batfam #selkie!jason #dick grayson #stephanie brown #tim drake #catherine todd #willis todd #that one selkie!jason au #i swear i will turn this into an actual fic one day #anyways about the using embroidery to fix ripped clothes thing all i can say is WATCH HI MOM #it's SUCH a good movie and i guarantee it will DEVASTATE you in ALL your little mommy issues glory #like you think the batfamily comics/fanfics have an amazing nuanced complicated take on the parent-child dynamic? #this movie will BLOW your fucking SOCKS off. and best part of all: you can watch it WITH said parent #and it won't be as horrible of an experience as showing them encanto/turning red/eeaao! #in fact your parent will probably like the movie too and be reminded of THEIR own mommy issues :D #admittedly it's slightly different from the examples i listed above bc it's more abt what it's like to never reach ur parent's expectation #rather than an exploration of complicated parenting but it's still very relatable and very very good #the best part is you can find it all for free on youtube. also note that i mean the recent chinese movie not the old 70s movie #asteria's fics #i'm never writing a fucking flash fic on TUMBLR of all text editors again #shouldve written this out on a google doc first but i genuinely did not think this would get so long T.T #you can probably tell from the first three (3) bullet points that this was supposed to be a hc list before... it stopped being a hc list #guys i started writing this at 12 PM #IT'S NOW 9 AWOGEJAWOIG #my writing

[heartfulselkie]

Even if Hawk Moth had been a villain and a tyrant, Chat Blanc had been an extension of - no - had been the main driving force enabling that. Of the few who survived encounters with him, everyone was in agreement. Chat Blanc wasn’t human. He was a demon.

Bell the Cat, Ch. 1

#drew this a while ago and almost forgot about it hjsdhj #don't let the fuzzy ears and tail fool you #he's a very bad kitty #miraculous ladybug #miraculous ladybug fanart #miraculous fanart #chat blanc #adrien agreste #fic: bell the cat #selkie draws

[fanaticsnail]

I just binged a bunch of your fics and I have a tiny request for you! Could you do headcanons for Zoro and/or Sanji with a selkie reader (together or separately)? Please and thank you!!

Masterlist here.

Word Count: Background Drabble, 700+. Per gentleman, 600+.

Hello dear anon! Thank you for challenging me with a mythical fic! I enjoyed my time crafting it for you. I hope you don't mind, I wrote them as more mini-fics/drabbles rather than HCs. I also snuck in an extra character because apparently the heart wants what it wants today, and I can't deny the words from wording.

Selkies are an aquatic race of fey native to the cold, wet northern coastlines. They live in villages on the shore, and occasionally mingle with outsiders. They have a particular wariness of humans, due to their tendency to steal their seal skins, but Selkie are otherwise very sociable creatures that love exploring the shores and the oceans beyond (Fact link, 5e Race)

@writingmysanity @gingernut1314

There was a battle above the surface, that was one thing you were certain of. Cannonfire, ricocheting iron balls and splintering of the wooden masts above the waves. You had never seen such violence, such hatred between two peoples. Recognising the marine lettering was no difficulty for you; their kind gracing your shores with regularity. 

It was the other vessel that drew you in. You heard laughter ringing down below the ocean surface, halting you in your retreat as you sought out its source with your blackened eyes. Your sisters had long since fled from the display of violence, opting to hide away and wait for the fighting to stop. But you remained behind, desperately seeking out the conclusion to the battle above. 

Suddenly, the marine ship began to flee from the engagement, but not before a figure was cast into the water and began rapidly sinking to the oceanic floor. Your eyes widened, your tail-flipper carrying you with haste to bring yourself over to the figure without a second thought. 

His hair was dark, his eyes were tightly shut, and his limbs refused to move in a way to propel him away from his approaching death within the salt water. A devil-fruit user, you thought, bringing your curious eyes over to his and seeking them out beneath his closed eyelids. The small scar below his left eye had your head cocking to the side in curiosity. 

“Luffy!” you heard several voices cry from above the surface of the water, the man’s eyes immediately opening to meet your own. His shock was written all over his face, his breath releasing in a bubbled huff that had his arms attempting to raise upwards to collect his breath to no avail. 

“Luffy,” you called in your oceanic language, smiling your feral face into his; revealing rows of sharpened teeth in a wide smile. His panic continued to rise, his lungs screaming for air as you took your time studying him. You drew your face impossibly close to his, unblinking eyes studying him as he struggles against the water. “Luffy,” you again called to him, your eyes and face beginning to relay a humanoid likeness, “Let me help you.” 

You ushered your body beneath his, chaperoning him to the surface of the water and drawing his body up to the surface of the water. He immediately sucked in a large ballooned breath of air, his neck snapping towards his ship to seek out the concerned and panicked faces of the members of his crew. After he made eye contact and flashed them a winning grin, he turned back to face your animalistic and beastly face, and upturned his eyes in gratitude. 

“You think you could take me to the ship?” He asked, a mischievous twinkle now reflected in his eyes as he checked over you. You nodded, beginning to ride the propelling waves over to the vessel. The figurehead of a ram was carved intricately against the ship’s stern, a beauty to behold as you danced your flipper and easily propelled you both to the splintered and fractured wood. 

He wrapped his arms around your upper flippers, nuzzling into the back of your neck and uttering his gratitude against your skin. Your voice harshly barked a cracked laugh at the gesture, enjoying his playfulness and kindness as he continued to tell you what a good seal you were. 

“Luffy, what are you doing?!” A woman with orange hair called out to him, eyes wide and panicked. 

“This seal saved me from drowning!” he called in return, with his broad smile pleasantly cracking his face, “Gotta rub its belly and thank it with a big scratch and a cuddle!” As Luffy drew himself over to the ship, he jumped from your back and took hold of the rigging above and began his slow climb to the top of the water. 

Your instincts screamed at you to return to your sisters, to withdraw away from these sailors; but as soon as your eyes sprung over to meet your eyes with theirs. Why, you were completely hypnotized.

Hoisting your body upwards, your beastly form shedding from your human form and shrouding yourself in a cloak of blubber and fur. You climbed in your nudity to the decks above, hoisting your legs over the side of the ship and revealing yourself to the entirety of the crew in front of you.

“Luffy,” the woman whispered, her shock written all over her face, “That is no mere seal.” Luffy cocked his head over, shock now written on his face at noticing your beauty in your human form.

“That is a selkie.”

Zoro

The swordsman had never seen such beauty in his life. Although immediately drawn in by your otherworldly radiance, as the loyal first mate aboard the Going Merry: he stepped in and ushered the captain behind him and took a protective stance. A darkness was within your eyes, rotating your shoulders as you squared up to face this mysterious man. 

You knew from your place within the water below that when your eyes met his, he was a marvel to behold. But now with your close proximity to him, his valiance and loyalty to his captain had you immediately smitten. Widening your lips in a broad grin, you elevated your hands in front of yourself defensively and bowed your head low to him. 

“I mean neither you nor your crew harm, Protector,” your honeyed voice sweetly called to him. He was taken aback with your voice, stumbling in his step forward as he continued to shield his captain away from you.

“I’ll be the judge o’ that, Ningyo,” he uttered with a smirk;his eyes displaying a similar ferocity to yours in your bestial form. 

And that is when you decided you were going to court him. Your soul cried out to join with his; immediately smitten with the swordsman. You stayed with the crew for months, subtle touches over his shoulders, leaving a fresh kill at his feet first, before Sanji took it to the kitchen to properly prepare it. Everything you did, you did to please the swordsman. Every fiber of your being called to him and courted him. 

You began leaving your furred skin around in places for him to find, only for him to return it to you with a deep scowl and a verbal reprimand of: “Can ya stop leaving this around the place? It’s really annoying.” 

It was only when Usopp and Nami physically sat him down and spelt out the courting practices of Selkie folk that had his face burning with a bright vibrance and his eyes widened. His lips downturned in a deep frown as his blush rose, his shock at your shameless audacity of courting him so publicly without any context of his lacking comprehension.

He decided a full frontal confrontation was what was needed to tackle this, no room for any other mistaken intentions and misdirection for his lack of direction sense.

“You been leaving your blubber ‘round for me to find, Ningyo?” he yelled at you, heads snapping up from the crew around as they witnessed this verbal spat. 

“Yes,” you confirmed, laying back and basking in the sun atop the wooden deck.

“Why?” His pointed hazelnut gaze held the intensity of a man staring down his enemy. You refused to shy away; instead rising to your feet and squaring up to him.

“Because I want to be yours, and I want you to be mine,” your lip curled at the corner, your sharpened canines baring out in your brilliant smile. He reached down, claiming your biceps within his wide fingers and palm.

“Why me?” He growled, his tone low enough for only you to hear. You reached up your hand, softening your smile and cradling his angry face beneath your palm.

“Because I love you, Zoro,” you cooed up at his face, eyes half-lidded and full of nothing short of full adoration. His breath hitched in his throat, his mind not keeping up with the words you were relaying to him. 

“This why you kept bringin’ me fish?” He asked you, his nose crinkling up as his smile broke through onto his lips. You nodded, leaning into his face. You gently brushed your nose with his, closing your eyes as you breathed him in. 

Breaking from the gentle touch, you withdrew your nose from its contact and quickly bore your teeth at him, biting his chin in a gentle nip. He flinched at the contact, eyes widening at your expression.

“Next time I leave it out for you,” you growled at him, “Don’t bring it back to me, Protector.”

“I won’t, Ningyo.”

Sanji

Sanji’s breath was sucked from his lungs, his eyes wide and wild at seeing a creature of myth and legend aboard the deck of the ship. He watched as your eyes slowly assessed the crew, your gaze lingering on Luffy before your gaze snapped and met with his. Your lips parted, your heart rose into your throat as your eyes began to widen at him.

From your position below the waves, shepherding the member of the pirate crew back above deck, you drew your attention to the blond member of the crew and were immediately intrigued. As your eyes met with his rounded, gray orbs; you knew for certain: 

This man was the most beautiful sight you had ever laid your eyes on. And looking at him, you knew he was immediately taken with you too. 

But you refused to give into your emotions that easily. 

For the next few months, you found yourself constantly nearby the ship known as the Going Merry. You constantly checked up on their non-swimming captain to ensure his safety traveling the seas, but your eyes always fell over the form of the chef amongst them. Each time you would leave, you always looked over your shoulder to notice the way his eyes would linger on you - always holding hope that you would turn back around and remain with him. 

Before you really knew what you were doing, you began ushering grandiose feasts of fish and crustaceans towards the Merry, always ensuring your blond was well supplied with a variety of ingredients from within the depths of the ocean. 

Kelp, seaweed and shells of vast variety began to find themselves on the windowsill of the kitchen; just as flowers, beads and brightly coloured stones were left out for you to find as you placed the gifts there. Each present had your heart swelling, but continuing to remain strong in not giving into your human emotions. He was human, and you were not. 

As the ship pulled into a far off dock, Sanji’s eyes met yours as you attempted to remain coy to his attention. You were bathing in the ocean; your lengthy hair covering the linen against your chest and over your hips, pelvis and glutes. Your eyes were shut, raking a sharpened, toothed stone through your hair to detangle it of its strands - your fur and blubber skin cast aside atop a rock behind you. 

Sanji was no fool. As soon as he began harboring affection for you, he asked Nami and Usopp for a variety of literature pertaining to aquatic mythos. He knew that if he were to claim your fur for himself, you would have no choice but to be with him. 

He bid a hasty farewell to his crew for the evening, gesturing with his chin over to your position to alert Nami to his intentions. She pursed her lips, attempting to hold back her smile as Sanji drew himself closer to you. 

As he drew his shaky hands over the skin laying so innocently against the moss-covered gray rocks, he stilled his descent and retracted his hand. Sensing his hesitation, you looked over your shoulder at him but chose not to address him. Your body and mind screamed at him to take it, to claim it for himself and, in turn, claim you. But as the seconds drew into minutes, minutes turning into several cold and unbroken moments - you finally turned to make eye contact with the chef behind you. 

He was sat directly beside your fur, a cigarette beginning to relinquish its flames down to the filter as he took in the nicotine-laced smoke. His expression was unreadable, stoic and still: something you had not seen reflected on his eyes in all the months you had known him.

“Sanji?” you asked, your brows furrowing in question. He shook his head, inhaling a final breath of his cigarette before stifling the tip and stuffing the butt into his pouch for later disposal. “Sanji, why won’t you claim me?” He again shook his head, closing his eyes and turning himself away from you. 

“I wanted to, mon cœur, believe me,” he confessed, nodding his head but holding his eyes closed. 

“Then why didn’t you?” you rose to your human feet and began stalking over to him. As you drew yourself over to his seated form, you knelt low before him, falling to your knees in front of him. 

“I would never force you to be with me, mon trésor. No matter how much I want you, I would never want you to be mine without knowing it’s truly what you want,” he confessed, opening his eyes to meet his eyes with yours once more. His eyes were pools of true adoration and love, swimming amongst the sunset reflected off the horizon. 

You sighed, reaching down and collecting your fur from its place beside Sanji and bundling it within your arms. Holding it tightly and firmly within your arms, you firmly squeezed it against your chest to hold it one last time before gently bowing your head and presenting it out to him. 

“This belongs to you, Sanji,” you whispered, stretching out your arms further in front of you, “Like my heart: it will always belong to you.” You heard his breath hitch in his throat, immediately falling to his knees in front of you and drawing you in for an embrace. He was quick to cradle you against his torso, smoothing his hands over your slightly damp hair and placing a sweet amount of quick kisses against your temple and hairline. 

You pulled away from his embrace, looking steadily into his eyes at first before propelling your face into his to claim his lips beneath your own. Your movements were slow, dancing with skill and passion as you took his bottom lip between your sharpened teeth. He groaned against your lips, whimpering as you dropped your fur and entangled your arms around him in a strong embrace. You clawed at his back in an attempt to hold him closer to you, your nails tearing small holes into the back of his jacket and finding residence in his muscular flesh beneath the material. 

“I will return it to you when you desire to go home to your sisters, mon cherie,” Sanji whispered, his heart swelling at your confession, “I know you will always belong to the wilds, and I refuse to selfishly keep you with me when humanity becomes all too much for you.” 

Hearing a small winced whimper, you broke away from his lips and gazed into his eyes. He looked at you with nothing but true adoration and love, his eyes softening as he pressed his forehead against yours. 

“I love you, Sanji,” you confessed, your voice low and as sweet as honey-wine. Sanji’s smile continued to shine against his cheeks, his eyes dancing lights behind the irises at such an impossible notion. To harbor the adoration of a mythical creature of great renown and legend, that was no easy feat. 

“I love you too,” he confessed, brushing the tip of his nose against yours, “And I hope to continue to be worthy of such affection from someone as amazing as you.”

Luffy

“A selkie, hey?” He exclaimed with glee, immediately bringing himself before you, “Does that mean I can’t give you belly rubs, a scratch and a cuddle?” At that small question, your heart immediately swelled with the fierce desire to travel with this devil-fruit user. 

“I do not think a belly rub or a scratch would be appropriate in this form, no,” your melodious and sweetened giggle sprung gleefully into the air. Luffy huffed out his own laughter, immediately wrapping his arms around your shoulders and drawing you close to him.

“Thank you for saving me, seal,” he cooed in your ear, squeezing you impossibly tight within his arms. After breaking his face away from your shoulder, he continued to hold you within his circular grip as he gazed into your eyes. You danced your gaze between his two caramel orbs, staring up at him through your eyelashes as his warm smile became contagious. 

“I am not a seal, Luffy,” you purred, baring your sharpened canine teeth at him as your smile broadened. 

Luffy couldn’t explain this emotion he felt, but he knew he wanted you to travel with him. Always with him. Never far from sight, not even when in your seal form and dancing in the waves below. He would patiently wait for you to crawl up the hull of the ship and meet your eyes with his; relishing in the ways your smile crept atop your lips as you savoured the mirrored reflection he met you with. 

He wanted to keep you. He needed to keep you. 

And you felt exactly the same. This sailor, this captain among the straw-hat pirates with the dream of becoming king of them. You wanted him as much as he wanted you. And so, you made it apparent. 

Swimming below the depths and finding the most beautiful pearl within the heart of several clams; you presented him with your treasures. You brought him the flesh of your fresh kills, presenting him with the raw, sweeter, meats and watched him enthusiastically dine on the creatures - before becoming violently ill most times.

Sanji managed to sit you down in the kitchen, reprimanding you firstly before directing you to bring them to him for him to make the meat safe for human consumption. You did not take well to this notion, wanting him to see how hard you worked to provide for your beloved captain. 

It was one night where you physically bore yourself before him, your body only clad in sheer linen as you presented your furred flesh to him with a warm flush littering your cheeks. Unaware of its significance, he immediately placed it over his body, removing his straw hat and placing your otherworldly head atop his own. It swelled your heart to witness him take to your gift with such enthusiasm, truly allowing yourself to humble before this pirate and allow him to claim you as his own. 

“Thank you, seal,” he smiled at you, wrapping the skin around himself as one would a plush duvet to shield themselves from the cold, “why are you giving me your skin? I don’t understand.”

You sighed out an exasperated breath, your shoulders slouching and brows upturning in sorrow. He immediately snapped upright and rigid, removing his hands from beneath the flesh and collecting your shoulders beneath his palms. 

“What does this mean, seal?” he asked you, his eyes displaying concern as he held you firm, “You’re not gonna leave, are you? I don’t want you to go. I want you always with me-.”

“-This means I am yours,” you confessed, your eyes refusing to meet his, “And by you accepting it; it means you are mine.” He sucked in a hasty and large breath through his nose, his eyes widening as his lungs swelled. He closed his eyes as he moved his hands over your shoulders. 

“You won’t leave? You won’t go back to your family?” He sought out your eyes with his own, angling his head down to collect your gaze, “You’ll stay with me?” 

“You’re my dream, Luffy,” you smiled, your eyes finally meeting his caramel orbs, “And I want to always be with you.”

#one piece #opla #x reader #opla fic #one piece live action #zoro #sanji #luffy #zoro x reader #sanji x reader #luffy x reader #zoro drabble #sanji drable #luffy drabble #sanji x selkie!reader #zoro x selkie!reader #luffy x selkie!reader #monkey d luffy #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #roronoa zoro