#the ocean heard ‘eat the rich’

[inkandarsenic]

I just want to take this moment to say how much I stan the ocean and have always had the appropriate sense of terror in regards to the ocean and nature in general. You would never catch me getting in a tin death can to go see the titanic. That is what the internet is for.

#oceangate #team orca #the ocean heard ‘eat the rich’ #and said #bet #i love the ocean #but I also know to be FUCKING TERRIFIED #we don’t know what’s down there #and the ocean does not give a single fuck about you #titan submersible #they fucked around and now they finding out #eat the rich #you go ocean #you’re doing so great baby #love the ocean

[shibaraki]

IF TIDES COULD SPEAK (THEY’D CALL YOU HOME) ┊ BAKUGO KATSUKI

synopsis: an unlikely hero comes in the form of a barbarian. your stolen pelt is returned by his hand— but for a selkie that is more than simple kindness. it is a proposal.

tags: AFAB reader (referred to as a 'wife' once + 'baby' a few times), fantasy au, barbarian bakugo (+ the squad), selkie reader, brief non graphic suicide attempt, minor injuries, previous forced marriage + captivity, strangers to friends to lovers, accidental marriage + bond, magic elements, bathing together, sharing a bed, miscommunication, love as a choice, getting together, shapeshifters, angst + fluff, eventual smut, bakugo carries reader (he’s strong!!), oral + fingering (reader receiving), unprotected vaginal sex

wc: 25K+

↳ for the mermay collab hosted by the teahouse server ↰

The battle rages on behind as your bare feet carry you frantically toward the cliff side, incognisant to the uneven earth and jagged rocks cutting under your heels. 

A magnificent orange glow is cast across the land. Blistering heat radiates at your back and seeps through the thin robes pulled across your shoulders. Fire eats away at the canopy above, at the dry grass in the gardens, at the place you deign to call home. 

It is a sight you wish you had more time to savour. A draconic clan hailing from the north had descended upon the land and sought to reap the riches for themselves. The anguished screams of your once wretched husband still echo in your heart, dancing through its chambers like wind through chimes. 

You fled with only one destination in mind. 

Many, many moons ago, you had been stolen away by greed. A man that called himself king yet acted anything but kingly. Lord only in name. He speared your pod mate and took you, dirty calloused fingers sinking into your flesh, violently tearing the pelt from your back. Nausea churns in your stomach as you recall his grin, eyeing you greedily, desiring servitude that was not his to have. 

“You are to be my wife,” he said, drunk on tales of rare creatures who would keep a hearth burning and bear his children if only he stole their hide. “Now you belong to me”. 

Your pelt remained locked away in an armoured vault along with his other opulent treasures— goods that would now be burning, turned to ash. He had finally taken from the wrong people and must reap the consequences. 

You are so relieved to be free of his clutches that there is no time to grieve the loss. This is your chance. With or without your pelt you are a selkie, and the ocean always welcomes her children home. 

Guided by the tides' tumultuous song you sprint through the woods, treeline funnelling out on a plateau to reveal the edge of the cliff. You take a staggered breath, wincing at the pain in your chest. Now your momentum has slowed to a stop, the fatigue catches up with you. An ache seeps through your legs and your knees threaten to buckle as you shiver. 

This is it, you think. You watch the waves below roll like dark ribbon. Steeling your resolve you spread your arms as far as they go, until the sinew holding your back pulls taut. Something acrid sinks in your gut and you feel distinctly ill. It takes all of your willpower to deny the fear pounding in your body as you step forward. 

The wind billowed around you, swaying your human form towards the edge. Faux wings spread and a roar pushed to the limits of your small voice, sound whipped from your mouth and cast far asea. Eyes squeezed shut, you tip into the oncoming depths trusting your mother will catch you. 

The sound is cacophonous. Not even your pulse can be heard over the waves; elemental fingers apply sharp pressure to the north and south of your body, shaping flesh until you're nothing but a pebble caught in gravity's path.

If you should concentrate you’d hear a frantic shout through the white noise. And between the milliseconds left before bone collides with the tide, a large clawed foot encircles your forearm. A rush of air swells in your lungs as you try to scream, the abrupt disruption of your freefall forcing your shoulder from its socket, talons tearing through capillaries as if your skin were wet paper. 

Suddenly, you’re a sail without a mast, rippling over the open ocean. Dark and cloudless, not a speck on the surface. The spray is icy against your ankles, a million papercut kisses. In the mirage, you can see fleeting reflections. The silhouette of a dragon mid-flight. 

You’ve no memory of hitting the sand or being carried along the shoreline. Your consciousness dips and peaks. The few times you come to are when your body is being jostled, a blurred figure looming above and unrecognisable. In one breath they are washing your wounds with water poured from a wineskin, the next you are flinching away from salve covered fingers as they poke and prod to stem the bleeding.

Warmth is the first thing on your mind as you wake. With a sudden gasp for air, all the exhilaration and adrenaline hits you as if your soul had been caught, suspended in that moment. Phantom touches skim the length of your spine and all at once you are overwhelmingly aware of your body. 

The sharp noise startles a figure in your periphery. 

“Back in the land of the living, huh?” 

A broad, bare chested man sits at your bedside with his arms crossed tight and pillowed in his lap. There’s a single delicate braid by his ear, longer than his short-spiked hair and dangled loosely beneath his jaw. You’d find him beautiful if not for the searing glare. 

“That was a fucking stupid thing you did back there,” he snarls. Brusque and overfamiliar. When you don’t respond he continues, “What’ve you got to say for yourself?”

You shrink back. 

There’s an awful pinch in his brow. Concern seems to be superseding what was a show of honest anger. Dimly lit by a few oil lamps, from what you can ascertain there is no one else in the room but you two. Inhaling the residuals of healing magic you find that your throat is unbearably dry, tongue stuck to the back of your teeth. How long have you been asleep?

You couldn’t find a voice to ask, exhaling a pathetic whine. The silence provides a window of opportunity for him to further scold you yet he doesn’t take it, fuming as he recedes into his chair. “Don’t need to act so fucking skittish. M’not here to hurt you,” he exhales hard through his nose, reaches out and leaves his hand upturned on the edge of the bed. “Alright?” 

Something draws you to this stranger. Inexorable, like the pull of the tide. You accept his proffered palm and it feels unsettlingly familiar. The skin is rough, battle worn and hot. Slowly, your fingers intertwine, and you see fair hair on the back of his knuckles. 

Disorientation, loss and anxiety err on the edge of your consciousness. The lamp above his head gives him a warm hued crown, highlighting strands of gold. You can feel sleep weighing on your eyelids but you don’t yet want to look away. “Whatever,” his mouth sets into a frown. “Get some more rest or I’ll knock you out myself”.

When you come to the sun has risen and filters into the room in thin streams of light. Dust fairies dance around the bed. You squint as your vision sharpens, a dull throb reverberating through your skull. 

You look at your body first, arm well bandaged and the rest of you bruised tender like an old peach. The wounds throb in time with your pulse when you shift, reminding you that they’re there as your thin clothing brushes against them with little movement. All you can remember is falling. How the waves had careened up the cliff side to catch you, only to have you snatched out of reach once again. 

Wherever you are now it is obviously far from your Lord’s grasp. He has never bothered to take you to a healer. You are in a private office, tucked into a bed with soft blue sheets. The shelves are stocked with various medicines, salves, and analgesics. Herbs and chopped petals are stuffed in glass jars labelled with messy penmanship you can’t decipher. A metronome sits on the nearby wooden desk, ticking back and forth, filling the silence until the door is pushed open. 

Whoever enters is trying to be careful. You can tell by how slowly they turn the handle and pause at every little complaint the hinges give. Their hair is green, richer than the later weeks in spring, with loose waves that bounce as they move. You watch wearily while they move through the space, humming under their breath and picking up a notebook from one of the desk drawers. 

The healer, you presume, pinches the end ball on the metronome and brings it to a stand still. He hushes it as though it were an unruly child before turning on his heels toward you—

And immediately screeching as your eyes meet. 

Loud enough for the entire country to hear, his abrupt shout seems to alert others in the building, causing a gaggle of people to burst their way into the room. A metallic tang fills your senses; magic ready, the man that sat brutish yet kind at your bedside wields explosive sparks in the palm of his hands, adorning chains with carved talons and beads and asymmetrical armour strapped to his left bicep beneath a red fur lined cloak. 

“What is it, Deku?!” 

You offer wordless gratitude to the final dregs of sedatives in your system. You barely flinch at the hostility in his voice, time seemingly slowed as your gaze drags to the companions at his back. First a woman doused in pink. And like the sun, her face glows the rich ochre of dawn, framed by silky salmon toned curls. There are horns protruding from the top of her head, bending like the junction of a tree branch. 

Beside her is a large man. Red, red, red. Bright eyes split with a reptilian slitted pupil. Crimson hair styled into sharp spikes. He’s built like a warrior, tall enough to swallow most of the doorway, yet you feel no true fear when you look at him. Something innate in your gut tells you this is a kindred spirit. Energies aligned, you think he must be a shifter of some kind too. He locks onto you first, his alarmed expression smoothing into a wide toothed grin. 

Last are two men who have managed to tumble to the floor amidst their rush to get into the room. Distinct gold bangs with a symbol of lightning, pale faced, an undercurrent of electricity thrumming below his skin. Dark shoulder length hair, white spools of rope wrapped around the crook of his elbow, grappling hook in hand and ready to strike. 

“Sorry, Kacchan!” the healer, Deku, spluttered. He holds his hands up in surrender, shaking them in a placating motion. “Nothing, it’s nothing! All of you please calm down!” 

Deku is quite the unfortunate name, you think. At his insistence the group lower their defenses and slump forward, relieved. All but ‘Kacchan’, who only raises his hackles further. 

“Don’t fuckin’ scream like that if it’s nothing,” his upper lip curls to bear his teeth, moving fluidly as his group slinks past him to stand by your bed. “I damn near blew up the building”. 

Distantly, “I couldn’t help it…!”

The frame jostles, mattress dipping as it takes on the weight of another. Head turned into the pillow you blink dazedly at the sharp toothed shifter. Propping his chin in his hand, his elbows are braced next to your thigh. “Hi. I’m Kirishima,” he chirped, unmoving as his friends wrapped themselves around him to get a look at you, all repeating his jovial greeting with introductions of their own. 

“…Hello,” you rasp. The word grates the inside of your throat and tears well in your eyes as you fight the urge to cough. “Where am…?”

“Back up, losers,” ‘Kacchan’ forces his way to your bedside, shoving the group aside. There’s that odd sensation again as you stare up at him. Strong jaw clenched with eyes narrowed and blazing; sliding to where you lay, waning briefly. “Have some manners”. 

“Since when have you cared about manners,” the pink woman, Mina, bemoans. 

“Shut it!” 

Deku’s nervous disposition dissipates quickly and he ambles to the opposite side of your bed, his notebook flipped open to a page covered in incomprehensible scrawl. While the others squabble he leans forward and flashes a trembly smile. 

“Hi! I’m Midoriya Izuku, the one that fixed you up,” Midoriya—not Deku—lowers his voice into a more soothing tone. “It’s good to see you awake. Do you think you could tell me your name?”

You remember your name. Yours. The one given to you before human hands stole your hide. Midroiya’s pen scratches at the parchment as you recite it, his lips silently repeating it. “Great! Thank you. Now can I ask, how are you feeling?” he asks, eyes darting across your face, your body, scanning the bandages wrapped around your arm. “Any pain? Nausea? Loss of vision? Numbness in your limbs? Hallucinations?”

“Slow down, nerd,” Bakugo grunts. 

Midoriya immediately appears sheepish, “I’m sorry”. 

“It’s okay,” you say. “My mouth is dry and my arm hurts but I’m— okay, I think”. 

“That’s my bad,” Kirishima speaks up from his place next to Bakugo, lifting a hand. Despite their difference in stature it was clear who led the charge and who fell in line. “I was rushing so I wasn’t very careful when I caught you”. 

Your first thought is that he must have been the dragon. Your second thought is, ah, right. You had tried to fling yourself off the cliff. 

As though he’d read your mind, Bakugo scoffs. “Not much choice when you’re saving someone that’s trying to kill themselves”. 

Overlapping objections ring loud in your ears. “Bro, not cool,” Kirishima groans, similar sentiments sent loud and fast from the rest of his group. 

“I wasn’t trying to—” your half lie is halted by the seething look Bakugo turns to you. Same as before, beneath it all is worry and confusion, unblinking as though you might disappear between the seconds. “I just wanted to go home,” you confess weakly, tethered by the restless twisting of your fingers into the linen. 

“Home?” the electric blonde, Kaminari, murmurs. 

Tension returns to your limbs, instinctively bracing for the greed you have learned to expect. You may get away with evading questions now, but the healer—if he’s worth his salt—would already know what you are. 

“I’m a selkie,” hesitance bleeds into your tone, the confession coming quiet and small. Your chin dips as you swallow, canines sinking into your inner cheek. “The Lord whose castle you raided stole my pelt and kept me hostage for months. I figured it was long gone, so as soon as the attack gave me an opening I ran”.

The atmosphere is stifling. Silence befalls the group, equally stunned. Midoriya is the only one that does not react, kind eyes closely observing you.

A litany of emotions weave through Bakugo’s face as you speak. Disbelief, anger, regret. “Sick bastards,” he mutters heatedly from behind gritted teeth. 

A head of pink hair rests by your knee. You’re taken aback by how informally they all behave towards you. “You still would have died though,” she says, bottom lip jutted, sadness colouring her features. 

“I would have become seafoam,” you rectify passively. “It doesn’t mean death, not to my kind. It’s a sort of rebirth. My pelt is with the ashes now. I thought… it was my only option”. 

“Wait. It got burned up in the fire?!” Kirishima straightens worriedly, eyes wide and apologetic. His fingers twitch as though he wanted to reach for you but thinks the better of it. 

“Surely. I mean, I assume it was,” your mouth thins into a strained, rueful smile. “He kept it in the vault with all his other treasures. I watched his quarters go up in flames”. 

Recognition passes over Bakugo’s expression but Midoriya is already stepping forward with his outstretched hands waving dismissively. “Okay, guys! No more stressing my, uh… patient,” he says, allowing some strength into his instruction. “Give us some space. You can ask more questions later. Please?”

Your new guests surrender with a chorus of groans. Bakugo squints pointedly at you over his shoulder as Sero ushers him out into the hallway. You feel rooted by its significance somehow. An unspoken instruction that you can’t decipher. 

“Are you really feeling okay? No wooziness?”

Drawn to the gentle cadence your gaze meets Midoriya’s. He has set the notebook back onto his desk and rolled up his cuffs. “I’m okay,” you reply after a moment of consideration. “Thank you. You fixed me up, right?” 

Rubbing at his nape, Midoriya shoots you a sheepish grin. “To the best of my ability, yeah,” he says. “I’m just a researcher and I don’t have an affinity for healing magic, but Kacchan insisted that I help”. 

“You’re not a healer?” it’s then that you notice how untraditional his dress is for a doctor. A bishop sleeved shirt, six buttoned green waistcoat and dark pants. There’s a belt strapped tight around his hips, small satchels hooked into the leather, and an empty waist sheath clearly meant for a sword. “Ah. You really aren’t a healer,” you repeat blithely. 

Midoriya giggles, nervous. “No— I mean, this is my office! And I guess I am an apothecary of sorts, but that’s only a small part of what I do,” he explains, gesturing to his various  shelves and cabinets. “Kacchan could’ve taken you to the next town over on Kirishima’s back but I think he was panicking— oh, please don’t tell him I said that. He just doesn’t trust other people much. So you got shafted with me”. 

When he leans down to untuck your bedsheets you bend your unharmed arm, propping your upper body onto your elbow and working in sync with him as he fluffs the pillows behind your back. Sat upright you hold your bandages out to him. “Thank you,” he mumbles, delicate as he slides his hand around your forearm, patting around his belt and satchels with the other. 

Finding a small pair of scissors he tucks it beneath the top of the bandage and carefully cuts down the length of your arm. Your chest constricts as the inflamed skin is slowly revealed to the tepid air. There are ribbons of sutures running from your inner elbow to your wrist, puckered but thin and largely healed, sinew clumsily fused together. 

“Sorry about my poor suturing,” Midoriya says as he overturns your arm in his palm, checking from root to stem. “Everything looks good, though. No infection or fever,” he continues muttering, thumb pressed to the shadow beneath his lip. “Your immune response was pretty quick. I wonder if it has something to do with your selkie blood…”

You barely register his apology, stuck on the jagged scar tissue decorating his own hand. The cautious call of your name breaks your reverie. Midoriya’s brow is furrowed, eyes wide in genuine concern that wanes when you try to smile at him. “Got lost in my head there, sorry”. 

“I get it,” he breathes, glancing over to the largest cabinet in the room. Reaching the ceiling, stained dark wood, and looks slightly out of place alongside his other furniture. Misaligned, you realise. It is on four small wheels and placed an inch away from the wall. Odd. 

You watch Midoriya stroll over with a bounce in his step. His biceps strain under the pale sleeve fabric as he grabs either side of his cabinet and pulls. The wheels squeak and it rolls away with some exertion to uncover a hidden door. Dust cascades through the air; he coughs into his shoulder, shaking out his hair. 

“I’ve got a private washroom through here if you’d like to use it,” he explains after catching your questioning frown. The room is barely bigger than a closet. There’s a toilet, a tiny sink, and a tub that, given the width and depth, would require you to sit with your knees beneath your chin. A mere speck compared to home. If you closed your eyes and concentrated, maybe you could pretend you were resting in a tide pool along the shallows of a beach. 

You stand for the first time in who knows how long. An uncomfortable prickling sensation crawls the length of your legs as the phantom turns solid and blood rushes to your toes. You grip at your bare thighs where the hem of your robe falls, flesh bursting through the gaps between your fingers, and you gasp through the pain. It’s as if you’re growing a new limb all together. 

“Careful,” Midoriya murmurs kindly, hovering at your side in case you need assistance. You hobble over to the washroom, each step like treading on seaglass. He moves away once he is happy with your progress. 

“It’ll take a while to warm up,” he warns. “But there are various medicinal soaps and salts under the sink that I’ve made, so you’re free to use them”. 

The door is closed behind you. 

Left to your own devices the first thing you do is fill the tub with water. You find that the bathroom has no lamp, illuminated only by the cool light flooding in from the main room. His warning had not been exaggeration — fingertips touching the bottom of the basin, the water comes slowly and remains cold up until your second knuckle. Then it warms, warmer than the sea, and with no salt at all. 

Bare knees against the floor and skin pimpling under the thin robes, your breaths come quick, stumbling over the erratic jumping of your diaphragm. Indentations between each tile press uncomfortably into your skin, the initial pain dulling into numbness as you sit back on your heels. Beneath the sink behind you are the medicinal soaps and salts. You delicately take a small pot, squinting to decipher the handwritten labels in the dark. 

Pulling back one of the lids you’re overwhelmed by an unfamiliar floral aroma. Inside are rocks— tiny, tiny pink rocks, with dried white petals. You pinch some with your already damp fingers, feeling as they immediately dissolve in the moisture, and sprinkle them into your bathwater. 

Once full enough, you strip yourself of the robe and fold it neatly, left by the closed doorway. The cold air prickles, your nipples pebbling and the soft hair across your body standing on end, but the water is hot. 

You dip your foot in and breathe a sigh of relief as the temperature suffused through your skin, swaddling you in warmth. You submerge yourself completely. As suspected the space is remarkably cramped. Your legs are bent, tucked against your chest with knees below your chin, arms folded around your shins to keep yourself together. 

Enclosed in four walls again, shrouded in little to no light, you feel lonely. The type of quiet that makes you whisper. Your mind drifts to the stranger that had saved you, wondering where you might’ve met him before. You smile ruefully, cupping the scented water between your hands. He’s strong for a human. Imposing, you muse, staring back at the reflection held in your palms. Not only in his stature, but even his presence is difficult to ignore. 

You bathe, scrub away the blood and grime until you’re a flesh wound. The temperature is cold by the time you’ve turned focus to your fingernails, neurotically picking away the flecks of blood dried beneath them. Drain the murky water, refill, repeat. No matter how harshly you pinch and pull, the feeling of being dirty does not go away, but you stay in the water at least until you feel like yourself again.

The towel you find is coarse to the touch. Sitting in the heated water has tended well to the knots in your muscles. Ungainly as you re-enter Midoriya’s empty office, you flop back onto the freshly made sheets with little guilt. You sit there for a while and let the air dry your body. 

There is a pile of spare clothes on the end of the bed; neatly folded shirts, tunics, skirts and pants. You throw on a sleeved shirt and come across a simple beige kirtle as you parse through, the skirt falling just above the ankle, delicately sewn buttons lining the back. The fabric is very soft, though fitting and naturally cutting at the waist. 

After putting on some thick knitted socks and a pair of hardy brown boots left by the desk you run both hands down your sides and spin on your heel, causing the free flowing skirt to plume. Satisfied, you slip out the door and creep toward the gathering voices at the far end of the hall. Phantom fingertips walk the length of your spine. Odd, but you put it down to the apprehension churning in your stomach. Gradually you are able to make out what they’re saying. 

“Get your filthy hands off it,” Bakugo growls venomously. 

“I just wanna feel,” another whines. You recognise it to be Kaminari. “Why is Kacchan the only one allowed to touch it?”

“Stop calling me that, fucker!”

You round the corner and the bickering halts with a harsh shushing sound. They’re all in the centre of a cramped lobby, few chairs lining the walls, woven tapestry hung from the ceilings. Kirishima stands in front of you wearing a pleased grin, comically large. The armoured plates on his naked shoulders clink as he moves. “Hey! You clean up nice,” he tells you. “Feeling better?” 

“Much better,” you affirm, perking up at his sincerity. “I’m grateful to you all for watching over me”. 

“Our Bakugo did most of the work, really. Got a little protective,” Mina, the one kissed by dusk, leans into your space with her plump mouth curled into a smile. The thin gold jewellery hung from her lobe to ear cuff glints in the late afternoon light. “Barely let us in the room”. 

“Cause you idiots are too loud,” Bakugo grumbles, stepping forward holding a shiny garb. The fond undertones belied his annoyance, and everyone heard it loud and clear. Your skin prickled as he drags his eyes over your clothed body, evoking a sense of insecurity that is foreign to you. You aren’t sure what, but you wanted him to see something in you worth coveting. 

Then your gaze falls to the fabrics folded over his forearm. Your heartbeat ricochets through your ribcage. A tide of emotion wells at the base of your throat. He handles the pelt with purposeful care. Shivers break out across your skin as he smooths a hand over it. Holding it out, he says your name as if it was the simplest thing in the world. 

“Here,” he thrusts the pelt into your arms. You scramble and clutch it to your front. Something deep inside you shifts. “This is yours, right? We took it during the raid”. 

You’re frozen to the spot, mouth gaping around words that won’t come. Bakugo frowns, the group members behind him glancing at each other and shrugging when they find no answer to your silence. 

“Well?” he demands, embarrassment staining his ears pink. 

“Yes,” you choke, bringing the hide up to your face and rubbing your cheek against it. So warm and alive. Brine fills your senses, overwhelmed by the smell of home. The relief is short lived. “Thank you for returning it, but…”

Losing strength, you try to convince yourself that he needn’t know— that the old ritual would not be binding if done with a human. If the Gods were merciful there would be no condition that tied you together for the rest of your lives. Yet you felt it the moment your pelt was handed back to you. You’ve been feeling his touch all this time, even before the bond had solidified. Heat rose to your cheeks at the realisation; such an intimate act, and it had been accidental. 

From one prison to another. Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. Bakugo seemed good, in his own rugged way, and he was handsome even by faerie standards. 

You wet your lips, breath shaken. “Bakugo. Do you understand the significance of what you just did?” 

Bakugo’s expression darkens and he becomes rigid. You get the impression he hates being left in the dark. “What is it?” 

“To…” your nails sink into the short velvety fur. “To a selkie their pelt is like an extension of their soul. In our culture, to find and return it is viewed as a…marriage proposal”. 

Sero catches Kaminari and Mina as they grapple one another in a dramatic fashion, swaying on their feet. Kirishima puts a hesitant hand on his friend’s shoulder, eyes flickering between the barbarian and your slouched form. “Bro… don’t do anything hasty,” he faltered. 

“Bakugo is married now?” Mina shrilled, promptly shut up by the hand covering her mouth. Sero sends you an apologetic grimace. 

“Like hell I am”. 

Hackles raised, voice sharp and commanding, Bakugo is staring you down like an enemy. Your knees threaten to buckle but you stand your ground, shielding your body with your thick hide. His hands remain by his hips, sparking as the tang of magic bleeds into the air. Despite making no move to attack you still feel his rejection strike you. 

“Break whatever vow I just made,” he demanded. “Now”. 

“I can’t,” you admit helplessly. “It’s more than a legal contract or a declaration of love. We’ve— it binds us together”.

The barbarian starts forward, upper lip curled into a beastly snarl, held back by the dragon shifter’s grip. Stumbling as you dodge, two familiar scarred arms catch you before your fall. “Kacchan, what are you—?!” Bakugo darts out to grab you and Midoriya immediately pushes you behind his back, shielding you with his body. “Stop it!” 

“Midoriya,” Kaminari wheezes, tears beading along his lash line. “Kacchan accidentally got married. Can you believe it?” 

Midoriya observes their exchange with a look of confusion. In the seconds that follow you see his eyes fall to the pelt folded against your chest, eyes brightening in understanding. Incognisant to this, Bakugo continues his verbal barrage. “Oi, Deku. You’ve got brain cells. Figure out a way to fix this”. 

Mouth gaping like a fish out of water, Midoriya pins Bakugo with a pleading look. “Kacchan. Please tell me you didn’t personally give back the selkie pelt”. 

“You knew and didn’t think to say anything?!”

“Why would I?” Midoriya returns, equally irritated. You press your face into the space between his shoulder blades, feeling the vibrations of his voice as they argue. “It’s common folklore!”

“You know I don’t listen to fucking fairytales, Izuku”. 

Midoriya reaches back to brush your wrist and offer a comforting touch. You knock your knuckles to his own, grateful for his consideration but unneeding of it. While Bakugo’s furious refusal hurts, and his volume is harsh on the ears, you aren’t truly scared of him. More than anything your body remembers those warm palms— how he had held your hand, even as a stranger, and how he meticulously groomed your hide only knowing that it was of importance to you. 

“There’s nothing I can do to fix this,” lowering his tone into something more apologetic, Midoriya’s shoulders slump in defeat. You step to the side, coming into view. Head bowed, weight shifting between each foot. You refuse to be subservient any longer but cannot ignore the guilt that churns in your stomach. 

Bakugo sees you. Something flickers in his features; a brief glance, a rough exhale, it flies across his face like the shadow of an albatross and disappears, equally fleeting. Never taking his vermilion eyes off you he argued, “What about cheeks?” 

The golden hour spreads her hands all over the room, air cooling when his spitting frustration dwindles to uncertainty. 

“Uraraka?” Midoriya mused aloud. His softer countenance tempers your anxiety. “It’s possible she could do something… Let me go see if I have her recent coordinates written somewhere…”

Midoriya scurries back down the hallway, leaving you defenseless. Without thinking you ask the group, “Uh. Who’s Uraraka?” 

Everyone’s attention falls to you and you resist the reflexive urge to cower. “She’s a witch,” Kaminari supplies happily, arms wrapped around Sero’s neck like a scarf. “An old friend of ours, but she’s pretty hard to find now. I heard her place is always moving”. 

A building that could move with magic. The human world never ceased to be fascinating. 

Mina nudges her elbow into his side and a shock of electricity sparks from his crown. “That’s outdated, dummy! You’re supposed to say occultist”. 

Kaminari whines, rubbing at his ribs. “To-may-toe, to-mah-toe,” he enunciated, pouting. “Same thing”. 

Bakugo growls, ignoring their exchange in favour of pacing the room. Your pelt is a comforting weight as you follow the back and forth motions, taking the chance to really look at him. The fur lined cloak across his shoulders billows obnoxiously as he turns, jewels and talons strung around his neck knocking against his clavicle. Doused in sunlight, the markings painted across his bare chest are highlighted, and you notice the uneven skin beneath them— more scars. 

He combs his fingers aggressively through his hair and his arm bulges beneath the armour strapped to his bicep. Kirishima tires of watching and cuts into his path, hands open in surrender. 

“Stressing won’t do you any good, man,” the shifter reasoned. “We’ve all got your back. I’m sure Uraraka will know what to do”. 

Bakugo huffs. You think there should be steam coming out of his nose. “I know, shithead. I just,” he takes a quick look at where you are awkwardly standing. “I don’t like this”. 

There’s an abrupt yelp in the distance. Midoriya’s cry is followed by a crash, the sound of books tumbling from shelves onto the wooden floor. He stumbles out into the hallway slightly dishevelled, patting off the dust on his waistcoat and proffering a sheet of paper. Tucked under his arm is a rolled up map. 

“Kacchan,” comes his breathless chime. “Here’s where she was last. But I remembered that she was planning on taking a short trip to the valleys near the coast to find more idiran leaves since they’re in season now. I mapped out all the areas where they usually grow, in case you—”

Bakugo snatches the coordinates and the map without ceremony. “Thanks,” he grunts, turning on his heel and making for the exit. “Come on, losers. We only got a few hours until it’s too dark to fly”. 

The group works in perfect synchrony. Sero reaches under one of the nearby chairs and drags out a large bag, hoisting it over his shoulder. Mina does the same, pulling back the draping tapestry by the doorway and taking back a concealed sack. You watch as they walk leisurely behind Bakugo, in no real rush despite his demands, Kaminari lamenting how little they trusted him with their cargo. 

Kirishima lingers behind, clapping Midoriya soundly on the back. “Thanks for everything as usual, man. We appreciate it,” he emphasised his gratitude with a strong squeeze. 

“I’m always happy to see you,” you’re impressed by Midoriya’s reaction; a smile from ear to ear, sturdy and unaffected by Kirishima’s obvious force, his smaller frame belying his strength. “Just promise not to shift too close to the building. I don’t have time to re-thatch my roof”. 

“I promise!” Kirishima traces a cross over his heart with his fingers. Their focus turns to you. You tense, feeling entirely out of place. “Sure you’re feeling alright? Have you ever flown before?”

“No,” you admit, needlessly smoothing the fabric of your kirtle down. “I’ve probably never been this far inland, nevermind flying”. 

Midoriya’s eyes widened, though not unkindly. They’re sparkling, as if he were excited on your behalf. “Then you’re in for a real treat,” he beams, the intensity dimming within the next breath, sadness hemming his smile. “Just know you’re in good hands. Kacchan is a little abrasive but he means well”. 

“And I swear I’ll fly carefully,” Kirishima interjects. It’s funny, a man so large exuding such gentility. “I’m a dragon shifter, if you hadn’t already guessed”. 

You had sensed it immediately. Shifter energies were palpable and animated things. They hung in the air like a humid fog. Despite your similarities you are still so uniquely different. While you were tied to the pelt in your arms, Kirishima had no such restriction. You envied his freedom. 

“You caught me…?” you say. He nods at your words. “Thank you, then. Again”. 

“That was all Bakubro. He saw you before anyone else did,” as though on cue, Bakugo’s voice penetrated impatiently through the walls, demanding that you both get outside. Kirishima’s lips uptick affectionately. 

“If I don’t get to see you again, well…” Midoriya begins to corral the pair of you to the door as he speaks. “I hope you make it home. And I’m really happy I could meet you”. 

Surrounding Midoriya’s residence is a dense forest. The trees are tall, older than any you’ve seen, their branches reaching out and intertwining with one another to conceal your group under a canopy shrouded in gold. Further ahead it thins out onto a winding road. Built on a steep hill it dips in the distance, opening up to the many plots of land below. 

The earth is soft under your boots. There are wildflowers at your feet. You try to step around each one carefully while Kirishima advances forward to the group with vigour. 

Bakugo is saying something but you barely hear it, lost in your thoughts, besotted by the vast canvas around you; a sense of harmony as the pigments blend together. It is like a dream in which you can’t tell one side of the veil from the other, and nothing like the dreary castle you were once stowed away in. 

Your moment in lucidity is soon interrupted. You instinctively pull the pelt closer to your chest before realising who had approached. “You listening or what?” Bakugo calls quietly, an attempt at being reposeful. Amidst your daydreaming Kirishima has disappeared into the overgrowth and the others are watching your interaction with poorly veiled interest. 

“Uh, sure,” you blurt uselessly. He raises a brow and you feel ridiculous. 

“Kirishima said it’s your first time,” he pauses and you nod in affirmation. A hand comes to rest on your back, breath caught in your throat, pressure pulling you close to his side. “Then you’ll sit up front with me”. 

Your head bobs again, unrolling the pelt and knotting it tight to your waist, skin prickling under his close scrutiny. Bakugo brings his fingers to his lips and whistles, “Red!”

‘Red’ answered the call with a low room and a rustle of wings. The dragon’s head lifts, towering above the treeline, his body following as he steps out into the open. Amber eyes gleamed in the early evening light as he bobbed his head on a serpentine neck. His deep red scales shimmered with a faint golden sheen as he flashed his teeth in greeting. 

You err on the side of reticence while Mina and Kaminari sprint toward the dragon whooping excitedly. Various lines of thick rope trails behind them and Sero picks up the slack, looping it thrice through their bags. He spins the cut end, undulating as the momentum builds, and throws it over Kirishima’s back to be caught by Kaminari and pulled taut. 

“C’mon,” Bakugo leads you forward. He is surprisingly patient with you now. You’ve faced young whales and sharks yet still you feel dwarfed by the sheer size of the dragon, heart all pitter patter behind your ribs. It is the prey animal in you. 

Kirishima snorts, lowering to the ground. The earth trembles, a gust of wind dancing through the grass. Another rope is flung around his neck, threaded through the horns protruding from his skull like a set of reins, dropping in front of you. 

The hand by your hip slides further at your abrupt flinch, arm securing around your waist. “On three I want you to climb,” he commands, giving you no time to think. “One… two…”

Bakugo takes the weight like it’s nothing, lifting you higher so you can grab the rope. Molten heat. You pull yourself up, scrambling to straddle Kirishima’s upper back. The others are further down his spine, playing around at the base of his tail without a care in the world, as though they were not about to be thousands of feet in the air. Kirishima’s lungs expand for breath and you cling to a spike protruding from the dragon’s nape, grip flexing at the warmth that settles behind you. 

Bakugo frames your body with his thighs, thick by the skirt bunching above your knees, and pulls the rest of the rope up to wrap it around your pelt. In an instant you are all too conscious of him as a man, the proximity plucking at your centre of gravity, a cold sensation spreading throughout your chest. “Sorry,” he mutters unprompted, so quiet you aren’t sure you were meant to hear it. You get the impression he doesn’t say it often. “For dragging you into more shit”. 

You mull the words over as you relax into his hold. With that one sentence you think you understand him a little more than before.

Sero’s voice travels through the silence, “Good to go!”

Fastening his arm across your middle, solid and steady, Bakugo brings his boot hard down onto Kirishima’s shoulder. “Get moving, Red!” he roars. 

The dragon’s movements are heavy, slow. Aligned with the winding road, he builds up speed. As though he’d shaken off his own mass Kirishima is suddenly quick on his feet and breaking into a run; forced back in the momentum your stomach swoops, upheld by inertia as your body follows the broad bounding movements. 

Leathery wings snap open into the clearing. Your hands clutch at Bakugo’s forearm and he digs his fingers in harder, his lips warm against your temple. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, but all you can hear is the thundering wind and the blood rushing in your ears. You watch the steep edge approach and take a reflexive breath as it abruptly disappears. 

Air pours into your lungs and then out again in a ragged, exhilarated gasp. The ground falls—and then you are gliding.  

The cool air whips against your cheeks. Smooth and steady as a horse’s canter, Kirishima soars through the open skies, his magnificent wingspan bearing the weight of five riders. Below, the fields coalesce into one land. Towns and villages become an inscrutable speck. Incredulous laughter bursts from your throat, nerves evolving into excitement in the climb towards the clouds. 

Bakugo mellows by the second, tension ironed down by gravity. There’s a particular satisfaction to his expression, contentment you’ve only ever experienced in the ocean’s depths, and yet, as he squeezes around you intermittently to remind you he is there, you can feel it too. 

“You with me?” he shouts. “Not scared?”

You lock eyes and try to show him a tremulous smile, answering at the top of your lungs, “I’m good”. 

Then he bares his teeth, grinning proudly. Over you comes the sense of being praised. Your smile widens.

Time moves differently in the skies. Closer to the sun, you thought perhaps things naturally moved slower. Change is always less apparent when you are walking alongside it. Instead, you measure the hour by the shadows cast chasing Kirishima’s tail, and eventually the skies darken. 

Lowering his head, tilting a wing to swing out in a broad arc, Kirishima angles toward the earth. Bakugo raises up a battle worn hand, the lineaments of his face irradiated by streams of dim light threading through his fingers. He makes a specific gesture, signalling to the others of the incoming descent. Like the sun, you can’t look away from his raw brilliance. 

Kirishima lands at the base of a mountain valley. It sends a gust of wind across the clearing. Through the dark you make out a familiar reflection of light in the distance. The lake is hardly an ocean, but you’re extremely comforted to be by a body of water. 

Chest pressed flat to your back Bakugo’s natural heat spreads through your shirt. Helped down much in the same way you were boosted up, he seems determined to keep you near. You can’t say you mind it— a quiet attraction comes and goes as he steadies you on your feet. He clicks his tongue, muttering clipped insults that he doesn’t mean. 

It’s decided you’ll remain there for the night. “You can bet your ass we’re having an early start,” Bakugo says, pointing at each of you with stubborn intent, squinted glare lingering on the less than enthusiastic members. Kaminari slumps forward dramatically and you worry his knees might buckle. 

Kirishima leaves again, briefly, to circle the area in his full form while Bakugo starts on the pit. It’s lit by a whisper of fire from the returning dragon’s mouth, setting the tinder ablaze over the nest of branches; the dry, withered pine slowly releases years of energy soaked up from the sun, the air, and the ground, keeping the camp brightly lit. 

Smoke swirls above and dissipates into the atmosphere. You are far enough from any large human settlement that you see the night sky in all its clarity. Around you now are the soft voices of acquaintances filtered between conversations; none you could hear properly, but the sounds were still soothing, coming in hushed tones that add to the intimate atmosphere. 

Flames dance on their cheeks, illuminating the prominent parts of their faces. You’re sitting beside the water’s edge with your pelt strewn across your lap, close enough to feel the warmth as it crackles and spits, watching the way they love each other. 

Kaminari has fished out a big bottle from his bag, dramatically popping the cork, and is steadily passing it around. Alcohol, you guessed. Sero took a heavy swig without flinching. Mina had tried to do the same and now has her head pillowed by Kirishima’s thigh, thick and sturdy as a human, and his fingers stroked through the curly by her temple aimlessly as he lost himself in discussion. Sensing your gaze, she meets your eyes and smiles dazedly, lids fluttering. 

You look away, take a breath and notice the air tastes like sake and smoke. Darkness covers the lake. Under the waxing moon your face stares back at you, swimming among minnows and echoes of stars. It ripples where you dip your fingertips, mind empty, anaesthetised by the chill.  

“You idiots never pace yourselves,” Bakugo’s voice rumbled over the flames and rolled over your skin. He is sitting closest to you, legs loosely crossed in the dirt . “If you throw up on Red tomorrow I’m not cleaning it up”. 

Kaminari shakes the bottle in his direction. The bubbles fizz upward, some spilling out. “Such a stick in the mud, Kacchan. We gotta celebrate your marriage somehow!” 

Sero cackles as the other two chime in agreement.  You stroke your pelt, restless at the mention of your union, and it soaks up the water from your fingers. Surprisingly, Bakugo lets it slide, though not before scooping the loose earth into his hand and throwing it at an oncoming Kaminari. 

Eyes of amber briefly flicker over your form in his approach. Kaminari drops into the empty space beside you and pulls the bottle from his mouth with a resounding pop, leaving behind a wet sheen, and tilts it forward. “You too,” he grinned. “Congrats. Our boy is quite the catch, y’know”. 

“So I can see,” you smile, letting the gloom be pulled right out of you, your fingers wrapping around the bottle's neck. They grazing his own and spark static. Neither of you comment on it, his squinted stare fixed curiously on your expression as you bring the finish to your lips. 

The aroma is rich, sweet like overly ripe bananas. You tip back, feeling it dry and bitter on your tongue. There are hints of vanilla and brown sugar, a sting to your throat that begs you to cough. You hear a quiet laugh. 

“Too strong?” Sero teases lightheartedly from across the campfire. 

Your expression twists, “It’s good. But it burns. Is that normal?”

“That’s why it’s good,” Kaminari snickers. You clear your throat, handing the bottle back, attention drawn back to the lake in a beat of comfortable silence. “Oh, hey. I did want to say— you can swim if you need to, y’know”. 

“Hm?”

“Kiri has all sorts of weird urges if he doesn’t shift for a while. Gets all restless and snappy,” Kaminari gives a knowing look to the man in question. Kirishima nods at you, his features taut with sincerity. “So if you want to swim for a while or something we totally get it”. 

You’re flustered by their earnestness, gripping at your pelt, all too aware of it. Slipping into your other form feels far too personal; well meaning as they are, they’re still strangers to you. “That’s— I’m alright,” you politely decline, “my needs as a seal aren’t really felt while I’m like this”. 

A surprised noise resonates from Kirishima, Mina unmoving from her place in his lap but watching with rapt curiosity. “You’re practically human right now, then?” he asks. 

“Practically,” you give a self conscious shrug. Somehow admitting it felt like stripping yourself. Confessing to a weakness. Unsettled, you deflect the subject back. “Do you keep your dragon traits as a human?”

“Nah, not while I’m in this form. I don’t even have my hydrogen glands— look,” Kirishima hooks his fingers into his cheeks to spread them wider. You lean in for a closer look. The glow from the campfire illuminates the back of his throat— barely, and ironically. His tongue wiggles as he tries to lay it flat. You’re not sure what he’s trying to show you. You’ve  never seen a dragon’s maw before, but aside from the shark-like teeth his mouth really does seem the same as any other man’s. 

“Pretty boring, right?” his words come garbled around his fingers and so he pulls them out, wiping the spit on his pants. “But even though I can’t breathe fire right now, I can do this!”

You stare in surprise as the skin along his forearm hardens into tough scales. He holds it out to you in permission to touch; they feel jagged under your fingertips, tough like the bark of an ancient tree. “That’s amazing. You have your own shield,” you breathe, awed. 

“Damn right,” Bakugo interjects. There’s that unfettered pride again. Kirishima’s cheeks redden and you sympathise with him. In your short time with them you knew receiving praise from Bakugo felt like standing under the sun. “Should‘ve seen him as a kid,” he continues, eyes alight and mirthful. “Had scales like wet paper. Even cried when he first shifted”. 

“D’you have to bring that up,” Kirishima groans, though not upset by it. He shares in the amusement, uplifted by the sound of his friends' laughter, and pouts playfully in your direction. “It was scary!” 

Mina giggles. Her movements are sluggish and dopey as she waves her arm in Kaminari’s direction, who then stretches around the pit to Sero, who then passes it off to her. She takes a quick sip, free hand pinching Kirishima’s cheek. “Wasn't your first time an accident, too? That’s so cute”. 

“He sneezed actually,” Sero supplies, smirk crooked, foot tapping Kirishima’s ankle in a preemptive apology. “Destroyed half his house”. 

Kaminari slaps his knee, “Man, you were stumbling around like a newborn foal. It was hilarious”. 

Bakugo grinned as the others bickered, a fond, radiant thing that lit up his whole face. He’s softer like this, drenched in warmth. Cloak tucked behind his shoulders you are given the view of his broad chest. And when he finally looks at you, his half lidded gaze has been softened by his third swig; though he remained considerably sober compared to his companions. 

“What’re you starin’ at?” he mutters.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly, then, quieter, “It’s just nice that you’ve all been together for so long”. 

“Since we were snot-nosed brats. We hail from the same clan. Deku too,” he replies, elbow propped on his knee, chin cupped in his palm. “Getting sick of seeing their faces at every turn”. 

“Liar,” you hum amusedly. “What do humans call it…? Emotionally constipated”. 

His eyes slide over you, brow quirked. With his friends distracted he is more emboldened giving you attention. “Got some liquor down your neck and suddenly you’re givin’ me cheek?” 

“Guess so,” you feel yourself endeared by your not-husband. The pleasant honeyed sensation shrouding your body must’ve loosened your tongue. “Anyone can see they’re like family to you”. 

The barbarian kisses his teeth and shifts himself toward you, an ugly look on his face. You catch his peek at your pelt. “What about you?”

“Me?”

Bakugo grunts. “Yeah. You got family?” 

If not for the alcohol that question might’ve sucked all the joy from the air. You settle on a sad smile, dragging your fingertip through the dirt to draw a vague seal shape. “That’s hard to answer,” you intoned gently, barely audible over the crackling fire. “My memories of them are vague. The longer I stay human the more I forget”. He frowns, but you continue, unperturbed, “Usually it would be the same thing in reverse, if we weren’t bonded I would likely forget all of this”. 

“And you’re okay with that?” he says, some edge to his tone. “You’re okay with being stuck here?” 

The ‘with me’ goes unspoken but you hear it, and you fall silent. Because you have no answer. You’d had months to reconcile a pallid future— at one point you thought you would never again see the ocean, least of all your family. It was probable that they’d already moved on without you. 

“I don’t feel stuck,” you admit. His actions and his words, albeit harsh, proved that to be true. Aside from the obvious differences from your previous capture, the biggest is that you are equally in possession of Bakugo’s individual liberty— you’re married, you mentally amend, not in possession. While it is true you wouldn’t be able to stray far from him with the bond established, you held your pelt, independence, control. 

A near imperceptible tension seeps from him at your answer. “What about you?”

He scoffs, stretching out his legs. The soles of his boots drag in the dirt. “Do I look fuckin’ stuck?” 

“No,” you murmur with amusement, turning to gaze at the flickering pyre. “A man that can fly hundreds of miles on dragonback in a single day certainly isn’t stuck”. 

“Now you’re getting it”.

The other conversation has worn into soft murmurings. Kirishima drunkenly hands off the last of the alcohol to Bakugo, gesturing to the three who’ve surrounded him and fallen asleep. As the dragon shifter repositions himself to join them, curled together like a pack of seal pups, Bakugo takes a sip. 

There’s probably only a mouthful left and you accept it when he offers. “You should sleep, too”. 

You heed his instruction and lie down on your side, your pelt pillowed under your head. The smell of home swaddles you. “Early rise, right?” he nods, leaning back onto his arms. “How long do you think it’ll take to find the—uh, occultist?” 

“A week if she’s where she’s supposed to be,” he scowls. You’re not sure what draws the heat to your face; the drink or his voice, now gravelly with fatigue. “Three at most”. 

“Okay,” you exhale, eyes fluttering closed. “Thank you, Bakugo”. 

A soft breeze dances through the brush. Your skin pebbles, shivers slipping down your spine. Something heavy drapes over you and encases you in a warm cocoon. Fluff tickles at your nose. Your fingers curl into the familiar red fabric of Bakugo’s cloak. He has pointedly angled away from you, ready to ignore any attempt at interrogation. The gruff act of kindness makes your heartbeat faster. Fondness settles in your chest, so big that it aches. His natural scent mixes with yours and it’s like being laid on the shoreline, stitching sea and land together. 

“Don’t fuckin’ thank me yet,” the muscles in his back ripple as he tends to the dwindling fire, declaring with conviction, “Just follow me. I’ll fix this and get you home”. 

You lick your lips, mouth dry from the alcohol. In that very moment you want to tell him that the ocean and the sky are like a two way mirror; that when you were up there with him, strangely, your body thought it was at home. 

Instead, you close your eyes and watch the embers paint yellow and orange kaleidoscopes behind your eyelids. 

Instead, you sleep. 

The weeks that follow are arduous. Uraraka is nowhere to be found, and your group resorted to searching the areas of iridian growth Midoriya circled. 

You weren’t used to hiking up mountainous lands, navigating forests or scaling dragons, not in the beginning. Rising with the sun, enduring unpredictable changes in weather, wincing through the ache that grew in your weaker human muscles, Bakugo found your crankiness amusing and irritating all at once; never missing an opportunity to comment on your lack of stamina, then using it as an excuse to assist where assistance is not truly needed. 

But you saw through him, and let him. You did not need help climbing, yet your hands weaved together so he could pull you up. You’re soon practiced in saddling Kirishima, yet you always wait for Bakugo to put his arm around your lower back every ride. Your inner voice sings whenever he brings you food— begrudgingly, he throws it into your lap and grunts like the barbarian he is— or hangs his cloak over your head without a word as though you were a rack. It’s a little more charged every time you interact, and you found you liked being taken care of in those subtle ways that did not undermine your independence. 

The others noticed and teased accordingly. They call him a dutiful husband and his aggravated explosions saw you driven out of two small settlements for startling livestock. You become closer to each of them. Their patchwork family makes room for you quicker than you know what to do with. And you enjoy it; learning about the people around you, peeling back the rind of their lives piece by piece with mundane questions, seeing what they’re made up of.

You learn Kaminari enjoys literature, dramatically reciting love tales in the night, referencing poems you’ve never heard. He’s charming but never with actual intention. It is somehow more endearing that he doesn’t know his own allure, finding comfort in the role of a jester. Mina is pure joy wrapped in flesh. Apologetically overbearing and well meaning. Like an older sister she showed you how to securely fashion your pelt—over one shoulder, a belt fastened around the waist, keeping it in place— and let you use her combs. She speaks fast when she’s happy, hits hard when she laughs and gossips avidly, picking up new information wherever she goes. 

Kirishima looked at you with kindness and iron surety in his eyes from the start. Good natured and feeling— he has a heart so big that he apologises to a flower bed after he steps on it. There’s a natural fraternal air about him that sets you at ease and the group’s clear affection and appreciation for him diminished any worry about your own treatment as a shifter.

But of everyone else in the group you found Sero the most easygoing. Conversation came fluidly and your initial diffidence was thrown by how naturally you were able to fall into place with him. He lends an ear to any questions you have, practised in the art of human interaction; a man capable of adapting to any one person he comes into contact with. As such, he is the member sent to negotiate, collect information, and make arrangements. 

When you make it to the last destination on the map you are drenched in a time-steeped sunset. Sero trudges back through the brush, returning from the nearby port town. Landing at such a late hour Sero had been tasked with finding the local tavern to buy a few rooms for the night, and the lazy thumbs up he waves from a distance is proof he accomplished his goal.

“They don’t get too many travellers passing through here so I swiped up three rooms,” he huffs, coming to a stop and brushing the dirt off his pants. “They’ve got a bathhouse, too”. 

Bakugo makes a noise of approval, lifting a bag over his shoulder while Kirishima carries the rest under his arms and  flashes a toothy smile. “Glad it went smoothly, man”. 

“Thank the Gods,” Kaminari cheers, clapping his friend on the back. “You’re a lifesaver. I can’t wait to sleep on an actual bed again”. 

“Uh huh. Two twin rooms for us lowly minions,” Sero continues, his grin curling into something more sly. You get a sense of foreboding. “And of course, a double room for the newlyweds”. 

Mina whistles, slipping her hand into yours and tugging. You freeze, heart in your throat, and force yourself to relax, not yet used to how tactile they can be. She’s too invested in Bakugo’s response to notice. Your eyes flicker over to find him red faced and incensed, knuckles white with the pressure he has around the drawstrings of his bag. 

Sharing a room with Bakugo. Alone. Thus far you’d all been together. Either under the stars or in caves, or packed into cramped quarters stuffed with wattle and daub if a villager felt kind enough. 

“You've got exactly five seconds to explain why you thought that was a good idea”.

Sero quickly put his palms up in surrender. “You gave me a budget, Bakugo. They offered to lower the price as a wedding gift. I figured it would be okay for one night”. 

Bakugo jerks his head in your direction, his steely glare unmoving. The tips of his ears are pink, too, frustration unfolding across his skin. “You don’t get to decide that,” he chided, tone harsh like a hiss. 

Suddenly, Sero looks rather ashamed of himself. “Shit, I’m sorry. Should’ve asked,” he says to you, rubbing at his neck as his head lowers. It’s unlike him to be so wilted— and all because of your potential discomfort. 

You meet Bakugo’s eyes, gleaming intensely, already trying to scrutinise your reaction. Mina hums quietly. She tightens grip on your hand again in reassurance, the other running along your bicep. “If you want I can swap with you”. 

Bakugo snorts at that, as if the idea was ridiculous, but he doesn’t shoot it down despite his clear aversion to sharing with Mina. You understood his disbelief. They behaved much like siblings, squabbling and poking at one another. It’d rouse suspicion and you didn’t fancy being chased out of town for swindling the keepers for a discount. 

“Thank you guys. But it’s alright,” you reassured, mouth lifting into a small smile and reciprocating Mina‘s gentle squeeze. “I don’t mind sleeping with Bakugo”. 

A few beats of silence. You see Bakugo’s expression slip, jaw loose and eyes wide for a brief moment before it twists. He turns away from the group as a chorus of suggestive crowing erupts. 

Understanding your mistake almost immediately hot mortification comes over you, stifling beneath the pelt on your shoulder. “Shut up, you useless fuckin’ perverts,” Bakugo snaps, flustered and wild, swatting at the nearest victim. Kirishima feigns a wounded noise. 

“Hey, I didn’t do anything!”

“Just get moving,” the barbarian marches onward, tearing his way through the overgrowth and heading for the tavern. “And walk behind me!”

His choleric mutters continue, heard even at a distance. Tucking your chin to your chest, you hide your laughter in your silken pelt as you follow after him, mouth filling with a comforting briney scent. You think Bakugo undeniably cute when he’s embarrassed; a sight you’ve had the pleasure of seeing more than once on account of his pod. That feeling from the campfire returns, fills your chest, pulsing through to your fingertips, tempting you to reach out, to touch him. 

More and more you’re inundated with the need to be close. You quell the urge and tighten your grip on Mina, her cheek squished to your shoulder, loose curls the colour of blossom tickling your throat. “Don’t worry. He’s not really mad,” she tells you furtively, as if it were a big secret. 

“I know,” gaze lingering on Bakugo’s back, covered by that thick red cloak, you wonder if your scent still clings to it. Contentedly, “I’m getting used to it”. 

The town is beautiful. Bursting with flora and fauna, accentuated by the dusk, ocean curling around the village in a way that reminds you of mother. Nature's cradle. You cling protectively to your pelt, scenting the salt in the air and hovering closer to Bakugo. If anybody could identify a selkie skin it would be fishermen. Stray drunken locals stumble by, arm in arm with boisterous cheer. You’re greeted like a long lost friend, neither person recognising your true identity. Humans really can be hearty and genuine at their core. Life before had been so desolate in comparison, so lacking in love and colour. 

“Oi,” Bakugo beckons you to his side. When you don’t fall in line he grabs your wrist, pulling you close. His natural body heat lingers like a brand. “Make sure you call me Katsuki from now on,” he instructs under his breath. 

You blink at the unexpected request. The muscles in his face are tight, twitching, and his nose flares the longer you stare. Given names are important to humans in this region. Sharing them is an intimate thing, a sign of your close relationship. “Are you sure?” 

“Wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t sure,” he punishes your questioning with the fleeting tightening of his grip. You can’t help it. He’s pink again and you like it. “I’m your husband, yeah? So call me by my fuckin’ name”. 

The keeper waits surreptitiously by a sheltered stairwell leading to the inn above her tavern. A small Elven woman, uncloaked, the lantern overhead creating a halo of light to circle her ginger crown. She perks up when Sero hands over a small velvet sack, the drawstrings pulled tight. “For the rooms,” he emphasises, coins chiming dully against one another as he shakes it. The woman takes it and cradles the payment to her breast, exchanging the gold for three keys. 

You’re guided up the stairwell and into the building, presented with a narrow corridor. There are numerous doors, decorative runes carved into the frames, a coloured piece of string hung from each handle corresponding to the colour of the keys.  “It’s good to see some youngins pass through. We only ever get the same old geezers around here,” she says, “Makes for a mundane life”. 

The crows' feet wrinkle by her eyes when she smiles, laughter lines framing her mouth. She hands out the keys to your pod who all rush in childish excitement to see their rooms. At last she turns to where you stand stiffly beside Katsuki. 

You’re handed a key. The stem is long and thin and made with copper, the key wards in the bit uniquely shaped to your door. Threaded through the bow is a lavender string. “It isn’t much but I hope you will be comfortable for the night,” with a wink, she adds, “Congratulations to you both”. 

“Thank you. We will be in your care,” your reply is tremulous, undecided whether to be pleased with the sincere acknowledgement of your marriage or nervous to be seen through. At your side, the large barbarian grunts. 

It is uncharacteristic of him; always very respectful of his elders. You lean against him, just a nudge. His attention snaps to you and you smile innocently. “Be polite, Katsuki”. 

Like it was meant to be spoken only by you, Katsuki’s name sits right in your mouth, lips shaping around the characters softened by warm intonation. The reaction is instantaneous. His jaw ticks. His faint blush returns. His stoic expression wanes as he looks to the keeper, who is observing the interaction with mirthful eyes. Lowering his head he mutters, “We appreciate your hospitality, ma’am”. 

“You’re quite darlin’ together, aren’t you,” she comments heartily, mostly to herself, as if airing her thoughts. “We got good food and drinks downstairs, do come if you’re hungry! Blessings be upon you”. 

On her departure you enter the room. Spangles of light dusted the air. While it clearly isn’t lived in, it is homely. You canvas the space. Two square-headed windows facing the street are covered by thin cloth. There is an old, tattered tapestry strung across the wall to cover up a fist sized hole, a patterned glass vase and various other unique tchotchke adorning the shelves. You drag your fingers across the brick fireplace opposite a wide double bed, mattress made of wool but compensated by the many feather pillows and blankets. 

“This is good,” you say, “homely”. Though there is an animal hide on the floor, which you find rather… untoward. A soothing musky smell with overtones of caramel and vanilla rising through the cracks in the floorboards from the tavern below. You breathe it in deeply. 

“It’ll do,” Katsuki voices his agreement and drops his bag with a conclusive thud. “Let me hide our stuff and we can meet with the others for food downstairs. You haven’t eaten in hours”. 

The small consideration makes your heart flutter. “Ah. I’ll be there soon,” you tell him. He squints at you, attempting to mentally pry the answers out of you. “I’m okay, Katsuki. I just need a minute”. 

Pausing in the centre of the room, Katsuki scrutinises you. You fidget under his intense appraisal, undecided whether it pleases you or not. It is strange to want something that often leaves you feeling excruciatingly… exposed. 

You wait apprehensively and wonder if he’ll comment on your use of his name— needless, this time. After all there are no ears or eyes in these walls. You’re not sure what you’ll do if he asks you to stop. 

“Are you sure?” you nod, mouth strained in a thin smile. Bakugo frowns but ultimately gives you your space. “Make sure you catch up. If you’re not down in ten minutes I’m coming back”. 

“I will,” you land heavily on the edge of the bed, wrinkling the sheets as you unclip your pelt. The collar of your ill-fitted shirt slips forward with the motion to reveal cleavage, and Bakugo immediately averts his gaze. 

“Whatever,” he rasps, unexpectedly shy. The door slams as he leaves. You right the collar, tugging it back up, lips pressed thin to repress the laughter that bubbles in your chest. Aimless and left to your own devices you take a solitary moment to groom the pelt in your lap, marbled and downy-soft. Brushing through the coat, fingertips trace the rings of black and brown.

Things are so different. Being a person is more overwhelming than you imagined. Being locked away had kept you in a state of inertia, suffocating in numb misery, but now you were left to grapple with the immense spectrum of human emotion. Urges and wants that you had never experienced before meeting Katsuki. 

You swallow, staring at the spaces between your fingers. Spaces filled with short tan fur. Selkie marriages were simultaneously complicated and simple. Rather, they were so simple that they bore unnecessary complications. 

A stolen pelt creates a one sided bond but upon return it is consummated. Between two selkies in courting pelts were exchanged, solidifying their promise to one another, deeply unified by their magic. Elder podmates said that it meant they belonged to only one another. Abandoning the tides, in a way. 

Since being a pup the voice of the sea was a ceaseless whisper you were always aware of. Yet since Katsuki held your seal skin, unknowingly cradled your very being and returned it to you with only sincere intention, that voice had gradually been ebbing away. 

Would there come a day that you no longer recalled your identity as a selkie—? No. You quickly smother the thought. The immaterial, chimerical magic that made up your very being could never be forgotten. And deep down, you knew Katsuki would not let you. Indeed, you can only picture his surly retaliation if you ever woke up and could not recall your lineage. 

With that you get to your feet. Ten minutes would soon pass and his probable wrath was enough motivation. You consider the pelt in your grasp and give a surreptitious glance around the room for somewhere to hide it. Taking it into a tavern full of drunken strangers and mariners seemed like a much worse idea. 

After rolling it up tight you stuff it behind the pillows at the head of the bed, further pulling over the coverlets. The hallway is quiet when you step out. You lock the door, tensing at the loud click. You can hear muffled laughter rising through the floors. 

It grows in volume when you step out into the evening air. Slurred conversation and bickering pour through the tavern windows. At front is a large, arched door, overshadowed by a dark blue awning. The wood panels are weatherworn and rustic, covered in rivets. You reach for the brass handle. It’s heavy in your palm as you turn it, using your full strength to push forward. 

First, you are met with a crescendo of boisterous cheers. Stepping inside, your eyes are drawn to the green dyed sailcloths hung from the rafters above the bar. The establishment is modestly sized, enough that there is a longtable set up in the centre of the room and a fair few smaller roundtables dotted with stools. 

Across the far end of the tavern is a line of small booths, separated by wooden screens decorated with mosaic carvings. Oil lamps are hooked on the walls, casting a warm sepia hue that seems to cohesively bring everything together. It felt welcoming, and intimate, like approaching a friend by the fire. 

You try to seek out a familiar head of blonde hair. The place is busy but nobody bats an eyelid at your entrance, lively enough that you cannot hear clearly above the overlapping voices around you, intermingling with the low playing of music. 

“Lost, stranger?”

You startle. 

She finds you easily, like she’d been waiting. Mina curls an arm around your back, pressure light as if she was suddenly worried about being too familiar. It tightens when you lean into her and she smiles with more vigour. 

“C’mon. Let’s get you something to eat”. 

The distance between you and them is barely that of a crevice, but it is daunting, yawning like a trench. Over in the far left booth, both secluded and closest to the bar, is a group of friends. Directly beneath a lantern strung onto a hook, Katsuki is bathed in orange and nursing a drink. The others are tucked away in the booth, cups and plates lining the table top. Their laughter slows as you approach and you battle the urge to recoil from everyone’s eye. Mina, sensing the discomfort, begins to rub her hand along your back. 

“All of you scoot up,” she asserted, wiggling her pointer finger. “Make some space for us!”

They move around on the long, curved seat to make space. You end up on Katsuki’s right, sandwiched in by Sero who smiles, though awkward, earlier remorse persisting as you take your place beside him. “What’s the verdict, are you happy with your room? Best I got from Bakugo is a grunt”. 

“Yeah, I like it. You did good picking this place. It’s cosy,” you glance over toward Katsuki. “Beats a cave. The fireplace is nice. I wonder if it works…”

Mina tucks into Kirishima’s side where he sits across from you. Most of the plates are piled up in front of him, food aplenty to sate his dragon-sized appetite. His chin dimples as his bottom lip juts forward, “You guys get a fireplace? That’s so unfair”. 

“C’mon, Kiri. The fireplace is there for…”—Kaminari leans in, suggestively lowering his voice and nudging Katsuki’s left arm—“…ambiance”. 

You feel a gentle nudge. Katsuki, ignoring his friend's harmless influx of innuendos, slides a glass across the table toward you. “What is it?” you ask, bringing it to your lips. The liquid is dark, red like fresh blood, but it smells fruity. Before he can tell you, you’ve taken a sip. 

It is weighty on your tongue, unlike anything you’ve tasted before. Cherries and jam and oddly well paired notes of spicy tobacco. The corner of his mouth curls into a barely there smile, pleased at the immediate delighted sound. He brings forward a large opened bottle and presents it to you. 

“Barmaid gave us this to share,” Katsuki taps at the calligraphy on the label. “It’s wine. Expensive too, usually”. 

“Guess marriage does have benefits,” Sero gibed, raising a glass of amber liquid you assume to be beer. Expression open in sincere merriment, he declares, “To the happy couple!” 

Six glasses come together, toasting to your accidental bond, alcohol spilling over your hands. Katsuki’s cup is there too, his monotonous voice blending into their hurrahs. A hand slides from the back of the booth to rest upon your shoulders and you lean into it, heat prickling over your skull at the feel of his bare skin. Blood thinning, belly full, inhibitions lost to bliss. 

Mina brings her hands together in a succinct clap, weaving her fingers. “Another round!” she beams, and the enthusiasm stirs once more. 

The evening crawls on. Your modest group barely puts a dent into the chaotic din but it sure can eat. You’re made to swallow your fill under Katsuki’s direction—watching you closer than he did anyone else—and savour the dishes, heady and complimented by your flavoursome wine. 

Stories pass through loosened lips, new and old. You don’t mention it when Kaminari repeats himself twice over— nobody else does, either. You all sink into the balmy atmosphere, sharing food and conversation, relaxing entirely for what felt like the first time in months. 

Sero chokes on his drink as Kirishima recounts the story of when he and Katsuki first became friends. How the tiny blonde barbarian would sneak up on him through the bushes, throw rocks at his tender head, and challenge him to battle all in pursuit of friendship. 

Your shoulders shake, burrowing into Katsuki’s side to sap his warmth. Bare skin pebbles as your fingertips skim his ribs, poking near his armpit. “Would it kill you to communicate like a normal person?”

Trembling mouth pressed firmly together, Katsuki refuses to give anyone the satisfaction of making him laugh. You see through it plain as day. “Shut up,” he grumbles.  

“Didn’t even flinch when ma threatened to eat him if I came home with any more teeth missing,” Kirishima continued, sighing happily. “My bro is so manly”. 

Steadily the energy begins to dwindle into a pleasant hum. You’re together, drunk on wine and laughter and a sense of harmony. Being with them is startlingly effortless. It feels like family. 

In the recesses of your mind you think, I don’t want to let go. 

“Hey,” Katsuki says, sharper when nobody hears him. “Hey, shitheads”. You lift your head from where it had come to rest on his shoulder, cheek slightly numb. “Think I’m going to head up”.

You hear a chorus of sluggish objections with no real heat behind them. While he’s fighting off their interrogation you simply watch him, awkwardly angled and ignoring the twinge in your neck. The bead in his braid glints in the low light. 

Sensing your stare, Katsuki looks down at you, dappled by lamp light. The flames dance in his irises, gaze unbearably soft, as it had been that first night by the campfire. You hold your breath when he sets his thumb with his tongue and uses it to wipe a crumb from your cheek. The touch is like a spark to flint. A fleeting sort of hope stirs in your chest, like this is all you’d been waiting for, that the universe was finally making things right for you. 

Then he snatches his hand back, as though waking up to what he was doing. 

“I’m going to bed. You idiots better behave,” he groused, returning his focus to the group. You mourn his attention. “If we get kicked out early I’ll kill you”. 

“You love us too much,” Mina tucks her drunken smirk into the cradle of her palm, arm almost slipping with the weight. Cloudy eyes follow Katsuki as he forces his way out of the booth like a bull. “Admit it!” 

Bending at the waist he meets her stare head on and deadpans, “Die”. Mina merely laughs and plants a kiss on his forehead that he aggressively rubs away as he leaves. 

You stay a little longer but find your mood dampening. Katsuki’s absence makes known an ache usually quelled by the weight of your pelt, almost as though his presence had placated that innate yearning for home. The thought leaves you dizzy. 

“I think I’m going to go, too,” you announce out of the blue. 

Expressions fall, concerned. Kaminari tilts into your space. You barely even blink at the proximity now. “Everything alright? Y’dont feel sick or anything, do you?” 

“No, not at all—“ he frowns at you, unconvinced, “—I just feel like going for a soak before bed. Sero, you said there was a bathhouse?” 

Sero perks up at his name and nods loosely, head barely held by his neck. “Yeah! They’re around the back, apparently. Just walk beyond the stairwell,” he shoots you a thumbs up. “They’re mixed but only guests can use ‘em, so don’t worry about it being crowded”. 

That’s comforting to know. If luck was on your side it would be empty. You duck out of the tavern with a final wave and a promise to see them in the morning. Thankfully the boisterous chatter grows dull as you step into the night air, stopping to look up the stairwell. You hope Katsuki can sleep through it. 

Heeding Sero’s instructions you follow the beaten path around the back of the tavern. There you discover another building, smaller, but with a steeped tile roof and shuttered windows. Curious, you gently lift the green dyed curtain hung in the doorway and enter the earthen-floored threshold. 

You are led to what you guess is a small changing area. Cabinets left open, again each handle corresponding the key colours. You find a lavender ribbon and peer around the empty space, contemplating getting undressed. 

Gathering courage you pull the strings in your shirt slack, slipping your arms from the sleeves and pulling it over your head. Tepid air breathes over your skin as you push down your pants, stepping out of them where they pool at your feet. Your clothes are folded and left on the shelf, boots lined neatly by the doorway. 

Further in is an open space covered in tiles of smooth green. There are low stools and basins with natural running water, washcloths and soaps. While unpracticed you are at least somewhat familiar with bathhouse etiquette. Sitting hesitantly, hissing as your bare thighs meet the cool wood, you dip one of the cloths to soak and begin to scrub at your body. 

The knots in your muscles become undone with the repetitive motions, again and again until you’re lathered in bubbles. You breathe in, feeling the humidity cling to your lungs, and rinse away the soaps. 

Eventually you dub yourself clean enough to enter the baths. The seafoam tiles soon taper to stone that borders the baths. You take in the tall ceiling with beautiful carvings along the walls and high placed glass windows allowing the moon to shine in easily. The patterns are comfortingly familiar. Shells, waves, gulls, rock formations and arches. Though the bathhouse is much warmer, hot tendrils of steam rising from the bubbling water. 

Penumbral light glinted on the water's surface. It held a distinct earthy scent, rolling in from the nearby springs. Again, you are reminded of a tide pool, but deeper. Clear and clean and natural. What immediately seizes your attention is the familiar man sitting close by, a head of wet golden hair still somehow holding its shape, the loose strands that typically make up his braid now tucked behind his ear. 

Katsuki tips back to rest on the bath's edge. A thin white towel is laid across his face. Your gaze follows the slope of his shoulders, roving over his defined chest, skin pink with the heat. Rivulets run between his pecs to his sternum, lower body distorted below the water but patently bare, same as you. You exhale a breath you hadn’t known you were holding and quickly look away from his lap. 

Time spent with Katsuki taught you that he hated being treated delicately. Tip toeing around this was not an option. You would join him in the baths and behave as normal. But—

Humans were fickle about nakedness. Where should you sit? What is an appropriate distance? Straying too far could make him defensive, yet getting too close might—

“Are you going to stand there all night?” 

Startled, the soles of your feet almost slip on the smoothed stone. “You knew it was me?” 

Katsuki scoffs. The towel remains over his eyes, obstructing his view, that which you were grateful for. Your previous indifference had so abruptly burgeoned into apprehension. Just the thought that he might see you this glaringly bare and skinless, a body without boundaries, made your stomach swoop. It is a peculiar sensation; you wanted him to look and you didn’t. 

“Nobody else thinks that loud. Unless you’re Deku,” you can imagine his eyes rolling, the exasperation clear in his voice, though not unkind. The corded muscles in his shoulders shift beautifully as his arm stretches across the bath’s edge, wrist limp to allow his fingertips to breach the surface. He flicks the water in your direction, creating capillary waves. “Just— fuckin’ get in already”.  

“Right,” you laugh quietly under your breath, descending the steps into the baths. The heated water is soothing, climbing the length of your lengths, eventually coming to rest above your hips. 

You sink near to him and pointedly keep your eyes above his collar. Katsuki neither twitches nor acknowledges your approach. In fact, you aren’t sure he is even breathing. It occurs to you that he too could be nervous, tempted to look but refraining. The possibility of being wanted by him brings a sudden sharp sort of awareness that slides through you and heightens your senses. 

Outstretched fingertips brush featherlight between your shoulder blades where you lean back against the wall. You sit with your knees close to your breast, relieved to be covered. “I thought you were heading to bed,” you comment quietly. 

“Saw the path and followed it,” he replies, stiff shoulder jerking as he shrugs. “Wanted some quiet”. 

A deep pink flush is spreading across his collarbones, clawing up the column of his throat. Your rational mind knows it is caused by the steam, yet the greedy part of you, the part so distinctly human, wants to know if you affect him as much as he affects you. 

These feelings had gradually been accumulating since the very beginning. You’ve no idea where to put them. The voice in your hindbrain all but panics at the idea of leaving. You’ve spent a lifetime listening to your instincts and they’re telling you to keep your place at his side. 

You inhale until the pressure in your chest is smothered by your lungs and your heart beat slows. Exhale. The water shifts in sync with your subtle movement. Emboldened by the wine in your veins you slide closer. The soft hair on your legs prickles, everything in you gravitating toward him. Katsuki doesn’t acknowledge it. 

“Always staring,” a flustered growl snaps you back to reality. “You got something to say to me?” 

“No,” you answer too quickly. 

“Good,” his upper body sinking lower. After a length of silence it must get to him. Voice pitched low, as though afraid to disturb the atmosphere, he mutters, “Ever had a bath this big, back at that shitty castle?” 

You snort. He turns at the sound and the surface ripples as you quickly smother it with your wet palm. It’s easy to picture the searing glare beneath the face towel. “Sorry. It’s just,” your mouth pulls into a tipsy grin. “All things considered, this place is pretty small to me”. 

“Dumbass. You know what I meant,” he huffs, not bothering to hide his fond exasperation. “The sea doesn’t count”. 

Humans are cute, you concluded. Trying to emulate the ocean in their warm wooden structures. “It counts,” you insist, moving closer still. You’re giddy in the water, with him. Like you’re sharing some special part of yourself in a strange way. “Have you been?”

A rough hum, “Where?” 

“The sea”. 

“Which one?” 

The steam must be making you light headed. You’re tucked to his side again. Thigh to thigh. Skin against skin. You are acutely aware of your shared nakedness. His arm has slipped over the bath's edge to drape around your shoulders. “The closest, obviously. Or any of them,” you knock your knees together. “It’s not like you to be purposefully obtuse”. 

“Big attitude for a little fish,” he mutters, free hand reaching for the towel, sliding it up to his hairline and revealing a crooked grin. Your heart squeezes. “Course I’ve been in the ocean. Flown over it on Red a few times too”. 

You want to do that, too. To bear witness to the wind driving the currents from above, feel the sea salt spray sharp on your cheeks, touch the unreachable seam where your two worlds become indistinguishable.

“Never bathed in it, though?” 

“No,” he drawled, an impatient edge to his tone. “I don’t plan on giving the finfolk an eyeful of my dick anytime soon”. 

You laugh, “Like you are now, you mean?”

Katsuki tears off the face towel before you’ve any time to process it. The water thrashes. You daren’t look away. His stare has a certain ferality, pupils dilated, fair lashes damp from the steam and clumped into little spikes; it pins you in place like prey. 

The blush across his chest is matched in his cheeks. A droplet slides down the delicate slope of his nose. You feel the surface of the water calm and settle just above your breast. You watch his gaze flicker reflexively to them, then to the ceiling, then clamping shut with a growl. Apprehension pulses through you and your thighs clench. 

“You—” he inhales sharply, gathering his thoughts. You track the movement of his tongue as it swipes across his lips. Thickly, Katsuki asks, “What are you trying to do here, exactly?” 

A sense of dejection comes over you and your immediate response is to feign innocence. “Soak with you,” which is no more than a half truth. You attempt to create some distance and his arm coils around your waist. Any effort to twist away from him proves futile; a snake that constricts the more you struggle. He doesn’t allow you to slip away, hand hot at your hip. 

“Yeah?” but there’s no real bite, no vitriol as he drags you closer. “Soaking, s’that what you call this? Rubbing up against me, practically climbing into my lap?”

You might feel demeaned if not for the lust hemming his words. His grip is bruising, fingers kneading soft flesh. You can see this for what it is— a choice, a question. He’s confused, and wanting. Presenting an opportunity for you to change your mind in the face of his callousness. Katsuki is kind, in his own way. 

Your palms come to rest over his sternum, pushing with no real effort, an accomplice in whatever cat and mouse game he was trying to play. His breathing picks up, abdomen clenching. You stare where bodies meet, low light reflecting off the wet sheen. Beneath your touch his heartbeat ricochets around his ribs. 

Katsuki calls you. Your name is barely above a whisper. Peering up through your lashes as his hand comes to cup your nape, the other massages simple shapes into your hip, his fingers splayed across your navel. You exhale shakily as his pinky fits into the crease of your thigh. 

He cradles your nape, guides you into his magnetism, and then you’re tilting— your world with it— into a careful kiss. Static blankets your thoughts. Katsuki’s lips slot over your own, a gentle press that quickly grows feverish as your tongue traces the seam of his mouth. 

Exhaling harshly through his nose he drags you over his lap, the bath water splashing onto the stone tiles, holding you to his front in a way that makes it difficult to discern where you end and he begins. You have all of him now. Half hard under you and tense like he was exerting effort not to do anything about it. Hands wandering, mapping out the topography of your body, clutching greedily at your thighs. Smoke fills your throat, a tang of explosive magic lingering in the grooves of your teeth. 

Minutes passed imperceptibly. You leave it feeling as though all the sinew in your body had unravelled, undone in his embrace like loose skeins of yarn. Katsuki doesn’t appear any more composed than you are; staring at you, slack with hunger, jaw relaxed the way a beast would do to taste the air. Palms cupping his cheeks, thumbs moving in idle back and forth motions under his eyes, you smile—

“Katsuki,” you murmur reverently. For reasons you can’t understand, it wakes him up. Snaps him out of his stupor. Panic flits over his features and you’re being pushed away, deposited back into the water. It rocks with the abrupt movement, waves breaking against your chest as he brusquely wades toward the steps with the small towel barely covering his modesty. 

Echoing louder now, “Katsuki?” 

And he was gone. 

You stare at the entrance to the baths for a long time, willing him to return. You stare until your eyes sting and you’re forced to blink. All that’s left is the soft sound of the running springs, your shallow breath, and the muffled chanting of a few drunken men. 

An emptiness makes home in your chest. Bereft, you follow in his steps, exiting the baths and heading to the changing room. You pat yourself down, rough towel absorbing the moisture, and pull on your clothes. 

A hopeful spark catches when a figure ducks in under the curtain. Snuffed out, then, when Mina greets you cheerily. She seems to have sobered up for the most part, more coherent than you’d last seen her. 

“You took a dip too?” she bounces on the balls of her feet as she undoes her shirt buttons, oblivious to your somber disposition. “I saw Bakugo come from this way too. Looked a little constipated if you ask me. I thought hot baths were supposed to relax you, not—”

Finally, she looks at you. Her voice stops as her brows pinch into a frown. You offer a brittle smile and endure the scrutiny. “Did something happen?” she asks worriedly. 

Your throat closes up. Your teeth sink into your cheek and lower your gaze to the tiled floor, cracks overlapping as your vision blurs. Mina reaches for you. She halts in your periphery, thoughts and actions misaligned. A flash of hesitance, and then determination. She strides across the threshold to pull you into an embrace. Her arms slip around your shoulders, crossing over one another at your nape, tightening. 

The tension begins to soften. Your body slumps, sinking into her kindhearted warmth as the rigidity weakens with your resolve. Bowing into the crook of her neck, you inhale her gentle scent. A soliflore smell, a flower you don’t know the name of, earthy undertones and hints of saké. 

Your eyes are wet. Tears cling to your lashes as you blink. The moths dancing in the lamp light blurs, small specks of white stretching and flickering like pallid butterflies. Breathing shuttered, there’s a thickness in your throat that squeezes your voice into a frail whisper. 

“Thank you”. 

She hums, rubbing a comforting hand along the top of your spine. Her natural heat seeps through the thin fabric of your shirt. Though her arms are muscled they are also supple, like her chest, like her waist. You haven’t been held like this since you last saw your podmates. 

After a few beats she asks, “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You shake your head, grasping your bearings, “No”. It’s best left between you and Katsuki. 

“If you’re sure,” Mina gives a final crushing hug before releasing you. “I’m bunking with Sero tonight. Knock if you need anything”. 

“I will,” you say on the end of a shuddering exhale. “I’ll see you in the morning”. 

She hums, watching apprehensively as you make your way through the changing rooms. The retention of her heat clings to your clothing when you step into the cold night air. Your boots rub at the sore skin around your ankles, fitting loose, having foregone tying the laces. They encumber your steps, obtrusively loud and ungainly on your journey up the stairwell. 

A closed door should not be so daunting. Your hand hovers over the handle, steadily turning it, flinching as the locks click open. Low light floods in from the hallway and your eyes adjust to the darkness between blinks, the shape of a figure under the covers sharpening into view. Katsuki is laid on his back, hand disappearing under the pillow beneath his head where your bunched up pelt resides. 

Hesitant, you shut the door and kick off your dirty shoes. You tiptoe around the frame and climb into bed. You try to alleviate your weight, balanced between your hands and knees so the mattress won’t dip, yet it is futile. “I’m sorry, Katsuki,” you whisper, feeling fragile as you lower into the linens. He’s awake, you can tell despite his efforts to appear otherwise, because you feel him stroking your sealskin between his thumb and forefinger. 

“…Shouldn’t have done that,” his cadence is unsettlingly calm; gently sheathing the sharp words. “We’ve been getting too comfortable, letting shit influence us. It was just the magic talking”. 

What? 

“It’s not—”

“Go to sleep,” the volume raises in momentary frustration, but as quick as it came, anger dissipating. Dropping his head into the pillows he looks as defeated as you feel. He closes his eyes. “I won’t fuckin’ do anything to you so just. Sleep”. 

You try, fitfully. The atmosphere is unbearable, keeping you glued to the far side of the bed lest you accidentally touch one another. Pressing your fingertips to your lips, you remember. You ache. You stare into the shadows and wonder at what point did the intentions become so crossed. 

Katsuki valued the right to choose above all else. You liked that about him. He respected and surrounded himself with people who steered their own destiny, marching to the beat of his own drum; a rhythm you had fortuitously interrupted. In his mind he’d given into a temptation, and that act of indulgence was somehow the same as losing in battle. 

Katsuki viewed your relationship as an infliction he needed to fight against. 

That knowledge hurts you in ways you hadn’t expected. The words “we’re getting too comfortable” reverberated around your skull. Perhaps he was right. Somewhere along the lines you forgot that these truly were temporary circumstances, childishly wishing that maybe he’d come to love you, that you could simply accept this reality and grow into each other like a child into new shoes. 

You blink. Linens rise and fall with his shallow breath. Katsuki’s mouth is open, the corner of his mouth wet with drool. His lips smack together as he bundles you closer. Unconscious, yet still seeking you out. He’s devastating even when he’s not trying to be. 

Sleep feels impossible. 

Then you wake. 

Morning spills her dewy light throughout the room. Katsuki’s side of the bed is empty— made up and tucked at the corners. Cold. You are suddenly a distance apart and scrambling to make it all better again.

You push up into a sitting position. The bedsheets shift and pool around your hips, creasing the perfect slate Katsuki left. You rummage for the pelt hidden behind the pillows, dragging it out and around your shoulders, ducking your nose into the dark fur for comfort before tying it to your midriff. 

Judging by the sun’s position you would guess it is still quite early. Sluggish movement can be heard through the thin walls, indicating that others are awake. Knowing Katsuki he would want to set off early to find Uraraka, especially after last night.

Another figure joins you in the hallway. Kaminari remains unaware of your presence as he fiddles clumsily with the key, squawking when it almost slips between his fingers. He’s dishevelled, shirt half tucked into his belt, cuffs undone and hung off his wrists; there’s still an impression of his pillow printed on his left cheek. 

Having finally turned the lock, Kaminari spins on his heel with a happy hum. The tune escalates into a shriek as he notices you standing a few feet away. “Holy—! Warn a guy, would ya?” he clutches at his chest, exhaling harshly. “I think my heart just stopped”. 

“Sorry Kaminari,” amused by his shrill intonation and melodramatics, you smile for the first time that morning. It exaggerates the bags under your eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

“Like a baby,” he falls into step with you, knocking your elbows together on your way out into the stairwell. “I don’t think you can say the same, though,” his mouth twists into a smirk, “did Kacchan keep you up all night?” 

Normally the teasing wouldn’t bother you. In many ways you saw it as a sign of acceptance into the group. Now you wince like somebody had carelessly pressed a bruise on your body. Kaminari, for all his obliviousness, knows when to drop the masquerade. 

Your smile tightens uncomfortably as his fingers circle your wrist. In daylight you are left feeling exposed, unable to temper the regret written so plainly across your face. His mouth opens and shuts, searching fruitlessly for the right words, only to be interrupted by a callous shout from below. 

Katsuki’s voice is incredibly distinct. He’s yelling, which is nothing new, but now it is with genuine frustration. Kirishima, Mina and Sero are there alongside him, speaking in low tones as you would to an untamed animal. 

Kaminari tugs at your sleeve and gives you a meaningful glance, gently coaxing you to the bottom of the stairs. He must’ve at least connected Katsuki’s poor mood with your own.  “Kacchan, my man. It is too early for all this shouting,” he implored, settling back into his jovial self. 

You collect yourself, trying to retain shape and rationality as Kaminari draws Katsuki’s ire. Those vermillion eyes rove over you, head to toe, before flickering to the man on your right. Fast, like he’s afraid to look too long. Nostrils flare. The warm puff of air from his nose is visible in the cool air. 

“It’s late enough. What took you so long?” Katsuki snarled, poking a finger harshly between Kaminari’s eyebrows. “The keep told me cheeks is planning on leaving today, so all of you get moving”. 

Kaminari pouts, rubbing at the spot. The pale skin turns slightly pink. Unheeding of the wary scrutiny he is receiving, Katsuki charges onwards in expectation that everyone will follow. Kirishima raises a brow at his shape verbiage but doesn’t comment. He takes you under his arm in a half hug, sharing a look of understanding with Mina and the others. 

Sero recounts their findings. According to the townspeople, Uraraka, the occultist, landed her abode miles outside of their bounds and set up wards in the valley to confuse strangers. It steered them in opposing directions and sent them in circles, practically making her impossible to find. You’re worried clear up until your group crests the precipice of a steep hill several hours later.

You take in the gentle undulations of earth and fauna. Grass tall enough to brush your shoulders, wildflowers and weeds hugging the barely worn path, sparingly tended nature left to flourish. The magic becomes apparent with proximity. It hangs in the air like humidity, an unnatural sheen muddying your vision. Katsuki continued with brass-bound determination; weaving skilfully through the runes, barrier fracturing under the pressure of his explosive palms. 

There’s a quaint cottage in the middle of the glen, done up with a sweet ivy on the walls, latticed strips of wood around the windows, and a cobbled chimney towering from the pink tiled roof. Each windowsill appeared to have a different unidentifiable herb growing on it. A small, circular stained glass window in the door refracted the afternoon light, a knocker below it. Hanging by the door frame is a wind chime, shells tied to strings producing delicate crisp sounds in the breeze; in the effort to knock, Katsuki shoulders it carelessly, and the tune turns sour. 

His fist comes down with hard momentum, stopped midway by another. “Be careful,” Kirishima gently chides. Katsuki shoves his hand off, sparing him an incredulous glare, which the shifter subjugates with a pointed reminder: “She won't help you if you bust her door down, bro. Play nice”. 

Katsuki grunted his understanding, jaw clenched. He raps his knuckles on the wood. The sound is dull, and you stare down at your scuffed boots as an unpleasant pang of anxiety knocks around your chest. A voice shouts from inside, somebody scurrying around, then the door is pulled open. 

“Can I—Bakugo?!”

“Uraraka,” Katsuki greets bluntly, giving a short nod. It is the first time you’ve ever heard him say her name. His hands flex at his sides, restless. Through gritted teeth he adds, “Deku sent me. I need your help with something”. 

“Oh,” Uraraka exhales in disbelief. She steps back, pink slippered feet in your periphery. “Come in, then. I haven’t seen you guys in forever…”

Their voices fade into the background. All at once subconscious acts like breathing and blinking become tiresome. Hearing him let go of his pride felt so final. You fall away, stuck in a cold fog. Your gait is uneven as you remind yourself to put one foot in front of the other, incognisant to the worried looks thrown your way. 

You remember being seated on a plush feather-pillowed sofa. Hands running over your shoulders, grounding you. You reach for your pelt, sinking fingers into the downy fur, and find no comfort in it. Now you’re here it feels more like a husk, leaden and hollow, ready for you to be stuffed into. 

“You married a selkie by accident?” Uraraka blanched, her volume rousing you from your haze. “You know, Bakugo, for someone so smart your ignorance is truly astounding”. 

“Can you fucking reverse it or not?” 

“Reverse it. Are you kidding? You’re not. Gods, Bakugo—breaking a soul bond isn’t common,” Uraraka snaps, rubbing roughly at her eyelids as she loses patience. You feel a pang of guilt, that which worsens as it unearths the hope that perhaps she wouldn’t be able to separate you from him. “Most of the methods are based on myth. You realise it will be incredibly painful, and possibly for nothing?”

You take in the surroundings while they continue to bicker. The cottage is modest. A small foyer leads to the living space, rugs of various shapes and colours laid to insulate a path through the house, runes and scrawls carved into the hardwood walls. Logs presumably for fuelling the hearth monopolise much of the space, spilling out from the nook in which they’re stacked. There is nothing particularly otherworldly, at least not where you can see it. Uraraka obviously lives within her means, a humble and frugal person despite wielding magic of her calibre. 

“I do have something I can try, ” she sighs with a sidelong glance. The skin on her lip breaks between her teeth. Your prolonged silence has likely done nothing to reassure her. You try to feign interest, to smile and express gratitude, but she grimaces. 

“What do we have to do?”

“Essentially I can sever the bond at the stem but not the root,” the group is quiet, tense as they listen. Mina’s grip is bruising, as though making sure you were still there. “The dissolution of your marriage will only be complete when the selkie returns to the sea. Within a day or two they’ll… forget you”.  

You sense the atmosphere darken. Katsuki shifts his weight in your periphery. Neither one of you can look at the other. Whether he’s threatened by your feelings or ashamed of them you can’t be sure, but what you know is that they are real, sown and tended in the weeks you spent together. 

Kirishima exhales a shuddered breath. His big body crouches before you, warm hand resting on your knee. Kaminari and Sero linger on either side, watching over the scene, wearing grief plainly on their faces. A broken part of you wants to laugh. They are acting as if this is your wake. 

“Are you sure about this?” he implores, discreet and unintentionally cruel. If you were to say no, what of you then? Nothing to do but follow them on their journey, dragging along like the hide of some shorn animal. Stuck waiting for Katsuki to resent you over an incredibly frustrating and misplaced presumption that he played a part in fabricating your thoughts and feelings.  

Uraraka’s method may well cleave the ties created in your accidental matrimony. You trust in her capabilities because Katsuki clearly respects them. You’ll say yes. And after it all, when your soul has been excavated, when you’ve gone home crying to your mother, rocked to sleep in her gentle undertow, you will still stubbornly want him. 

The thought comes unbidden, a sudden clarity that overcomes you. At that point he would have no room to question your will. “I’m sure,” you say, still breathless with the realisation. “You can go ahead with it, Uraraka”. 

Hesitating in her movement, Uraraka considers you for a moment longer before disappearing down the hall. When she returns she pulls seven tear shaped crystals from a velvet satchel. Dread churns in your stomach, sensing the energy emanating from them. 

She begins to recite machinations beyond your comprehension. Opalescent rays of light burst from within her enclosed fist where it pressed against her mouth, dappling sentient shadows across her face, now taut with concentration. Her features ripple and distort, not unlike a reflection on the ocean's surface, then fades into obscurity as the spell settles into its conduit. 

Uraraka hands the lustre of the stone to you, knuckles pale as she squeezes the magic out into your cupped palms. As a pup you would try to drink sunlight, specks chased across the seabed as the clouds shifted, caught like a cat to a mouse only to remain empty handed. Light was not made up of solid matter— it was intangible. To be felt, seen, but not touched. 

Yet it is swirling in your hands like that lovely warm wine from the night before, slipping through the thin cracks in your fingers. “Drink it,” she coaxes gently. 

You look at Katsuki. His eyes flicker up to meet your own. There’s an awful urgency coursing through your body, frozen like a fawn, something inside willing you to stop. Begging him to speak up. He lowers his gaze, expression pinched and inwardly furious. 

Heel to chin, you tip your head back as if drinking from a cup. Her magic is entirely flavourless, waning with your own imagination as if it were allowing you to choose the taste yourself. The consistency is like steam; inhaled rather than swallowed, and hot on the roof of your mouth. 

Elemental magic was external in the way it bursts forth from the user, often causing flesh wounds or dramatic change in the terrain. You think of Katsuki, the calamity at his fingertips, juxtaposed by the tender manner in which he would always touch you, cauterising your fear. Uraraka’s magic is unforgiving and uniquely invasive. It is so much worse than being burned. 

It spreads through your sinuses like searing wildfire, pressure balloons behind your eye sockets, undoing the seams that make up the very fabric of your being. Waves of nausea engulf you, throat tight and constricted. Breathing laboured and irregular, you fight against the urge to retch it all up. 

It’s too much. The incorporeal spell pierces through your mind, tearing at the bond, more overwhelming than anything you’ve ever been dealt. Knife-like pain persists after her chanting stops. You wince and cradle your head, weeping as it passes. Left in its wake is a muted soreness throbbing across your brain. 

“Hi,” Uraraka is before you, ducking to examine for any injury. Careful, her fingers encircle your wrists and pry your hands away. “You’re okay. Can you look at me?”

You squint, reluctant to blink and irritate the soreness around your eyes. “How’s your vision?” she asked, sotto voce. Her touch is deliberate and gentle, slightly pulling down your bottom eyelids, petting over your jaw and down the nape of your neck, feeling for something. “Does anything feel wrong, or out of place?”

Wrong? your mind echoes. Out of place? Cold is creeping into your muscles, gritty and dense like wet sand. You’re unnerved by the veil of apathy that settles around you. “I don’t think I’m injured. The light is more intense. Hurts,” you admit, voice breaking. 

Everything that remains the same yet is somehow more drab, lacking colour and difficult to look at. Your friends, clinging to each other. Your Katsuki, staring back at you. “But I can still see everything”. 

“Good,” she breathes, relief entirely palpable. If this is success then you wonder what the worst outcome might’ve been. “That’s good. If you reach for the bond, is it there?” 

You’re not sure what she means. Seeking connection you clutch your sealskin to your front, kneading at the familiar fur. It’s minor but it’s back— the voice belonging to the tide, beckoning you to shift again. “I don’t think so,” you reply. 

“Then there’s only one thing left to do,” Uraraka smiles and covers your hands with her own. You sense the tips of her fingers ever so slightly across your collar where they brush the pelt bunched in your fists. “You’re free now. You can go back home”. 

Her soothing countenance might as well be dry grass to your precipitous anger. “Right,” you deadpan, voice entirely devoid of emotion. Best kept that way, lest you release all your bubbling frustrations onto a woman that only wanted to help you; in her eyes—and the rest—you were just another trapped, useless selkie. 

That anger carries you to your feet. You want to cry but the tears don’t come. When you exit the cottage with a curt bow and a ‘thank you’ you find yourself in the lead for once, marching ahead of the group. They remain a few feet behind, muttering amongst each other. Without the view of Katsuki’s back you feel lonely. Even so you keep your hurried pace, too afraid to turn around and be inundated with questions. 

The journey back passes in a blur. Hours, surely, because you’re ready to pass out from the exertion. Loose dirt and geosmin clings to your clothes.  Shadows stretch across the emptying streets as dark cloud cover canopies the town, sparse instances of light rainfall that stick to your skin. There's a chill in the air now, a bite to it that rattles your bones and quickens your breath. It’s damp, imbued with the scent of sea salt. 

You don’t stop, not when the desperate calls of your name begin. Further up the dock is lit golden, lanterns lining cobbled roads and emitting a warm orange glow. You trudge through the quieting bustle, workers scurrying to shelter, while enduring a pervasive sense of wrongness. 

You don’t know what to do with this freedom, this precipice, so joyless and empty. Slowing to descend weather-worn steps onto the beach there’s a presence at your heel. “Shit. Would you slow—!” Katsuki moves to stop you. His fingers flex, start to close around your wrist. Then they hesitate and fall away, clenching at his side until all the blood recedes from his knuckles. “You don’t need to immediately run off into the damn water”. 

“It’s easier this way,” and quicker, you think. 

“What?”

Listening to the sea sings an ancient litany, you let your anger wash away with the oncoming tide. The whiplash is intense. Your lips tremble, pulling into a tearful smile, laughter bubbling up through your chest, choked by the swell in your throat. “I think I understand why you’re always yelling now,” cumulus clouds pass overhead and bring with them a curtain of rain.  “Being human is very melodramatic”. 

Katsuki clearly hadn’t expected that, of all things. His expression softens in his surprise. The short hairs by his temples are laid flat, braid swinging in the breeze, the fur around his cloak dark and saturated. “That’s what this is? Baby’s first tantrum?” his tone is mean, and your hackles would rise if he were not visibly deflating. Katsuki reacts to vulnerability like a wounded dog. He laughs despite himself and scratches at his neck, “Fuck. I thought you’d be happy, or something close to it”. 

Standing a few feet behind him, Kirishima, Sero, Mina and Kaminari are linked together, waiting to approach. They remain in your line of sight as you consider the barbarian in front of you. A cold shock billows through his cloak, a wave crashing onto the shore. He shivers, but remains stubbornly rooted to the steps. 

“I’m not happy,” you lamented. “I’m going to miss you. You are an impossible man, Katsuki. Impossible to forget. I wish you’d believe that”. 

Katsuki’s mouth opens and shuts. Silence falls once again, and he can’t find the words to fill it. Your fingers work at the belt keeping your hide secure, tugging it loose and letting the sealskin unfurl, blanketing the length of your body. 

Mina takes this as an indication that you are leaving. She rushes ahead, stumbling past a stunned Katsuki, gathering you into her arms. The pelt is trapped between your bodies as you curl into the embrace. You feel yourself warm up, the wet winds rolling off the sea obstructed by three larger figures trailing right behind her, encasing you in a group hug. 

Constricted from all sides, the arms around your waist tighten. Mina’s nails dig in, and she shakes you gently in an attempt to scold you, “Don’t go leaving us without a proper goodbye”. 

Kirishima is at your back. He must be. The height, the rough skin, the hard spikes in his hair poking at your nape where he inhales deeply, memorising your scent. Sero flanks your left, resting his head on the shifter's shoulder as dark eyes watch you. Kaminari bears down his weight, slumping against your right, a sour metallic taste at the back of your throat as the grip on his magic loosens with emotion. 

It feels wrong without Katsuki. You crane your neck and look for him. The sight of him dithering off to the side, alone and wearing a visage of muted guilt, makes your insides twist. Your hand bursts through a crevice in the huddle, coaxing him over. 

He comes. Mina drags him into the middle without fanfare, and enclose around you in a last ditch effort to keep you together. “This is the worst,” Kaminari snivelled. “It’s like my parents are divorcing all over again”. 

Katsuki weakens to it. Gives a quiet, choked laugh and it blows warm across your temple. You’d know his hands anywhere. Hesitant, they rest on your hips. You close your eyes and centre yourself in the present, tilting your head to rest on his collar. The motion drags your lips up to his jugular and you kiss the words against the damp skin, thicker than intended, “I’m—really, so happy I met you all”. 

The briny air greets you when they finally step away. Mina rubs harshly at her eyes as your feet sink into the sand. There are stragglers by the port but nobody along the beach, so they trail after you to the shore, equal parts unwilling to leave and curious about your selkie form.  

You’re pointedly aware of their presence as you shake out your fur. You hold it to your face for a moment, blocking out the wind, the light and the rain with how insulated it is, before setting it on the sand. Kaminari coughs, the group spinning on their heels when you begin to undress. Katsuki does not. 

Kicking off your boots as you fiddle with your shirt strings, you consider the barbarian, impressing his appearance behind your eyes for a final time. “What will you do after this?” 

Broad shoulders rise and fall as he sighs. Looks up to the sky, frowning, a blush on his cheeks. “Go further inland to one of the bigger cities to find something to pay back Deku, I guess. Circle around, head back, and then home”. 

Shirt discarded, you unbutton your pants, letting them fall down your thighs, and step out of them. “How long will you be in the city?”

Shrugging, he grunts, “A week at most”. 

That’s good. Long enough to wait out the final stages and prove his place in your memory. You nod, spine straightening with determination. “When you circle back I want you to stop here again. Just for a day”. 

That half lidded gaze slides over to you, squinting. Pointedly kept above the shoulders. Searching. “Why?” 

The tide crawls further ashore. A wave breaks around your ankles. Your toes wiggle in the sand, sinking as it is displaced, a small smile curling at your lips. You bend to grab the pelt and slide it around your shoulders like a coat. It’s comforting, familiar. Energy thrums at the surface of your skin, ready to pull. But you wait. 

“In a week. Promise me?” you say without explanation. 

Katsuki swallows. Eyes boring into yours. His jaw shifts. Then he nods, tersely. Reassured by this you hold the coat tighter, chin tucked as you steady your breathing. Consciously, you reach inward, drawing upon the pelt.

And you change. Falling to your knees, cold water biting at your thighs, you crumple in the sand, body shrinking as flesh and fur meld together. It’s painful after so long, unsettling to be snapped back abruptly into your hindbrain, but the discomfort eases quickly, like stretching a muscle. 

You lift your upper body, nose flat and wide and twitching, scenting the air. The sand sifts under bootstrapped feet. A human approaches, beautiful and familiar, lowering into a crouch as you freeze. Forearms resting on his knees, he holds out his fingers. Faintly smoky, a mix of spice and earth. 

The way in which this man appraises your form is uncomfortably solemn. Vacuous expression betrayed by the gentle light in his eyes. He smiles ruefully and readies himself to speak. Alight with a bitterness that is vaguely accusatory in the oncoming darkness he says, “Already forgot us, didn’t you?”

It steals the breath right from your lungs. Recognition strikes through you. Bakugo Katsuki. The thought is alarmingly fleeting, almost evading your grasp. Nostrils flaring, you drag your body forward to wipe the look of self-deprecation from his face. You nudge your snout into his hand, not shying away from the fierce elemental energy radiating from his palms. You unhinge your jaw, canines gently indenting the heel, as if to scold him. 

He laughs, disbelief bleeding into the sound. It beckons his pod, more humans— one not so human. “Don’t fuckin’ scare them,” Katsuki calls over his shoulder. Not once do his eyes stray from you. 

A thick tang of draconic magic overwhelms your senses as the largest in the group mirrors Katsuki, making himself impossibly small, aware of his magnitude and the imbalance between your species. “Wow…” the shifter, Kirishima, breathes in awe, genuine rather than tainted with greed. “So cute”. 

More people come closer. Their faces filter through your memories in bits and pieces, stitching together into a patchwork timeline. “Yeah…” Mina echoes the sentiment. She gets on her knees, doesn’t care when the waves drench her skirt. “You’re beautiful like this too,” holding her hand an inch away from your skin, she asks, “Can we pet you?” 

Five fingers to your scruff, one hard pull and you could be torn from your rudimentary shell. Human hands are dangerous but not these ones. You give a short tonal whine and hope she interprets it as permission. They do, taking turns tracing the marbled fur and clawed flippers, murmuring awe filled words. 

The tides are high, wrapping around and coaxing you into their arms. You look toward the horizon and the itch grows. A seamless vista of clouded sky. Warm mouths litter the top of your head with kisses, their blunt human teeth behind soft lips, juxtaposed by rough, barely decipherable mutterings of something that sounds mournful. 

Mina sniffles as Kirishima helps her to her feet and they wade backwards toward the port. Katsuki cups your muzzle in his palms, searing where his thumbs swoop beneath your cheekbones, brushing over the whiskers by your nose. “Stay safe out there, yeah? Don’t get eaten by a shark or whatever,” he bends, bringing your foreheads together as if to impress his thoughts onto you. “I won't wait around for a weakling”. 

You can only hope he saw the promise held in your eyes as you stare at his retreating back. The swelling waves pull you into the current, submerged until only your head is above the surface. In the distance your pod breaks into cheers. They line up on the beach, jumping high as their legs will allow, waving their long arms in the air. 

A descending chorus of trills build in your own throat, mellifluous and loud enough to cut through the wind and the waves. Noise becomes muffled as you’re submerged into the dense water. Wrapped up in brine the ambience fills your head. It pushes out rational thought, drawing only instinct to the forefront. 

Your vision adjusts quickly to the dark the further you swim. Stretch your flippers and sweep them down like a dragon's wing, flying through the depths until you tire. Coming to an ocean shelf, there you rest. Cradled by a moving, ever evolving element. Creatures big and small pass by. Fish with vermillion scales haloing wide faces dart in and out of your dreams, shimmering under weak streams of sunlight. 

The shifting tide keeps you cognisant. You linger close to the surface to monitor the sun. Days pass and you are unbearably alone. It is harrowing; this unending, sombre ache. You think of Katsuki. Repeat his name until it sounds foreign. You recall his handsome face, the way his eyes always seemed brighter in the early dawn, how his nose would wrinkle if you stared too long, like he’d tasted something bitter. You miss him. 

Come the week’s end you’ve become something else, something new. Irrevocably changed by love’s hand. You recognise that you exist in two worlds: as a  selkie, tethered to the seabed and embraced by buoyancy, and as a human, struggling against the currents, compelled back to land—

To Katsuki. 

You glide through the waves, riding them as they swell and break onto the shore. Undulating your body, the hitching motion pulls you forward, wriggling up into a cluster of rock pools, safe from any onlookers. You wait there, chin propped on the shoulder of a jagged stone to observe the beach. 

He finds you there beneath an almost oppressive dusk. The approaching footfalls command attention, announcing his arrival. You slink into the shadows for a moment, detailing the subtleties in Katsuki’s expression on his march along the sand, pinching more and more as he casts he searches the beach. The breeze ripples through the notorious red cloak, fur collar tickling his cheeks. Shirtless, wearing his scars proudly. His pants sit low on his hips, adorning various belts and jewels. Warmth curls up in your chest at the sight of him. Giddy. You remember him. 

You lift your head. His focus immediately latches onto the movement. A croon rumbles in your throat as he approaches. He climbs up onto the rock, towering over you, his body obstructing the evening sun. It halos around his golden hair. The braid by his ear falls forward as his head tilts, squinting to get a good look at you. 

The laughter lines by his eyes deepen, brow creasing. Almost slipping as he climbs down, Katsuki frowns at the lack of traction on the surface. You laugh and it comes out like a rough snort. The shallow pools splash loudly under his boots upon landing. He curls his upper lip at you, “Laugh at me and I’ll kill you”. 

You do so again, more deliberate this time. He senses your sarcasm and flicks water at you. Your whiskers twitch, subtly tasting the air. He slumps hard on one of the flatter ridges and clicks his tongue. “This better be you and not some random fuckin’ seal I’m talking to,” he mutters, embarrassed. 

Unwilling to prolong your reunion any longer, you shed your pelt. Joints slot into place, the sealskin receding, your human form unearthing as it loosens and pools around your naked lap. Katsuki watches the air bite at your skin, nipples pebbling as you shiver. 

“Katsuki,” you rest your cheek on his thigh, knelt between his legs. You let him take it all in. Satisfied with his assessment of you his fiery eyes meet yours. 

“Almost didn’t come. Figured you wouldn’t be here,” he intoned gruffly, chin dimpling as he juts his bottom lip. “You were supposed to forget about everything”. 

You nod, mouth curling into a helpless smile. Your fingers flex and you feel the muscles jump underneath, “I know”.

Katsuki exhales a long breath, fists clenched tight in his lap with obvious restraint. “Why didn’t you?” his eyes track the movements of your hands. “It worked, I know it did. Cheeks doesn’t do shit halfway. I felt when… So what the hell are you doing back here?”

You pause when his words register, suddenly off kilter. There it is again, the displeased wrinkle on the bridge of his nose. You had never considered that he, too, would’ve experienced the connection. Admittedly a naive oversight on your part—but he never mentioned it. You figured it was just a selkie thing. Perhaps, all that time, he had been contending with his own feelings as well as yours. Wondering if he could trust himself, if they were true. 

Vows dissolved, he still chose to come back for you. To bet on that slim chance. Just as you did. 

The knowledge compels you to touch him more, to reassure, to lean further into the clutch of his thighs. The intrusion forces his legs wider and when you reach to cradle either side of his taut jaw he lowers to close the distance. 

“I felt it, you know. Before you offered me my pelt I felt you touching it,” you begin, watching how his expression splits open as your eyes meet. “I knew it was safe with you”. 

“That’s stupid,” he utters, though you can hear that he doesn’t mean it. Embarrassment slowly stains his cheeks pink. You can feel him twitch, smothering the instinctive urge to snap at whatever made him feel so intensely. 

“Maybe,” you pull back a hair's breadth to lightly knock your heads together. “My point is, I was drawn to you before all that, in such a short window. I think… I didn’t forget you because those feelings grew naturally”. 

The more you speak he progressively gets pinker, flustered and mad about it. It births an odd, primal urge to sink your teeth into something. To bite his cheek white, watch the blood retreat under the skin. Instead, you slide your hand lower to rest on his neck and his own cuff your wrists. 

“That first day, you apologised to me because I never had a choice,” there’s a soft grunt in acknowledgment. His pulse dances under your palm. “I’m making one now of my free will. And you—can say no, if you want,” you stutter, then, suddenly realising the real possibility of him rejecting your request altogether. “But I want to be here with you”. 

The last rays of sun stretch across the land, cosseted behind soft clouds as it sheaths. Katsuki considers you quietly. There’s a soft sort of intent in his eyes, wearing the revelry of dusk. You kneel in the rock pool, literally and figuratively bare, heart pounding in your throat as he readies himself to respond. 

“Back at the bathhouse…” he hesitates, promptly clears his throat and struggles to look at you. 

“Nothing was influencing me that night. Except maybe the wine,” you admit timidly, abashed at his sudden demurity. “I’m sorry”. 

That garners a reaction from him. In true Katsuki fashion his tongue clicks behind gritted teeth and applies pressure to your wrists, pulling you up. “Come here,” he tells you. You uncurl your legs and begin to stand moving with all the grace of a newborn fawn. “Oi, don’t—!” jerking his head to the side, he averts his gaze from your naked lower half, glaring at the shoreline. The sea-scented air prickles your skin, heat gathering where he has you held. “Expose yourself to everyone in the fuckin’ country, won’t you? Come here,” and then he’s hooking behind your knees, making them bend, gathering you into his lap in bridal fashion. 

“What’s the problem?” you mutter. Heat creeps up your neck, feeling defensive and distinctly embarrassed by his behaviour. “I don’t see how my nakedness is any different here than it is in the public bathhouse”. 

He holds you closer, voice vibrating through his chest as he roughly insists, “It’s different”. 

Your pout softens into a small pleased smile, letting him manhandle you until he’s satisfied with his grip. He bends, incidentally baring his throat stretching for the pelt discarded by the rocks. Tucking your nose to the underside of his jaw you revel in how his arm tightens around your lower back. 

Katsuki draws the pelt into your lap, covering your modesty. You laugh at how sweet and boyish it seems. “Laughin’ at me again, huh?” two fingers pinch at your cheek, pulling until you whine. “Got a death wish?”

Kneading at the sealskin coat your affections roar into existence once more with an intensity. “You wouldn’t hurt me,” you grin, and he abandons the pinch to stretch his big hand across your face. Thumb on your left cheek, fingers on your right, he squeezes together until your mouth is misshapen and pursed. 

“Sure about that?” he warns, tone steeped in fondness. It is exhilarating to have him touch you again, more freely than he ever had before; it is as close to ‘I believe you’ as you think you’ll get. 

You smile with your eyes, locked with his. Close enough to count every fine eyelash. Your words come garbled as you say, “You still haven’t given me an answer”. 

Katsuki exhales shallowly through his nose. His throat contracts as he swallows. The pressure releases. His hand cups your face, flexing with uncertainty. You shudder when he dips to press your lips together. You’re kissed without hurry, besotted by his firm but cautious movements. He relaxes as you lean into the rhythm, humming proudly. The soft, wet sounds of your mouths meeting again and again echo over the crawling waves. 

Katsuki pulls away first, eyes still closed but smiling to himself. He licks his lips and rasps, “I guess you can come along with us,” as though that was all the answer he needed to give. 

Alight with excitement you squirm in his lap, earning a quick slap to your hip. Katsuki ignored your grumbling and set to covering your body entirely. “Hold onto the corners,” he says, draping the hide over your shoulders, comforting warmth enveloping you as you obediently take the corners. “Put your arms around my neck. Do not drop it”. 

You do, curtaining both of your bodies with the pelt in the process, fingers interlocking at Katsuki’s nape. Your faces remain a whisper away. It feeds a skin hunger that plagued you for days. Satisfied, he then unties his cloak to slide it over-top, layering the two to keep you covered. 

Your stomach swoops as Katsuki pushes to his feet, carrying you in his arms with no sign of exertion and much better balance than before. His bicep bulges, fingers flexing under your thighs. “Where are we going?” 

Sand and broken shells crunch under his boots, gait leaden like wading through mud. Mariners whistle suggestively in your direction as he climbs the steps to the dock, making his teeth grind. “Taking you back to our room,” he grunts.  

You flush with heat at the implication. “You still have the key…?” 

Without disrupting his pace, Katsuki’s nose nudges along your temple to press a kiss there. “Said my shitty wife left something behind,” you feel his mouth pull into a smirk, “so they gave me it to go take a look”. 

A pleasant sensation erupts in your stomach. Fluttering like butterflies. “And the others?”

Darkness covers you when he ducks into a narrow alley. Katsuki meanders along the winding path with unfettered confidence. “I sent them on ahead. Said I’d catch up on foot,” he explains, eyes darting over the surroundings, striding back out into a familiar road leading to the tavern. “Wanted to be alone”. 

You’re carried up the stairwell despite the stern assertion that you would be just fine on your feet. In that same vein, Katsuki is clearly just fine taking all of your weight— proud of it, you think. Unwilling to put you down.  

He shoulders into the room and kicks the door shut. It is as you remember. Dim and homely, accented by a lamp that casts a soft yellow glow over the bed. Heavy footsteps take you forward, and you are swiftly deposited on the mattress. You bounce a fraction, losing purchase on the pelt and cloak. Both layers peel away, rumpled under your back, leaving you splayed out and bare. 

Katsuki stands next to the bed, watching the rise and fall of your chest. His features are tender in the light, smoothing his hard edges. It flickers in his irises. Gaze hungry, restless. 

Your body can’t help but react to Katsuki’s silent observation. The ardent stroke of his eyes across every part of you like it were his hands themselves. Heat races through you and coils between your legs. Feeling exposed, you try to close your thighs. 

There’s a hand on your knee, stopping the movement, firm but gentle as he pries them back open. Katsuki moves closer and kicks off his boots. The mattress dips under his weight. One knee on the bed, your legs part further to make space for the intrusion, wrapping around his waist without second thought. 

“This okay?” he murmurs, barely above a whisper. You exhale shakily, hands roving along the thick of his arms to clutch at his shoulders. The buckles on his pants bite into the back of your thighs. You can feel his arousal swelling through the fabric. 

Rocking your hips, your feet cross at his lower back. “Yeah. I want…” his eyes flutter, almost rolling up into his skull, pupils dilated. You chase the phantom feeling of his lips with your tongue and he tracks the movement. “Kiss me again”. 

“Thank fuck,” Katsuki groaned, the sound dwindling into a low chuckle. His forearms settle either side of your head, pressing all his weight down, pinning you to the bed. Taking up your vision until only he is in your orbit. The braid by his ear hangs loosely, the bead cold where it brushes your jaw. You tremble, fingers threading into his hair to scratch gently at his scalp. 

Your mouths slot together and he kisses you full, nibbling your lips until they part. Pushing deeper, tongues sliding over teeth, stealing the breath from your lungs. He handles you with indecision. Careful kisses followed by rough ones; grabbing at the soft parts of your body a little too hard, smoothing the flesh with his thumb in apology. 

It’s overwhelming how much he wants you. And you try to return the fervour, arms sliding around his back to keep him close, undulating your hips to feel the tremors wrack through him. 

The talons strung around his neck graze over your chest as he descends. Kisses left on the corner of your mouth, cheek, jugular. He takes your pulse between his jaws and you whine, clenching at his waist. Katsuki moves away, laving his tongue along your throat. 

“Wanna touch you,” he says. Goosebumps break out across your skin as he blows cool air over the wet stripe left behind. “S’all I could think about. You’re fucking distracting”. 

“Yes. Please,” your eyelids flutter, leaning back to hear your throat. “Please”. 

“Needy,” he mumbles, a satisfied lilt to his tone. His hand slides down to your ass, grabbing one cheek and filling his palm with it as he spreads you open. “Bein’ too quiet. I like it when you say my name,” he rasps. “Gonna let me hear it?” 

Fingertips brush against your sex. Heat flushes under your skin, anticipation and understanding unfurled within you. “Katsuki,” you sigh into his mouth. 

Katsuki flashes a predatory grin. Pleased, and pink all the way to his ears. Breath puffing over your lips he says, “Again”. 

“Katsuk—ah,” his thumb circles over your swollen clit, sparks zipping up your spine. Your breath hitches. You chase the touch, his four fingers splayed low on your navel; the other cups the back of your knee to keep you spread as he descends from throat to chest, forging a path of wet kisses, stopping intermittently to softly suck at the flesh and coax blood to the surface. 

You’re wet. Wet enough, warm enough, that the still air feels cold on your skin. His lips wrap around your nipple and you arch up into the sensation as he slowly sinks a finger inside of you. You take him to the knuckle, and he waits, gradually pulling out until you’re clenching around a fingertip. 

Again and again he fucks you on his fingers, adding another, curling them up mid stroke to brush the most sensitive part of you, spreading them to work you open. You mewl, steeped in pleasure as it diffuses through your belly, pooling between your thighs. 

Katsuki watches you, peering up through heavy eyes, mouth full of your breast. He flicks his tongue over the pert nipple, coming up and switching to the other, lavishing you in attention. You exhale, tremors wracking your body. Cradle the back of his head, grip tightening reflexively when he hits that sweet spot, and the groan rumbling in his throat prickles under your skin. 

Satisfied, he continues lower. Throws your legs over his broad shoulders, laid flat along the bed. The mattress jerks when he ruts into the sheets, still confined in his pants. You hold his gaze as his cheeks hollow. Saliva pools into his mouth and he tucks his chin, spitting it on your clit, massaging it over with his thumb. 

You shudder, hips canting. “Shit, look at you,” he pants, voice so thick and supple you want to wrap yourself in it. “Keep your eyes on me, yeah?” he litters kisses across your inner thigh, pressing praise into the sensitive skin there. Your heels dig into the thick muscle at his back when he dips to kiss your clit, licking in and around his fingers. “I wanna see your face when you cum”.

You’re pulsing around him, frantically chasing the feeling. It’s— overwhelming, like you can’t breathe through it, and every string in your body has been pulled taut, wavering on the precipice. You reach to grasp his forearm. The muscles flex under your palms, pave unrelenting, and tears begin to sting behind your eyes. 

“Fuck, Katsuki,” you gasp, breathlessness abated by the sudden rush of air to your lungs. “Feels so good, I can’t… Katsuki I can’t—”

A broken sound reverberates throughout the room the moment he stops, pulling back and leaving you empty. You can barely believe that it came from you, squeezing your eyes shut in shame. But then he’s right there, crowding into your space, caging your body with his own. “Oi,” he softly takes your jaw, “What did I say? Look at me”. 

You squint up at him. You take in his swollen lips, lidded stare, the sheen of sweat on his brow, hair matted to his forehead, arousal and spit coating his chin. For the first time you think you might understand, just a fraction, the greed of those who kept you. Because now you desire to be the one to take. To keep. To stow away his shamelessness and be the only one to see it. 

“You hurt?” 

“No,” you whisper, blinking away the haze. Katsuki tucks his knees up higher against your middle, tops of his thighs shelving your splayed legs. You feel yourself clenching around nothing, empty. “I’m sorry”. 

“Don’t fuckin’ apologise,” he tucks his nose against your temple, indifferent to the sheen of sweat. You inhale his musky scent and slide your arms around his shoulders. “Got too in your head, huh?”

His cock twitches in his pants, still hard and pressed to your thigh. Gathering your bearings you subtly rock your hips into his lap. You shiver at the sharp hiss by your ear, the drag of his soft lips over the shell. He nips at it in warning. 

“You want to keep going?” 

You nod, playing with the thin hair at his nape. He rumbles and it feels like a purr, pushing up only to pull at the belt buckles around his waist. Impatient, you reach to help, pulling the leather out from the loops, fingers trembling. 

Katsuki frees his hands and lets you work at the buttons. He wears a small, crooked smile on his face as he watches, chest rising and falling with every anticipatory breath. You pull them down his hips, a trail of light hair leading from his bellybutton to his cock. He shifts, hooking into the waistband and pushing them down his legs, kicking them off the bed. 

In your impatience your fingers wrap around his length, playing with the soft skin. You circle the blushing tip, smearing pre with your thumb. He throbs, abdomen clenching with a guttural moan that shoots straight to your own. 

“So impatient,” he cups your jaw and forcing you to meet his eyes. “Get me nice and wet?”

“Yeah,” you rasp, detailing how his pupils expand as you slide his cock through your folds. The corner of his mouth twitches. He grins as he dips to kiss you. It is more chaste than the last, a kiss for the sake of kissing. 

Then the grip on your jaw tightens. Firm and unyielding. Katsuki’s big hand engulfs yours, squeezing his dick, teasing the tip at your entrance. “Gonna make you cum on my cock. But you’ve got to listen to me and relax. Okay?” 

You desperately want to dig your heels into his lower back, to drag him inside and fill up that awful emptiness, to take him to the hilt and keep him there. Instead you acquiesce, forcing yourself pliant; rewarded with a soft kiss, he presses his forehead to yours. 

“Take a deep breath for me,” he tells you. You inhale, ribs expanding as your lungs bloat. Slowly, Katsuki pushes his tip past your entrance, and begins to sink his cock into you. His expression shutters, eyes rolling shut as his face scrunches up. Strained, he says, “Breathe out, baby. Slow”. 

You exhale, ending on a long moan as skin meets skin. He settles in the cradle of your hips. “Good,” his voice is gravelly, strained. His nails bite at your waist, “And in”. 

Repeating the motions your muscles clench around him as he pulls out, as though your body couldn’t be without him. He huffs through his nose and you feel it hot on your cheek. It continues like that. He fucks you slow and deliberate, pinned to the bed like a butterfly, guiding your breathing. You cannot look away from him. He’s devastating. He’s yours. Wild spikes are tousled around a flushed face, mouth kiss-bitten and slack with awe. “Katsuki,” you whisper, each more frantic than the last. 

The earlier intensity does not return, rather, it accumulates inside of you with every inhale, suffusing through you like a warm, pleasant fog. The pressure has you bursting at the seams, undone by the indelible drag of his cock, how his pelvis pressed so perfectly against your clit, little incantations of your name murmured into your hair. 

“Ah, fuck. Katsuki, I’m—” your thighs seize either side of his waist, toes curling as the words catch in your throat. “M’gonna…”

“I’ve got you,” he fucks you a little deeper, gritting his teeth. The muscles in his neck flex with exertion. “In and out, baby. I’ve got you”. 

Those practised breaths quickly stagger into uneven whines as you’re tipped over the edge. Ley lines erupt behind your eyelids. You arch back into the sheets—pelt and cloak rumpled beneath—as the pleasure quakes through you. 

Katsuki fucks you into your orgasm and then beyond it. You cradle him to your chest when his rhythm stutters, releasing a long groan as he spills into you. 

Together you collapse back on the mattress, rolling onto your sides. He slides his arm beneath your head and hooks your knee over his hip, keeping himself nestled inside you for a while longer. You lie there until the fog recedes, leaving a sated contentment in its wake. 

In that instance you can no longer tell where the line of your own body ends and where Katsuki’s begins. You feel warm, comfortable against him. All the fears and hypotheticals that sought to fill the hole in your chest have faded. You realise in those intimate few minutes that home is what you choose it to be. A place, a concept, a person. Home is the ocean, said to cover more than half of the earth, fissuring inland and stretching further than the eye can see; it is a current that will always run in your veins. But humans, too, are made of the sea. Water, minerals and tissue. Home is in the blood that rushes to Katsuki’s cheeks when you kiss him. 

This is where you belong. 

Eventually Katsuki decides he needs to get up. Your objections go ignored, silenced when he returns dressed with a damp cloth to wipe you down. Once he's done he pulls up the bed covers and manhandles you under them, declaring that he needs to go downstairs and pay ‘that woman’ for the room. 

“Won’t be long. Don’t even think about getting up. I’ll need to buy you some clothes tomorrow…”

Grin hidden under the blankets, you call out to him before he goes. He stops in the doorway, softened by the lamp light. Feigning innocence, you jokingly ask, “Before you go, could you pass me my pelt?” 

Your heart races when he reflexively goes to do so, only for him to halt halfway. His eyes narrow, lips thinning into a smirk:

“Real fuckin’ funny”. 

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

[eleventhdoctorsangel]

Never wanted you to hate me

I’ve spent most of my life with the pirate hunter known as Roronoa Zoro. I owe him with my life. He saved me. Ever since then I’ve been helping him. I often will get used as bait to help with the latest bounty Zoro is hunting. But never am I ever at risk of any harm. Zoro always makes sure of that. There been a few times where he actually came close to killing a few guys that he wasn’t hunting because they either touched me or hurt me.

Now we got roped into helping this kid who is very determined on becoming king of the pirates and finding the one piece. Both Zoro and I were trying to rest while Nami was still working on getting the safe open. Unlike Luffy we are giving her space and quiet to work. We have a bet going to see how long it is before she throws him overboard. Finally I heard the sound of it clicking open. I could hear Zoro getting up. “Let me know if there is anything interesting enough for me to get up will you please.” I said. “Or I can drag you.” Zoro said. “Yeah you and I both know that you won’t.” I said. “Whatever.” Zoro said as he squeezed my hips making me laugh a little. “Hate you.” I said. “No you don’t.” Zoro said. “The night is not over yet.” I said.

I could hear Nami let out a frustration sigh. What did Luffy do now. I sat up to the three of them walking in. “The seas are divided into four quadrants. East blue, North blue, West, South. This strip of land that circles the globe is called the red line and this band across is the grand line. A treacherous stretch of ocean with bigger islands, bigger cities, bigger pirates. Flush with riches and ripe for the picking.” Nami said. “And that’s where we’re going to find the one piece.” Luffy said. “I’ve taken out a lot of pirates looking for that thing. What is it? Like a big diamond or something?” Zoro said. “It’s Gold Roger’s treasure. He hid it somewhere in the grand line. All in one piece.” Luffy said. “If you believe the story. I could say the same thing without proof you’re just going off a story.” I said. “See she gets it. It’s a myth. The reason no one’s found it in 22 years is that it doesn’t exist.” Nami said. “Can’t wait to see the look on the two of yours faces when we find it.” Luffy said. “Alright if we find it I’ll eat your hat.” I said. The look on Luffy’s face was priceless. “Kidding. I know that hat means a lot to you.” I said as an explosion went off causing me to jump a little. “Is that the marines?” Zoro asked. “How did they find us?” Nami asked. We all walked out to see a red cloud above us. “This smoke smells weird.” Luffy said. As I started to breathe in the smoke I started to get lightheaded. I leaned against the side of the ship. I fell to my knees then it all went black.

No one’s POV

The smoke was clean as the pirate clown buggy and the crew of freaks climbed onto the small ship. Three of the four people were outside while the fourth was inside. Two males and two females. Buggy walked over to one of the girls. She was laying on her side some of her hair was covering her face. Buggy bent down and gently brushed the hair from her face. “You want us to put her with the others?” One of the crew members asked. “No I have a special role for her. No one is allowed to harm her if any of you so as much pluck a hair from her head even if it’s by accident you’re dead.” Buggy said as he picked up the girl from the ground and started to carry her off the ship. He carried her onto his ship taking her to his living quarters and gently laid her down on his bed.

Buggy went to grab a special outfit that he had been saving. He went to get a female crew member to get her changed. He could be a monster but he’s not that much of a monster. But he did stand outside of the room to make sure that none of the other male crew members tried to look. It was only a few minutes later that the female crew member left. He walked back into his room and over to the girl. “I have to admit that this outfit looks cuter on you than I thought it would have.” Buggy said tracing a hand down the side of her face.

End of No One’s POV

I could feel someone poking me. “Come on now wakey wakey.” The voice said. “Luffy stop poking me.” I said swatting the hand away. “Sorry but I’m not Luffy. Now come on and open your eyes I would like to see what color eyes you have.” The voice said. I groan as I moved my head away. “Come on now I don’t want to have to get mad but I will if you don’t open your eyes.” The voice said. I opened my eyes to see a clown holding me close to him I let out a gasp as I tried to get away but he held on to my upper arms in a very tight grip. “Now don’t you have some beautiful eyes.” He said grabbing me by the chin. I looked around for the others but I couldn’t see them. “Looking for your friends. Don’t worry you’re see them in a few minutes. I just decided that you should have a special role in todays show.” He said. “If you hurt me my friend will kill you.” I said. Which only made him laugh. “Kill me. Your friend can try but they will be the one who ends up dead.” He said. At the same time I started to hear circus music. “Come on now the fans await.” He said as he started to pull me with him.

That when I glanced down and saw that I wasn’t wearing my normal clothes but now a revealing circus outfit. With this guy and how handys he’s being if Zoro gets one look at him Zoro will kill this guy if they didn’t take Zoro swords from him. I could hear the crowd yelling but it sounded off. Like they were being forced to. “Great they messed this up again. I wanted you’re first introduction to go perfect.” He said. I just forced a smile as he pulled me along with him. “No. No, no, no, no. Stop clapping! No.” He said as we started to walk in the ring. I was focusing on trying not to trip with how much my legs were shaking. “It’s all wrong.” He said stepping in the ring using one arm to pick me up by the waist. I look around to see if I could see the others and thankfully I finally could. Just like I guessed I could see the rage in Zoros eyes. Both Nami and Luffy had to put their arms out to keep Zoro from storming over. I shook my head slightly at him to let him know that now wasn’t the best time to attack. “The spotlight was late. You completely missed our entrance.” He said as he motioned for the spotlight to be put on us. It was very quickly put on us. “And where oh where was the dancing lion?” He asked as we walked over to a guy in a lion costume. Which made the guy look away in fear. “Hey I know you. I saw your wanted poster in Shells Town. You’re the clown guy. Um uh binky right?” Luff said. “Buggy. Buggy the clown. Buggy the flashy fool. Buggy the genius jester.” Buggy said as pulled me along closer to the others. “Wow. You have a lot of names. I bet everyone in the east blue knows who you are.” Luffy said. I heard everyone gasp and the hold he had on me was let go. “What did you just say?” Buggy asked. “Just that everyone knows who you are.” Luffy said again.

Buggy rushed over to Luffy grabbing him by the face. “Nose! Are you making fun of my nose?” Buggy asked. “Well I wasn’t. But now that you mention it is that thing for real?” Luffy said as he raised a hand to touch Buggy’s nose. Which Buggy was quick to slap away. “What’s real is I’ve been scheming for months to steal that map from old axe hand moron.” Buggy said pushing Luffy away. He looked to Nami to see if she caught his joke. “Only to find out that I was upstaged by four little nobodies who stole it from right under my no. No! It’s in my head now.” Buggy said letting out a groan. I put my hand to my mouth trying not to laugh. “Hey! I’m not a nobody. I’m Monkey D Luffy. And I will be king of the pirates.” Luffy said. Which made Buggy start to laugh. “Oh! Now that’s funny.” Buggy said. Which made the crowd nervous laugh again but Buggy motioned them to stop. “My bounty poster graces the marquee of every marine outpost for miles. And my menagerie of outcasts and freaks is the most dreaded pirate crew the east blue has ever known.. Expect her. I hope you don’t mind if I take her off your hands because I would like to keep her. I am destined to find the one piece. And when I do. I will be king and she will be my queen.” Buggy said as he looked at me. I could feel the tears well up in my eyes as I looked over to the others. “No you wont cause I’m gonna find it first.” Luffy said. “You? Don’t make me laugh.” Buggy said. The crowd started to laugh. “I said don’t make me laugh!” Buggy said as he turned to look at them. “Alright listen up. I’m Roronoa Zoro. Drop your weapons now, give me the girl back and I may let you live.” Zoro said as he walked closer to Buggy. Which then made Buggy grab me pulling me into him laughing. “Ladies and gentlemen we have a celebrity in our midst. Too bad I hate sharing the spotlight.” Buggy said putting his chin on my shoulder. As again the spotlight was put back on the two of us. “Now maybe we should skip right to the finale.” Buggy said pulling out four knives holding them close to my face. I tried to get away but that only worsen his grip. “My freaks put quite a bit of rehearsal time into this little abduction. And if I can’t reward them with that map I supposed I’ll have to offer them a pound of flesh instead.” Buggy said. I started to think about what he just said. I knew that the pound of flesh wouldn’t come from me since he seems dead set on keeping me.

That’s when Nami stepped up. “Wait. Wait. What if I have something else to offer you? Something more valuable than the map? What if I give you a new freak for your crew? A rare talent. The most spectacular act in all the East Blue. Beside you of course.” Nami said. “Go on.” Buggy said. Nami quickly yanked off Luffy hat throwing high in the air. Which made Luffy stretch his arm to grab it. But as Buggy was distracted his grip on me was loosened. I took that as my chance to try to get away. I tried to run to Zoro but Buggy caught my wrist pulling me back to him. “Try that again sweetheart and I’m afraid I might have to hurt.” Buggy said. “You touch her and I will kill you where you stand.” Zoro said. Buggy looked at him and laughed as he dragged me away.

“Now if I let you go do you promise to behave.” Buggy said. “Yes I promise.” I said. “Good girl.” Buggy said pinching my cheek. Buggy pulled an orange from his pocket and started peeling it with one of the knives and started to eat it. Two members of his crew dragged Nami back as she tried to escape by revealing Luffy’s powers. “What did you do to their town? You destroyed everything!” Nami said. “Not everything. I let ‘em keep their hands.” Buggy said. As the crowd clapped. “Okay. Here end the theatrics. I know one of you three has my map and I’m gonna get it back. What was it you said rubber boy? That it was in a safe place? Don’t look so surprised. I’ve got eyes and ears everywhere. So please make our guest uncomfortable in the green room.” Buggy said. I watched as Zoro and Nami were dragged away but Luffy wasn’t. “I am gonna have a chat with my stretchy new pal.” Buggy said laughing. Luffy looked over to me. “Don’t look at her. She’s not part of your crew anymore now is she.” Buggy said. “I just want to know if she is okay.” Luffy said. “She’s fine aren’t you sweetheart.” Buggy said. “I want to hear it from her.” Luffy said. I was honestly scared to answer what if Buggy hurts me if I do. I looked over to Buggy who smiled. “Well aren’t you a good girl. Looking to you’re future king for approver to answer. Go ahead.” Buggy said. “I’m okay Luffy they or Buggy haven’t hurt me.” I said. “See I told you she was fine. Now where were we.” Buggy said.

I watched as they put Luffy on a rack and made a poor town person stretch Luffy out. The more Luffy was stretched out he began to scream laugh. I wonder how far he could actually stretch guess I might find out. “I want you to think of this like an artistic exercise because pain leads to art. And art reveals truth. But there’s only one truth I need from this exercise. Where is my map.” Buggy asked as he walked over to Luffy. “Truthfully? I’m.. I’m kind of hungry. Don’t circuses have cotton candy?” Luffy asked. I let out a sigh. Not the time Luffy. Buggy laughed then let out a groan. “What could you possibly need that map for anyways? You won’t last five minutes in the grand line.” Buggy said. “I already told you. I’m gonna be king of the pir.” Luffy said. “Boring! Let’s go another ten feet.” Buggy said. The town person did as he was told. “You can stretch me all you want. I can do this all day.” Luffy said. “I’m not asking the right questions. We need to go deeper get you out of your comfort zone. What makes a boy want to grow up to be King of the pirates? Who are you trying to impress? A lost love? An absent parent? Or was it someone that you worshiped? A false idol. That’s it.” Buggy said and yanked off Luffy hat. “Hey give me back my hat!” Luffy yelled. Buggy walked over and placed Luffy hat on my head. I could see Luffy relax a little since I was now wearing his hat. “I used to know a pirate that wore a hat just like this. Red haired Shanks.” Buggy said. “You knew Shank’s?” Luffy asked. “Ginger? Three scars left eye?” Buggy asked motioning to his left eye. So they both knew the same guy. “We served together on a pirate crew when we were about your age. For a time I even thought we were friends. Until he betrayed me. Just like all the others. He wanted to keep ME out of the spotlight! He wanted to keep my star from shining too brightly! Is that what he did to you rubber boy? Did shanks betray you too?” Buggy said. “Don’t talk about him that way.” Luffy said. “Ah. Now we are finally getting to the truth. Stretch him until he breaks.” Buggy said. “Please don’t make me do this.” The town person begged. “I invite you to take part in the splendor that is my show and this is how you repay me? With a no?” Buggy said. “You’ve destroyed our town. Made us your prisoners. Isn’t that enough?” The town person said. “Well maybe you’d prefer it If I threw one of your constituents on the rank instead.” Buggy said as he walked to the crowd. No no no. Quick think of something. “Wait!” I yelled. Which made Buggy stopped. “Yes.” Buggy said as he looked at me. “Pirates like to claim their treasure right?” I said. “Go on.” Buggy said putting a hand under his chin. “You said yourself that I belong to you now therefor I’m technically your treasure right. Don’t you have to claim me so no one else can take me away from you.” I said. “I like were this is going.” Buggy said. “Then do it right now. Carve your initial on me. If I don’t make a sound then you have to promise that you won’t have any of these towns people. But if I do.” I said but couldn’t finished the last sentence. Buggy seemed to think about it for a minute. “Alright fine I agree to your terms now come here.” Buggy said motioning for me to come to him. “Y/n don’t.” Luffy said. “Shut up!” Buggy said. “It’s okay Luffy.” I said as I walked over to Buggy.

When I got over to Buggy he pulled out a knife and started lightly tracing it around my body. “Where oh where should I leave my initial. Oh I know.” Buggy has he moved the knife to my upper right breast. But before he started he kiss me right there. “Now remember sweetheart not a sound because if you don’t someone is about to get tall fast.” Buggy said. “Just do it.” I said. As Buggy carved his initial on me I bit my lip to stop me from crying out in pain. If we get out of this Zoro will definitely make his death a slow and painful one. It only took a couple of minutes before Buggy was done. “Well well sweetheart you managed to do it. But how about next I claim you in a different way.” Buggy said he put a cloth on the wound to prevent blood from getting on the outfit then putting an arm around my waist pulling me into him. “Boogie I’m warning you.” Luffy said. “It’s Buggy! And you’re warning me? Now that’s a laugh. I said that’s a laugh.” Buggy said. As the crowd forced a laugh. Then Luffy managed to free himself. As Luffy got up he glared at Buggy. “Put her down.” Luffy said. “But why? She’s having such great time. Aren’t you sweetheart?” Buggy said grabbing my face. But what he did next shocked and scared me. He kissed me on the lips. It only lasted a few seconds before he pulled away. “Yes. The best Buggy. I never want to leave you Buggy.” Buggy said trying to inmate my voice. The Luffy stretched back his arm. “Gum Gum pistol!” Luffy yelled and punched off Buggy’s head. I let out a terrified scream as I could see that there was no blood and worst of all Buggy’s body was still moving. Buggy’s head landed on a woman’s lap in the crowd which caused more screaming. “Hi. Well well well looks like we have something else in common.” Buggy said as his head returned back to his body. “You ate a devils fruit?” Luffy asked. “The chop chop fruit. So you can slice me and you dice me but I’ll always put myself back together again.” Buggy said as he stripped himself of the coat he wearing. He gently put it around my shoulders. Then I watched as he chopped himself into six different pieces then went back to normal. “Want to see what else I can do?” Buggy asked as he made a motion to his hand. His hand was gone but it tapped Luffy on the shoulder squeezing another bomb like thing that the same kind of smoke from earlier came out. His detached hand punched Luffy in the face and flipped him off. “Luffy.” I said as I tried to rush to his side but Buggy stopped me. “I don’t think so sweetheart. My crew will take care of him.” Buggy said. “What are you going to do to him?” I asked. “I’m going to put him in my tank of doom.” Buggy said.

*Meanwhile with Zoro and Nami*

“So are you and her together?” Nami asked as she was working on picking the lock on the cage she was being kept in. “No we’re not. We’re not together like that.” Zoro said. “Then what’s the deal between you two. I mean I saw the way you acted when we saw that clown had his hands on her. You were ready to kill him on sight. You might say you don’t care about her but your actions when she’s in danger say a different story.” Nami said. “I never said I don’t care about her. Don’t ever say I don’t care about her again. Just because I don’t care about her in that way doesn’t mean I will never care about her.” Zoro said. “Alright fine geez. Then what’s the story between you two?” Nami said. “She reminds me of a friend I used to know. I couldn’t save or protect my friend back then but I can do that for her.” Zoro said. “That surprisely sweet coming from you.” Nami said. “Shut up.” Zoro said. Right then the two of them heard a terrified scream coming from Y/n. Which made Zoro immediately went back to trying to break the ropes. “Hurry the hell up now.” Zoro said. “Yeah.” Nami said as she started to work quicker and picking the lock.

*Back to Y/n*

I watched as Luffy was put in a tank as water slowly filled the tank then I saw seaweed. “Is this seawater?” I asked. “Why yes it is sweetheart. You see if you eat a devil’s fruit you might gain a power like yours truly and rubber boy here but just a few splashes of seawater will take that all of that away.” Buggy said. “Oh.” I said. Come on Luffy wake back up please. I don’t want to deal with him by myself. Yes the towns people are still watching but what if he tries something their too afraid of him to stop him and I don’t know where Zoro and Nami were taken to or if anything happened to them. But I could feel him looking at me. “What?” I asked as I looked to the ground. “You’re scared of me aren’t you sweetheart.” Buggy said. “I’m not scared of you.” I said. “Then how come you won’t look at me.” Buggy said. “You kidnapped me and my friends, you destroyed these people’s town and you’re now holding them against their will. You hurt Luffy. I don’t know what you’re doing to Zoro and Nami they could be dead for all I know.” I said. “Well their not dead.” Buggy said. “How can I believe you. I haven’t got any proof that you would tell me the truth.” I said. “But you did forget to mention that.” Buggy said motioning to where the cloth was. “I did that because I didn’t want you to hurt anyone.” I said. Then I could see Luffy start to wake up. “Looks like Luffy is waking up.” I said. Buggy kissed the side of my head but I couldn’t help but smile just a little. “Do my eyes deceive me or did I see a little smile.” Buggy said. “Just go.” I said but Buggy took Luffy hat off my head taking it with him. I watched as Luffy tried to break the glass but failed. “Don’t bother. It’s seawater. Hardly seems fair. All those wonderful powers rendered useless from a few splashes. Of course you could always give me my map. If you don’t want to die alone in this tank.” Buggy said walking over to the tank and kneeled in front of it. “My crew.” Luffy said. “Your crew? You means the ones that abandoned you? Just like Shanks did. I did that make you sad?” Buggy said. “They will come back for us.” Luffy said as he looked at me. “No one’s coming for you. I already made myself clear about her. She stays with me. Your only chance is to turn over that map and if you do I may have a very special place on my crew just for you. Think about how happy she’ll be to at least have someone she already knows and she won’t have to be around all new people. Ain’t that right sweetheart.” Buggy said tossing Luffy’s hat to the side. I watched as Luffy struggled to get up as Buggy copied his movement. “Never.” Luffy said. “Why not!” Buggy yelled and hit the tank then grabbed his hand in pain. I couldn’t help but laugh.

Which made Buggy glare at me. I just smirked and flipped him off. “You’re an outcast just like the rest of us. A freak, scorned and abandoned! Join me and you can serve the man who will become the king of the pirates. When I have that map I will find the one piece and then everyone will know my name. And they’ll love me.” Buggy said but he at end he looked at me. “You can’t make people or her love you. Just like you can’t make them smile. I’ll never give you that map.” Luffy said. “Well then I guess it’s curtains for you.” Buggy said walking back over to the tank. “No wait Buggy please don’t.” I said standing in front of him. “I’m getting sick of you interfering in my show.” Buggy said as he roughly pushed me away. I landed on my side roughly making me cry out in pain. I looked and saw more water pouring into the tank at a faster rate.

Buggy walked away from the tank and went to pick up Luffy hat pulling a piece of straw from it. “Don’t touch my hat!” Luffy yelled. “What was that? I. I couldn’t hear you over all the drowning.” Buggy said. I slowly got up as I did my side started to hurt. I now saw that Luffy was under the water now. “You want out? You know the price you have to pay.” Buggy said. Luffy smiled and tapped on the glass. I turned around and saw Nami as she threw her staff towards the tank making it crack. If she was okay then Zoro is too then we can leave and I will never have to see Buggy again. The tank started to break more as Buggy looked around. “Where are my freaks!” Buggy said. Then I saw Zoro. “They’re not coming.” Zoro said. “Zoro.” I said as I ran towards him but I felt a hand grab me pulling me back. This fucking clown. “Did I say you can leave me.” Buggy said roughly yanking me around. “I don’t fucking care. I don’t want to spend a single fucking second longer near you.” I said fighting his grip. I heard the glass break and went the amount of water that came from the tank it knocked both of us off our feet. But it was seawater so it should have the same effect on Buggy.

Buggy’s grip on me loosened enough for me to get away from him. I look to see Luffy coughing up the map. I had to grabbed it before Buggy. I got up and rushed over grabbing it. But I was yanked to the ground and Buggy climbed on top of me. “Thanks sweetheart. Because you got me my map I can forgive that little outburst of yours.” Buggy said as he took the map from me. “Screw you.” I said. “Well since your friend is back to watch that sounds like a great idea.” Buggy said pulling me up from the ground. Buggy looked between me and the map laughing and then buried his face in my neck. Both Nami and Zoro walked towards us. “You want a piece of me? Let’s see what you got. You better move sweetheart I would hate for you to get hurt.” Buggy said as he let me go. I rushed over to Luffy. “Are you okay?” I asked as I helped him up. “I’ll be fine. What about you?” Luffy asked. “I just want to leave and never have to see this clown again.” I said. “No.” Luffy said quietly. I looked to see Nami and Zoro being knocked to the side as Buggy put himself back together looking towards the two of us as Luffy pushed me behind him. “Ah. Would you look at that? Somebody escaped my tank of doom. Well I’ll be back to finish you off. Right after I tear apart your sad excuse for a crew.” Buggy said laughing. “You can dump seawater on me and I’ll let it slide. But don’t you ever threaten or hurt my friends” Luffy said as he punched Buggy in the stomach causing a piece to fly off then return making Buggy wink at us. “I’ll find the map can you handle him.” I whispered to Luffy. “Go.” Luffy whispered back. I slowly made my way out from behind him as Buggy pulled out knives. “So you want die first? Be my guest.” Buggy said as he pulled himself apart. I got down until I was out of danger. “Chop chop cannon!” Buggy yelled as the pieces started to fly towards Luffy. I started to quickly look around for the map. “Hey.” A voice said quietly. I looked to see a boy point just off to the side at the map. “Thanks kid.” I said rushing over to grab it. “Nami! The crates!” Luffy yelled. I ran to the other side of the ring helping trap pieces of Buggy in crates. I smiled when I saw Zoro stab pieces of Buggy.

With help from Nami all that was left of Buggy was his feet, hands and his head. “What have you done to me?” Buggy asked. “Cut you down to size.” Luffy said. Honestly Buggy really looked funny. “The one piece will never be yours. You’re just a sad lonely little boy wearing another man’s hat!” Buggy said. “I know exactly who I am. I’m Monkey D. Luffy. And I’m going to be king of the pirates.” Luffy said stretching both arms back. I couldn’t help but smile. “Gum Gum.” Luffy yelled. “Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa! No no no! Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait” Buggy yelled. “Bazooka!” Luffy yelled launching the rest of Buggy out of the big top.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I ran over and hugged Luffy. Luffy hugged me back. “Found the map.” I said as I handed it to him as Nami and Zoro walked over to us. I pretty much launched myself into Zoro arms as he held me close to him. “Are you okay?” Zoro said into my ear. “I will be.” I said. “Let’s get out of this clown show.” Zoro said as he let me go and started to walk me out. But stopped when Luffy put a hand on his shoulder. “Still one more thing we have to do.” Luffy said as we looked to the towns people. We start to get the people unchained. After I unchained the boy that pointed out the map he hugged me. I smiled and hugged him back.

As a thank you from preventing Buggy from harming them they managed to find me a changed of clothes so I didn’t have to wear the outfit that Buggy had me wear. They also tried to give us a little food but Luffy refused to take it. I was the first one to go back to the ship as started getting things ready to leave. I waved back to the towns people as we sailed away. I knew I should talk with Zoro about what happened to me but I wasn’t sure if I was ready yet. I sat near the front of the ship as I watched Nami fix Luffy hat. “Almost finished.” Nami said. Then she hands him his hat back. “You fixed it. Thanks.” Luffy said with a smile. “Well you said it was your treasure right?” Nami said then walked away. “Is every day gonna be this crazy with you?” Zoro asked. “Shanks always said that if the path to what you want seems too easy then you’re on the wrong path.” Luffy said. “I really like that.” I said. “This shanks guy sounds all right.” Zoro said. Luffy came over to stand on the railing of the front of the ship. “Next stop the grand line.” Luffy said as he pointed out to the open sea. I smiled as I shook my head. Zoro motioned me to come over to him. “Wish me luck Luffy.” I said as I got up. “He’s not mad with you if that’s what you’re thinking he was just really worried about you.” Luffy said. I smiled then walked over to Zoro sitting next to him.

“What to tell me how you got that.” Zoro said. “You saw that?” I asked. Zoro nodded. “He wanted to hurt one of the towns people I wasn’t going to let him do that. They were innocent Zoro. I know that you might have been okay with something like that but I’m not like you. I rather it be me that got hurt before one of them.” I said. “It was still a very stupid thing for you to do.” Zoro said. “He kissed me too.” I said. “I’m definitely killing that fucking clown next time I see him.” Zoro said. I laughed and put my head on his shoulder. “Did you he do anything else to you. I heard you scream.” Zoro said. “Oh that was when we saw that he has similar powers to Luffy. He punched off his head while he still had a grip on me but I didn’t get hurt.” I said. “Not going to lie it was creepy seeing it for the first time. Anything else?” Zoro said. I bit my lip as tears filled my eyes. “What is it? You know that what ever it is that I will never be upset or angry at you.” Zoro said. “I know. After he craved his initial on me he said wanted to claim me in that way.” I said as could feel him tense up. Then he went quiet. “Please don’t go quiet on me. You know I hate when you do that.” I said as I picked my head up to look at him. “I promise to you that next time we see that clown I will kill him.” Zoro said. I threw my arms around his shoulders as I buried my face in next as I started to cry. “It’s okay I got you. You’re safe.” Zoro said as he held me close to him holding me as I cried.

For the rest of the day Zoro didn’t want me to leave his sight even though we on the ship and couldn’t really go anywhere. “You should try to get some rest.” Zoro said. “I’m okay right now.” I said. “I wasn’t asking.” Zoro said. “Alright fine I’m going.” I said as I got up going inside laying down. I closed my eyes and tried to get some sleep. I tossed and turned for what seems like forever before I finally managed to fall asleep.

#buggy the clown imagine #buggy x reader #buggy imagine #opla buggy imagine #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy #kelsee's works #do not reblog unless it's from me

[april-is]

April 15, 2024: Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation, Natalie Diaz

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination of Anglikan Seraphym Subjugation of a Wild Indian Rezervation Natalie Diaz Angels don’t come to the reservation. Bats, maybe, or owls, boxy mottled things. Coyotes, too. They all mean the same thing— death. And death eats angels, I guess, because I haven’t seen an angel fly through this valley ever. Gabriel? Never heard of him. Know a guy named Gabe though— he came through here one powwow and stayed, typical Indian. Sure he had wings, jailbird that he was. He flies around in stolen cars. Wherever he stops, kids grow like gourds from women’s bellies. Like I said, no Indian I’ve ever heard of has ever been or seen an angel. Maybe in a Christmas pageant or something— Nazarene church holds one every December, organized by Pastor John’s wife. It’s no wonder Pastor John’s son is the angel—everyone knows angels are white. Quit bothering with angels, I say. They’re no good for Indians. Remember what happened last time some white god came floating across the ocean? Truth is, there may be angels, but if there are angels up there, living on clouds or sitting on thrones across the sea wearing velvet robes and golden rings, drinking whiskey from silver cups, we’re better off if they stay rich and fat and ugly and ’xactly where they are—in their own distant heavens. You better hope you never see angels on the rez. If you do, they’ll be marching you off to Zion or Oklahoma, or some other hell they’ve mapped out for us.

--

Another abecedarian!

Also: + The Terrible Beauty of the Reserve, Billy-Ray Belcourt + Anchorage, Joy Harjo + At the Trial of Hamlet, Chicago, 1994, Sherman Alexie

Today in:

2023: Dutch Elm Disease, Valencia Robin 2022: More Bang for Your Buck Running Scared, Brennan Bestwick 2021: Rain, Peter Everwine 2020: Things to Do in the Belly of the Whale, Dan Albergotti 2019: Prayer, Galway Kinnell 2018: Egg, C.G. Hanzlicek 2017: Well Water, Randall Jarrell 2016: For Desire, Kim Addonizio 2015: The Coming of Light, Mark Strand 2014: Flying Low, Stephen Dunn 2013: The Envoy, Jane Hirshfield 2012: Red Wand, Sandra Simonds 2011: Trying to Raise the Dead, Dorianne Laux 2010: Asking for Directions, Linda Gregg 2009: A Blessing, James Wright 2008: New York, New York, David Berman 2007: Waste Land Limericks, Wendy Cope 2006: There Are Two Worlds, Larry Levis 2005: America, Allen Ginsberg

#abecedarian #indigenous / first nations #history #race #poetry #natalie diaz

[flameohotfamily]

in honor of the new the little mermaid adaptation (haven’t seen it yet), here are some of my old mermaiko headcanons:

when the little merman zuko swims to the shore to see humans, he gets captured in the net by fishmen. since people already have seen him several times near the shore and ships, he’s already known as the devil of the sea and the blue spirit because of his blue tail. townspeople come to see the freaky fish before selling him, so does mai. when she sees the desperation and tears in creature’s eyes, she thinks that he’s not scary, he’s scared. he’s just like her - captured and unfree. at the midnight she gets close to the docks (even though she’s afraid he would eat her) and cuts the net with her knife. 

mai comes from a noble family and lives with a strict mother that wants to marry her to an older rich man. to get at least some sort of freedom, she runs away every night and walks near the rocks. that’s where she finds the blue spirit again. she also finds out that the creature can speak and has no intention to eat her. they talk all night.

mai sneaks out every night to see zuko. one night he tells her that it’s his dream to have legs and to be a human. mai tells him, “don’t be a fool! they caught you once already!”. she tells him that the human’s world is cruel and evil, that they don’t accept even other humans that are different, not to mention ocean creatures. zuko says that in the ocean everything is even worse since his father ozai had become the ruler of the oceans.

once before the sunrise he whispers that everyone from home hates him and he’s incredibly alone. that’s why he swam to the shore... to see people, to hear their music, to see their dances and joy, to hear them laughing.

once he brings her a seashell, “i saw it and i thought it was pretty”, “don’t human girls like stuff like this?”

he makes her a necklace from natural sea pearls. when her mother notices it she assumes that’s the present from mai’s fiance. 

mai shares with him her story and desires to escape from her mother and that awful marriage of convenience. zuko tells her that he heard old stories about people who became merpeople and there are ways to do it. but even if they could make it, she has no right to interact with zuko in the ocean because he’s a banished prince. everyone who speaks with him or interacts with him in any way is considered as a traitor. 

and mai sighs and says, “so what’s the point to be a part of the sea if i cannot be a part of your world?”

basically they both are torn between two worlds but don’t belong to any. 

#yes i'm alive!!! #i wrote it in 2021 have mercy please!!! #we live for angst #thank you for the attention!! #maiko atla #atla maiko #mermaiko #maiko au #mai atla #zuko atla #mermai #merzuko #the little mermaid inspo

[alessiathepirate]

Ocean's Eleven

POKER: Rusty Ryan x fem!reader

Summary: As they go to pick Danny up she can't help but think about the moment she shared with Rusty after the heist.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I made while I wrote this short story.

Warning: smoking, mentioned stealing, the usual Ocean's stuff, otherwise just fluff

•••

Months after the heist, during which they successfully robbed Terry Benedict from both his money and girlfriend - even if the last one was mainly Danny's job - she finally felt at ease. This afternoon Danny Ocean will be released from prison and with that the last task of the robbery will be done. Not like the robbery wasn't successful already - she became a rich woman, sure, but she wasn't a calm one. She won't be a calm one until Danny Ocean walks up to the car and gets in, so she can let go of the stressful thoughts she had since the day Ocean talked to her about the plan.

A plan with no casualities - her number one rule. She can sleep peacefully knowing she stole some rich guy's money, but not with the thought that because of some stupid mistake one of her friends went to jail for a lifetime.

"Are you ready to meet him again, Tess?" she asked the woman who was sitting behind her, while she was examining her every expression in the rearview mirror.

"Of course I am." was the answer she got and the answer that satisfied her doubts. Tess' voice was nervous but full of love and that was the proof of her love for Danny she needed.

They didn't say anything for a while. They just sat there in silence, looking at the gates of the prison where Danny was currently getting his stuff back and where Ryan was waiting while eating a hamburger.

God, she was hungry as well.

"You know, we should find Rusty a girl."

The sentence made her look away from the building and moments later her gaze was on the rearview mirror again, looking at Tess.

"You think so?"

What if he already has one?

She looked back at the building again, this time focusing on the man eating in front of the main gate. Maybe they just didn't make their relationship that obvious?

A proud smile creeped up on her face at the thought. Maybe they were just too happy living in their own little bubble, they never considered telling anyone around them.

"Yes, I think so."

If you knew...

And if you knew he has one since Bellagio.

Since Bellagio... Good God, she has to thank Danny he asked her to help them with the plan.

The night of the heist was the night of their first kiss and with that the night their relationship as lovers began. It happened after they got away with the money and after they all walked out to the fountain to enjoy the feeling of success. And that night they deserved to swim in pride, pulling off a stunt like that.

There they were, all of them. Enjoying that feeling, swimming in pride while looking at the fountain in complete silence - until the members of the gang started to walk away one by one. Except her - and Rusty.

"You know now that I think about it," she started, feeling like there is something she should say after that wild night, after all those glances of making sure the other is okay "I just robbed a casino without even knowing how to play poker."

He let out a chuckle and she realized this was probably the first time she heard him laugh.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's kind of stupid, isn't it? I never really had the time to learn how to play."

"You are friends with Danny Ocean and you don't know how to play poker?"

She giggled at the thought as well, hiding her face in her palms as she leaned on the concrete banister.

"God, I'm horrible..."

"No, that means Terry Benedict is horrible. You stole his money from the casino and you've never been in a casino before in your whole life."

Rusty lit a cigarette and offered her one. She accepted it and after he lit hers as well, they continued their conversation.

"Besides, I can always teach you how to play."

"Yeah? You want me to join your little club?"

"No, I don't want you to join them. I'd teach you separately."

"Oh really?" she asked teasingly as she took a puff on her cigarette.

"Yes, I'm sure you'd be a talented player."

"What makes you say that?"

"You just robbed a casino, darling, that takes some serious skills."

Warmth was pooling in her stomach even though she was cold a few minutes ago. The dress she wore was pretty elegant, but the material was thin - yet it was something women with money to spend liked to wear. It was something she had to wear that night as well if she wanted to blend in and be the eyes of the gang, making sure everything goes smoothly.

"I'll think about it." she said even if she decided that she'll definitely sit down with Rusty and listen to his every word as he teaches her how to play poker.

And then suddenly they were standing closer to each other, arms slightly touching on the banister. She tried to concentrate on her cigarette and did her absolute best to ignore the contact and what it was doing to her.

She looked up at him as they were smoking in silence and her hands shook a little as the warmth in her stomach became stronger, not wanting to stop. She examined his expressions, his gestures, the way he was holding the cigarette and then she realized that she doesn't want to leave.

And then it just happened...

She wasn't sure how, she couldn't remember who leaned in first - the only thing she knew was that they were kissing right after Rusty turned to look at her after she was observing him for so long.

They were kissing and she had to grab his shoulder to not get completely lost in the feeling. Her cigarette fell into the water of the fountain from the sudden contact - from the sudden sweet and warm contact, what was surprisingly gentle. Gentle and kind, not fast, not rough, but patient.

One of his hands was on her waist and she was sure those were the most thoughtful and gentle touches she's ever felt.

"When do we start playing?" she asked quietly after their first ever kiss ended.

"Poker?"

"Sure."

"Whenever you want."

"Is tonight okay?"

Danny and Rusty were walking towards the car as she tried to hide her smile. She waved at Danny as they got closer.

"I stopped and picked up your personal effects. 'Hope you don't mind." she almost chuckled at Rusty's words and at Danny's reaction. There it is, Dan and Tess are together again, everything worked out alright, the world is finally at peace again.

She looked at Rusty knowingly as Danny sat next to Tess. They shared a smile.

"We need to get Rusty a girl." Tess said again as Rusty started the car.

"You hear this? They think you need to get a girl." she said as she looked at the rearview mirror only to see that the silver Sedar's engine was on.

"And you didn't tell them I already have one?"

If that question wasn't saying enough, then the quick kiss they shared definitely did. And even if she'll get way too many questions from her friends after this she'll answer them happily, knowing she hit the Jackpot when Danny Ocean asked her to help them and she said yes.

#ocean's 11 #ocean's eleven #rusty ryan x reader #rusty ryan x fem!reader #rusty ryan #danny ocean #fluff #ocean's eleven x reader

[thedo0zyslider]

I Love You (I'm Not Supposed Too) - Chapter Seven: Unjust Treatmnet - 10k Words

The Ocean Queen shows her true colors, which leads to a lot of talking between Jimmy and Fwhip.

(TW for Transphobia, thoughts of self harm, mention of deceased parent. A lot off heavy stuff in the sections marked by ~~ if you want to kip them. I cam/will provide a summary <33)

A03 Link

After the.…. reveal , as Fwhip had devided to call it, the trip to the Codlands didn't change much. Their schedule remains rather similar; wake up, eat breakfast (which quickly becomes awkward and painful if the Ocean Queen decides she's in a chatty mood that morning. Yes, Fwhip glares at her every time she speaks, getting him looks in return from the merfolk. No he does not  care. All these stuck up rich people could fuck off, for all he cared.) and then go do whatever they were needed for in the Codlands, Which was usually a lot, considering they were basically making a new empire from scratch. 

Before the last little bit, the Cod Empire, as it was now being called, had just been a small village. It couldn’t hold all the codfolk, so most of them were forced to live in the Ocean. Though from what Fwhip heard, they and the merfolk would like the cod in their own biome, in their own cities, and away from everyone else. So now, once more construction had been ordered, they had to make a sizable empire. And also plan all the buildings out, so the empire didn’t have a bunch of random houses placed randomly. Most of that had been done before Fwhip arrived though, so he was mainly saddled with getting materials and helping with a bit of infrastructure; as much as he could help with anyways, since he was still underage. 

His main job was to help Jimmy with most of the new ruler stuff he was having to do, occasionally accompanied by Pix whenever he came around. Which is a good thing with hindsight, because establishing a whole nation from scratch is hard and Jimmy had no idea what he was doing (to no fault of his own, of course.) The worst part was picking anyone who would work in the government, which the cod had in the form of a Council, because most of them decidedly did not like Jimmy. It came down to tensions between the Cod and Oceanfolk, as even though the Prince was literally a cod, he was Ocean born or whatever so people didn’t like him. Same thing had happened with his father, back in the day, according to Lizzie and Pix. Fwhip found the whole issue dumb and stupid, because at the end of the day they were all weird fish people, and ignored it best he could.

He figures, about halfway through all this and when the expanding village is a lot more stable, that his visit was a little early. The trip was probably planned a few weeks down the line, when there wasn’t as much work to do. Because, for all Fwhip tries to help, he’s a little in over his head helping Jimmy run things, on top of all the cultural differences between their empires he always forgets to account for.  But alas, shit had gone down at home, and he’d been sent off early. Not that the half dragon minded, because drowning himself in work or someone else’s problem was a great way to distract his own.

So minus a few surprise Pix visits, (because the man knows that he can pop up in any empire whenever he damn well pleases and fully takes advantage of that,) nothing much about their schedule changes. The one thing that does change however, is that Fwhip notices how Jimmy is treated in his own home. And frankly, it's disgusting. He knows very well how his mother treats him, and can easily fill in the gaps when he doesn’t see stuff. The castle staff aren't much better either, which earns them no kindness from the future Count, and Fwhip thinks the overall opinion of him in the palace is very, very low. Not that he cares much for these people’s opioids, but everyone can feel the way the mood shifts when he walks into the room, and he’s perfectly fine with that. Mood shifts are frequent at the Manor anyways, so he has some..…prior experience of being where he’s not wanted, if you could phrase it like that.

Lizzie is the biggest frustration, really. Fwhip doesn't get to see her very often, the princess always whisked away on some task her mother ordered, because learning to be queen is apparently a very busy job. So busy that she can't even spend a day with her own damn brother, much like it used to be when Gem still lived at the Manor. But, when the two of them do cross paths, it's often around the Ocean Queen herself. And Lizzie acts very differently around her mother, very different indeed. Enough to piss the half dragon off, too.

She seems to act like Jimmy isn't real, never sparing her brother a glance around the Queen. And when she does, the princess dances around gendering him. Like she doesn't want to misgender him, but also doesn't want her mother's ire turned on her. And Fwhip can get that fear, he truly can, but really? There has to a point, where supporting your sibling is more important than whatever scolding or harsh words that Lizzie might receive, and he feels like this situation fucking crossed that line. 

Fwhip can't even imagine, if Gem were in the same position, doing nothing as their parents treated her like that. Of just sitting there and dancing around the subject like Lizzie does. The thought of it makes him feel disgusted. The ginger knows he couldn't even live with himself if he let her be treated that way, especially if he could do something to stop it. Their parents already mistreat the both of them in different ways, and it's half the reason he fights with his mother so much. Because he knows and he hears the things she says, and isn't going to stand for it. Not when it comes to Gem. 

They might’ve just had the worst fight they've ever had ever , but she's still his baby sister. Even if they're both fucked up and disagreeing with each other, Gem’s still his twin. She's always been there for him, for his whole life she's been there. The young wizard was the one person who'd been there for everything, and had seen the parts of him that even Sausage hadn't seen. (The worst ones, the ones that were ugly and broken and angry at everything and everyone, regardless if they'd ever wronged him.) She's the sole reason he didn't just run away during the divorce, because he couldn't leave her to shoulder all that alone, even when it hurt him so much to stay. Fwhip had known leaving Gem would hurt a lot more than anything at home ever did.

That's why he's so upset with Lizzie. It takes a fair bit of reflection to figure out, but all of that is the reason. Because despite everything, despite every horrible thing they'd ever said or done to each other, his sister was still his sister at the end of the day. And he couldn't imagine just leaving her to suffer like that, especially if he saw how much it hurt. Because every time Lizzie or the Ocean Queen leaves them, he catches a glimpse of how Jimmy’s expression twits in pain. Or in frustration or anger or just pure sadness . (Which usually comes after a rather stiff interaction with his older sister, and is usually masked by a very familiar frustration.) Or how his fist clench and his tail lashes and how much it clearly hurts to live with a sibling who won't even try to protect him. 

And in the two or so weeks Fwhip’s at the castle he sees and hears a lot. He hears the arguments they try to keep quiet, because their guest is always somewhere nearby one of them. He sees how Lizzie goes to Joel’s a few times, but Jimmy has to stay and how much the cod clearly wants to go, but can't because the two of them have been tethered together against their wills. He sees how Jimmy leaves him to go comfort Lizzie on bad days, when their mother gets too much for her, or the both of them, and hears bits of the quiet comfort he attempts to give his older sister. Even if it doesn’t always work, he's still trying , a lot more than she is for him. 

(Because despite the horrible hand he's been dealt, Jimmy is still stupidly kind and caring, and the half dragon doesn't think that's going to change, not ever, not for anything. The Ocean Prince is too stubborn to change like that. He thinks it makes the cod a better man than him too. He almost ran away for suffering what he believed was less, and almost left Gem because of it. If he was in Jimmy’s position, he would've disappeared into the ocean never to return, or started a goddamn villain arc by now.

He has to wonder why Jimmy even stays anymore, and figures that's a question for another day.) 

And Fwhip likes Lizzie. He really does. The princess isn't as annoying as her brother, isn't so dead set on throwing insults at him. She's funny, she's talented, she's kind and has all sorts of charming little quirks, and she's been a good friend. Even if she is a fish. Which is why this sucks so much. Because he likes being Lizzie's friend, but can't force himself to be okay with her behavior. 

Fwhip knows she has her own problems, because all of them do, and he doesn't want to downplay them. The ginger just really wishes she would do better. Not even for him, or herself, just for Jimmy. Just for her brother, nothing else.

He just wishes she would be a better sister. It would make life a whole lot easier for both of the siblings, that’s for certain. And make this trip a lot less painful for him as well.

Fwhip spends the whole trip wishing that, after the reveal, and feels frustration twist in his gut whenever she dances around Jimmy. He gets it now, why that sour look is on the cod’s face half the time. The half dragon thinks he even mirrors it, sometimes, when his anger gets too much and he has to bite his tongue before he lashes out, and gets sent home early. He thinks he understands why Jimmy would rather go be stressed about the whole empire he now has to run, rather than spend twenty minutes alone with his mother. And he’s not even the one living here twenty four seven.

And that’s how a lot of the days on this home away from home are. Wake up, glare daggers at half the castle, leave, snap at Jimmy, run around the disgusting and mud-filled swamp for hours, then they return back to the Prisma Palace for even more suffering and even more moments where Fwhip has to reel in his temper. Because, as much as he wants to punch someone, he doesn’t want to go home and face his parents, or Gem. Not just yet. And also it would probably backfire on Jimmy, if nothing else. He’d feel too horrible, if something bad happened and it was his temper’s fault again; if he broke anymore bridges with his stupid outbursts and stupid problems.

A lot of times now, the half dragon can’t help but simply feel bad for the guy. The feeling overriding all his dislike of the cod on most days. And maybe, if they can find some common ground like this again, their arrangement can be…tolerable, at best. Maybe…

_____________________________

One day, on one of the rare days they have nothing to do, Jimmy decides to show him the castle gardens. The cod says they’re going there because he’s bored, and likes how pretty the gardens are. Jimmy says it’s his favorite part in the house, because no one will bother him there, not even Lizzie. And yeah, Fwhip can’t disagree with that. The Manor’s gardens were a pretty quiet place back home, where he always went after a bad day or if he just needed some alone time. So the gardens in the Prisma Palace can’t be that bad, especially if they’re an escape from Jimmy’s hellish household.

And the gardens were nice, Fwhip found when they got there. They actually exceeded his expectations, the water flora being quite pretty. Some of the gardens were above the water, along with lily pads and other sea grasses. The rest of it, like the other half of the palace, was below water, and contained fish swimming through the plants. It was nothing like anything he’d seen back home, and the ginger found himself staring at the garden the whole time in wonder.

He and Jimmy don’t talk much, content to do their own thing for the handful of hours they stay in the garden. Fwhip, like the nerd he is, pulls out a small notebook from one of his coats' various pockets. He always keeps this one on him, and the pages are worn and full of old notes and sketches he did whenever he had an idea, but was away from his normal workspace at home. The ginger flips to an empty page, one randomly placed in the notebook, before fishing a pencil out of his other pocket to begin sketching.

He occupied himself with something he’d been wanting to do for a while, which was taking sketches and notes of the plants and animals in the Ocean Empire. He was sure he would return to it eventually, maybe in a few years, but the future Count wanted a head start on his project. He always liked seeing how his personal notes updated and changed overtime anyways, and he was very curious how that would go this time around. Fwhip had never really studied aquatic organisms before, or paid them much mind, so there was a lot he had to learn.

His passion for this hobby had come in his younger years, when the half dragon first became interested in farming, around the age of nine or so. He’d always wanted to help around the farms, and still found the work rewarding to this day. But at the start, it had been very hard for him to remember everything the farmers were teaching him, or what breed of animal was what, the information easily getting jumbled up in his brain. His mother had come up with a solution, after he’d gotten particularly upset one day, buying him his first notebook, and telling him to write things down. She said it always helped her with remembering spells, and to give it a try. If that didn’t work, then she said they would find another method. Nowadays, Fwhip considered it one of the few good things the woman had ever done for him, and longed for his younger years when she’d been kind and caring towards both her children.

This particular notebook, the first he’d gotten on his own, was one he had for years now, and it’s nearly filled up. He bought or made all his notebooks with the intent of them lasting years, resulting in them being two times chunkier when he finished them. Not that Fwhip minded in the slightest. The very first pages of this one were filled with old sketches, some maybe four years old, from when he had first been allowed to work on the farms. All of the crops of his homeland (which were mainly different types of potatoes, with a bit of wheat and carrots thrown in) were sketched, each with a page dedicated to facts and little notes about how they grew under certain conditions. He’d also gone out of his way to sketch various livestock, most of them being cows or chickens. Though there was the occasional blood sheep drawing thrown in here and there, from whenever Mythland gifted them one. Or when a herd wandered too far from home, as the creepy little things tended to do.

Fwhip gave all his old sketches a fond but brief glance as he idly flipped through the pages, waiting for a fish or something to be visible. He’d already drawn all the plants he could see, and mourned the loss of the strictly underwater life. Now it was a matter of watching the beautiful scenery, and hoping he could get a good enough look at a fish, or other stray sea life,  to note some stuff down. The little guys did swim pretty damn fast.

(He made a mental note to ask Jimmy some questions later, during one of those times they weren’t scowling at each other. He needed the cod to see his plant drawings so he could properly name them, and would have to avoid him catching a glance of anything salmon related in the notebook. And, because he knew the blonde would ask, Fwhip would rather stab himself than add a cod to his scared pages, thank you very much.)

Jimmy sat a few feet away the whole time, much closer to the water than the half dragon was. His feet were dipped in the water, brown pants legs rolled up to keep them dry, kicking at the sea every so often. Fwhip would sometimes hear him muttering in codlish, or oceanic, and made a whole separate page in the notebook, for whenever he picked up a sound or a letter. The cod would be communicating to whatever fish came over, something Fwhip honestly forgot he could do, and would switch the language accordingly. Sometimes it even sounded like he was mixing the two. The ginger really should’ve tried to learn oceanic, at least, considering he hadn’t been able to understand a lot of conversation for the whole trip. But that was something he could ask Lizzie about later, when she doesn’t feel so upset at her anymore.

They spend at least two hours in the gardens, maybe more. Just….sitting there, alone together. It’s the most peaceful time he’s ever had in Jimmy’s presence in the two or so years that they’ve known each other. It’s nice, to not argue, or to not be actively annoyed by something. It’s nice to finally have a day to relax, and let his brain slow down for once. His thoughts are always going a hundred miles an hour, so Fwhip savers any moment where they stop, no matter how long or short it is.

Eventually, though, they do have to leave. Jimmy walks over, and gives the half dragon a light tap on his shoulder, startling him out of his skin. Fwhip shuts his notebook with a snap , giving the other a small glare. Jimmy just rolls his eyes, and promptly turns to the garden's entrance. The ginger decides he’s going to ignore that disrespect, wanting to keep his peaceful mood for as long as possible, and reluctantly starts to follow the Cod Prince back into the castle.

~~ When they’re walking back inside Is when it happens, when the Ocean Queen catches them, and when everything goes more than a little downhill that day. Neither of them even know what she wants them for, other than to possibly them dodging the family breakfast this morning. Jimmy said he didn’t have the energy, emotionally, to deal with that today, and Fwhip had agreed. He didn’t have the patience for Lizzie and whatever looks he’d inevitably receive, so agreeing to just hide out for a little while was a no brainer. And then they had ended up in the gardens, an hour before noon, and now they were here. Caught right in the act of slacking.

Jimmy’s dead name echoes off the wall, loud and deafening, along with his mother's distinct voice, a few seconds after the ginger first hears her footsteps approaching. The first thing Fwhip thinks upon hearing it is that he never wants to hear it again, not ever again in relation to the boy beside him. It feels so wrong just to hear it said every time he hears a whisper of it, like a sin of some kind, because that is not his fucking name.

Beside him, Jimmy stiffens instantly, but says nothing. He even looks like he's going to respond to his mother, after she just called him that. Which, no , absolutely not . He’s sick of just having to sit here and watch them disrespect Jimmy like this, and it's made him ballsy. The half dragon turns around to the Queen before the cod can, before Fwhip himself even realizes what he's doing, tail lashing. He'll stand for a lot of things he probably shouldn't, a lot of things Jimmy himself would disapprove of, and he knows that, but this isn't fucking one of them. 

"His name's Jimmy! " Fwhip snaps, glaring daggers at the Ocean Queen, at least a week's worth of frustration very evident in his tone. Beside him, the cod prince goes completely stiff, and his face falls in what has to be horror.

"Young Count," The Queen narrows her eyes in response, her voice low and her words picked carefully. Deliberately . "Glad to see you're starting to get along with your…" She trails off to clear her throat, right before saying the worst words Fwhip has heard in recent memory. And he hears some shit from his parents' mouths.  "..future wife." 

The half dragon thinks he sees red for a minute, glaring daggers at the Queen. It's not often you do that to other royalty. It’s not often that he does that to anyone, even his other family members; and they really know how to piss him off. “Future husband .” He spits out the retort, feeling his tail lash with anger again.

“Fwhip…please.” Jimmy begs him, going to tug at his hand. The blonde’s broken out of his horror, and it is very clear that he wants to leave, to run away, now . The half dragon just stands his ground, only managing to keep his tail under control. He is not as successful with his temper, because he never is and probably never will be.

"You should listen to her, young Count." The Queen continues, giving a glance at her son. Fwhip really wants to know what she’s conveying with it, because it makes Jimmy get even more upset beside him. "Before I report this to one of your parents."

"You mean him. " Fwhip corrects again, holding back an angry huff. He doesn't give a shit if the Queen tells his parents, he doesn’t care what anyone tells them about his behavior. If anything, this specifically will just make them think less of her. They can't punish him anyways, not in a way he hasn’t worked around before.

"Fwhip, let's go. There was that thing I wanted to show you." Jimmy says again, now pleading. He tugs on the ginger’s arm, hard enough to start pulling him the opposite direction. Fwhip holds back a growl, not enjoying being tugged around. The half dragon has to stop himself from turning around and snapping at the cod; instead taking a few deep breaths before his impulses can get the better of him. He’s not mad at Jimmy , he shouldn’t get mad at him right now. It’s his mom who’s the problem, who’s making him so upset. 

“I-” He starts to protest again, the growl being squashed before it can leave his throat. He is not going to get unfairly mad at Jimmy and snap at him. He’s not , it’s not his fault-

" Fwhip. " Jimmy hissed, low and panicked. It's the fear in his voice that gets through to the half dragon, that pushes through his anger. He knows how fighting back can make things worse, and he doesn't want to make things worse for Jimmy. He really, really doesn't want to make things worse for him. So Fwhip stops trying to argue his point, and backs down. 

"Fine, Jimmy. Fine. " He says, letting himself be tugged away. But not without one last glare at the Ocean Queen. The royal says nothing, just watches them disappear around the corner of the hallway. The ginger feels her piercing, near angry, gaze on his backside until it’s gone, and has to press down the shiver that it causes. Jimmy doesn’t say anything, doesn't even look over his shoulder like he normally might. He just pulls them into a nearest room, one of the unused guest bedrooms, to hide away for a little bit. They’re doing a lot of hiding today, and Fwhip, whose limbs are shaking with leftover rage, can’t say he really minds.

Once the two of them are in private again, Jimmy hugs him. Well, sort of. It's more of an awkward side hug, the cod having to lean down slightly to even do so. Fwhip doesn't protest as Jimmy buries his face in his shoulder, the blonde's whole body going completely slack as the tension leaves him. Fwhip holds him there, and resists the protective older sibling urge to move him closer, hold him tighter. Like he always did to Gem when she was upset… (Even if he only is older by a few seconds, bit still, older sibling urges regardless.)

"You good?" He asks, resting a hesitant hand on the taller boy's backside. He hopes it's as soothing as he thinks it is, and maybe he's right. The cod does lean into the touch just a little, going even more slack against him. Once again, Fwhip can’t help but just….feel bad for this idiot, as weird as it would’ve felt too not even a month ago. 

Jimmy’s next words are very muffled, as he presses his face harder into the half dragon’s shoulder. As if to stop himself from crying. "Would you believe me if I said yes?"

"No. You're shaking." Fwhip huffed, drawing Jimmy closer. He was giving into those protective urges, that might be a mix of dragon and older sibling being in him. It’s the wobbly tone and slight voice crack that makes him fold, in all honesty. He was never very good at resisting anyone balling their eyes out, or getting simply teary eyed.

Jimmy mutters again, even more muffled. "Heh. Figured." He isn’t saying much, not yet, and the half dragon decides to give him a few minutes. The eventual Feelings Talk can wait, just for a little bit. But it has to happen before they leave the room because holy fuck he’d just yelled at Jimmy’s abusive mom in her own kingdom.

"I hate your mom. I hate her so much." He says, letting himself give in. Fwhip lets himself fully hug Jimmy, surprised when the other holds him back, and buries his face into messy blonde hair. His limbs have stopped shaking with anger, thankfully, and causes his hold to be a lot more steady than he thought it would.

"Tell me about it." Jimmy snorts, sounding amused. And also snotty. The ginger will be politely ignoring the slight dampness on his coat for the next few seconds, even if it really bugs him. It’s not about him right now, it’s about Jimmy and his dumb mom and his dumb house and how he can’t catch a fucking break half he time-

"Let's get one thing straight, yeah?" Fwhip says, interrupting his own thoughts and nudging the cod a little. Jimmy looks up slowly, curious despite his better judgment, and meets a harsher gaze than he expected. His gaze is all sad and wobbly, like a sad little dogs’, while the half dragon’s eyes hold a ferocity and determination for what he’s about to say next. Truly a great reflection of everything about this situation, really.

"I still do not want to marry you," He growls gently, rage at the Ocean Queen still lingering as he stops hugging the other, and takes the cod’s face in his hands. His hold isn't too harsh, but it's just enough to pinch a little; to really hammer in what he's saying here. "But if I have to, you're gonna be my husband . Not my wife. Never my wife. You understand?" 

"Yeah….." Jimmy almost hiccups out the words, his eyes instantly going all watery again. But he doesn’t spill over, not yet, just sniffles a few times and tries to keep his composure for a little bit longer. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me for common courtesy." Fwhip snorts, and Jimmy really looks like he’s about to cry after hearing that. The future Count goes to shush him, still acting on those older sibling instincts. Jimmy just shakes his head, sniffles once more, and tries his best to wipe away the tears now pricking at his eyes.

"Sorry I just…no one really stands up for me like that. Other than Joel…" The cod mumbles, not being able to do much as his cheeks are dampened. He’s very clearly trying not to sob, and it’s failing pretty miserably. He also sounds ashamed of himself, of crying and being treated nicely. Fwhip wants to punch whatever adult made him feel bad about crying like this, even knowing that’s probably his mom again, realistically. 

"Then they need to do better." He says, thumbing tears away without even thinking and pushing away old memories of a younger, smaller Gem, crying much like the blonde is now. Those are thoughts for much, much later, when he’s not holding the saddest boy he thinks he’s ever met in his hands.

"I know…" Is the last thing Jimmy says, before the dam breaks and he just sobs . Fwhip doesn’t saying anything, only gently moves them both down to the floor, and holds the cod as he hiccups. They’re not chest to chest like they probably should be, Fwhip’s not comforting him like he probably should be, but he thinks it's enough. He mutters kind nothings into the silence and wipes Jimmy’s tears the best he can, the other hiccupping and letting out wet sobs with every breath. It takes ten very long minutes for the tears to finally stop, for the blonde’s breathing to finally even out, his tears abating for now. The half dragon thumbs away the wetness on Jimmy’s face one last time before pulling his hands away, and has to wonder how many years’ worth of tears that was.

“Thank you for doing it, though.” Jimmy says when he’s a bit more composed, leaning his head against the wall. He looks up at the ceiling, not sniffling anymore, but looking a little despondent. Fwhip can't help but worry for his enemy, more than a little bit too. Jimmy’s normally very good at not showing how horrible he feels, much to his own detriment most likely. 

He starts to repeat his earlier sentiment, and is quickly and surprisingly cut off. Which is weird, Jimmy normally lets him speak, unless he’s really snappy or something. “Don't-”

“No, thank you.” The cod repeats, sounding a little firmer. An indication he's not just saying thank you for getting basic respect. That this is different. That this is so much bigger than Fwhip ever could’ve thought. “I wasn't….I wouldn't be doing good without you or Joel.”

The cod takes a deep breath, like he has to keep himself from crying again. He also just….. stares at his wrists for a few seconds, and the half dragon feels a horrible little lightbulb going off in his head before Jimmy even speaks; because he fucking gets it so much it hurts . “I don't know what I would've done if ..”

He doesn't say what he would've done, but Fwhip gets a pretty good idea. A pretty good idea that without Joel, Jimmy wouldn’t fucking be here . He latches himself onto Jimmy as he speaks, hugging the other boy tight. The cod makes a strangled sound, and buries his face into messy ginger hair. The half dragon never thought he'd be hugging this guy twice in one day, but fuck their stupid rivalry. This was a lot more important, so, so much more important.

“God you are such a mess .” Fwhip muttered, his face buried against Jimmy’s neck. He tightens his grip, a million horrible scenarios racing though his stupid brain. That’s all he says on the matter, partly because he doesn’t know what to say, and partly because his gut is twisting itself into knots of horror and fear as they speak.

“I know.” Jimmy mumbles, with what sounds like a weak laugh. His own grip on the other tightens in response as well. “Thought I should mention it, so you know what you're dealing with. All of it, I mean.” He explains, and Fwhip gives the best nod he can. The future Count is going to help Jimmy the best he can, he couldn't just not after these last few days; after today especially.

“Does Lizzie know?” He asks. They should probably talk properly, face to face, but Fwhip doesn't want to let go. Not yet. Not until all of him is convinced that Jimmy is okay, that he is still here and breathing underneath him. 

“Only you and Joel.” The cod hums. It feels like he's calmed down, as he isn't trying to hide tears anymore. That or he can just suddenly cry without his whole chest heaving. And for all Fwhip knows, that’s some weird fish ability he;s never heard of before. “I don't know if I can tell her, or if she would do anything about it.”

“Of fucking course.” The half dragons says, still not ready to let go. Of course Jimmy can’t trust his older sister with anything. And why would he? After all the behavior Fwhip’s seen her display, he knows he wouldn’t trust her either. He wouldn’t trust anything with anyone in the castle, if he was in Jimmy’s shoes, and doesn’t blame the other for feeling that way in the goddamn slightest.

Jimmy makes an amused sound, one that’s probably not fitting the current mood. “Yeah. Yeah.” He hums, now resting his cheek on top of Fwhip’s head. Just for a few minutes, until they untangle themselves. Just until no one needs comfort anymore and the two of them can go back to never touching ever again. And after a few more minutes of just holding each other, Fwhip feels like he can let go. Like the cod won’t vanish as soon as he stops holding him. So slowly, the two boys separate, and the half dragon rushes to fill the silence as soon as they do. ~~

"Why'd you pick Jimmy?" Fwhip sits next to the cod now, cross-legged and his tail flicking behind him. It’s a question he’s been wondering for a few days now, and there hasn’t been a better time to ask it than now, and there probably won’t be one again; knowing the two of them. "I mean, it suits you, but I'm just wondering."

Jimmy hums out an explanation, going to idly fiddle with the pendant he always wears. It’s from his father, if Fwhip remembers correctly. "Well, I actually picked James, but Jimmy is a common nickname for it. Lizzie started calling me that one day."

Fwhip nods, and resists the urge to glance down, at where the cod’s wrists lay. That’s exactly what he’s trying not to think about, so he won’t. He won’t, he’ll keep talking so he can keep his mind away from all the things he would never want to consider becoming real. “I get it, you know, the name thing.”

“Oh?” Jimmy says, curious. There’s also a little undertone of caution, of worry in his voice, and Fwhip can’t help but appreciate it.

“It's not the same as you but…..they did name me FailWhip.” He says, like it’s an easy fact of his life. Like his birth name didn’t horrible fuck with his mindset as a child, like he didn’t have to fight tooth and nail to shorten it to what his name currently is. Like his parents ever understood why he hated it. Like the knowledge that it even happened, that it was there, still dones’t fuck with his head to this day.

But he says it easily, for Jimmy’s sake, because it is not his turn to talk about his baggage. And also, he doesn’t really want to get into all of that, not right now. That’s for a different terrible day, sometime a little while in the future.

Jimmy’s voice is very quiet when he next speaks, and he sounds horrified. “That's….horrible.” He sounds so sorry for Fwhip. Part of him appreciates it, the other part doesn’t want pity over this. He decides to let it go in the end, after a few minutes of quiet deliberation.

“And legally changed, after a lot of fights about it.” Fwhip huffs, and moves the concentration on again. He’s glad he and Jimmy can relate a bit about names, really he is. But this brings up some unpleasant memories, ones that started and showed the cracks even before his family had split, when he was younger. And he doesn’t like remembering them, plus the extra questions he had about Jimmy’s transition, so he just moves on like it never happened; and ignores how a comforting hand was put on top of one of his. “Can I ask something else? About your transition?”

“Sure.” The cod sounds appreciative at the question, though Fwhip is sure his sudden topic changes aren’t going unnoticed. He doesn’t like them either, and would rather not do it, but his emotions have been everywhere since just a bit ago. The half dragon doesn’t imagine JImmy’s doing better either, so it’s fine . That’s what he tells himself, anyways.

 “Are you on testerone or anything..? I'm just curious, that's all.” Fwhip asks, genuinely curious about all this. They haven’t had the chance to discuss this topic much, and he wants to learn more. Plus, by the way the blonde’s face lights up, he doesn’t get these questions much, and is way more than happy to answer them.

“Nope, but I tried to get some. Mom wouldn't approve of it.” Jimmy said, his tail flicking behind him, kinda cat like. The conversation was far too easy, far too normal of a thing for them to be having. It’s certainly not something that would’ve happened before. Neither of the boys really noticed at the moment, too wrapped up in what the other was talking about for the first time in….while. (Fwhip will think back on it one day, admit the feeling was nice, and then shove it away to the deepest depths of his mind once again.) “She used the dumb excuse of it messing with my other health issues.” Jimmy rolls his eyes a bit on the last part, his voice souring as well at the memory.

Fwhip gets concerned for a minute, and wonders if there’s more stuff he’ll need to watch over in the future. He finds himself totally unburdened by the thought of making sure Jimmy is okay, mentally and physically, especially if no one else in his life (sans Joel) would even make an attempt too. “Health issues?”

“Forgot you didn't know about that.” Jimmy says, smiling a little sheepishly as he explains. “I've had health issues since I was a baby, because my egg was small and damaged. They're not that bad anymore though. She still wouldn't give parental permission for any hormones anyways…” Fwhip nods, after considering all of that and decides he shouldn’t have to worry. Not too much anyways, if Jimmy’s been managing all these months with little to zero complications. After that, they fall into a comfortable silence, the ginger running out of trans-related questions to ask the cod.

It’s quiet until Jimmy speaks again, muttering softly into the silence, like he’s scared the wrong person will hear him. Even if there’s no one but the future Count here to listen. "Sometimes I wish my dad were here, instead of my mum." 

"Would he be more…accepting of you?" The half dragon asks the question a little hesitantly, not having heard much about the late Ocean King. He knows the cod people weren’t fond of him, Lizzie misses him dearly, and that Jimmy wears his pendant despite never meeting the man; and that is all he’s gathered so far. Undsertanbly, the family doesn’t like talking about their late relative much, especially if his death was upsetting, like their behavior seems to imply just a little bit. (Maybe it’s why Jimmy’s mom is such a backside, the one person that could tolerate her is gone…)

"Yeah, Lizzie seems to think so anyways. She said he was always much nicer than mum is." Jimmy hums, a bit louder. He’s still pretty quiet though, subbed by thoughts of someone he wishes he got to know. If only for a little bit, even if only as a tiny egg or baby. "He always wanted a son too, apparently."

That leads Jimmy onto another subject not even five minutes later, one more related to the both of them. "That's why they picked us to get married, y'know?" The blonde asks, giving the ginger a rather knowing look. Some bad feeling is already starting to settle in the half dragon’s bones, and his tail flicks in a slight upsetness. 

"Because…." Fwhip prompts. He’s pretty sure he gets it, or at least where the blonde is going with this. But he doesn’t want to speak the words. This is Jimmy’s story to tell, after all, and they would taste like ash on his tongue if he did speak them aloud.

Jimmy confirms what he’s thinking, and the half dragon feels his stomach drop and some nasty feeling twist in his gut. "Because to her I'm not a boy."

"But Lizzie-" His protests are weak, even to his own ears, and sound like words of someone who’d never had the misfortune of meeting the Ocean Queen.

"Lizzie's too important to be married off like this. She's the heir to the throne, she has to learn to be queen or whatever. So mom picked me…" The cod cuts him off, going on a ramble before he can even stop himself. These are words he’s probably been wanting to say for a year and a few months now, and Fwhip can only imagine how satisfying it must be to finally say the truth, after all this time suffering in silence. He knows his own heart would feel a lot lighter if he would just do the same to Gem, back at home…

"And Gem….Gem is a girl. And they can't marry two girls together, can they?" It all comes into place there, how back when they were first told off the arrangement, Jimmy and his mother had glared at each other. And she had won the nonverbal argument they were having, and her son had been withdrawn and stiff for the rest of the day. 

Fwhip has never wanted to punch someone more in his life. And he shouldn't, because she's a queen, but he really, really fucking wants too. 

"I bet they still want us to make an heir still. It's probably in the agreement somewhere." Jimmy mumbles, voice breaking. He says it like he knows for a fact that detail is in the agreement, and not like he’s guessing. The prince is so certain of it, like his mother had made sure he knew exactly what she wanted. Jimmy sounds disgusted at the thought as well, and disturbed. Fwhip finds that he shares the sentiment.

"Absolutely not." The half dragon says, keeping his voice firm. They’re not fulfilling that part of the agreement. They can do the rest of it, but never that part, for both of their sakes, but mainly Jimmy’s. They're not having a baby, that can be Lizzie's job. 

"Thank cod." Jimmy mumbles, running a hand over his face and through his hair. He seems so incredibly relieved and happy by that answer, Fwhip kinda wants to reach over and hug him for a third time that day; for some reason he can’t place.

~~ Unfortunately, that is about the time one of the maids, presumably doing her daily cleaning, finds them. Both boys jump when the door is opening, scrambling further away from each other. They weren’t doing anything, but that sure made it look like they were. The maid spluttered a bit, her voice almost coming out as a yell when she spoke. "You two shouldn't be in a room alone, it's not proper!" She says, glaring at both the young rulers like they’d actually done something wrong .

"It's not the first time!" Fwhip retorts, immediately going on the disrespect. And also catching onto why this might be considered ‘improper,’ his blood beginning to boil before he even gets the question out of his mouth. "And why is it not proper, huh?"

"Fwhip-" Jimmy small protest is cut off, the maid speaking over him. Though the half dragon does have time to give the cod a quick glare, one that’s warning him to shut up. To let him handle this. To let him protect the blonde just this once . 

The maid begins, voice overlapping with Jimmy’s, and is getting cut off as soon as the young cod is, the half dragon’s temper snapping like a twig in the woods. “A young man and-"

"Well luckily for you, we're both young men. So piss off." Fwhip snaps, giving the woman the most annoyed glare he can muster. She does not, in fact, piss off despite the orders too. So the ginger repeats himself, knowing full well the castle staff have to listen to him because of who his parents are. Even if they all think he’s a little shit. (He doesn't normally like that privilege, but he’ll use it when it can benefit him, like right about now.) "You heard me. Piss off."

The maid glares at him for a moment, before huffing and turning heel. She doesn’t close the door when she leaves, but the maid does leave it ajar. Fwhip feels himself growl as he watches her leave, and there’s a scowl on his face when he turns back to Jimmy. ~~

“We should make out just to spite her.” He grumbles, a little pissed off all over again. The half dragon hated the people in this castle, hated how they talked about Jimmy. He hated it more than words could ever describe, only growls, tail lashing and other noises feeling right enough to convey it most of the time.

Jimmy snorts, a little amused. He pushes Fwhip away, nose wrinkling at the thought. Though with less disgust than would normally be there, no doubt. “No offense, but gross. Not with you.”

“I expected as much.” Fwhip says, rolling his eyes maybe a little fondly. Maybe in just a tiny bit of amusement. “That wasn't serious, by the way.” He adds, remembering earlier conversions about them……er, feeling for each other, and wanting to avoid anything like that from ever happening between them. 

“Thank cod.” Jimmy sighs, sounding really relieved, and that is where they decided to call it a night. Or a day, considering the sun hasn’t quite set. They sneak back towards their rooms, skipping dinner, just like they had skipped breakfast and a little bit of lunch, not caring how hungry they are or the consequences not eating much will have later on. Fwhip doesn’t want to see anyone else in this dumb palace for the rest of the day, and has no complaints when Jimmy drags him into his bedroom. He has no other complaints when, a few hours later, they both end up falling asleep in the same room.

Fwhip knows he probably wouldn;t be able to sleep, alone in his room, after all the stress and new information from today. He just needs to be by Jimmy for one night, until his anxieties are quelled, and then the two of them can finally go back to normal for the rest of this dumb stupid little trip.

_____________________________

A few days later, Fwhip’s trip is up. He has to go home now, and leave the Ocean back to its normal life. So, the night before, he hastily packs everything, and does several double checks to make sure he doesn’t leave anything. He doesn’t know when he’ll next see Jimmy, after all, and likes having his stuff with him when he can. And in the morning, after one last search of his guest room, he depearts before breakfast, just like he’s been ordered too, and starts making his way to the castle gates. (It only took him a few weeks to be confident in finding it….totally navigable castle… yep ..) As he walks, a certain prince joins him, and, for the last time on this trip, Fwhip finds no desire to shoo him away.

“Sorry for making you deal with all my problems.” Jimmy says, now walking him towards the castle’s entrance. His tail drags on the ground behind him, and Fwhip wonders if the cod will miss him. If he’ll be lonely now. (He secretly wonders if he will be too…) “I didn’t want this trip to be depressing, but it kinda was.”

“Don’t sweat it, it got me outta the house. And it would've been hard to ignore some parts.” Fwhip shrugs easily, bumping his tail with the blonde’s on purpose, playful. Maybe something like that would lighten the mood. He doesn’t know. The half dragon isn’t a people person, or a fish one. Never had been, never will be.

Jimmy bumps his tail back on purpose, the smallest of smiles flashing across his face. “Yeah.” His plan to be playful worked! Score one for Fwhip, score zero for social anxiety. Truly a massive win for him indeed, considering how many of his social attempts have failed before over the years.

“I don’t want anything fake anyways. I hate when people are fake for their stupid image or whatever.” The half dragon says honestly, giving the cod’s tail another return bump, one that’s a little stronger than before. “I just want the real people.” 

“Heh, okay.” Jimmy laughs, a real one this time. Maybe one of the few real ones he;s had in weeks. And then, before either of the boys know it, they are at the gate and the guards are going to help Fwhip depart. “See you later.” Jimmy calls that one last thing to him with a smile, already starting to back away and go back towards his little hell home. The whole ordeal truly feels a little wistful, for whatever reason, like they are old friends seeing each other off for the last time. Or something dumb and sappy like that.

“Whatever, nerd!” Fwhip calls over his shoulder, not hearing whatever Jimmy responds with, and before he knows it he is on the track back home. Back to the Grimlands. And he has a lot to wonder over, in those few hours it takes to get home. Like that strangely friendly goodbye he’d just had with Jimmy , of all the people in his social circle. And everything that’s happened over the past few weeks, to him and the Cod Prince alike, and how they’re going to act going forward. Because it’s certainly going to be very, very different from how they acted and treated each other, that's for certain.

The trip to the codlands…..does something to their relationship. Fwhip doesn't know how to describe it, other than he can barely stand the young cod half the time. Until someone starts calling him a girl, then he can more than tolerate him. Then the half dragon is willing to defend his future fiancé in any way he can. 

It's funny, they're funny like that. They hate each other, they both bully each other, even if the half dragon is arguably the instigator half the damn time. But he won't stoop to that level, and he won't let anyone else do so either. Fwhip thinks Jimmy even trusts him now, to a certain degree. Which he can't really blame the blonde for. If he lived in that horrible of a household, he would trust the first person who so much as respected him too. Though hopefully Jimmy can get away from it all, now that he's scheduled to spend more time with the codfolk….

God's, he's sitting here worrying about Jimmy of all people. That's what he meant when saying this did something to their relationship. It made them care about each other in some weird way. It made them care for each other for only a few seconds at a time, then it was back to business as usual. It probably solved a lot of problems they had, and Fwhip wouldn’t be surprised if it caused a few new ones as well. Something always did with the two of them.

Speaking of fixing and creating problems, he has a sister and (maybe a father, if he even sees his son today) he needs to talk to, and knows the conversation is imminent as soon as he arrives back in the Grimlands. It’s not a conversation he’s excited to have, he’s actually very scared of it. But he knows it needs to happen, and wants it to as well. So it’s going to happen today, whether the future Count likes it or not.

Him and Gem have been messaging a bit, ever since the communicators had been finished. The devices were in the works for months, and just happened to be finished a week after their big fight. Not only was that convenient, it also allowed for very stiff conversations to be held, before and during his trip to the Ocean Empire.

They haven't really seen each other in person since the argument, and even before he left, only scarcely in passing. But he thinks they're going to today, since Fwhip has been away from home two whole weeks. Maybe even three. He think’s shes the only one of his family who will welcome him home, and that’s fine by him. He’d had enough of shitty mothers for a little while, and would have plenty of time to see his dad later. Fwhip did, rather unfortunately, have to see the man at breakfast everyday.

An hour after he gets home and puts his bags away, Fwhip decides to bite the bullet. No more ignoring it, no more anxieties. He knocks on his sister’s bedroom door, just down the hall from where their fateful fight had occurred, and waits with bated breath for her to open it. If she’s not in there, then his whole plan is turned upside down, but whatever. He tried, and that’s enough. It should be enough.

It takes a second, but Gem does peak through the doorway a minute later, her green eyes uncertain. “Hey.” She says, clearly a little more than hesitant. On a good note for this, she doesn’t hide behind her door for long, and fully opens it. So they can be properly face to face.

“Hey.” Fwhip parrots, standing there for a second, dumbly. The words almost dry up in his throat, and the urge to run away from all this is very strong. But he doesn’t do it. He doesn’t run, he stands his ground and forces his voice to stay steady as he talks. “I'm sorry…for yelling at you, and calling your magic stupid.” This isn’t the Ocean, he’s not there anymore, he doesn’t have to grab Jimmy and run from things neither of them can seem to fix. He can fix this. They can fix this. “I know it's really impressive and you love doing it so…I'm sorry.” 

Gem blinks at him a bit, processing his words. She probably just expected another stilted conversation, one that ended without even fixing anything. But, as she’d told him once, Fwhip was kinda full of surprises. He was never the best at apologizing anyways, but he hopes that one can suffice. He hopes that the fact that he tried means enough.

“And I know how much your inventions mean to you, so I'm sorry for calling them dumb.” The young wizard says, after a moment of turning the words around in her head. She sounds unsure, but her brother always knows when it's genuine and when it’s fake. Gem isn’t good at proper apologies either, anyways. “And for calling you a dickhead.” 

Fwhip feels a small laugh bubble up from his throat, as he recalls his past attitude from the past month and a half, and what he’d just said to the Ocean Queen a few days before. “You weren't really wrong there, but thanks.” 

After a moment of silence, and a small giggle from Gem, the future Count speaks again. He asks the question that arguably scared him the most going into this, and finds himself very relieved at the answer. “Are we…cool now?”

“Yeah, we're cool.” Gem says, a small smile starting to form on her face. It’s a little somber, but it's the first time she’s smiled at him in over a month, so the half dragon will gladly take it. “I'll try to be a better sister from now on.”

“O-okay.” Fwhip stammers, and doesn’t know why that gets him so much. He doesn’t know why that almost makes him cry, but tears do start to prick at the corner of his eyes. Fwhip blinks them away, right as Gem crashes straight into his chest.

“I missed you, you big idiot.” She huffs, hugging him. She’s hidden her face in his coat, and Fwhip remembers again, He remembers Jimmy, just like this not even a week ago, and his sister doing the same thing when they were much younger. The half dragon hugs her back tightly, and slightly wonders when he became the comfort guy.

“I missed you too…” He mumbled, wings covering both of them. “I’ll try to be a better brother, too.” He rests his head on top of hers, barely noticing the strange absence of her wizard hat. Gem just makes a sound, and drags them both into her room, managing to kick the door shut in the process. The twins need time to be emotional in private, instead of letting the whole manor walk by and overhear their conversation.

They end up on Gem’s bed just….laying there, after a good cry or two from the both of them of course. They chat about what’s been going on with each of them for the past few weeks, about anything and everything that comes to mind. It’s really nice, just laying next to his sister again, exiting near each other. He missed her, a lot more than he let himself think about over the last few weeks.

“I was messaging Jimmy earlier.” Gem hums, their sides pressed together. She had a book in her hands at one point, fiddling with pages as their conversations dragged on, fell off, then restarted all over again. But now she seems content just to lay next to her brother, the book long forgotten somewhere else on her stupidly big bed.

Fwhip feels his ears prick up in surprise, He didn’t think the forge was giving out communicators to other empires yet, but he hadn’t been home in a while. A lot could happen in just a month, after all, even when he wasn’t there. (Hell, his seaside trip had proved just what could happen in a month, really.) “He got his communicator?”

“Yeah, they sent it over a day ago I think. I wanted to help him set it up.” Gem explains, her fingers drumming against her purple bed sheets, something she does when there’s a lot on her mind. “He said you guys got closer when I asked about the visit.” 

“Yeah.” Fwhip says, his tone going heavy. He flicks his eyes up towards the ceiling, and a frown stretches across his face involuntarily.

Gem sees the way his face falls, and Fwhip knows her brows have furrowed without even looking over at her. “What did you two talk about..?”

“It's not my place to say but…..you can ask him.” Fwhip says, his thoughts being rather damp once again. He wants Gem to know all that stuff, since she’s decently close with the cod, but won’t reveal more than he’s comfortable with. “But basically his mom sucks and I really fucking hate her.” 

“Oh dear.” Gem says, instantly pulling her communicator out from her robe, presumably to message Jimmy instantly. Which makes sense. Based of Fwhip’s words and body language, the wizard knows she should be very concerned about what was talked about, and what’s been going on in that Ocean. Part of Fwhip wishes he’d remained oblivious to it, kinda, but most of him is glad he knows now. Most of him is glad he can now help.

“ Oh dear indeed.” The half dragon says, copying his sister and pulling out his own communicator. When he opens it, there’s a message from Jimmy, one sent twenty minutes ago. Briefly, before he opens it, he wonders if it’s something horrible and serious. He fears his previous actions made everything worse for the cod, and is hit with a massive wave of relief when that’s not the case, and it’s something more normal and mundane. 

SolidarityGaming: this is jimmy, gem gave me your username thingy

SolidarityGaming: add me back asshole

fWhip: okay jeez

fWhip: also tf is ur name????

SolidarityGaming: I didn't know what else to put okay

fWhip: of course  

The conversation ends there, Fwhip having to hold back a snort. Of course Jimmy had picked a really dumb name, instead of just using his real one. Of course. He was so dumb like that. (No, the half dragon was not thinking that fondly, what in the word are you talking about. He would never be fond over a fish, never in a million years. The hugging today doesn’t count either, because Jimmy was sad. That’s all, no other reason.)

He spares a glance at Gem, and sees his sister is still on her own communicator. By what he can see, she’s still messaging Jimmy. Probably about what Fwhip directed her to earlier. And, with all due respect to the guy, he’s too emotionally spent to relive all that again, even in digital form. Almost a month of it had been more than enough for once lifetime, and Fwhip is sure he’ll get to see more of the cod’s problems as the years trudge on.

The half dragon rests his head on Gem’s shoulder, deciding just to rest for once, and let the sounds of her typing lull him to sleep for the night. They haven’t shared a room, let alone a bed, since they were pretty little, so this was nice. And it helps him miss her less, especially when rings wrap around both of them in a protective little cocoon.

Things aren’t better between them, and their problems are very far from solved, but that doesn’t matter for now. All that matters is that they've made up, and they’re going to try and be better the best way they can. All that matters is that Gem can give her sleeping brother a fond look in between messages with Jimmy, and that they’re talking again. All that matters is that the twins are okay, for now at least, they’re okay.

#jimmy solidarity #ron.writing #ron.fic #empires smp #fwhimmy #empiresfic #ily (im not supossed too) #tw transphobia #tw self harm thoughts #fwhip #empiresshipping #empires smp s1

[daebakinc]

Sea Creature

Pairing: Christian Yu x Reader (G) Prompt: Creature from the Black Lagoon Word Count: 2.9K

~Admin V

            At first you were afraid of visiting your cousin in Australia. You’d seen too many memes and videos of the frightening wildlife there. You personally couldn’t think of anything more terrifying than putting your foot in your shoe to meet a large spider, or a snake coming up from the toilet.

             She’d finally convinced you though. She’d opened up her own juice café and wanted you stay with her and help her out. You could explore the country on days off, enjoy local foods, and according to her, meet some of the cute boys who worked with her.

             You arrived at Sydney Airport the night before. The jetlag was unreal. But you did need to eat, so you agreed to go into the café that morning and see everything.

             Everyone greeted your cousin as you both walked in. She promptly introduced you to them and you couldn’t help but admit to yourself, all the workers were really really cute, just as she said.

             You looked around the café and were surprised at its size. It looked just like a coffee house, only it had tropical colors and served juice in place of coffee. It was also by the pier leading right into the ocean, so it had an incredible view.

             “Honestly,” you looked at your cousin. “When you told me you were opening a juice café, I thought it would be kinda lame, like a small room with a juice bar in it. But this. Just wow.”

             Your cousin scoffed then smirked. “Since when would I do anything lame?”

             A sheepish smile appeared on your face.

             “Alright, now to try our product.” She led you to the counter. “Christian!”

             It took you everything in your power to keep your mouth from falling open. Beautifully tanned, muscled, and tattooed was the man your cousin summoned.

             “This is Christian,” she started. “He’s kind of a renaissance man around here. He does heavy lifting, stock, even catches fresh seafood for us to serve. But I think his specialty is making juice.”

             He chuckled and shook his head as your cousin introduced you to him. “I’ve heard a lot about you.” His accent made your legs wobbly. “Glad you finally decided to come out.”

             A delivery man called out to your cousin. She looked to you both. “Duty calls. Christian, I think the plane ride was long and electrolytes are definitely needed.”

             He nodded. “Got it, boss.”

             Your cousin left you alone with arguably the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

             “So, before I forget, I got you a welcoming present.”

             “You did? Really?”

             He laughed again. “Don’t get too excited. It’s nothing special.” He handed you an unwrapped box.

             “A pocket knife?”

             “Trust me, you don’t wanna be caught around these parts without one.”

             “Oh, well thank you.” You took it from the box and put it in your bag.

             “Alright, so, I promised to make you a juice. What do you like?”

             Your sheepish smile returned. “I actually don’t really like juice. I’m not really a fruit person.”

             He stared at you for a long minute then laughter burst from him. Your cheeks burned red as you waited for him to calm down. “You’re telling me, you came all this way to Australia to work at a juice bar, and you don’t even like juice? Oh, that’s rich.”

             “I came all this way to Australia for my cousin to help her with her new business venture. And besides, at least we know I won’t be drinking all the inventory.”

             He smiled at you. Your heart palpitations had you wondering if you’d survive working a shift with him.

             “Plus,” you added. “She told me she’d allow music performances at nights, so it gives me a chance to show off my talents.”

             Christian’s eyebrow quirked. “So you’re a singer?”

             “Sometimes. Sometimes I’m a writer, too.”

             “Me too. She lets me and my crew perform as well.”

             Your stomach fluttered. “You sing?”

             “And play guitar.”

             You felt utterly attacked that your cousin didn’t warn you a god among men worked for her. She said cute, not devastating.

             “Alright, so you don’t like any fruit then?”

             “I like some. Melon, strawberries, bananas . . . maybe mango and kiwi. That’s about it.”

             He nodded. “I’ll see what I can do.”

             You watched as he reached to the undercounter cooler and grabbed containers of sliced fruits.

             “Smoothie okay?”

             You bobbed your head.

             He worked quickly, tossing orange, red, and green colored fruit chunks into a blender. A blob of yogurt found its way into the concoction. Soon he was pushing a cup in your direction. Finally, he poked a straw into the liquid. “Go ahead, tell me what you think.”

            You peered into the cup. It didn’t look pretty, but it smelled nice at least. You put the straw in your mouth and took a small sip. Then a big sip. Your cousin wasn’t kidding. He was a juice expert.

             The big smirk on his face told you he knew it as well. “Come on. I’ll show you the pier.”

You grabbed your drink and followed Christian outside as he walked straight to a railing and looked over at the ocean view.

“Wow.”

He smiled next to you but kept his eyes ahead. “I live on that island there,” he pointed out.

You stared out at it. You could see what looked like a small house. It looked pretty. Then you looked around the pier for a boat. “How do you get to work every day?”

“I swim.”

“What?” He swims? Then you looked at his arms and shoulders. Actually, that checked out. “You must really love to be in the water.

“Can’t get enough of it.”

You sipped at your drink. “I was so wrong about Australia.”

He quirked an eyebrow and glanced in your direction. “Yeah?”

“I thought it would be just hot, desert, creatures from hell. I didn’t think I would like it this much so far.”

“You can’t have seen much. Didn’t you just get off the plane?”

You giggled in embarrassment. “Well, yeah. But it hasn’t been anything I’ve expected.”

“Hang on.” He took your cup from you, walked back into the café and yelled something to your cousin. Then he came back out and nodded toward the road. “Let’s go.”

You ran to catch up to him. “Where are we going?”

He stopped in front of a motorcycle. “I’m showing you Australia. At least these parts.”

You eyed the bike then looked back to him. “On that?”

“Ever been on one before?”

You shook your head.

Christian grabbed both your shoulders and looked deep into your eyes.

In a trance, you had no control over yourself and could do nothing but stare back into his deep chocolate orbs.

“Trust me. You’ll be perfectly safe.”

You felt yourself nod.

The smirk was back on his face. He released you and turned back to his motorcycle. He grabbed the only helmet and handed it to you. He straddled the bike and waited patiently for you to regain your composure while you strapped on the helmet.

Once it was on you couldn’t make yourself move. You stared at him sitting on the bike.

“Don’t be scared.” His hand stretched out for you to take.

When you held his hand, he pulled it to his waist. You climbed onto the bike. There was some space between the two of you until he reached behind for your legs and pulled you forward so you were right up against him. He then took your arms and wrapped them around his torso. “I thought I told you not to be scared,” he spoke over his shoulder.

You were thankful that he was in front and couldn’t see the deep shade of red your cheeks were.

The engine of the motorcycle came to life. It startled you it was so loud. Sensing your movement, Christian reached down to your hands around him and stroked up and down your arms. When he felt you ease against him, he lifted the kickstand and the bike sped onto the road.

Your face buried into his back for the first minute or so, but as you got used to it, you turned and looked at the landscape.

At first it was mostly beach. Then the road led inland. The buildings were a mixture of modern and old fashioned. The street lights had a vintage look. There were a lot more trees than you would’ve thought.

When he reached a stoplight you loosened your grip around him, which urged him to speed away when the light was green so you’d grab him tight again. He slowed down when you reached the opera house. He stopped the bike and helped you off. He chuckled when he took in your face. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Why?”

“You look a little pale.”

“Maybe because you’re a speed demon.” You took off the helmet and tossed it at him. He caught it easily.

He walked with you around the opera house and explained little trivias about it and the area you drove around previously. He casually mentioned taking you to a concert there sometime which again made your knees weak. After an hour he took you back on the bike, but went a different route to the café, giving you more of Australia to take in.

Once back at the café he offered to make you food and another juice. While you ate, he had to get back to work and your cousin sat with you.

“So . . . whatchya think?”

“That you’re a jerk. You didn’t tell me Adonis worked for you!”

She snickered. “Yeah, he’s something.”

“Do you know he swims here?” You bit into your prawn sandwich.

Your cousin nodded. “Just wait til you see him come into work shirtless in his swim trunks.”

You choked on your food. Your cousin patted you on the back, but still laughed at you.

After you were finished eating, she took you back home so you could sleep off some jetlag.

Once you were adjusted to the time difference, you spent the next several weeks training. Your cousin and the other workers were all really supportive and helped show you the ropes. But Christian held your heart and was your favorite to work with. He always joked easily with you and pushed you to do more and try more than you thought you’d be ready for. On days off he took you to the beach and showed you more of his favorite places, like a nearby lagoon and the best steakhouse on the coast. He showed you how to use the pocket knife for simple things and where to keep it handy. You got to hear him and his friends play music and everyone heard you perform as well. You were falling in love with your life here.

You and your cousin were the first in the café for the day. That seemed a little odd. Christian was usually in with some kind of sea life he’d caught on his way in.

“Maybe it was bigger than he could handle,” your cousin suggested.

You simply nodded and decided to get started on prepping for the morning shift.

Two hours went by. The other workers on shift came in, but still no Christian. You knew it was silly, but you were worried about him. In the few weeks you’d gotten to know him, you knew he was nothing but punctual. He was the first one in and last one out.

You looked out front of the café. His bike was there. You made your way to the pier and stared at the small home on the island he claimed as his. You wondered if maybe one of the other coworkers had a jet ski or small boat you could borrow.

You scanned down the pier towards the jetty. That’s when you noticed a small fishing boat with a net hanging over the side. A large something was thrashing around in the net. A dolphin?

You desperately looked for someone to alert, but there was no one to be seen.

Running down to the boat, you searched to find crewmen, but still no one. You looked over at the side with the net. 

It wasn’t a dolphin. If not for the scaly skin and fishy looking head, you might’ve thought it was human. 

The non-dolphin stopped moving and was staring right at you. Dark chocolate eyes held yours. You knew those eyes.

 Without thinking you jumped into the water. The creature watched you, its eyes never leaving yours. A webbed hand lifted and held the net.

You reached in your back pocket for the knife Christian gave you that first day. You opened it slowly, worried the creature might think you were going to hurt it, but it remained calm. 

With the net in one hand, you sawed at the rope with the knife. It wasn’t easy. The water made the knife slippery in your hand and the rope was thicker than you expected.

             You had cut through five pieces when you heard yelling. A man was cursing at you. He was the crewman of the boat. You hadn’t cut enough when he jumped into the water.

             “Piss off, dronger! That’s my mermaid, you slag!”

             The panic made it harder to cut since you were trying to move quickly. He was getting closer. You tried to hand the knife to the creature, but it slipped from your fingers.

             “No,” you cried.

             The man was almost to you, still cursing at you. You and the creature both tried ripping the net where you’d made a hole so far. You were able to stretch it a bit so the creature could squeeze out. Then the man flung his hand across your face.

             “How dare you take what’s mine! I’ll kill you!”

             There was no time to react. You were suddenly pulled under water. Water rushed past you as you were being dragged by something. The creature! It was good that you were out of danger from the man, but a new problem was arising. You never took a breath before going under the water. You very badly needed to breathe. You tried to veer up, but the creature’s hold was strong and it was moving too quickly. You tried to reach for it, touch it to give it some kind of signal. It was no use. With the pressure of water moving against it and you, it was hard to feel anything else.

             You tried not to panic, because then you’d need air sooner. Unfortunately, you were already quite panicked. If you didn’t breathe soon, you’d pass out, and then your body would naturally try to breathe in air. And if you did breathe, the burn of salt water would hit your lungs.

             Thinking about it, you involuntarily inhaled. Instant regret as the water went down your lungs. It stung worse than you imagined. You tried coughing, but that only caused more water to be sucked in. The pain felt like it lasted for hours, but at the same time, it seemed to dissipate. Blackness took over your vision and you passed out.

                  There was compression on your chest. It hurt. When it stopped, wind blew into your mouth. You wanted to react, but you were in a kind of paralysis. The pressure was back on your chest. You could make out a male voice. It sounded worried. Stressed. Air was going back into your mouth. And you remembered water. You remembered the burn of salt water going into your lungs, and now felt the same bite as it was moving out. You coughed and water flowed out of your mouth. Your body was being turned as you continued choking out the water, allowing it to come out more easily. The paralysis eased and you could move your hands to hold yourself off the ground. When it felt like there was nothing else to cough you gasped for air.

                  “Oh thank fucking Christ.” You recognized Christian’s voice. His hand was moving in big circles on your back as you regained a normal breathing pattern. You sat down and only glanced at the man beside you, acutely aware that he was completely naked next to you. “I’m so sorry. I was only thinking about getting out of there, not that you would need to breathe.”

                  You were confused. You couldn’t remember what happened. You looked into his eyes and tears started welling in yours. “Christian?”

                  He quickly wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his warm embrace. “It’s okay. You’re okay. We’re okay.”

                  You didn’t want to, but you couldn’t help yourself from sobbing. “What’s going on? I – I can’t – I don’t remember.” You continued crying.

                  He gave you a big squeeze of a hug and held you until you calmed. Once your sobs stopped, he pulled back and used his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

                  You couldn’t help but look into his eyes, eyes that felt so familiar to you but now so strange.

                  “I can explain.”

#31 days of halloween #christian yu #dpr #christian yu fics #christian yu scenarios #dpr fics #dpr scenarios #kpop fics #kpop scenarios #dpr ian #dpr ian fics #dpr ian scenarios

[bigupsdog]

Intro dialog for every Guilty Gear character day 3: Johnny

Sol: Your bounty is high enough to pay for my trip to the moon three times over.

Johnny: You ain't the first person to try to claim that bounty, you ain't gonna be the last.

Ky: You were also orphaned by the Crusades?

Johnny: That bloody war took many a good man's life.

May: When are you going to let me pilot the May Ship again?

Johnny: The last time I let ya drive her ya nearly crashed into Illyria Castle.

Axl: Out of curiosity what's the craziest thing you've ever stolen?

Johnny: Alright, now I wont say which, but one of the Kings of Illyria’s crown is a fake, if you know what i'm saying.

Chipp: Come on, you're wearing all black and you wield a katana, just take the full plunge and become a ninja.

Johnny: Sorry buddy, but if I became a ninja, I would just be too cool for the world to handle.

Potemkin: I'm here to retrieve stolen property from Zepp.

Johnny: What are you talking about? I haven't taken anythin from you guys… recently.

Faust: How’s… May’s… Condition???

Johnny: She’s doing a lot better thanks to you, Doc.

Milia: I work for the government now, so I have to take you in.

Johnny: I’m sure ya asked for this job personally, to see good old Johnny.

Zato: This is nothing personal, I'm just doing my job.

Johnny: And when I cut ya down, it also won't be anythin personal.

Ram: I'm confused, I thought pirates were supposed to be in the ocean, not the sky.

Johnny: Ya don't have to have such strict definitions for everythin sometimes a spade is just a spade.

Leo: A lawbreaker stands before me, and I will be the mighty judge, jury and executioner.

Johnny: I’m startin to think this ain’t no jury of my peers.

Nago: Your swordsmanship, it reminds me of samurai from ages past.

Johnny: You lookin to relive some of your glory days? Because I'm more than willin to help.

Gio: Look I have my orders to take you in, but I still owe you one, so even if I win I'll just say you gave me the slip.

Johnny: Ah that's sweet, looks like it ain't a dog eat dog world after all.

Anji: Steal from the rich, give to the poor, you’re a real Ishikawa Goemon.

Johnny: First time I heard that one, normally I get Robin Hood.

I-No: Don't even try it lover boy, I'm way out of your league.

Johnny: Damn, and I had a great witch related pick up line and everything.

Goldlewis: Outlaws like you give us cowboys a bad name.

Johnny: Nah, lawmen like you ruin the real spirit of the cowboy.

Jack-O: Is that a cowboy costume? Shouldn't you have a gun not a sword?

Johnny: It ain't no costume, I'm the bona-fide real thing.

HC: Ah the showdown, the best part of any western movie.

Johnny: In a quick draw it all comes down to who's faster, unfortunately for you.

Baiken: Put that sword down, you ain't no damn samurai.

Johnny: Cowboy, pirate, samurai, what can I say I have a lot of feathers in my cap.

Testament: I hear you've adopted many an orphaned child from the Crusades.

Johnny: I'd like to think your old man Kliff woulda been proud of me.

Bridget: Your bounty is HOW MUCH!!!

Johnny: Run along now lass, bounty hutin ain't nothin you want to involve yourself with.

Sin: Hey man, your ship looked so cool while I was riding next to it on a dragon!

Johnny: You did what now?

Delilah: Your ship was nice… um, thanks for letting me ride in it.

Johnny: Ah much alleged, good old Johnny's always willin to lend a helpin hand.

Asuka R#: I am not the real “That Man” I am simply a clone.

Johnny: So the coward made a fake to hide from his past, I see how it is.

Asuka R Kreutz: I am deeply sorry for all the pain my past actions have caused.

Johnny: Ah ain't that sweet, ya apologized, to one person who you helped make an orphan, what about all the rest?

Elphelt: Is that a noble outlaw, coming to steal this fair maiden's heart?

Johnny: Normally I'm the one who uses the cheesy pick up line, feels weird, the shoe being on the other foot.

ABA: Your ship is a whale, yet you didn't paint it blue, what is wrong with you?

Johnny: I didn't paint the May Ship, she was just born that way.

#guilty gear #intro dialog #johnny guilty gear

[idv-sunsxin3]

hello sunshine <3

can i please get jade and floyd's reactions(not separately) with f!reader who can turn into a ghost and she can turn others into ghosts too?

sending love ♡

// Hi Polly. Here’s a flower for the delay. 🌸✨

Jade and Floyd with Reader who can turn into a ghost.

Headers’ art via Twisted Wonderland Official Game {edit by me}

{Headcanons/Scenarios}

Female! Y/N

___

I keep having weird thoughts about this topic thanks to some voice line I heard before like-

I also just saw a funny edit pic of Floyd in a ghost busters outfit which doesn’t help at all help-

I see the Leech twins using your ghost perk to make some kind of haunted room reservation business or something- yay, time to get rich—/ih/jk

If you offer them to turn them into ghosts, Jade would merely politely decline. Probably foreign to your abilities as he prefers to study them through observing rather than experiencing it- UvU

On the other hand, Floyd would either go “lol sure” or “can ghosts eat tokoyaki-?” kind of chaotic response before gladly accepting-

Which leads to Jade mentally contemplating if he should stop Floyd from becoming a ghost or be a ghost too if Floyd wants to be a ghost- (kinda like the ‘if Floyd falls then I’ll fall too’ twin situation hhhh-)

If the ghost transformation only lasts temporarily before going back to normal, then Jade won’t have to worry much about it if that’s the case,,,, 🤭😅

Floyd likes to fool around with you the most out of the twins, he would have you hold his hand so he can temporarily get invisible as well. Then jump scared some random student in front of them once he stops going invisible… ówò;;;

I feel like Floyd would start calling you “Ghost Fishy” instead of “shrimpy” affectionately,,,-

Floyd// Ghost Fishy! Did you know that a ghost fish is something that's been seen before, but never has one been witnessed alive?

Jade// They live so deep in the ocean that they get no sunlight. This fact probably accounts for their pale ghostly appearance.

Jade// It's a fish without scales, and its sunken in eyes completely lack pigment…

You may run as you like, but they won’t stop tracking you down as if they’re ghostbusters whenever they want to stick with you- they just love to,,, You just look so interesting to look at whenever you’re in your visible ghost form- x’3

It’s mostly Floyd reacting a lot as he waves his hand around through your transparent ghost form, in awe by how you can also be touchable yet untouchable-

Probably Jade// Floyd, be polite with the lady- she might jump scared you afterwards- UvU;;;

It’s sometimes pretty hard to surprise Jade when going through walls out of nowhere, he’s surprisingly calm around you despite how very curious he tends to be about you.

He might also tease you if you try to peek in when he’s trying to dress up- like what you see~/ih ;)

Of course, he’ll still act polite around you like the gentleman he is- he doesn’t want his dear ghost fish to run away just yet out of embarrassment~ 😉

Floyd probably can be curious at times or just being goofy by asking you random questions he comes up in mind as well-

Floyd// I wonder if we become ghost, we can become ghost eels, would that be possible~? Wait no- How would we look like if we become ghost eels ~???

Jade// … That’s something you can figure out, as our dear Ghost is right here with us to help, Floyd~

#twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst jade #jade leech x reader #twisted wonderland jade #floyd leech x y/n #floyd leech x reader #floyd leech #leech twins #tweels #twst floyd #twisted wonderland floyd #twst x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x reader

[redgoldsparks]

July Reading and Reviews by Maia Kobabe

I post my reviews throughout the month on Storygraph and Goodreads, and do roundups here and on patreon. Reviews below the cut.

How Far The Light Reaches: A Life in Ten Sea Creatures by Sabrina Imbler

This collection of 10 essays weaves together memories and experiences of the author's real life with the rich and varied lives of sea creatures, from octopi, Chinese sturgeon, whales, sand strikers and immortal jellyfish to yeti crabs and more. My favorite part was learning about some deep sea creatures I had never heard of before, the kinds of beings that live in oases around thermal vents on the ocean floor and survive by chemo-synthesis. I loved a story about encountering a bloom of clear, gelatinous creatures known as salps flooding the water of Riis Beach, a historically queer hangout spot in New York. This book wrestles with heavy content- one essay deals with eating disorders and parental pressure to diet, another with sexual assault and blackout drinking. It's hard for me to judge the quality of these essays when my life has not been touched by these topics, but I appreciated the author's honesty and the thoughtful maritime metaphors.

Comfort Me With Apples by Catherynne M Valente read by Karis Campbell

I listened to this 2 hour novella all in one afternoon. It's another spooky little fairy tale from a master of the genre, but if I tell you which one it's a remix of that would spoil the surprise. This wasn't deep or as original as some of Valente's work, but her writing is so vivid with flavors, sensations, smells, colors, I was thoroughly engaged the whole time.

Cry Wolf by Charlie Adhara read by Erik Bloomquist 

Human Cooper Dayton and his werewolf boyfriend Oliver Park are engaged and beginning to plan their wedding, which is stressing Cooper out- not least because his family, who he didn't talk to much for a couple years, are being very supportive and it's weirding him out. Also, the chaotic scientist who threatened to expose the werewolf community and then turned herself in to werewolf government asking for a deal is making vague threats about enemies Cooper doesn't even know about. Then a body is discovered at the DC zoo, a werewolf killed and frozen in a half transformed state- nothing that the werewolves have ever seen before. I am still very entertained by this series as a whole and glad I listened to all of them, but I did want a little more than this book delivered on mysterious enemy front. There was a conspiracy, but it wasn't as far reaching as I was lead to believe by the cliffhanger ending of book 4. However, if you are reading these books more for the spicy scenes and romantic plot line, you won't be disappointed.

Shadow Scale by Rachel Hartman 

What an ambitious and satisfying follow up to Seraphina! This book is much longer than the first one, and adds a ton of new elements and so many twists and turns. It opens with Seraphina, court musician of Goredd, setting out on a journey to find and recruit her fellow half-dragons to the war effort. The dragon society is being torn part by civil war, and some of the dragons will be coming to south to attack human settlements soon. Seraphina finds many new friends, but also encounters her oldest enemy- a half dragon who invaded her mind and attempted to control her as a girl. I really loved the way this book expanded the world and the various societies who live in it. It did a wonderful job of maintaining the pace and rising stakes over more than 600 pages; it also has a hinted at queer/poly relationship in the ending that really delighted me. I will definitely be reading more!

Eniale & Dewiela vol 1 by Kamome Shirahama

This series was pitched to me as "Good Omens with lesbians" but sadly I wouldn't say it lives up to that claim. It's by the same author as "Witch Hat Atelier" and it is just a beautifully drawn, but it's missing an emotional core to really hold the plot together. Each chapter is essentially a standalone story about a demon and angel who have been in petty conflict for millennia; the theft of a tube of lipstick or pair of earring will set of a battle that destroys half a city. One fun element is that the leads can both magically change their outfits, as well as grow and shrink their wings, at will; the looks are all so fun.

Eniale & Dewiela vol 2 by Kamome Shirahama

This comic is more visually beautiful than it is actually interesting to read. Eniale and Dewiela fight with each other over the soul of a child with a sick mother, then over a priest who feel in love with a criminal. One chapter is set in Japan and shows a conflict in which Japanese gods and spirits prove more powerful than Christian ones. I don't really have any emotional investment in any character or any story line but I'll probably read the last book in the series anyway.

The Wicked Bargain by Gabe Cole Novoa read by Vico Ortiz 

Mar is transmasc nonbinary, a pirate, and a magic user who can control fire and ice. On their 16th birthday, disaster strikes the ship they live and work on with their father and a crew as close as family-a storm takes the crew, and El Diablo comes for Mar's father's soul. Somehow, Mar is spared and wakes up on a different ship, also crewed by pirates who steal from the Spanish and give food, weapons, and other supplies to those in the Caribbean islands fighting Spanish control. Mar strikes up a somewhat reluctant friendship with a boy their age on the ship, and refuses to the negotiate with a demonio who says they can help Mar free their father's soul. This story has a lot of fun elements, and the audiobook is expertly read by Vico Ortiz. But I didn't love this book as much as I wanted to. I found the first half quite slow, and overall felt like not quite enough happened to justify the length. I loved the nonbinary rep and the Spanish phrases in the dialogue, but wanted faster pacing and quicker reveals, especially of the demonio's motivations.

The Joy Luck Club (abridged) written and read by Amy Tan

I listened to the abridged version of the audiobook, which is read by the author, and only runs for 2.5 hours (the full book is 9 hours). This turns the full length novel into a much more concise novella of interlocking short stories, each one quite poetic and moving. I love reading books set in and around San Francisco, as are the scenes from this book which aren't set in China. The stories focus on four women, friends and mahjong partners, who met after immigrating to the Bay Area, and their daughters. The daughters are mostly in their mid-30s, at various stages of their careers and marriages, and at varying levels of close with their families and Chinese heritage. The mothers recount stories from their childhoods and their flight from war in the 1940s. I know I watched part of the movie adaption once, and maybe also read part of the full length novel in high school, because a few scenes felt so familiar while others sounded unfamiliar and new. I would like to pick up the full novel at some point, but I also really enjoyed hearing the dialogue in the author's own voice.

#reading #books #book reviews #comics #audiobooks

[theladyofbloodshed]

Chapter 14 It's got a bit of everything: trauma-bonding, reverse cowgirl, face-sitting, soft sleepy azriel

Would Azriel’s breath ever not catch in his lungs when he looked at Nesta? She was a jewel unlike any Azriel had ever encountered before. The steady confidence, the classic beauty. A queen from a tale, shrewd and devastating in equal measure. There wasn’t a part of her he hadn’t fallen in love with.

They had found a quiet restaurant perched on a hill in the Summer Court by the coast. They arrived just in time to watch the sun begin its descent towards the sea. The sky was awash with pinks and gold and waning light gleamed off the calm surface of the sea. Nesta gazed out on it in wistful longing. He’d heard her breath hitch again when they’d arrived, overwhelmed by the power of the ocean.

She looked at home in the Summer Court, Azriel had to admit, with her cascading blonde hair and soft, blue dress. Nesta could have been the personification of the sea herself. So much power lay within her, untouched and untapped, but Azriel wouldn’t push her to use it.

‘A little bit warmer than the north Illyrian coast,’ she mused, pouring them both a glass of water from the jug.

Despite the encroaching sunset, the temperature hadn’t dipped. The evening was warm enough that Nesta’s body didn’t ripple with goosebumps. Her wolf-grey eyes were roaming over his face. He could always feel them cataloguing every inch of him, committing him to memory.

‘See something you like?’

Nesta blinked down at her lap, almost with shyness. ‘You’re so handsome. When I was a little girl, in my stories of brave knights rescuing princesses, I always imagined him with black hair and hazel eyes. Quiet and stoic. A good person. I was always dreaming of you.’

Azriel squeezed her hand then brought it to his lips. ‘I didn’t know how much I needed you until you were mine.’

They dined on seafood – which Nesta needed promises from him to eat. It wasn’t a staple of Illyrian culture. That was seeped with lamb and goat, rich with spices. But from his mother’s village where they relied on fish for survival in the hard winters, Azriel had grown fond of it. Nesta could manage salmon or haddock easily, but presented with prawns where she had to crack the shells, she said that she was reconsidering her love of the sea. Azriel bit back his smile when she scrunched her eyes closed and swallowed an oyster like a shot of alcohol.

Another plate was brought to the table and Nesta’s eyes went wide.

‘Do you want to try crab?’

She stared in complete horror in a mute silence as Azriel took his knife to the shell then began prising out the meat. Nesta shook her head at all of his offers, and only once the table was cleared, did she say, ‘The pudding isn’t from the sea, is it?’

Nesta was relieved to see none of the desserts had eyes or claws or legs. She settled for fruit and sorbet, light and refreshing for the hot night. No shells to crack either.

It still struck Azriel how easy it was to be in Nesta’s company. Neither of them needed to fill up a silence with idle chatter. She ate her pudding and gazed out towards the horizon, a hand in his, with nothing but the noises of the restaurant surrounding them. It was nice to do this – to be a couple who didn’t need to skulk in the shadows. The Summer Court allowed free access through its borders to those who wished to visit; it was a rarity in Prythian to not need to announce one’s presence or seek invitation to a court. Azriel thought it foolish, but then again this was a court that had no secrets to hide. Tarquin ruled as an open book, treating high fae and lesser the same, offering opportunities in equal measure. And if it meant that Azriel could whisk Nesta away to the sea at the drop of a hat then perhaps it wasn’t foolish at all.  

Nesta had given him so much – and Azriel still wanted more.

On their stroll down the hill to walk off dinner and to take a moon lit walk along the sea front, Azriel took a moment to just be present and enjoy the moment. Nesta led him by the hand towards the sea. In the moonlight, she scoured the sand for shells. Every now and then, she paused to examine one. If it was a good one, she asked him to keep it in his pocket. Azriel had no idea what her criteria was, but Nesta seemed to be able to tell which shells were the good ones. He’d gladly fill his pockets with them for her.

Once Nesta had collected enough, they walked together, with his wing coming around her back. He bolstered his courage. It wouldn’t be an easy conversation, he knew, but Azriel had given Nesta every part of himself and she had seen it all. Seen it all and not reviled him. He wanted to see all of her too. Wanted her to know that she could show herself to him. That he loved her no matter what.

‘Nesta, can you tell me about your mother?’

Her body tensed in an instant as if frozen in a memory.

‘Why do you want to know about her?’ The defensive tone told Azriel enough, that there was nothing good to say – and yet it was a stone he could not leave unturned. They deserved to heal from their pasts together.

‘Because I want to know everything about you.’

‘She’s a worse version of me.’

Azriel would not let her tug her body from his. Wouldn’t let her try and march away to avoid the topic. She tried to pull out of his embrace, but he held her still.

‘Everybody pales in comparison to you. There is no other like you.’ Nesta’s face was stormy as he held it in his ruined hands. He shouldn’t be allowed to touch someone as lovely as her. ‘I shared my past. I’m asking for the same courtesy.’

‘You’ll feel differently about me,’ she whispered, voice giving way to her insecurities. And they had been guilty of judging her too soon, too unfairly.

They found a place to sit on flat rocks where the sea rolled close by. Azriel had offered to take her home to talk in private, but he had the sense that she preferred this conversation in the dim light of the moon with the waves rushing by – the sound giving her something else to focus on.

‘I don’t know what to say about her.’

‘What was she like?’

‘Not like yours,’ she said bitterly. ‘I don’t know. If you spoke to her peers, they would say she exemplified what it meant to be a high-ranking lady of society. Beautiful, beguiling. If you spoke to the servants, they would not have a kind word to say of her.’

‘You had servants?’

‘Lots. When my father was a merchant, we were very rich. My mother treated them how lesser fae are treated. Not worth her time. Barely human. She could be horrid to them. Dismissing them in the middle of winter when they had families to feed. If they begged to stay, they were too desperate. If they didn’t then they weren’t worth her coins.’

Azriel took a section of Nesta’s hair and sectioned it off into three parts. ‘And as a mother, what was she like?’

‘Cruel. Spiteful. Jealous. Calculating.’

It was easier for Nesta to speak if she did not have to look at him. Even if Azriel wanted her to, he had to give Nesta her allowances. He’d rather her words than silence. She spoke of a mother and father who had primed her to be the darling of society. Every hour of her childhood was spent studying books or learning instruments or how to dance. Nesta had not been a daughter to either of them but an investment to bolster their position in society. She would be the daughter to broker an alliance with a duke or a prince. Nesta had been taught to see a ballroom like a battleground, to think three steps ahead in a conversation to work it to her family’s advantage, to carve down any other girls who threatened her position. Elain was discounted; too soft and gentle to go through her mother’s flames, but doted on by the father for being that way. Elain would wed for love and Nesta would conquer. Feyre had been the forgotten child, unwanted and unloved by either parent.

‘She resents me because I spent so much time with our mother, but they were not hours she would want. I used to wish she’d dismiss me so I could escape her scrutiny. Then I’d crave her affection again once I’d been sent away. Pathetic. All I ever wanted was for her to tuck me into bed. Not chests of jewels and dresses to show me off to her friends, just a mother who loved me.’

And Nesta continued and spoke of a grandmother who beat her for missteps in her dancing while Azriel continued plaiting strands of her hair to keep his own hands busy. She spoke of a mother who would stand and watch with a grim expression or a sneer each time her daughter lost her footing or cried, rather than comforting her or protecting her. A mother who seemed to delight in Nesta’s misfortune as much as she hated her failure as if she both wanted and loathed a daughter who might rise higher in society than her. There was a mountain of pressure on Nesta’s shoulders to be perfect.

Then she spoke of her mother’s death with a voice devoid of any emotion at all as if it wasn’t her story she was telling. Nesta had locked those emotions away long ago and had lost the key. It was a complicated relationship. On one side of the coin, there was resentment and the other, that desperation to be loved by her still existed. After her mother’s death, Nesta grew to despise her father. She had lashed out at him for not doing more for his daughters – in fortune and loss. Nesta had lost her one avenue in life. Without a dowry, she had believed she was nothing. All of those years training her to be a perfect wife had gone to ruin. Their father had been too proud to seek work for another. Despite a ruined leg and worse reputation in society, Nesta believed he was too cowardly to seek work managing accounts or using the mind that had once earnt him his fortune.

‘He’s dead and I am still so angry with him. Angry that he won’t ever pay for his negligence. His death absolved him of any wrong doing. Then I hate myself for thinking such a thing about him.’ She brushed a hand across her face. Azriel was torn between stopping her from talking to ease the pain, or to letting Nesta go on so it could all be out in the open for the first time. ‘He brought armies to the war. Shouldn’t I be thankful? Armies that Tamlin’s money paid for. He only moved off of his backside once Tamlin exchanged Feyre for hordes of wealth and he could make himself richer. When the high lord sent her home, do you know what my father did? Him and Elain threw a ball to see which wealthy suitor might marry Feyre. I spent the whole night guarding her from males. Then when she returned to Prythian, my father didn’t even say goodbye to her. He’d locked himself in his office weighing rubies and diamonds. It’s not fair, Azriel. He has as much blame on his shoulders for Feyre hunting but nobody would ever say such a thing to his precious memory.’

Azriel could bear it no longer. He couldn’t hear Nesta’s voice cracking like glass and not reach for her. The pain of a ruined life bracketed her body, hunching her shoulders, curving her spine. His arms enveloped her. Azriel pressed his chest to her back and kept his arms around her front as she cried. His wings cocooned them.

Only the parts of Nesta that jutted above the surface had even been visible. The depths of her were finally in the open. Now, Azriel understood exactly why she was so guarded and fierce, why her anger smouldered in her veins. Because everybody who should have loved her had made it conditional, had forced her to earn their love. Feyre might have hunted for their family to keep them alive, but their father and Elain were never blamed for it, only Nesta. Nesta who endured a grandmother beating her, a mother withholding her meals if she made a mistake in her learning, who would have married whatever mortal male her parents told her to for the benefit of her family. In another life, it would be Nesta who the family relied on for survival. Would she hold it above their heads too? Remind them of it at any occasion? Azriel was furious on her behalf.

‘I know that wasn’t easy for you. Thank you for talking to me. I want your past as much as your future, Nesta.’

He’d made a mess of her hair with haphazard braids scattered through it, but as Nesta turned her face to his, Azriel knew he was looking at his wife. One day. He was sure of it. There was no other for him.

Nesta leaned forwards to kiss him. ‘My shadow singer.’

As if summoned by her, shadows blanketed both of their laps, curling around them in a thick, black swarm. Azriel hadn’t realised that his shadows were a non-negotiable part of him until Nesta had accepted them fully, let them curl around her own body or brush against her cheeks. They had never gone near other females before. They’d watched occasionally or a daring one might dart forwards, but never had they been so happy to engulf another like they did to him. The shadows had been with him since he was a child, but they seemed to love Nesta’s company now too.

‘I have always wanted to a mother,’ she confessed, eyes flicking back to the black sea. ‘I tell myself that she taught me everything not to be but then I’m afraid I will still become her. Or worse. Will I laugh when my daughter cries over a failed test because I excelled in it? Will I take away food from her and pinch her stomach?’

The same fears were reflected in Azriel’s heart. His mother had loved him – still loved him as if he were a small boy – and that was likely the only thing that kept him reaching for the light. There was always that doubt that he could be his father’s son, that maybe his temper would get the better of him and he’d strike his son or lock him into a room as punishment. It was a fear that broke him into a cold sweat.

He was repulsed by a future that might never come to be.

Azriel pressed Nesta’s hands over his heart. ‘Your heart is filled with love that is desperate to be given. You are a good person.’ He swallowed and hesitated on his words. ‘We are good people.’

***  

It was so easy to be with Azriel. The understanding that had grown between them was better than anything Nesta could have imagined. They remained in the Summer Court then when she had been ready to ask him to take them home, he did unannounced, as if he’d known those words were about to spill from her lips.

Compared to the warmth of Summer, her apartment made her shiver. Azriel would not have that. He covered her with her body, rubbing her bare arms before reaching for the blanket draped over the back of the couch. In silence, he wrapped it around her body. Nesta liked these silences where his face would grow pensive and serious. He’d purse his lips as the task consumed him. Shadows would skitter across his shoulders, curious to know what had rendered him so determined.

He had settled her into the chair while he set the kettle to boil over the fire that he was lighting. Sometimes, Azriel still reared back from the flames if they spat too harshly or diverted towards him. He touched it only the necessary amount to wake it, never to play with it like Feyre was fond of doing.

Once heat had been pumped into the room and Nesta had her bedtime cup of tea in hand, Azriel had her in his lap. His fingers worked through her hair to unravel all of the plaits he’d made by the sea. Nesta must really love him to let him fondle her hair. Even Elain wasn’t permitted access to it.

‘What was the criteria for a good shell?’

‘I could tell which shells wanted to come here and live with us.’

‘Oh, could you?’ He kissed below her ear. ‘Worth filling my pockets with sand then.’

‘Absolutely. Could you think of a better way to spend your evening?’

The sensation of his lips against the back of her neck was unparalleled. It had Nesta tipping her head back like a cat.

‘I have an idea.’ The low timbre of his voice sent shivers running down her spine. Nesta knew that tone. She’d always liked what followed. ‘Tonight, you can do whatever you want to me. I’m yours to command.’

It was a chance to explore – and more than that, it was a chance to tease. They were both excelling at that.

Shadows restrained Azriel onto the bed in a sitting position. If he was made uneasy by the arrangement, he didn’t show it. More than anything, he seemed intrigued about what Nesta might devise for them.

Nesta had selected black lingerie although he’d want to tear it off her soon enough.

‘What’s your first command?’

‘You get to watch,’ Nesta said brightly. She sat opposite him, tangling her legs with his as she spread them open.

Lazily, she circled over the lace fabric, already feeling her arousal seeping through. Azriel’s eyes tracked the movements.

Nesta pulled aside her underwear to display her sex to him. His cock jutted upwards, hard as a rock. Within the shadow manacles, his wrists strained. They were caught between pulling itself free or obeying her. She gave him a little, satisfied smile.

It was a performance more than anything. Each unhurried stroke wouldn’t bring her anywhere near climax – a fact Azriel well knew. He could make her come better. Harder. It was more fun to see him strain like an animal, fighting against his instincts to dominate and take charge.

‘Put your finger inside. Please.’

Nesta made a show of ignorance. ‘Like this?’

She pressed her finger in as deep as the second knuckle.

‘Should I move faster?’

‘Yes,’ he bit out, voice guttural.

Nesta spread herself with one hand and pulsed her finger in and out, observing Azriel throughout.

‘Two fingers.’

Nesta withdrew it. ‘That sounded like an order. It’s not your turn tonight.’

She let go of the underwear, let it cover her then closed her legs. Shadows bubbled up around him. Azriel was practically glowering, his desperation simmering beneath the surface.

‘Be quiet and watch.’

To torture him a little more, Nesta followed the same motions, moving teasingly slow as if it was the first time that she’d ever touched herself even if her heart was hammering at the control she was exhibiting – and at Azriel’s restraint.

Azriel let out a quiet noise of desperation when Nesta entered herself with two fingers. Pre-cum beaded on the head of his cock in response. What would win out – his stubbornness or his desire?

‘These are in the way,’ she murmured, crawling across his lap to get to the floor. Nesta removed her underwear as slowly as she could, ensuring Azriel’s view was impeccable. She bent over in front of him and allowed herself a moment of pride when she heard his groan.

‘What?’ She cooed. ‘What’s wrong?’

Nesta traced his soft lips with her finger. And she was surprised when Azriel’s tongue came around it, sucking the taste of her away.

Nesta caressed his face. ‘Should I let you go so that you can touch me? Would you like that?’

‘Yes,’ he begged, eyes pleading.

‘But I’m not ready to give up my power just yet,’ she said with a teasing pout. ‘You’ll just have to wait a little longer.’

She traced a finger along one of the thicker tendons running through the middle of his splayed wing. It caused his whole body to tremble. Azriel tipped his mouth to hers, lips parting.

‘No,’ Nesta chided. ‘No kissing there.’

It gave Nesta satisfaction to deny him of what he wanted, to see him tip his head towards the ceiling with eyes screwed shut. If he wanted to, Azriel could tell those shadows to release him. Nesta merely wanted to see how long he could last, how long could he give up control for.   

When she stood on the bed, legs either side of his body, his gaze snagged on the lace of her stockings half-way up her thighs. It had been his money that had paid for them. His choice in the store. And he wasn’t allowed to enjoy them the way he wanted.

Nerves butterflied in her stomach at this new position as Nesta lowered herself towards Azriel’s mouth, but she needn’t have worried. His tongue licked up her seam then circled her clit. He moaned as if it was the first food for a starving male.  

Despite the restraints holding him firmly to the bed, Azriel manoeuvred his face, brushing his nose and lips with abandon to generate friction. The flat of his tongue glided over her sex, pressing inside to taste her.

The shadow singer had fallen into a frenzy. Nesta’s legs quivered as she settled herself on his shoulders. Heat pooled in her core. Fingers threaded into Azriel’s thick hair as her climax built.

Briefly, Azriel prised his face away to throw her a conquering grin. His lips glistened with her arousal, plump from their pilgrimage, then he dived back in with renewed fervour until Nesta was quivering around his face.

As Nesta came, shadows drifted up to her back to support her. More snaked over her breasts as her chest rose with her gasping breaths.

On shaking legs, Nesta stood for moment, only to turn her body then sink down onto his cock. She was still breathing heavily from her orgasm, savouring the stretch that he elicited. Blood scorched in her cheeks, more from her daring than anything.

The searing heat of Azriel’s chest pressed into her back. His lips brushed against the back of her neck.

Shadows cooled her skin as Nesta rolled her hips in Azriel’s lap feeling every inch of him. She tilted forwards on the bed, offering Azriel a view she was still shy to display.

She had made him wait a long time. From the hiss of his breath through his teeth, it wouldn’t be long until he came too – much to Nesta’s delight.

He drove his hips upwards to meet her in a punishing rhythm so Nesta had to grip the bed sheets to keep her balance.

Shadows scattered away as he came, releasing his arms so that Azriel could heave Nesta against his body. The sharp press of his teeth met the flesh of her shoulder, and she heard the hard crack of his wings as the bone snapped together.

Nesta did not know how Azriel had been able to surrender his control until the last second, but it was worth it.

He was everything.

Hazy spring mornings were meant for quiet embraces beneath the covers, Nesta decided. Although work called to both of them, neither could find it in themselves to drag themselves out from the bed in a hurry.

‘The tavern we went to has another band playing tonight.’

‘Let’s go then.’

Azriel hadn’t even opened his eyes. Nesta doubted the words really registered. He seemed to catch up on the sleep he’d missed in his life in her presence. If she ever opened the curtains too early, his shadows would cover his eyes like a blindfold to keep him asleep or smother the window itself to not let any light in as if they wanted both of them to stay in bed as long as possible. They were mischievous things.

As she made breakfast for him, Nesta felt lighter than she had in a long time. She had not realised how heavy the baggage from her past was until she finally put it down. It was difficult to leave it behind when it had always been something she carried. It had been a drowning man that she’d tried to keep afloat even if it would have taken her down in the process.

Nesta was not her mother, just as Azriel was not his father. Their parents’ cruelty was not to be mirrored in their children. They would heal, they would learn, and they would grow.

And part of that growth included tackling her fears.

‘What do you say we pay a visit to my sisters today?’ Nesta asked as she settled a tray of breakfast on top of Azriel’s body.

He forced open an eye. ‘Did I hear you correctly?’

‘I can’t hide behind your skirts forever.’

‘My skirts?’

‘It’s a figure of speech,’ Nesta said, waving a hand. ‘You’re so tired today.’

Never did Nesta think she’d find a male half-asleep and yawning through every word so attractive. Then again, no male looked like Azriel in the mornings with shadows draped over his bare body like garlands and sticking-up black hair. All she had ever known him as was the mysterious, put-together shadow singer. Here, his eyelids were heavy, face still lined from sleep, but he was perfect.

‘A wicked female abused my generous offer last night.’

She pressed a slice of buttery toast into his hand. ‘I recall you saying to do what I wanted to you.’

‘And you did. And it was very unfair,’ he replied, wings twitching at the memory.

‘You can have your turn tonight. I’ll give you free reign over me then it’s fair. Eat your crusts.’

Obliging, Azriel pecked at the crusts that he liked to discard. ‘Are you sure about today, after what Elain said.’

‘Don’t make me doubt myself, Azriel. I’d rather stick pins in my eyes, but I will go. I’ll go and broach peace, but don’t think I won’t wage war if I must. I won’t be backed into a corner or convinced to accept a silly magic bond that means nothing to me. You are mine.’

In appreciation, a shadow drifted up and nuzzled against her cheek. ‘I can’t decide if I like you or the shadows more.’

More came to swamp her, slithering in from nothing, their touch cool against her skin. Azriel rolled his eyes at their blatant favouritism.

‘They’re not playing tonight,’ he groused. ‘I feel like a third wheel.’

#nesta vs the buffer #nesta archeron #azriel #nesta x azriel #nezriel

[candywife333]

Bucket- List of Teasers

Will close poll probably after 4-5 days

I guess the angst won out amongst all of you guys😂😂😂. Dumbo it is then 👍🏼👍🏼

DUMBO

chubby reader x rich, cold husband jungkook

"I lub you". Excuse me Sir, what did you just say? "I lub you so much, can I hug you?" I scrambled for an answer, "Sure I guess". He didn't even hesitate as he grabbed me, pressing my face to his chest, his lips and face buried into the groove of my neck.

This was not what I was expecting, when they say Karma is a bitch. Because, who would even think that my cold hearted, mamma boy, cheating ass ex-husband would come back to me with the mental intelligence of a 10 year old. Karma is a bitch, I agree. But not just to the sinner. She was punishing me also, for god knows what reason. I did not want to put up with this dumb fool, but it looks like I didn't have much of a choice in the matter

BED POTATO

chubby reader x hot roommate jungkook

I drawled to my bestie on my phone, "My bed is my savior. Is it so bad that the only religion I faithfully follow is cartoons on a Saturday"? I almost plugged my ears with the yodeling I heard on the other end of the phone, "You stupid BITCH, why are you still watching Cartoon Network right now???? Are you so fucking demented to still be watching 'Amazing World of Gumball' in a white shirt with pasta stains all over it".

I sniffled , eyes red, offended maximally , as I screamed out in a raspy voice, "Why did you have to come for me like that bitch? Let a bitch eat chocolate and die in a sugar coma on a Saturday morning, would you now? Thank you very much". I threw the phone on my bed just for effect. I might be ugly but at least my bed doesn't discriminate against me.

After yelling at her, I laid on the bed totally tired. My roommate, a total extroverted introvert was ready to go out this entire day. He was a super cute guy with a coconut head hair cut and doe shaped eyes. But he was an alcoholic and man whore so I did not have a great opinion about him. I was spread out like a starfish in just my black granny panties with no bra. I hadn't shaved in ages, but that is okay, because being a virgin at least had one advantage. I could stay a Wooly mammoth. Before I could process the squeaking noise of the door hinges, my roommate walked in holding two outfits.

I screeched like a pterodactyl "OMG, GET THE FUCK OUT! I HAVEN'T SHAVED IN 2 YEARS!! AND ALL MY SQUISHY BED POTATO BITS ARE ALL OUT!! ABORT MISSION!! I REPEAT, ABORT MISSION"!!

I expected him to leave instantaneously. But to my great surprise, a totally different outcome happened. I felt a dip in my bed as I felt him plop down right on top of me, caging me between his arms as he whispered darkly, "And who said I didn't like potatoes"? He nibbled on my ear lobe, squeezing my butt in one hand as his warm breath caressed the nape of my neck, "I eat my veggies everyday baby. Never skip a day".

WATER IS WET BITCH

chubby reader x siren jimin

"When I said I wanted a pet goldfish, i didn't mean one that was this big…or that talked back to me". He stared back at my face with a seductive curl of his mouth as his twinkling voice warbled out, "I am not a goldfish darling. I am more magnificent than that. Mere mortal such as you would never comprehend how much I have seen".

I scoffed, brushing the crumbs off my skirt, "You mean to tell me you are a grandpa essentially? I don't fuck older men, if you catch my drift. So no thank you good Sir. Keep those teeth to yourself, away from my pussy. I don't like how they are glinting in the sunlight like daggers". He drifted in one position, stunned at my remark. I asked him again before he could say anything else, "When you make out in the ocean, don't you swallow too much water? How do you handle that much wetness grandpa? Perhaps you could enlighten a mere mortal such as me".

He looked smug as he bit out, "You are that inexperienced you young mortal? Never been with a human male before?" I swiveled my head, shaking it, "No it's not that, I have fucked other guys. It's sort of a past time for me. Just never in the ocean". His eyes squinted , his aqua foamy hair tousled up in agitation as he menacingly reprimanded, "Oh, I see that you are a loose one. Getting wet when catching sight of any male".

I shrieked out, "You slut shaming me, old dude? You know what is worse than getting slut shamed by a human male? It is getting slut shamed by an old fish". His anger started showing in his face, as his sharp teeth glinted in the sunlight, eyes looking red and bloodthirsty. I continued, as though I was not even affected by him, "Answer this one question for me, and I will believe your immortal intellectual superiority. I've always wanted to be railed by a fish. I just can't tell if I'm getting wet right now cause of the ocean spray or because of you."

Jimin barked out mocking laughter, gesturing smoothly with a muscular tan arm outstretched towards me, tilting up one of his brows inquisitively , "Why don't you come closer and find out"?

CAN'T FAKE IT

bimbo chubby reader x asshole rockstar Jungkook

"Even if everyone leaves me, my glued on eyelashes never will. That is ultimate loyalty". I am sure this quote would go down in history as one of the most profound realizations a girl could ever have. I checked my make up quickly, venturing backstage into the concert arena, trailing away from the section where groupies are usually seated.

I saw a dude, with black leather jacket on, tattoos trailing around his neck and lip piercings smoking a cigarette. I smiled at him with a wide grin, cheerily giggling out "Just remember , a cigarette a day keeps the bitches away. I mean to say that you stink of nicotine and rotting flesh. Not that alluring, if you get what i mean Mister ."

He smirked , unworried , "And who let you into the restricted staff only section, you overfed hippo? I don't remember groupies being this ugly". He continued staring at me, clearly looking to get a rise out of me. My eyes flashed as I coolly replied, taking the cig from his mouth, dropping it onto the floor, grinding it under my heel, "When you are the owner of a concert hall, you will be concerned about a homeless looking dude smoking in a no-smoking zone backstage".

[itsnobuddy]

Shout-out to the Atlantic ocean for being such an icon. She heard us say Eat The Rich and she took it a step further 😍

Girly is taking us one step closer to a more stable economy, one iron lung full of billionaires at a time 🥰

#oceangate #lost submersible #billionaire #eat the fucking rich #eat the rich #shitpost #atlantic ocean #lgbtqia #poverty #economy #fuck the government #fuck the rich #trans #submarine #the jokes write themselves

[haveyoureadthishorrorbookpoll]

Have you read...

note: If you did not finish but feel you read enough to form an opinion, you may choose a ‘Yes’ option instead of 'Partly' (e.g., Yes, I didn’t like it). Similarly, if you’ve never heard of a book until now but formed an opinion from this post, you may wish to select a “no” option e.g., “No, but I want to.”

In a remote and dangerous corner of the ocean, the renowned gourmet and food journalist Louis De Gustibus is held captive by an elite chef-and vegan cannibal-named André. But André would never eat his dear friend Louis. Andre only eats millionaires! Over a five star French meal of fine wine, organic vegetables and human flesh, a lunatic delivers a witty, chilling, disturbingly sane argument in favor of eating the rich. It's a darkly hilarious dessert to Pollan's The Omnivore's Dilemma and Foer's Eating Animals-a tale of good and evil, of rich and poor, of manners, madness and meat.

submit a horror book!

#The Cannibal's Guide to Ethical Living #Mykle Hansen #horror books #horror #bookblr #books #horrorbookpoll #cannibalism #cannibal #comedy horror #horror comedy

[lamentingocean]

~Work by ocean~

°Moonlight executioner x reader•

warning: slight NSFW, murder, disastrous, a bit of ptsd, kidnapping, death, cussing, blood. (No shit)

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You were alone in the world and grew up in a worn down chinese village that enslaved their own people for profit and money, like selling a child for a good amount of yuan. You were one of them, being tied up in chains, living by a crumb of bread, and only a small food item can nourish your hunger plenty. but someone you got freed by the time you reached 8 years old. enough to be molested by men since they don't know how to act right. it exists in the world so often, and it even freaks you out just thinking about it. you once had been given bread, but it's been stolen by kids of the same situation you are in. only being selfish to eat for themselves and their sheep of a group. What I observed from bullying is that. They come in pacts. And their leader is the most cruel and controlling out of all of them. The sheep are the one that want to be cool and fend off other people to satisfy their needs. but a faction officer took them down so fast that you stared in awe at their concept of destruction within your eyes. he once looked at your reminiscent self. wearing clothes that are torn enough to make you half naked, he didn't find any need to kill you once he commanded his squad that a certain demon passed this village to head for the cliff somewhere in China.

your eyes closed in fatigue, but it was all a dream back to your memories from when you were a child experiencing something like that. you screamed right when you got back into reality. you formed shaky breathing, seeing your hand tremble at your memories that are supposed to camouflage as a dream. But it wasn't. your hands were full of scars, it goes to your soul as well, tears formed into your eyes and emotional impact stare to trodden the back of your throat. a disciple. wearing dark clothes. opened your doors to your figure, trembling like an injured, scared dog towards a abuser of animals. You were 20 at this time

"What are you doing? I heard you scream once our squad had been finished eating. It's 2am in the afternoon. I don't have time to give you a pity party over your truama. get up and get dressed."

"I-i-i-i..I c-cant...I d-dont know h-how to-.." He got one ounce of pity for your tears starting to mark the blanket. he gave you a cooked salmon sandwich in a wrapped bag and left with no word. you couldn't come back. it's like being trapped in dispair and darkness if it was a dimension. reality didn't want to be in touch with you right now since it doesn't know how to come in at the right time. you took the time to breathe in and out when your breath whooses in the air like sage. the trembling had stopped, and reality held your hand since it's supposed to be harsh.

you opened the bag to see some orange juice and a salmon sandwich that smelt good even when it was packaged a bit to protect it from bacteria. you unwrapped it slowly and took a small bite from it. It had sesame. It had rosemary, it had herbs and cut vegetables, and it smelt good with a hint of lemon and spice.

skip the meal for the day, and can easily heat it up tomorrow

you had a variety of black uniforms. since it's mandatory for the dark faction. wore one since they all look identical. it had sleeves, a hoodie, some large pants, good enough to fight in, and gloves. normally, the dark faction would spread out their name in training martial artists to be evil and disgusting across the land of china, but amongst masters are able to fight them off and take them in as insane subordinates with a purpose to serve under a clan or to under a rule. yes. China people enslaved their own kind, but it wasn't on purpose or without one. The common reasons are for money and workers at farms and provinces to grow vegetables and crops. For the rich. It's always the rich.

you went out the door, nobody was in the hall, which is odd, you looked back and forth but there was nothing. Until.

you heard your leader's voice to yell out troops and trainees for inspection, or it's to tell them daily missions and things they need to do in the daily as a faction sign up. Your first thought was, "Oh shit I'm late." You went frantic and looked for any nearby exit to go to your estimated group. that was his voice. But exits to headquarters are hard to get by. You managed to find one. and then saw a large variety of men and women, looking at you like you were the problem and that you were an embarrassment to the faction group. you got into your position with your anxiety through the sky. stares were from all over, it terrified you a bit. but when it came to the leader...

You had your tears suddenly appear again in fear.

"I would expect this from you since you are late to our group session almost every day, but I'm not tolerating this any longer. You either have to fix your nightmares or be permanently disbanded from this group until you're lucky enough to get approved into another position. Do you have that clear or not?!"

"I d-do..I'm trying to fix it the best that I can..but It's too hard..because of my small breakdowns in the morning..."

"Does it look like I care about your outbursts? let me give you a small challenge. It should be easy but to you. It's hard. You will have to wake up early in the morning like we do, eat, and remove your nightmares before 12 am. hits tonight. If you succeed. I will keep you in our group. But if you don't. You are out. understand me?" He said with a tone that held back much anger from trying to put you in a breakdown since he knows how fragile you are. you looked around, unable to speak since everyone snickered at your state of unstable emotions untamed.

"I d-dont know.. I will try my best to win this challenge, I'm really sorry that I caused a disruption like this..please forgive me for my actions. I will try my best master." he scoffed like your words are nothing to him, even though those words felt like a college essay to put out to the teachers.

"We have important matters to do other than to consult with useless bullshit, Welcome trainees. and today, we have an important issue to discuss. we have a master named "jaha lee" in just north of china. and he killed off the main leader of the heavenly generals, black rabbit clan leader and claim it as his own, doing a crime like that is usurpation, killed the elder dragon king, black sea wolves, the battle pavilion arena joint, the southern ming alliance, killed the two leaders of the cloudburst clan, this isn't a laughing matter. this master is extremely dangerous to handle. and he issued a mark onto us as the factions of china. so I asked for all of us to deploy a all out war with this "jaha lee" dont hold back on your true combat skill and kill him. simple as that. we dont need any more masters to die by his hands. We will end it. here and now. we deploy at a full moon tonight. that will give you enough time to train and prepare yourself for this monster of a master. Go.

Oh, and Y/N. I need to discuss this with you in my office. come with me." a jolt of fear came right into your veins, as you pointed at yourself in question.

"Yes, you." You followed him into his royal looking office, plastered with gold and kissed with silk and other rare items considered to be only for the richer class. he told you to take a seat, so you did so. "What has been going on with you? You have been like this ever since you have been put in my group's position. so tell me why?" You closed your eyes. A squelch of wet tears nearly came out of your eyeballs of mental exhaustion.

"I been reliving my past or experiencing nightmares from my childhood. and my childhood wasn't pleasant to hear about to most people. It's been haunting me ever since my last leader took me out of their group when I had the same problem. I don't know how to fix this or I just need to manifest good energy in order to make it stop but its giving me a trigger to sob and tremble about it right at the end of these nightmares..and it's so irritating..I wouldn't expect you to fix it for me. The only reason I joined the factions of china is to give myself a purpose. But these nightmares are ruining my purpose off everything. I don't know how to get help, and I'm stuck in a wall with no corner to escape right now. that's all I'm gonna share.." it's like his breath been taken away at your entire speech. you honestly had some hope that some leader. Any leader wouldn't make it out to be an excuse. But he's just like the same as everyone else qualified to be a master. snobby and no hardships to go through.

"You.. hehe.. you honestly believe I wouldn't believe you?"

"Huh?"

his face turned to a picture of his grandpa. being a warrior in ancient China by his armor on the battlefield. "We all have our own hardships to recover from. I always go off as too blunt or too harsh upon people with trauma or upon people with hardships that is a pain in the ass to deal with. For example. my dead grandpa was a fine warrior working in the light faction of ancient china.. but then he got killed..by the mad demon. but now that he's dead.. I won't be able to avenge him. Sure, my grandpa was a criminal of his own, but he had a mixed heart. that's it. I will make the challenge a bit easier for you to pass. since I don't want the other disciples to think I'm a soft hearted general. go on.. just train and wait for the mission to deploy." You felt calmer. He tricked you. I think? You didn't know if he did, but he didn't. you left the office. walking in the hall with the exact group that snickered at you. but after what he said after being shoved aside constantly by each and every leader and general around the faction headquarters. It felt like a breath of relief that you didn't care about the judges and the whispering of negative words to you. but that disappeared quickly.

a girl shoved you on purpose, all eyes in the hall. "Haha. How is a pick me like you able to get into a high-ranking group like us? You will ruin our reputation. stop being such a baby and get over those nightmares."

"O-ow.." A small bead of blood oozed out of your scrapped arm, a hard hit on your back sent more jolts. you were being stepped on by her. "This is funny. A loser like you could never be as powerful as us. You should just give us already and die on the spot. the faction doesn't have time for weaklings like you. tch..bitch." Nobody raises a hand to help you, leaving you in a shocked state, but what did you expect? her laughing was right up your ears. but a stench went right along with it.

her boot had dog poop on it, you whined in disgust and tried to wiggle off her boot on your back. It didn't work. "WHAT? You don't like the stench. I put the dog poop on my heel just for you? Don't you like my present?♡" You had a pocket knife in the side of your pants. It's forgotten, but it's mandatory to be on the ground under the sheep of this world. You don't deserve that. you sliced her leg as a deep cut and ran off to her blood curling scream of pain and evil anger. you went right upstairs to a random room so you wouldn't be located after what you just did. but that didn't work either. that girl knew all the places in this headquarters. So your chances of hiding are so low that it might as well be a video game score when you're very bad at it.

bangs were on the door, and it was that girl, screaming cuss words and anger at you like a physical aura. you sobbed right there, wishing it would stop. You don't want to hurt people, but when people try to make you get put into the ground and serve as a humanoid carpet, If you defend yourself then your the victim and your the problem to take down just for being human. but it stopped for over an hour. tears and snot were makeup on your face at this point. the same guy who gave you food this afternoon came in. sighing at your terrified expense.

he took you up, trying to ease your frantic reactions from being hit, but he didn't even say one insult like usual and stayed quiet while carrying you to his room. It was a secondary hour later. he gave you a napkin to wipe your tears away once you calmed down, "what...what happened to her..??"

"I gave her a laxative and knocked her out. Always does that to literally anybody in our group. There is such thing as human emotions...well. I found no need to scold you for crying in someone else's room. because that person would have a trivial reaction."

"....thank you." you continue to wipe your tears in a awkward situation such as this.

"Did you train at all? or did you just be in your room all day. I had to get my advisor to sign papers for me. so annoying how busy I am dispite of the factions being martial arts on the main note.

"Noo...I just had a little talk with master and now I'm unfortunately caught in this situation of when a girl probably hates me to death now.."

"Ah, right. Sorry about that..wh-"

+DEPLOYING FOR URGENT MISSION. THIS IS YOUR GENERAL REPORTING TO ALL GROUP MEMBERS. BE PREPARED TO DEPLOY AND FIGHT THE BEST YOU CAN. KILL THE TARGET AND END THIS ASAP+

they both stood up in the bed. He handed you a weapon, which is a pretty strong, durable sword to fight in, you were pretty good in martial arts dispite of being so fragile and weak to be in the battlefield and being in tough situations such as healing wounds and seeing death right in front of you, even with a blade. you were almost exceptional in combat. but just not mentally. everyone walked outside, with the moonlight glowing directly above the cliff. it was a scary experience but we don't know what to expect or happen while targeting only one man.

And that's jaha. you know nothing about him but he's very dangerous and it's the same for martial arts too, you either have to live or die if your a enemy of him or be a subordinate under the madness of his antics. half of the group swallowed their fear by the time they got the full information of this target that they had to kill on their own. It's a 50/50 win. towards highly trained martial artists all in one group to one man. that's scary to think about. whoever this man is must have some hidden power to him. either way don't give up hope and fight the best you can't.

it was midnight once they arrived at the black rabbit union, all of them were wearing their faction masks, but it's dangerously quiet in the grounds of the clan, your sweat turned to the suspicious silence. having so many thoughts in your mind, like over filled papers in a printer. "It took so long to get here and this is what we get?"

"s-shhhh..stay alert."

"Since when do I take orders from you, little miss truamatize?" The rest of the group shut both of them up when the moon started to glow red.

is that supposed to be a good thing or a bad thing? It's so quiet in black rabbit, almost like everyone, and even the subordinates have been decimated into thin air. The air is thicc, and it's getting heavy to breathe slowly. It's not the mask they're wearing, but it's some presence starting to take in effect of their lungs. "Something's up."

"Well no fucking shit. What do we do?" Some group members started to get a little frantic, and even some tried to abort the mission at the silence, starting to crush their sanity to death. "Don't fucking abort the mission what are you doing?" you squinted your eyes to the Golden jade palace.

it was a red glow coming from outside of it. You directed your attention to the group arguing about what is about to happen and why is it so silent enough to hear blood course through their veins, it freaked all of them out, so much for being powerful martial artists without handing good silence from a area. "What is it?"

you pointed your finger to the entrance, slightly trembling in gushing fear at that light starting to form into a eye, everyone was like "what the actual fuck. is this a horror story, or is this death coming for us?" A figure landed right in the middle of the grounds. The group stood in caution and instant attack if they were hostile or an enemy of a clan against the factions.

"WHO ARE YOU?"

"me?" He revealed his so-called "figure"

"Is this the jaha lee they were talking about? Why didn't they accompany us into defeating this guy? Tell me again. who. Are. You."

he pointed his sword right at them as if they were a target and he's not, but for some reason. Your face kept staring at him. He does have a face, but you wanted to see what he looked like. You want to get to know him. You do not want to battle him. It's like some like of electric connection between aura and vibe. "So I would assume I'm a target. huh..very expecting of you dark faction. sending your minions to kill me when you can't even do it yourself, casual rich men in that faction, drinking booze and sitting in their ass while their fighters got their blood spilled on the ground."

"I asked who you are. That isn't my question." Every one of the members slid out their weapons in slo mo, just in the right time for him to attack at any time, his aura was mysterious, but randomly intimidating to them. "Oh, you want to know who I am..well.. let me give an introduction before I try some with you all. Son of a bitch.

I am the moonlight executioner. the God of martial arts, Master of the black rabbit clan, master of the black sea wolves and the low down, Master jaha, and the one that will taken down the factions and the league no matter what. So I recommend you all. To get out of my clan before I mutilate your bodies and send them back to whatever hell rich den you guys came out of. got that fucking clear?"

...to you. what he said was so cool, while everyone else tensed up in anger and hungry for battle. some details are that his outfit was covered in old blood, and his mask was also spattered with it like he's just experimenting with a freshly dead person in a lab to test their blood. but enough talk. you have to be ready to be focused on your target and deal the killing blow.

instead of waiting on you to attack all at once, they lunged at him recklessly and pathetically. but once you closed your eyes expecting them to at least spread out to get into fighting formation. you didn't hear any of their voices in your ear. like they just vanished.

It was silence once again, like you entered a spacial paradox with no sound enough to drive someone insane, but then you felt pain, ripping you out of this mindful paradox. Your foot got slashed open, but it wasn't deep. That pain forced you to open your eyes. And then was everyone ok in good hands.

That's the complete opposite.

you saw their bodies brutally killed, and their blood was all over your body since this master had a way of slaughtering opponents so horrifying. all of them were dead. forcing into the gates of heaven or hell by only a man they just met, the guy eariler raised his hand with his fingers cut off. he attempted to shoot a dagger at this master. but it didn't even cut off a strang of hair. His face was stabbed in by his peculiar pattern of a sword. and his back was turned to their blood all over his body as his black hair just boosted it even more. he was terrifying, but he is also interesting before your brain decides to shut in fear and an income of unstablity shutting your martial arts prowess to slime. but then.

He did something else.

he put his mask in his hand. You were so eager to see his face, but he had your heart stop. his red pupil shined along with the reflection of the moonlight like water but it grew smaller.

He laughed maniacally and had so many shots of insanity within that laugh that it scared it into backing away. The smell of blood disgusted you right when it continuously oozed it from their bodies. Oh! How you thought what your masters would think of this horrible incident. you opened to whatever door that led out of this clan so you can save your own life.

No.

he slammed your head down to the stone ground so hard, his body was on top of your back. you tremble so timid to his hand grappling all the chunks of hair he can grab within your scalp. "pls...s-spare my life..ugg.." he didn't say a word. and his sword to your neck.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you, dark faction minion bastards. I don't care if you're a woman. whatever enemy i face, then I face. Don't care." his grip is so strong. You can't even move your body from the force. "I ahh..I didn't want to hurt or kill people...I only joined the dark f-faction to give myself a purpose in life. I don't mean to mess with you...I'm not one of them...so please.." he slowly raised his body down to your ear. He had a cold breath and felt the strands of his hair circled around your waist and arms. his abs pressing through your small back. "If I spare you..If you try to charge at me with a weapon or even a hold a weapon in general. I will kill you. Understand me?"

you nodded for that. his grip lessen a bit. he made you drink something that knocked you out so fast. Surprisingly, you didn't have those nightmares every night in every dream with him. it was jaha. and only jaha weirdly. to a guy you just met and made his first experience like a badass. your vision was blurry when you slowly woken for your slumber. Your wound was bandaged up, but you were set in chains. "Help.."

the same man last night came right in when your vision got blurry again. It was doing it on purpose for you not to see this man's face. His hair was so luscious when he unlocked the chains on your arms. your vision finally backed away, and then you looked up to see his face to investigate a written book about you.

"J...jaha lee.?" he looked down right upon you on his glaze, but It didn't terrify you. Not one bit. He was extremely attractive. I guess you can say he's hot. His red eyes, his perfect skin, and his long black hair in a ponytail had your face in complete awe. no words could distinguish how beautiful he is as a man. he squat down to your wound and took a shed of blood to his finger. "Hmmm shallow. not much. You will be fine. Your wound wasn't that bad. Now let me question you. who are you?"

"Im y/n....a member of the dark faction.. or I might quit because my purpose there is erased.."

"I see. I will issue out a warning broadcast that you're dead, and they will have no point in trying to get you back to their shit faction. I've been trying to face those bastards for almost a decade. I'm surprised they even have a system for a martial artist like me. I will keep you safe since you don't seem to post a threat to me. since you're so weak and timid." You chuckled at him like it's nothing. For some reason. You can't help but feel like this madman can give you true peace and harmony, happiness, and joy since it's been a lost emotion to you for such a long time. This is a first. you stood up, feeling cold since the prison you were trapped in had a cold space. even goosebumps just took in signature for your skin.

"Are you cold?"

"Mhm.. I don't really find you as a dangerous master like everyone says about you.. you got your plans decked out like a master.. you are so cool." he smiled and turned his body to you.

"Yeah.. I don't kill innocent people. I only kill masters who are chaos to everyone and use people to get what they need. the terrible ones in the shortest term."

"Hmm.. interesting.." something unexpected happened. He wrapped his arms around you. He didn't have any other options to do since their isn't a blanket or anything to warm you up in the cold space. he was warm. like a pillow with bricks around it, hard and soft. "Here.. I have a guest bedroom for you to sleep in. you don't need to be a servant to me but just relax. Because I can tell that you been through a lot by your aura. Follow me." it was a royal looking palace in the inside that was only the basement, a lobby, training grounds, a palace, and food. it was 2 in the afternoon. feeling the sun this time. Peacefully made you smile warmly at the beauty of this earth. "here."

It was a big bed, like muscle memory. You laid your head down in letting all the mental exhaustion go from your mind and release from your veins like soft pressure. it was so soft, in fact, that you fell asleep so fast in a short amount of time.

"I only just met you, but.."

he gave you a small kiss in the forehead, letting the webs of his hair spread out like legs, and then left the room.

(This is the longest x reader I ever made. But how do you like it? Is it good or not? I'm planning on doing Detective jaha and French jaha, right? (Totally not trying to fit into reality so I can be included in everything), but this took so long😭

#return of the crazy demon #jaha lee #return of the mad demon #webtoon #광마회귀