#now time for treasure pods

[sl33py-g4m3r]

anything I should do before looking for the H vaults?

found 3 treasure pods in the Glass Desert; the bad thing is when I was exploring the area without the tier 3 treasure cracker that I came across more than that~~

I don't want to use a guide and find them for myself but I wonder how obscure places they're in....

also idk what my luck is but while trying to get out I found 2 more gilded ginger without even actually looking~~~~

so now I have 4 gilded ginger in a silo~~~~

thought of one thing I can do~~~ go into the glass desert and just try to find gilded ginger intentionally~~~ I already have 4 why stop there?

Is the slimeulation differences vs reality in the SR world easy to tell? Am visually impaired and have my doubts about whether I can tell the difference between reality or the simulation or not....

viktor finally asked for something easy to get so now I have access to the slimeulation~~~~

all mini-games unlocked I think~~~~ now to beat them~~~ I'm furthest in mochi's

speaking of mochi, I wonder how hard the second course is~~~ I''m assuming that's where the other teleporter takes you. how difficult is it?

speaking of teleporters it kind of sucks that things placed in pairs, once linked, are automatically destroyed and need to be crafted again.

also I guess be careful of that with warp depots I think cause one placed can still work as a silo, but them linked, and you demolish it I think you lose all the items inside. so the wiki said...

thinking of I should really put a teleporter inside the glass desert instead of right on the outside~~~

and make a dedicated warp spot on my ranch somewhere~~ maybe the lab? cause I'll be using those warps for resource grinding with pumps and drills~~~ and echo nets in the ruins when I find it~~~

[cloudcountry]

since you guys liked my idea so much here it is: WAYS THE NRC BOYS WOULD MAKE YOU WORSE

reader's personality is based more off of in-game yuu than anything? this set of hcs is a bunch of hypotheticals basically. this can be read as platonic or romantic idk each guy is written as if they are the closest person to you, friends or otherwise.

IF YOU SEE A TYPO NO YOU DONT

mentally preparing myself for the "i wouldnt do that!!!!!" comments...and post.

Riddle increases your attentiveness to the rules tenfold. No matter how meek you are, he makes your voice strong—and oh boy does it carry. You’re yelling at people for running in the halls, chastising them for not doing their homework, and opening your mouth wider when you speak. For a school full of troublemakers like Night Raven, the entire student body is so disappointed there’s another Riddle.

Trey makes you more passive, less likely to speak up when you see something. He’s always stood back in the shadows, watching over everything without saying a word, and it’s seeped into your personality, too. You’re spineless now. This world is unfamiliar, why should you try to do anything? You’d only stand out. You don’t want to be outstanding. You want to be as normal as possible. So you stand back.

Cater gets you wrapped up in the hype of social media. It started out as a way to indulge his interests but now you’re on Magicam all day, scrolling and scrolling and scrolling. You send things to your friends and say “hey, we should do this” but never make any actual effort to connect with them outside of that. You fall easier into jealousy because you’re surrounded by glamor.

Deuce makes you reckless. He’s so willing to throw himself into things and it spurs you to do the same, no matter how many times your teachers or potential upperclassmen tell you not to. You can’t hear anything but Deuce and his yelling, his enthusiasm and terror for whichever situation you two find yourselves in, knowing that you’d follow him anywhere.

Ace makes you all the more prickly, your sharp jabs and irritating smugness a product of spending too much time with him. You two are two peas in a pod, but to an outsider you two just seem...irritating. You have a talent for getting under people’s skin and have definitely gotten better at lying.

Leona thinks its so cute how you try to defend him at every twist and turn. Like no, he is as dastardly as everyone is saying. Why are you trying to deny it? You’re suddenly seeing reason in the most massive ego-ed people this side of Sage Island and Leona honestly doesn’t know if he should be concerned for you or be amused because of you. (This one in particular was inspired by @loser-jpg LMAO)

Ruggie could have made you prioritize yourself more, but you think he took it a bit too far. See, now you’re snatching cafeteria items and worksheets right under people’s noses, giggling as they demand you give it back. Sometimes they don’t even notice you, but even if they did you’ve learned how to be lighter on your feet.

Jack and you are incredibly uncooperative people (unless you owe someone, of course.) He’s guided you away from asking for help, insisting that the people here will take advantage of you then turning around to say that he doesn’t care, he just doesn't want to get wrapped up in your mess. It’s like you can’t trust anyone but him and your Heartslabyul friends anymore.

Azul has given you one nasty sense of perception, allowing you to key into every little detail and find loopholes in the things people say in a second. He’s turned you into a deadly asset, one he treasures just as much as the student body fears. You read over his contracts and point out what you would do to get out of them, and he adjusts accordingly. What a fine team you two make!

Jade makes it clear that his morals are less than savory, and will often encourage you to partake in things you really shouldn't. You rationalize it as Jade helping you go after the things you want, to finally take and take and take from people when you’ve been so selfless all your life, because it's what you deserve isn’t it?

Floyd will often rope you into his schemes, and it's not wrong before you start doing the same. Once a model student, attending every class, you now skip class and watch with amusement as Floyd threatens another student, hiding your smile behind your hand. They may plead for your assistance, but who are you to stop Floyd? This poor soul clearly owed something.

Kalim instills you with a sense of jealousy and helplessness. He has money to solve all of his problems, his life must be so easy. You’ve lived through so many overblots and received no help from anyone, but Kalim has always been so kind and generous to you. It makes you resent him a little, and anyone else who tries to help, because they all have things that you don’t and that's just not fair.

Jamil twists and bends your mind so much that you can do the very same thing to others. You’ve caught onto his little game and he knows it, eyeing you with anticipation whenever you speak in the same honeyed tone he uses when he wants something. You’ve gotten scarily good at hiding it too, shooting him a smug grin because you know he knows, but nobody else does.

Vil brings out so much confidence in your abilities it’s borderline arrogance. You know you’re capable, so why doesn’t everyone just let you handle this? You can do it, they can’t. So they should just step aside. You’re not doing it to be mean, so why are they getting so annoyed at you? You’re just better.

Rook has some eccentricities, and you’re well aware of them. They put you off at first, but now you’re used to him. It just seems normal now. You’re not sure why everyone makes such a big deal out of his tendencies, that’s just how he is. He’ll stalk you, hunt you down, but he’s having fun! Don’t spoil it for him!

Epel is actually the perfect fit for NRC, you think. He’s a troublemaker, he’s stubborn, and he’s so, so angry. But he’s right! Why should you respect people who claim to be above you? It’s so irritating that they walk around with those annoying smirks on their faces. You two should do something about that, don’t you think?

Idia has a very specific way of talking that can not only be confusing, but can also irritate the hell out of people. Of all things you could pick up from him, you picked up his smug jabs and insults, accompanied by a tooth grin and a laugh. It’s unnerving how much he’s rubbed off on you, a true testament to how close you too are much to the chagrin of the rest of NRC.

Malleus finds so much delight in being your bodyguard, your most trusted companion, that he doesn’t even bat an eye when you use his magic for your own gain. You’ve gotten soft, molding to whatever shape Malleus wants you to be just so he won’t leave. You’re helpless without him, only he has the will and the magic to protect you. So won’t he please stay?

Lilia has a way of dodging the truth, putting a smile on his face even when he’s hurting. It makes you think that, if he can do that, why can’t you? Lilia is smart, he knows how to go about life, so you should follow his lead and bury your problems until they’ll never see the light again.

Sebek has done nothing but berate you for being human since you met him, and even if you’ve gotten closer to him over the course of your stay in Twisted Wonderland, you’re starting to think he’s right. If you had magic, if you weren’t human, you’d be more powerful. It’s a fact. You could do so much more if you weren’t so weak.

Silver has made you complacent. He takes each step carefully, protecting both you and Malleus, so why would you need to protect yourself in any capacity? It’s so nice, having this safety net. If you could, you'd rely on Silver forever, never facing the cruel realities of the world that are blocked by his strong arms.

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐙𝐌𝐎𝐒 𝐀-𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being a mermaid, it's part of you nature to bring the object of your affection gifts in the hopes of swaying their gaze. how do these pirates handle your onslaught of treasures?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nami, luffy, and sanji x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k (.6k luffy, .4k nami, .6k sanji)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: mermaid!reader, continuation of this fic, requested

LUFFY

When you first began to court Luffy via your pod’s traditions, you quickly realized you’d have to improvise; Luffy had no clue what any of your actions meant, no matter how obvious you made it.

You brought your captain countless gifts, ranging from perfect pearls to slightly chipped sand dollars, and each time all he did was smile, thank you, and skip away to add your gift to his growing collection.

This time, however, you would make sure he understood, lest your sanity slip away. 

He sat criss crossed on his special seat, the mast of the ship, and you stood on the deck with a pretty pink and blue conch shell in hand. Hopeful eyes set on the man you admired, you failed to notice Robin coming up beside you. She hummed softly, startling you. “Oh, hi.”

“He’ll like that one.” Robin smiled cheekily. “But you want my advice?”

“Please.”

A chuckle left her as she looked on at her captain. “Be as straightforward as you can. Ask him what his feelings are.”

Blinking widely, you gazed back at Luffy. That surely seemed easy enough. Steeling yourself with a sigh, you nodded once and trudged forward, up the stairs to the foredeck and all the way up to where the masthead met the deck. Words rose to your lips and fell short, breath caught by the way the wind and sun sat around him like good friends. Luffy sat leaned back on his hands, eyes gently shut, easy smile on his face. You couldn’t dare to break such a moment, not till you nearly dropped the shell and let slip a little yelp. 

Luffy reacted instantly, tilting back his head to see what was the matter. He grinned upon seeing you, sending jitters through your belly. “Hey!” His eyes lowered to the conchshell tight in your grasp, jabbing a finger at it. “What’s that?”

He already knew it was for him; Luffy grew to look forward to your random gifts, treasuring them in his quarters and spending a little time each morning just admiring them. 

You glanced down at your gift, mustering up your courage and hoping beyond hoping that he’ll finally understand. “It’s for you. I found it this morning.”

Found was an understatement. You’d scoured the seafloor all morning to find something worthy of bestowing upon your love. Luffy beamed even brighter, if possible. “Really?” He slid off the mast and landed right in front of you. 

Luffy’s eyes shown like stars, his lips slightly parted as he ghosted his hands over the silky surface of the shell. You passed it on to his caloused hands, skin sparking as his fingers slid against yours. You stood transfixed upon him and how gently he handled the gift, turning it this way and that to see every nook and cranny, leaving no part of it unknown. A sharp ba-dump ba-dump echoed in your chest.

“It’s great,” he breathed, raising his eyes to peer into yours. Soft wasn’t a word one would use to describe Luffy. Brash and loud, yes. But not soft. Yet, there was this secret shadow of him that was softer beyond compare, only revealed in moments of deep distress… or right now, when you hand him a piece of your heart.

You felt a soft prod at your back, hand lunging back to catch a phantom wrist. You quickly released Robin’s hand, whipping around to spy her, but she was nowhere in sight. Puffing your cheeks, you swiveled back just to find Luffy leaning close over your shoulder, eyes squinted. “What’re we looking for?”

“N-Nothing.” Gazing into his face, you coiled your fists. “Luffy, I have a question.” 

Instantly, all his attention was on you, pleasantly awaiting. “Mhmm?”

“I… I was wondering… do—do you—do you like… tangerines?”

Luffy blinked a little blankly, before shrugging a shoulder. “Yeah, I like ‘em. What an odd question.” He ruffled up your hair and hurried off. “I’m gonna add this to my collection. Thanks a bunch!”

“Yeah… no problem.” Cupping yoru face in your hands, you groaned disparingly. Cracking open an eye, you found a single arm sprouting from the deck rail sporting a thumb’s up of comfort. 

NAMI

The gifts had been a constant before you and Nami made it official, but after? Nami was running out of room to keep all the nick-nacks you showered her with. She’d never tell you that though, the smile on your face each time you offered up a gift a treasure in itself.

So Nami settled for becoming the ship’s interior decorator, making it a project to find the best places to present your increasingly beautiful finds. 

Hanging from the wall in the galley was a giant piece of seaglass wrapped in fishing net. On the kitchen table an array of shells sat in a decorative bowl. Each of the boys had a whole sand dollar they were not allowed to touch on the their bed table.

It took you a few weeks to notice it, with the decorations growing over time, but when you did a surprised yet excited beam took you face. You noticed the solid pink clam shell you’d found a month ago among the table decorations, immediately whirling on Nami with a bright smile. “I found that, didn’t I?”

She was worried you’d be upset with her decorating, but now you coudln’t have looked happier. Nami’s cheeks reddened as she laughed, nodding. “You did. I thought I’d put some of your treasures around so we can all admire them.”

You shot up from the table and bounded off. “How many more are there? Did you hide them?”

Nami watched misty eyed, heart warm as the sound of your voice echoed back to the galley. Robin chuckled behind her hand, winking when Nami caught her eye. Nami blushed deeper and, flustered, got up to chase after you.

After that, she really set out to hide the gifts you brought her, tucking them between books and pans. Your search grew to be a calm sort of game. You would be lying in a hammock by Nami’s side, her reading a book aloud, when you lazily pointed to the bookshelf and murmured, “There’s the blue one I got last week.”

The whole crew even joined in after a while, and a board was set up in the galley to tally the scores. Even after four months of the treasure hide-and-seek, you came out on top with the most finds, and if someone dared to come close to taking your title? Well, you reminded them that you have two rows of razor-sharp teeth, and suddenly you were champion once again.

SANJI Sanji treasures each and every gift you bring him, to the point where his nose starts to bleed every other trinket. He doesn’t love the gifts a normal amount, okay. He will set them up all over the kitchen and randomly point them out to anyone nearby.

“Look at that one! She had to have dove down so many depths to get it. Ah~”

“Mosshead, get your slimy, bottom-feeder hands away from my seashells.”

Everyone knew to treat your gifts to Sanji with immense care, and that fact sent a wave of pride through your heart. You sat at the kitchen counter watching him cook, lining up the shells just to admire them, every once in a while making them into the shape of a heart and sending him into cardiac arrest. 

Oh, but the gift he’s most proud of? It’s the one he wears round his neck every single day.

The first pearl you brought him was a small thing, around the size of a pinky, and you handed it to him shyly while saying you couldn’t find a bigger one to display. Sanji barely breathed, rolling it in his palm and just thinking of how lucky he is to have you, that you would dive down into the sea just to find him the most beautiful treasures. 

Yes, it was part of your culture, so part of this was customary to you, but after each of his lovely reactions your gift-giving grew into more of a habit of the heart, eyes always peeled for any trinket Sanji might enjoy. So when you noticed how he held the pearl with such care, the milky white of it looking so nice against his palm, you got an idea.

Every single morning for the next two months you gathered pearl after pearl, keeping them in a little box under your bed. Sneakily, you even managed to take the original pearl from the ring box Sanji kept it in. The scare it gave him when he awoke, turned to his bed table, and his prized gift from his lovely mermaid was missing?? He was inconsolable, so much so that you rushed to give him his gift a day earlier, giggling as you cut off his apologies.

“It’s okay,” you beamed, handing him a small paper wrapped object. “I think this will fix it.”

You bounced on your heels as Sanji sat down at the counter and delicately handled the paper, revealing the pearl necklace within. For the longest moment, he said nothing at all, only staring down at it blankly. You ducked to catch more of his expression, worrying your lip between your teeth. “Do you like it?”

Sanji’s lips ticked upward, eyes holding so much affection you could feel it hit you as he raised his gaze. “I love it. Thank you, my love.”

You couldn’t hold back the magnitude of your smile, reached to help him put it on. As soon as the cool pearls hit his skin, he felt a sense of wholeness only you could explain. He ran a finger over the necklace, wiping away a trail of blood with his wrist, and turned to take you in his arms. 

From that day forth, he never took the necklace off. 

Sanji never wasted a moment he could show it off, unbuttoning the tops of his shirts so it was more visible. You were more than pleased by this, hanging off his arm as you swept through markets, casting every admiring woman a lethal glare before reaching to toy with the pearls around his neck.

Let’s just say the gift satisfied a more possessive part of your nature you did your best to hide from your lover.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s

[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”. 

[dandelionsresilience]

Good News - May 22-28

Like these weekly compilations? Support me on Ko-fi or $Kaybarr1735! Also, if you tip me on Ko-fi or CashApp (and give me some way to contact you if it doesn’t automatically), at the end of the month I'll send you a link to all of the articles I found but didn't use each week - almost double the content!

1. Scientists Invent Healthier More Sustainable Chocolate

“The new chocolate recipe from researchers at ETH Zurich uses more materials from the cocoa pod that are usually discarded, including more of the pulp as well as the inner lining of the husk, known as the endocarp. […] The resulting chocolate also [was “deliciously sweet” and] had 20% more fibre and 30 percent less saturated fat than average European dark chocolate[, and] it could enable cocoa farmers [to] earn more from their crops.”

2. Vermont Is Coming for Big Oil, Making It Pay for Decades of Climate Pollution

“Legislators in Montpelier are on the brink of enacting the "Climate Superfund Act," modeled after the federal Superfund law, that seeks to make oil, gas and coal companies pay for damages linked to historical greenhouse gas emissions. […] Companies would be held liable for the costs associated with […] floods and heat waves, along with losses to biodiversity, safety, economic development and anything else the treasurer deems reasonable[, that were caused by their emissions].”

3. Important bird habitat now protected in the Rocky Mountain Trench

“Grassland-reliant species in the Rocky Mountain Trench now have more protected habitat thanks to a new [270-hectare] conservation area near Cranbrook. […] About one-third of the Skookumchuck Prairie Conservation Area is forested[…,] Most of the site is a dry grassland[…, and] Three hectares of wetlands add to the landscape diversity and offer crucial benefits to wildlife and water systems in the area. This conservation gem also provides habitat for endangered American badger and excellent winter range for elk, mule deer and white-tailed deer.”

4. Lemur Week marked by 70th breeding success

“A wildlife park has celebrated its 70th lemur breeding success ahead of a week raising money to help save the endangered primates. […] The park's open-air Madagascar exhibit is home to 31 free-roaming lemurs and was officially opened in 2008. […] Females are only sexually receptive for just one or two days a year, leaving a small window of opportunity for males to father offspring. […] The two playful siblings, one female and one male, were born to father Bernard and mother Hira.”

5. Innovative material for sustainable building

“Researchers introduce a polymer-based material with unique properties. This material allows sunlight to enter, maintains a more comfortable indoor climate without additional energy, and cleans itself like a lotus leaf. The new development could replace glass components in walls and roofs in the future.”

6. Isle of Wight eagles don't pose threat to lambs as feared

“While there had previously been fears that the eagles would feed on livestock, such as lambs, the project has found no evidence of this. [… “W]hite-tailed eagles effectively steal meals from other predatory birds[, which is] a really important ecological role that had been lost within the landscape and is being restored.” [… The birds’] population was boosted by a chick last year – the first time the species has bred in England in 240 years.”

7. Breakthrough discovery uses engineered surfaces to shed heat

“Cheng's team has found a way to lower the starting point of the [Leidenfrost] effect by producing a surface covered with micropillars. […] The discovery has great potential in heat transfer applications such as the cooling of industrial machines and surface fouling cleaning for heat exchangers. It also could help prevent damage and even disaster to nuclear machinery.”

8. New malaria vaccine delivered for the first time

“A total of 43,000 doses arrived by air today from UNICEF, and another 120,000 are scheduled to show up in the coming days. […] They're the first vaccines designed to work against a human parasite. […] Across four African countries, these trials showed a 75% reduction in malaria cases in the year following vaccination of young children. […] The Serum Institute of India, who will be manufacturing the new vaccine, says a hundred million doses will likely be available to countries by the middle of next year.”

9. Urban gardening may improve human health: Microbial exposure boosts immune system

“"One month of urban indoor gardening boosted the diversity of bacteria on the skin of the subjects and was associated with higher levels of anti-inflammatory cytokines in the blood. The group studied used a growing medium with high microbial diversity emulating the forest soil," [… whereas] the control group used a microbially poor peat-based medium. [… N]o changes in the blood or the skin microbiota were seen. […] “This is the first time we can demonstrate that meaningful and natural human activity can increase the diversity of the microbiota of healthy adults and, at the same time, contribute to the regulation of the immune system."”

10. Cities Are Switching to Electric Vehicles Faster Than Individuals

“[M]ost large cities have adopted some kind of climate goal, and some of them are buying EVs for their municipal fleets at a faster rate than the general public. And that progress could speed up as more EVs enter the market and as cities get educated about grant funding and tax incentives that were passed over the last four years.”

May 15-21 news here | (all credit for images and written material can be found at the source linked; I don’t claim credit for anything but curating.)

[avocado-writing]

hiii your bg3 writing is so *chefs kiss*

I was hoping you'd be able to write the companions' reactions to a bard!tav, giving them a private serenade one night. like they lead them to a clearing away from camp one night and there's a picnic set up and tav sings a song they wrote specifically for their love?

if all the companions is too many, could you please specifically do Halsin, Astarion, Minthara and Wyll?

oh, cute! going to give you a lute, as I think that’s easiest!

Astarion

he makes a comment about how he feels the picnic was a bit unnecessary as he can’t eat it, but you mention you’re his snack later ;)

you sit him down, pour him a glass of wine, and pull out your lute

you ask, suddenly uncharacteristically shy, if you can play him something.

he cocks his head to the side and nods.

your fingers dance across strings, and when you start to sing, he realises it’s a song about him.

you once offered to be his mirror, and tonight you repeat that. your song is about how lovely he is, in every way. how he’s handsome but kinder than he wants to admit. brave. fierce.

its the most sincere celebration of his character he’s ever heard, and by the end of it, he’s left shocked.

“oh…” “did you like it?” chewing your lip, nervous.

“it’s… you’re…” he really doesn’t have the words to convey how you’ve made him feel. so he gently takes your chin in his hand and kisses you.

the kiss gets deeper. the lute is abandoned. so, really, is the picnic. the music the two of you make then is of a different kind.

later, when he has time to come up with a suitable review, he will tell you how much it meant to him. you are his favourite musician, and he has a new favourite song.

Halsin

oh, he’s been around for a long time, but this is the first time someone’s done something like this for him.

he’s just sat in bowled-over silence as you play for him, and it is amazing. an epic ode to his life and kindness, how strong and handsome you think he is.

he comes closer as you sing, sitting right next to you. studying every inch of your face as you perform.

when you’re done, he tells you that it was the loveliest thing he’s ever heard.

“I’ve heard pods of whales singing as they meet up with their lost family… until now, it was the sweetest sound to have graced my ears.”

he gets you to repeat the song and turns into different animals to enjoy it, be it via vibrations or different ways of hearing. either way he wants to be surrounded by your music, and you.

Minthara

absolutely no idea how to respond.

she was brought up in a cutthroat world. this softness is new to her.

she remains quiet for a while as she tries to work out if you’re trying to get anything from her. is this a trick?

”oh, I’m sorry,” you say after a while when she’s just been staring. “did you not like it?”

”no. no, it was… play it again.”

you do, and she really listens to the lyrics. they’re about her beauty. how glad you are to have met her. her strength in battle and soul.

she’s exceptionally moved.

“this is… a priceless gift that you’ve given me. I have no way to repay you.” “I don’t need repayment. it was freely given.”

she kisses you, for she has no way else to thank you. you have moved her more than she thought possible.

Wyll

you play and he listens. his eyes and smile go wide.

absolutely enraptured. claps when you’re done, and cheers your performance. you laugh and bow for him.

he tells you how much you mean to him, what a sweet gift this is. how your love is his most treasured possession.

he reaches into his pocket… and takes out some paper.

“I… I know this is incredible timing but actually… I wrote you something, myself.”

and he starts to read out a poem.

oh, it is lovely. full of flowery verse, and sweet appreciations of you. all the little things which make him love you. you pick up your lute and play along eventually, and he gets into the rhythm too.

the two of you laugh at the fact that you both had the same idea! you’re so alike, so in sync.

he holds you tenderly, kisses you softly.

you end up writing many songs about your Blade. he is your perfect muse.

bonus:

Karlach bursts into tears when she hears it, and scoops you up into a big hug at the end. she’s so emotional. she can’t stop saying she loves you, she loves your song, all of it. lots of wet kisses for you.

Gale is rendered speechless for the first time he can remember. he just stares at you in adoration. he’s never had anyone love him enough to write a song about him before, and he full force of his affection for you hits him in that moment. he is smitten.

[scary-event2369]

Yandere! Alien (ONE-SHOT)

I’m sick as hell rn and I just want to write. Sorry it’s been awhile TT

Never wrote something like this before so be nice but criticism is always welcome!!

Also been awhile since I wrote smut, so i apologize if it’s not good either

Content: AFAB Reader (no gendered terms used), aphrodisiac effect (alien’s saliva), sexual themes, alien dick (ikyk) oviposition (egg-laying/having eggs inside you), breeding, brief mention of blood.  P -> V. Cunnilingus.  This is a lighter yandere.  —

You headed up to your grandparents' mountain cabin, craving some alone time to clear your head and unplug. It was meant to be a chill getaway, a routine check. The cozy rustic vibes inside welcomed you, but what caught you off guard was the sight of an alien, looking totally puzzled by a simple piece of fruit. It was almost cute, but definitely not part of the plan.

It was not even a full 24-hours before you heard a loud crash outside. Your first thought was a tree possibly falling. To your surprise, there was this odd pod thing sitting there. 

You immediately wanted to call someone, but then you remembered. No service, no humans around for miles – classic mountain problems. However, your curiosity got the best of you, so you grabbed a stick and poked the mysterious pod. It hissed open, releasing a fog that revealed a towering alien.

This dude was something else. Humanoid, but not quite right. Terrifying yet strangely captivating. Pale, almost ghostly skin, cat-like features with pointy ears and weird dark marks all over. Antennas sticking out of his head and long silky smooth white hair flowing down. 

Now, a few days later, he couldn't take his eyes off an apple, completely captivated like a kid in a candy store. His long finger reached out, gently tapping it.

"Want a bite?" I interrupted his apple stare-down. He turned to me, his language sounding weird, definitely not from around here, but the guy picked up English crazy fast.

"Can eat this?" he questioned, his voice all deep and otherworldly, like trying to put words to an alien sound. I nod, “Yeah go ahead. It’s pretty tasty.”

He snatched the apple, giving it a good sniff and admiring its vibrant red hue. Hesitating for a moment, he finally decided to take a cautious bite. His eyes widened, almost sparkling with surprise. Without wasting any time, he went for another bite, a grin spreading across his face.

A little chuckle escaped me."So, what do you think? Is the apple a hit?” I asked him between giggles. His mouth was full of the apple, the juice pouring down her cheek. “Apple... good," he responded with a few mysterious words, likely compliments, before switching back to English. "Tastes like Earth. Want more."

"More apples?" I questioned, making sure. His face lit up with happiness as he nodded. I got up from the couch and headed towards the kitchen. I grabbed more apples, including some oranges and pears for good measure. Dumping the fruity treasure on the end table, I declared, "Voila!"

He gobbled up the whole apple, even the core, and then flopped into a chair by the table. Snatching an orange, he sniffed it just like he did with the apple. A big bite, some chewing, and he declared, "Different, but good,” he mumbled with a nod. "Earth food, good." I shook my head, chuckling. "No, you can't eat the skin like that. Let me peel it for you," I said, quickly peeling it for him. "Here, give it another shot. It'll be way tastier this way." I held out the peeled orange, urging him to try it again.

He narrowed his eyes at it, unsure, then decided to take another bite. The look on his face mirrored the one he had when munching on the apple. "This is real good," he exclaimed, before launching into a stream of excited chatter in his own language. "You," he stopped to find the right word. "Smart! Lots of cool things. I wanna know more."

I flashed him a smile, saying, "Awh, thanks! I'm curious to know more about you too." We took a little pause, just locking eyes. His big, dark, almost black orbs were fixed right on me, kind of hypnotic. I turned my head and blurted out, "So, um, what else do you wanna find out?" His intense look left me a bit flustered.

I still felt his intense gaze burning into the side of my head. Suddenly, he grabbed my hand and yanked me back onto the couch, plopping down beside me. I was a bit confused, but I took this as him wanting to know what this was. “Oh, this thing? It's a couch. Like a big chair, so more people fit on it," I explained.

He gave a little nod, inching closer. Those eyes were still locked onto mine, like he had something important to say but was stuck on the words. Next thing I knew, his hands were on my cheeks, squishing them, and his forehead rested against mine. Our noses touched. If you told me a few days ago that a massive alien would nuzzle noses with me and I'd just roll with it, I'd have called you nuts. However I just let it happen. Despite us knowing each other only a few days I felt a strange trust and connection to him. 

I raised an eyebrow, still kinda confused but not backing off. His fingers, long and gentle, traced my cheek, giving me a ticklish feeling. His breath brushed against my face, and he stayed quiet. “So… is this some alien custom or what?" I questioned, getting even more confused by all the physical contact. He nodded, making a small clicking noise. Then he began to say a bunch of words in his native language. I think he could notice I wasn't understanding in the slightest because he let out a huff before he kissed me quickly.

I gasped at the sudden feeling. It wasn't like any regular kiss; it was way more enjoyable, sending a tingling and numbing feeling through me. His lips still held the sweetness from the fruit we had earlier.

His hand moved to the back of my head, pulling me in closer, while the other one continued to gently stroke my cheek. A warmth began to wrap around me, it was a strange feeling, but one I wasn’t pulling away from. 

I shut my eyes and leaned in, returning his kiss. A surge of warmth enveloped us, almost like a sweet paralysis. It was too irresistible to pull away.

The hold he had on the back of my neck got a bit tighter. It didn’t hurt but it was obvious he didn’t want me to pull away, I couldn’t even if I wanted to. His soft lips were intoxicating, both of our lips moving in rhythm. 

His tongue teased my bottom lip, coaxing them to open. It felt like an aphrodisiac, a warm and comforting sensation. Slowly, I surrendered as he pressed me down onto the couch, rendering me completely immobile.

Breaking away, he panted slightly, and we gazed at each other breathlessly. It felt like we were just staring at each other for hours, even though it was only a couple seconds. The warm feeling growing in my chest and stomach was growing, it was pure need.

Gasping for breath, he uttered "Xylorvex," a word in his native tongue. Pausing for a moment, thinking, he repeated, "Mate. You're mine, all mine." With that, he pressed his head against my neck, as he began to kiss and suck the skin.

The words hit me, making my face burn as he nibbled and kissed my neck. His teeth were sharp, but he tried to be gentle, though sometimes he bit too hard, making me bleed.

Yet, he was quick to lick and clean the wounds, sending a rush of arousal through me. My body went numb, and all I could feel was the strange alien's touch. His kisses left me craving more. "P-please," I stammered, desperate.

The strange creature stared at me, clearly confused. I let out a groan and pleaded, "I need more," hoping it would catch my drift. It took a while but then he nodded, finally understanding as his long fingers slowly pulled down my pants and now slicked covered underwear.

The cold air on my bare pussy made me flitch and shiver slightly. He brought one his face down and looked at it which only made me more embarrassed but aroused. After a while he brought his hand towards it, going up and down the folds, gathering more of the wetness. I let out a shaky moan and quivered slightly. I was so turned on it was almost painful. The creature watched as my pussy convulse around nothing. He slowly brought his face towards it as he began to carefully lap the folds. I cover my mouth as I let out a loud mouth. My breathing has gone heavy yet shallow as he continued licking and sucking. It was tingling in a way that caused more sensations than ever. I grabbed a handful of his hair, not knowing whether I was pulling him closer or pushing him away.

“Sweet. Like fruit,” he said softly, his eyes never leaving my cut as it dripped leaving a small pool onto the couch. He quickly went back towards it, slurping up all the arousal that poured out of me. He was mostly silent throughout this, a few clicks that I took as happiness as his half-lidded eyes switched from my pussy to my face. Luckily enough I was making enough noises for the both. It was only a matter of minutes before I felt my orgasm building full force. He began to swirl his long tongue around my clit sucking on it before going back towards my hole pushing his tongue in. “Nghh~ ah fuck~” I moaned out loudly as I came all over his face. The slick trailing down his chin as he made sure to give my pussy a few more kisses before sitting back up and looking at me. “Good?” I nodded as my chest went up and down heavily. I have never experienced anything like that before and it took a lot of the energy out of me. He smiled slightly as he then took off his pants showing his now fully erect dick, it was nothing like you have ever seen before. It was long and girthy, with the same black markings that were across his skin. It was veiny, and twitching. Despite being quiet it was obvious he was just as excited as you were. 

He slowly rubbed the entrance, gathering my slick onto his dick. I rarely had time to think before he pushed it in slowly, filling me up instantly. We both let out a moan as he bottomed out. The clicking noise became louder as he began to mumble something. He kissed my lips before he started to thrust his and wiggle inside me.

It was otherworldly, it was like his cock was perfectly morphing itself to my folds causing a sensation I couldn’t explain. The moans I let out came off as more of screams as I gripped the couch. However they were not as loud as they could be because of his sweet kisses, almost praising and encouraging me to take it.

You quickly learned that his species had a strong stamina. He was doing all sorts of positions with you, forcing orgasm after orgasm before all you could do was cry and take the pleasure. Hours later and after your nth orgasm did he finally cum. He gave his final thrusts as he shot his load inside you. The warmth filling you as you whined. You could  feel him depositing large eggs within you. Causing your belly to bulge as he cooed and petted your head.

After he laid all his eggs within you he finally put out, a clear sticky substance pooled out of your entrance as you trembled. The alien held you close as he brought you to the bed, grabbing something he thought was a towel and wiped you up.

You quickly fell passed out as he cuddled up next to you, spooning you and continuing his pats to your head. He just knew that you’ll be such a kind and loving mate for the children slowly growing inside you.

[whereforarthur]

Ménage à trois

A/N: Getting back into writing due to my recent obsession with the British YouTube scene, especially ArthurTv and ItalianBach. There is a lack of ItalianBach imagines and I figured I’d try and fill that void.

Pairing: ItalianBach x Gf!reader x ArthurTv

Summary: As ItalianBach’s girlfriend you are asked to gather fanfics of the boys to discuss on the podcast, not knowing what could possibly happen…

Word Count: 6.4K

Rating: Mature 

Category: Smut with Fluff at the end

Content Warnings: threesome, blowjob, pussy-eating, vaginal penetration, kinda overstim, praise, degrading, reader on the pill, unprotected sex, cum in pussy, cum on pussy, lil bit of choking, kinda forceful at times

italicized text is fan fictions y/n is reading

******

After 2 years of being the girlfriend to ItalianBach, you have grown to admire his uprising and the more and more fans that began to accumulate. Of course, you were proud of your boyfriend's success, but along with it came hundreds of thirsting fans. The number of thirst traps and edits that would now pop up on your FYP was insane. You couldn’t blame them though, to be fair you were dating a Greek god of a man.

So you were quite surprised when Isaac asked you to gather some imagines and fanfics to discuss on the next episode of the Bach and Arthur Podcast.

“Are you sure you want to torture yourselves,” a blush began to rise on your cheeks as you asked Isaac, “Some of those imagines can get pretty naughty.” Having spent your fair time on Tumblr in the past you knew of the kind of filth that people could write up.

Isaac laughed at the blush that rose on your cheeks when you asked him. “Of course, love I’m sure it can’t be that bad and I think it would be great laughs for the pod.” He replied.

You couldn't help but feel a peculiar mix of excitement and trepidation as you thought about the idea of finding hot fanfics about your boyfriend and best mate.

But you hadn't expected to find a treasure trove of fanfics and smut featuring ArthurTv, the charismatic co-host of his show. The explicit scenes had taken you by surprise, You felt a guilty thrill as you realized that the raw passion in the stories had your pulse racing.

*****

Her eyes were transfixed on the words that danced before her, a particular imagine that had caught her attention. It was of Arthur, the charismatic yet enigmatic star of the screen, a man whose allure was as vast as the universe itself.

The image painted a picture of Arthur in a state of sublime surrender, his powerful form bent to the will of unseen hands.

"Arthur looked so gone with each bounce, his chest rising and falling so dramatically with each breath, his eyes half lidded and completely dumbified, the way his lips twitched slightly as though he needed to say something but couldn't between all his high whimpers and moans which had you racing towards your climax."

Her hand wandered down to her thigh, tracing the contours of her skin as she delved deeper into the narrative. The fabric of her shorts grew damp as her arousal grew in response to the erotic tale. Each word she read was a caress, a whispered promise of the intensity that awaited her if she dared to let go.

But she knew she had to move on. There was a podcast to prepare for, after all. With a shaky exhale, she closed the tab and opened the next link. The effort to shake off the excitement was Herculean, but she managed, focusing instead on the task at hand. The next fanfic began innocently enough, a gentle romance blossoming between Arthur and another character. She forced her breathing to even out, her racing heart to slow, as she willed her thoughts back to the podcast. The words on the screen swam in front of her eyes, the aftershocks of the previous story lingering in the air like a seductive perfume.

This new tale took a surprising turn, however, as Arthur's love for lingerie began to emerge.

"A side that made him seem like a menace, almost like he was a horny teenage boy who had been left alone with his female celebrity crush, becoming touchy and needy."

Her cheeks flushed as she read about his tender exploration of his partner's body, his eyes lighting up with wonder as he revealed the secrets hidden beneath layers of fabric. It was a stark contrast to the raw, unbridled passion of the first story, and she found herself drawn to this more intimate side of Arthur. Her own hands grew curious, wandering up to her chest, feeling the soft fabric of her shirt. She closed her eyes, picturing Arthur's hands, so adept at uncovering secrets, working their magic on her.

You tried to convince yourself it was just the novelty, the thrill of the forbidden. But as you scrolled through page after page of steamy content, you couldn't help but feel a wetness between your legs that had nothing to do with the innocent curiosity of reading fanfiction. Your mind began to wander, imagining the scenarios playing out in the stories, with you as the unseen participant. The way Arthur’s mischievous smile would curve into something more seductive when he looked at you. It was wrong, you knew, but the allure was undeniable.

It was like a switch had been flipped in your mind, and suddenly, you couldn't get enough of the idea. The thought of being the one to bring that passion to the surface, to be the one they both craved, was intoxicating.

*****

The sudden sound of the key in the lock jolted her out of her reverie. Her boyfriend, Isaac, was home. She took a deep breath, willing her pulse to slow and her cheeks to return to their normal color. She had to compose herself; she couldn't have him finding her in such a state. Quickly, she minimized the browser and closed her laptop, hoping the evidence of her arousal wasn't too obvious.

"Babe, what’s got you so frazzled?" He said as he entered the living room, his voice a pleasant mix of curiosity and confusion. But as she looked up at him, she saw a glint in his eye that suggested he knew exactly what you'd been reading. A smirk played on his lips, and your heart skipped a beat.

You looked down at your laptop, feeling a sudden jolt of excitement and nervousness.

“Find anything good?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

You swallowed hard, your mind racing. "Just the... stuff you asked me to look f-for the podcast," you managed to reply, your voice wavering slightly.

He sauntered closer, his eyes darkening as he leaned against the desk. "Oh, I know exactly what you've been looking at," he said, his voice dropping an octave.

Isaac’s smirk grew wider as he approached you, his eyes never leaving yours.

His eyes scanned the first imagine, a grin spreading slowly across his face as he read aloud, "Submissive ArthurTV smut." The title alone was enough to make you blush, and you found yourself eagerly waiting to hear his reaction.

As he read further, his smile turned into a puzzled frown. "These are all about Arthur?" he asked, looking through the opened tabs on your laptop. You nodded sheepishly, realizing your oversight in not mentioning the focus of the fanfics. "Well, I guess I'm not as popular as I thought," he said, trying to keep the sting out of his voice. Isaac looked at you, his expression unreadable. He took a sip of his coffee before finally speaking, "Well, I'm not surprised. Girls do seem to go crazy over his cuteness."

Having read all the imagines and smut all ready in perpetration, you couldn’t help but giggle and blush at Isaac. “Oh, you have no idea just how crazy they get over the boy.” Twiddling your thumbs as your gaze drops to the floor, nervous for Isaac to read them.

He leaned over the back of the couch, his fingers tracing the line of your neck. "You know, I've always wondered what you thought about Arthur," he murmured, his breath warm against your ear.

"What do you mean?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Isaac’s hand rested on your shoulder, his thumb brushing against your skin in slow, deliberate circles.

You had always found Arthur attractive, but you had never allowed your thoughts to wander beyond the realm of friendship. Your relationship with Isaac had been a happy one, filled with love and laughter, and the occasional podcast recording. But here you were, with your body responding to the illicit thoughts that the fanfics had planted in your mind. The room grew warmer as you felt Isaac’s hand slide down your arm, his fingertips grazing the inside of your elbow, sending sparks through your body.

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening ever so slightly. "You know, the way the fans write about us. The... fantasies they have." His voice was a seductive purr, sending shivers down your spine.

"Fantasies, huh?" you replied, trying to keep your voice even as your heart thudded in your chest. He leaned closer, his eyes searching yours, a silent question hanging in the air. "I guess everyone has their fantasies," you added, trying to sound nonchalant, but the tremor in your voice betrayed your excitement.

He chuckled again, a sound that sent a thrill through you. "Yeah, they do," he said, his thumb now tracing lazy circles around the inside of your wrist. His eyes never left yours as he spoke, and you could see the mischief in them. "And what about you?" he pressed, his voice dropping another octave. "What do you fantasize about?"

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. You had never been one to shy away from your desires, but this was new territory, even for you. "I... I've had a fantasy," you began, the words spilling out of you before you could stop them. "A threesome, with you and Arthur."

Isaac’s eyes widened, the smirk on his face morphing into something more serious. "Really?" he said, his voice thick with surprise and a hint of excitement. "You've thought about that?"

You nodded, unable to tear your gaze away from his. The idea had consumed you since you'd first stumbled upon the fanfics, growing from a simple curiosity to a full-blown obsession. The more you read, the more you found yourself craving the kind of passion that seemed to exist only in the minds of the writers and their devoted readers. "I can't stop thinking about it," you admitted, your voice barely a murmur.

Isaac’s hand stilled on your wrist, his eyes searching yours. For a moment, there was silence, the air in the room thick with anticipation. Then, he leaned in, his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that was both gentle and demanding. You melted into him, your body responding instinctively to his touch. The taste of him was familiar, yet the context was alien, a heady mix that made your head spin.

As your kiss deepened, his hand slid down to your thigh, his thumb rubbing small circles that made you squirm.

You didn't know how this conversation had turned into this, but you didn't want it to stop.

"What if we made it a reality?" Isaac whispered against your lips, his breath hot and demanding. "What if we invited Arthur over tonight and made your fantasy come true?"

Your mind raced. Would Arthur really be up for that? Was he even attracted to you? The thought was exhilarating and terrifying in equal measure. You had known Arthur for only a couple of months, but the idea of sharing an intimate encounter with him was something you had never dared to consider. But the way Isaac was looking at you, with a mix of hunger and excitement, made it feel like anything was possible

“You think he'd be okay with it?" you asked, your voice shaking with anticipation.

Isaac’s grin grew, and he gave your thigh a firm squeeze. "I think he'd be more than okay," he said confidently. "You know he's always had a thing for you?”

The revelation sent a shiver down your spine. Arthur had always been flirty, but you had dismissed it as part of his charm. Now, the way he'd looked at you during podcasts, the lingering touches, and the way his eyes followed you around the room, took on a new meaning. You had been so wrapped up in your own life that you'd missed the signs that were staring you in the face.

Isaac’s hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "We can make it happen," he murmured, his voice a seductive promise. "But only if you're sure."

You nodded, your heart racing. The thought of being with both of them was thrilling and terrifying, but the excitement won out. "Call him," you said, your voice a breathy whisper.

Isaac pulled away, his eyes alight with excitement. He grabbed his phone and dialed Arthur’s number, his eyes never leaving yours. You watched him, your chest heaving, as he spoke in hushed tones, laying out the plan. You could only catch fragments of the conversation, but the way his eyes darkened and his voice grew lower told you that Arthur was on board.

As Isaac hung up, he turned to you, his gaze intense. "He's on his way," he said, his voice thick with desire. "Are you sure about this?"

You nodded again, unable to form coherent words. The anticipation was almost too much to bear. You could feel your body reacting, your core tightening with need. Your stomach was a whirlwind of butterflies as you thought about what was to come. You'd never been with two men at once, and the idea of it was both exhilarating and nerve-wracking. You tried to calm your racing thoughts, but the anticipation was too much. You took a deep breath, feeling your chest rise and fall with the effort.

*****

When the doorbell rang, your heart skipped a beat. Isaac gave you a reassuring wink before heading to the door. You could hear the muffled sound of their greetings, and then Arthur’s voice grew clearer as he entered the room.

"Hey, gorgeous," Arthur said, walking over and kissing you on the cheek. His lips lingered just a moment too long, sending a thrill through your body. Isaac sat down next to you, his hand resting possessively on your thigh. The tension in the room was palpable, a delicious cocktail of excitement and nerves.

"So, Isaac here tells me you've been reading some... interesting fanfics about me," Arthur said, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. He had a mischievous glint in his brown doe eyes, one that told you he knew exactly what was going on. You felt your cheeks heat up again, but instead of looking away, you met his gaze, letting him see the desire in your eyes.

“They were just for the podcast," you protested weakly, though the tremor in your voice gave you away. Isaac chuckled, his hand squeezing your thigh in a silent message of support.

Arthur’s eyes searched yours, a smirk playing on his lips as he sat down across from you. "Is that so?" he said, his tone teasing. "But they turned you on, didn't they?" he said, his voice low and seductive. You felt your face flush even hotter, but you didn't deny it. There was something about the way he said it that made you feel like you were sharing a naughty secret, something thrilling and taboo.

Isaac leaned back into the couch, his hand sliding up to rest on the back of your neck. "You can tell us, babe," he murmured, his thumb tracing lazy circles that made your pulse race. "It's okay to be turned on by a good story."

You took a deep breath, the words sticking in your throat like a guilty confession. "Yes," you finally managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper. "They did turn me on." Isaac’s hand tightened around your neck, his thumb still tracing circles.

The two men exchanged a look, a silent communication that seemed to carry more weight than any words could. Arthur's smile grew, his eyes darkening with desire. He took a seat on the opposite end of the couch, his gaze never leaving yours. "Well, if you liked the stories, maybe we could give you a taste of the real thing," he said, his voice like velvet.

You could feel the tension between the three of you, a heady mix of excitement and nerves. Arthur leaned in, his hand landing on your other thigh, his fingers playing with the hem of your shorts. "Is that what you want?" he whispered, his breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, unable to find the words to express the tumult of emotions within you. The fanfics had been a catalyst, igniting a desire you hadn't even known existed. Now, with the two men you had fantasized about so intimately right in front of you, it was like stepping into a world you had only ever dared to imagine.

Isaac's hand slid up to the nape of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer for a kiss that was anything but gentle. His tongue danced with yours, tasting and claiming, as Arthur's hand began to inch higher up your thigh. You could feel the heat radiating from both of them, their desire a palpable force that made you feel alive in a way you hadn't in ages.

Breaking the kiss, Isaac whispered, "Take off your shirt," his voice a gruff command that sent a thrill through your body. You complied, the fabric slipping off your shoulders to reveal your lacy black bra. Arthur's eyes widened, his hand pausing for a moment before he reached out to trace the edge of the fabric with a fingertip.

The touch was electric, sending a jolt of desire through you. You watched as Isaac's gaze drifted down to your chest, his eyes dark with lust. He leaned in, his teeth grazing your neck as he unclipped your bra, freeing your breasts. Arthur’s eyes locked on them, his pupils dilating with hunger.

Isaac’s mouth found one of your nipples, his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud before taking it into his mouth and sucking gently. You gasped, arching your back, your hands tangling in his hair. Arthur took the opportunity to kiss along your collarbone, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin. You could feel the bulge in his pants pressing against your bare leg, his hand now resting on your hip.

The anticipation was unbearable, the room spinning with the heady scent of desire. Then, Isaac pulled away, his eyes locked on Arthur's. "Your turn," he said, his voice a rough growl. Arthur's eyes met yours, and you could see the challenge in them. You leaned in, your heart racing, and kissed him for the first time.

It was nothing like you had ever experienced before. Isaac's kisses were familiar, a dance of love and comfort that you had shared countless times. Arthur's kiss was something else entirely—it was wild, raw, and consuming. His lips were soft, yet firm, demanding your attention as his tongue slid against yours. You felt a jolt of electricity as your bodies melded together, his hand cupping your face with a gentle urgency that made your knees go weak.

Isaac’s hand slid down your back, his fingers tracing the contours of your body as he watched the two of you, his desire evident in the way his chest rose and fell. You could feel his arousal pressing into your side, a constant reminder that this wasn't just a kiss between you and Arthur, but a shared experience among the three of you.

Arthur's hand moved to your bare shoulder, his thumb brushing against the sensitive skin as he deepened the kiss. You moaned into his mouth, the sound lost in the mingling of your breaths. His other hand found its way to your breast, his touch firm yet gentle, teasing the nipple until it stood at attention. You couldn't help but arch into his touch, the sensation making your toes curl.

Isaac's hand slid down to your waist, his fingers unbuttoning your shorts with a deftness that spoke of experience. He tugged them down, revealing the dampness of your panties. Arthur broke the kiss, his eyes dropping to the exposed flesh, his breath hitching in his throat. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice hoarse with need.

You felt Isaac's hand slide over your bare skin, his thumb hooking into the fabric of your panties. He tugged them down, leaving you exposed and vulnerable, yet incredibly turned on. You watched as Arthur's eyes followed the movement, his hand now resting on the bulge in his pants, his fingers tracing the outline. The sight of him, so obviously affected by your shared intimacy, was intoxicating.

"Take them off," Isaac murmured, his voice thick with need. You obeyed, standing up to shimmy out of your shorts and panties, leaving you in nothing but your heels. Arthur's eyes roamed over your body, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. You felt a thrill of power at being the object of their desire, the center of their attention.

You sat back down on the couch, sitting in between the two boys. Isaac groaned as you pressed against him, his hands sliding up to cup your breasts. Arthur leaned in, his mouth finding your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin. You moaned, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through you. Isaac's mouth found your other nipple, sucking hard, his teeth grazing the tender flesh.

You felt Arthur's hand slip between your thighs, his fingers toying with the slick folds of your sex. You were wet, so wet, and the feeling of his touch was almost too much. Isaac's hands roamed over your body, his fingertips teasing the edge of your ass, his thumbs tracing the line of your hips. You could feel their arousal, the thickness of their cocks pressing against you, and it only made you want more.

Isaac's mouth found yours again, his tongue delving deep as his hand began to rub you in slow, deliberate circles. You gasped into the kiss, your body responding instinctively to his touch. Isaac's hands moved to your ass, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as he rocked his hips up into you, his hardness teasing your wetness.

You could feel the fabric of the couch beneath you, rough against your skin as Arthur's fingers slid deeper, his thumb circling your clit with expert precision. Isaac's mouth traveled down your neck, planting kisses along the way, his breath hot against your skin. Your hips began to move in time with Arthur's hand, the friction building into a crescendo of pleasure.

“Let's switch things up," Arthur murmured, his voice thick with desire. He gently pushed you back until you were lying on the couch, his eyes never leaving yours. He knelt between your legs, his hands on your thighs, spreading them wider. "I want to taste you," he said, his gaze burning into yours.

You felt a thrill of excitement at his words, the reality of the situation hitting you like a wave. You nodded, unable to form coherent words, as Arthur's hands guided you closer to the edge of the couch. Isaac watched, his eyes hooded with lust, as Arthur leaned in, his breath hot against your center. You could feel the anticipation building, the tension in the room almost tangible.

Arthur's tongue flicked out, tasting you for the first time, and you moaned, your hips bucking upward. He chuckled, the vibration against your clit sending sparks of pleasure through your body. His tongue delved deeper, exploring you with a hunger that was both surprising and thrilling. He was so attentive, so eager to please. Isaac's hands were on your breasts again, pinching and teasing your nipples as he watched Arthur devour you.

The sensation was overwhelming, the combination of Arthur's skilled mouth and Isaac's firm grip on your body pushing you closer to the edge. You reached down, your fingers tangling in Arthur's hair, guiding him as he licked and sucked. You could feel the tension building, your muscles tightening as the first waves of orgasm began to crash over you. Isaac leaned down, his mouth finding yours as Arthur's tongue swirled around your clit, pushing you over the edge.

“Arthur, I'm going to cum," you gasped, the words barely making it past the lump in your throat. Arthur's eyes flicked up to meet yours, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he redoubled his efforts. You could feel the warmth spreading through your body, the tension coiling tighter and tighter until you couldn't hold it in anymore. You moaned, the sound muffled by Isaac's mouth, as you came, your body shuddering with pleasure.

The two men pulled back, their gazes locked on you as your orgasm washed over you. You felt a warm glow spread through you, a sense of satisfaction that was new and exhilarating. Isaac's hand slid down to cup your face, turning it so he could kiss you again, deep and slow, as Arthur's thumb lazily circled your clit, sending aftershocks through your body.

*****

When your breathing had evened out, Isaac whispered, "Now it's our turn." He slid out from under you, standing up and unbuckling his belt. Arthur followed suit, his eyes never leaving yours as he stripped out of his clothes. The sight of the two of them, fully aroused and ready, was like something out of your wildest dreams.

Without a word, you reached out and took Arthur's cock in your mouth, the velvety softness of his skin against your lips sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. Isaac watched with rapt attention, his hand moving to stroke his erection as he took in the sight of you pleasuring his podcast partner. The sensation was foreign, yet exhilarating, and you found yourself eager to explore more.

Isaac knelt beside the couch, his eyes on your bobbing head as he stroked himself. His cock was thick and veined, the tip glistening with precum. You felt his hand on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your still-sensitive clit, sending shockwaves through your body. You moaned around Arthur's cock, the vibration making him gasp.

"Fuck, you're so good at that," Arthur groaned, his hand tightening in your hair.

"Arthur, she's incredible," Isaac said, his voice thick with desire. "Her mouth is magic." Arthur groaned in response, his eyes rolling back as you took him deeper, the sound of your gagging only adding to the intensity of the moment.

The praise sent a jolt of excitement through you, making you want to show them just how good you could be. You took Arthur deeper into your mouth, your cheeks hollowing as you sucked with all the passion and skill that Isaac had enjoyed.

Isaac leaned in, his breath hot against your ear. "You're going to make him cum so hard," he whispered, his hand sliding down to your ass, his fingers teasing your opening.

The dual sensations of Arthur's cock in your mouth and Isaac's fingers on your ass were driving you wild. You felt yourself getting wetter, your pussy begging to be filled. Isaac noticed, his hand moving to stroke your clit as he whispered more dirty words of encouragement.

"That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice a low growl of approval. "Take him all in. Show him how much you want this." Your eyes watered slightly as you took him deeper, the tip brushing the back of your throat. You felt a thrill of power as Isaac's hand tightened in your hair, guiding you, his breathing growing ragged. You had never done this before, but something about the moment made it feel incredibly right.

You felt Isaac's breath against your ear, his words sending shivers down your spine. You could feel his arousal pressing against your back, his hand still working magic on your clit. Arthur's hips began to buck, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth in a rhythm that matched the strokes of your hand. You could taste the saltiness of his precum, a hint of what was to come.

Suddenly, Arthur's body tensed, and with a guttural groan, he came. You felt the warmth of his cum fill your mouth, and you swallowed eagerly, not missing a beat. The salty taste was surprisingly delicious, a testament to the power of the moment. You pulled back, licking your lips, watching the aftermath of pleasure play out on his face. Isaac's hand slid away from your clit, giving you a moment to catch your breath. Isaac leaned in, watching with hooded eyes as you continued to pleasure Arthur, drawing out every last drop of his release.

Arthur leaned back, his chest heaving, a look of pure bliss etched on his features. You couldn't help but feel a sense of pride at the power you had over him, the way he had lost control in your mouth. Isaac chuckled, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Good girl," he murmured, his hand tracing the line of your jaw.

You looked up at Arthur, his cock still semi-hard in front of you. "Can you go again?" you asked the question dripping with curiosity and desire. He blinked, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "For you?" he replied, his voice still thick with arousal. "Always."

Isaac chuckled, his hand guiding his erection closer to your mouth. You eagerly took him in, his taste a heady mix of desire and power. As you began to suck, Arthur's cock grew harder, the anticipation building. You felt him shift behind you, his fingers ghosting over your ass before he positioned himself at your entrance.

With a single, smooth thrust, Arthur entered you, filling you up completely. You gasped around Isaac's cock, the sensation of being filled by two men at once was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. Isaac's hand tangled in your hair, guiding your movements as Arthur began to move, his strokes long and slow, drawing out the pleasure.

"Look at her," Isaac said, his voice filled with pride. "Taking us both like a champ."

Arthur's hand smacked down on your ass, the sound echoing in the quiet room. You yelped, the sting turning into a rush of heat that only added to your arousal. He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "That's it, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "You're so fucking sexy."

You could feel his cock pulsing inside you, his hips moving in a steady rhythm that had you on the edge of another orgasm. Isaac's eyes never left yours as you took him deeper into your mouth, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the air, a testament to Arthur's passionate strokes.

Arthur's hand tightened on your hip, his other hand sliding around to your throat. He didn't squeeze, but the mere presence of his touch there sent a shiver down your spine. It was a silent claim of dominance, one that had your body responding in ways you didn't fully understand. You felt Isaac's cock swell in your mouth, his breathing growing ragged.

The three of you moved in a symphony of passion, each touch and stroke building upon the last. You could feel Arthur's cock twitching, his movements growing more urgent. Isaac's hand in your hair tightened, his hips jerking as he approached his climax. You could feel your orgasm building, the tension coiling tighter and tighter.

Suddenly, Isaac's hand left your hair, his fingers sliding down to trace your cheek. "Look at me," he ordered, his voice strained. You obeyed, your eyes locking with his as he began to spurt into your mouth, filling you with his warmth. You swallowed, the salty taste of him mixing with the pleasure of Arthur's cock inside you. Isaac's eyes never left yours, the intimacy of the moment searing into your soul.

Arthur's pace quickened, his breaths coming in harsh pants as he felt his release building. He leaned over you, his hand sliding up to cup your breast, his thumb flicking the nipple. The two men watched each other over your body, their expressions a mix of lust and possessiveness. Arthur's strokes grew more erratic, his breathing ragged. "I'm going to cum," he warned, his voice tight. You felt your orgasm building, the pressure in your core threatening to shatter you.

“Come for us," Isaac murmured, his hand sliding down to stroke your clit in time with Arthur's thrusts. The combination was too much, and with a scream that was muffled by Isaac’s mouth on yours, you came again, your body convulsing around Arthur's. He followed you over the edge, his cock pulsing deep inside you as he filled you with his release.

For a moment, the three of you stayed like that, panting and trembling, lost in the aftermath of your shared climax. Then, Arthur withdrew, his cock glistening with your juices.

You felt boneless, your muscles turned to jelly as Arthur pulled out, his breathing ragged. Isaac helped you up, his arm around your waist as you swayed slightly. "You okay?" he asked, his voice a low rumble of concern. You nodded, a lazy smile on your face, still reeling from the intensity of the experience.

The three of you stood there for a moment, panting and sweaty, the air thick with the scent of sex. Isaac leaned in to kiss you, his tongue claiming your mouth in a way that left no doubt who you belonged to. Arthur's hand rested on your shoulder, his own need for dominance sated for the moment.

*****

The three of you collapsed onto the couch, breathing heavily, your bodies sticky with sweat and cum. You felt a sense of euphoria wash over you, a heady mix of satisfaction and disbelief.

“Damn, that was incredible," Arthur murmured, his voice heavy with satisfaction. You nodded, unable to find the words to express the tumult of emotions coursing through you. You felt used in the best possible way, claimed by two men who had given you pleasure beyond anything you'd ever known.

Arthur stepped closer, his hand tracing the line of your spine as he leaned in to kiss you. "You're both incredible," you managed to say, your voice a hoarse whisper.

*****

Arthur stepped back, his desire still evident in his eyes. "Let's get you cleaned up," he said, his voice still thick with lust. You nodded, your legs wobbly as Isaac helped you to your feet. He led you to the bathroom, the two of them following close behind. The warm water of the shower washed over you, the steam filling the room as they lathered your body with gentle, soothing strokes.

They took turns washing you, their hands gliding over your skin with a tenderness that belied the intensity of what had just happened. You felt cherished, desired, and utterly consumed by them. Isaac's hands lingered on your breasts, his thumbs flicking your sensitive nipples until you gasped. Arthur's soapy hands roamed down your back, his fingers tracing the lines of your ass before slipping between your cheeks.

You took a deep breath, feeling both sated and overwhelmed. "Guys," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I... I can't handle anymore tonight." You felt a twinge of regret, but your body was begging for a break from the intensity of the evening.

Isaac's arms tightened around you, his lips brushing against your ear. "Sshh, baby," he soothed. "You've been amazing. We'll save the rest for another time." His words were like a warm blanket, wrapping around you and easing the tension that had built up in your muscles.

Arthur nodded in agreement, his eyes still dark with hunger, but understanding in your exhaustion. "You've done more than enough," he said, his voice a soft rumble that sent shivers down your spine despite your satiation. "Let us take care of you now."

When you were clean, they helped you out of the shower, wrapping you in a soft, warm towel. Isaac's arms circled you from behind, his chest pressing against your back as he kissed your neck. Arthur took the towel from you, his eyes never leaving yours as he dried you off, his touch lingering in all the right places.

They led you to the bedroom, the soft light from the bedside lamp casting a warm glow over the rumpled sheets. Isaac laid you down, his hands smoothing over your skin as Arthur climbed in beside you. They surrounded you, their warm bodies a comforting cocoon that seemed to chase away any lingering nerves or doubts.

You snuggled closer to Isaac, his arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you against his chest. Arthur's hand found your thigh, his fingers idly stroking the soft skin as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to your cheek. You felt safe, cherished, and more alive than you had in a long time.

You looked up at Isaac, your hand sliding up to trace the line of his jaw. He opened his eyes, the intensity in them replaced with a soft, affectionate gaze. "Thank you," you whispered, the words barely carrying across the pillow.

He smiled, a gentle curve of his lips that made your heart flutter. "For what?"

You shrugged, feeling a little shy. "For making this happen. For making it feel...right."

Isaac leaned in to kiss you, his lips soft and reassuring. "You're welcome," he murmured. "Now get some rest. We've got a podcast to record tomorrow."

You chuckled, the mundane thought of the podcast a stark contrast to the erotic whirlwind of the evening. Arthur's hand slid up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray lock of hair. "Sleep tight, love," he whispered, his voice thick with affection.

“I can't believe we're going to talk about this on the podcast," you said, a hint of nervousness in your voice.

“Don't worry," Isaac assured you, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip. "We're not going to spill the beans about what happened here. That's our little secret." Arthur nodded in agreement, his hand still resting on your thigh. "But we will definitely talk about the fanfics," he added with a wink.

The three of you lay there, the tension of the evening slowly unwinding. The air was still heavy with the scent of sex and desire, but now it was tempered with a warmth that was almost comforting. Isaac’s chest rose and fell steadily beneath you, his heartbeat a reassuring throb that lulled you closer to sleep. Arthur's hand continued to move in lazy circles, his breathing evening out as his eyes drifted closed.

The podcast was going to be interesting tomorrow, you thought with a small smile. But for now, you were content to bask in the afterglow of your newfound reality. This was a night that would go down in history, not just for the podcast, but for the three of you.

******

Ménage à trois (Part 2)

A/N: Let me know what you guys think my first time writing in a while, I am going to open my requests to imagines of the British YouTube scene. Let me know if anyone would be interested in that!

A/n: Big shoutout and thanks to @g-xix and @live-laugh-lenney for letting me reference and use some of their brilliant smut in this imagine

Smuts references:

Submissive ArthurTV smut

arthur loves lingerie

[cal-flakes]

╰┈➤ mean!rafe’s confession

warnings: swearing, mentions of violence, underage drinking, drug use.

summary: this was a request, courtesy of @sublimepenguinpeach-blog. <33

the kook prince, rafe cameron, was the human epitome of a stone in your shoe. no matter how many times you think you’ve got rid of it, it just keeps coming.

living in outerbanks and growing up on an island seems like paradise to outsiders, but it wasn’t any different than living on the mainland. the social divide between pogues and kooks was the worst amongst the young adults and teenagers living there. it it was that same divide, that brought their friendship to a dramatic end.

y/f/n and rafe cameron were inseparable through childhood, true partners in crime. where one went, the other was never far behind.

they were two peas in a pod. they explored every inch of the island together, they hid their first sip of alcohol together, their first cigarette together. that was until highschool.

in tenth grade, y/n met a boy called pope heyward, who introduced her to a group of pogues. unsurprisingly, they were nothing like rafe had said they were.

but thats where things became a bit rocky between her and her bestfriend. she started hanging out with pope and his friends a lot more, she went fishing with them, got stoned with them.

she didn’t see the issue, they were good, kind people, albeit a little crazy sometimes, but it matched her own craziness completely.

little did she know, there was a deep, burning hatred growing in rafe cameron’s chest, ignited everytime he saw her with them. it wasn’t hatred for her however, but the pogues. he felt like they had stolen something that belonged to him, ripping it away from underneath his feet before he could notice.

with this, rafe threw himself into the full kook life, collecting all the traits of a typical asshole as he claimed his rightful place in the pecking order. he was the prince, without a princess.

it wasn’t until the annual bonfire that she completely snapped.

y/n and the band of pogues gathered around the edge of the bonfire, laughing amongst themselves as thick clouds of burning cannabis smothered them.

she was wrapped in a blanket, facing the fire, while she nursed a can of beer. she loved the bonfire, the one time everyone on the island came together, leaving behind their prejudice thoughts of eachother.

she never claimed to be either a pogue or a kook, she danced across the two, having friends in all corners of the outerbanks.

hoots and hollers erupted from the rocks above them as the kook trio arrived, sneering down at those situated below them.

rafe, topper and kelce were the worst of the worst, or so john b had once said to her. she didn’t believe him however. well, that being said, y/n did not like topper and kelce at all, she thought they were bad influences on rafe. although, she’s sure he’d say the same about the pogues.

she couldn’t help but feel a tug on her heart strings as she watched the three boys, eyes landing on rafe.

he didn’t seem himself, his once neatly gelled head of hair was now dishevelled as it fell into his face. and the constant furrowed brows a sign he was holding a lot of stress.

a snigger caught her ear just before pope let out a yelp, an empty beer can having hit him in the shoulder.

she glared between the can, now on the floor, and rafe. she knew exactly who’d done it, yet the reason why was unknown.

the anger inside her was passed it’s boiling point, and this was her chance.

her chance to find out what the hell happened to her rafe cameron, the boy that used to make treasure maps with her and hide sea glass around the house for her to find.

she removed the blanket around her furiously, shoving it into pope’s hands as she leapt from her crouched position.

y/n disappeared through the crowd of bodies and made her way to the top of the rocks from the back. stomping through the mess littered on the ground, she shoved rafe from behind.

an orchestra of ooh’s filled the air between them as he turned to face her, jaw clenched. “what the fuck are you doing?” he spat, looking down at her as she squared up to him. “no rafe, what the fuck are you doing? what the hell is your problem?”

as he went to answer, topper intercepted, puffing out his chest as he stood in front of the small girl.

she broke into sarcastic hysterics at his demeanour, somewhat flattered by his attempt to intimidate her. “is this supposed to scare me?” she mocked, gesticulating towards him.

toppers ego deflated slightly as rafe pushed him back towards kelce, knowing who’d come out on top if his friend was to go for her.

y/n was feisty, she had never once backed down from an altercation, no matter who it was. rafe could remember a few of the countless times he’d had to pull her away before she could lunge at the unlucky victim.

he blamed himself for that sometimes, he was the one who had taught her to defend herself. they’d play fight and wrestle in the garden all the time, not stopping until both had tapped out atleast twice.

“top, take it easy man, i got this..” rafe spoke in a chill tone, dragging her away from the large numbers of people watching the argument.

she struggled against his grip as he pulled her further into the trees, out of sight from everyone else.

“so are you going to tell me?” he sighed, a hint of cockiness on his tongue. “tell you what, asshole?” she seethed.

“tell me what the fuck your problem is!” he shouted, closing in on her. “my problem? you really wanna know why my problem is?” she shrieked, eyes crazed. “yes! please, enlighten me y/n, what the hell is your problem?”

she had reached the end of her tether with rafe, he dropped her out of thin air, leaving her behind to wonder what she had done that was so god awful, for her to deserve such horrible treatment from her bestfriend.

“my problem…” she whispered, gathering courage. her hands shook violently as she met his prying eyes. “my problem rafe, is that you, my bestfriend in the whole wide world, could treat me so awfully out of the blue, that you could cause me so much pain and heartbreak and never tell me why, that you could take out your hatred for pogues on my friends, infront if me!” she wailed, hot tears cascading down her cheeks.

his glare softened, watching as the tears on her face fell, or more specifically, fell for him. he never bothered to think about how she felt, having been blinded by such hatred for her friends, he never considered what he was doing to her.

“i-i…” rafe stumbled over his words, struggling to get them out as they rushed to the back of his throat.

“spit it out then!” she snapped, waiting impatiently to finally hear whatever crime she had committed.

“because i fucking love you!” he yelled, causing her to freeze. “i fucking adore you y/n! and i always have! and-and those pogues took you away from me, my y/n, they turned you against me when i wasn’t looking!” he rambled, the words falling out of his mouth before he could catch them.

a shaky breath escaped her as she stared at him. “ please don’t say something you don’t mean rafe..” she whispered, wiping away the tears with the back of her hand.

her heart paced rapidly, she’d never have seen this coming, yet it’s what she’d wanted to hear for so long.

“i do mean it! why would i lie? y-you think I would’ve gone out of my way to find the prettiest sea glass for you when we were 13? you think i would’ve brought you flowers in ninth grade when you broke your arm? do you think i would’ve done any of that for you if I didn’t absolutely worship the fucking ground you walk on?” he bellowed frantically.

before he could continue, she placed a soft finger to his lips, shutting him up.

“wh-what are you doing?” he pleaded, preparing himself for the final blow.

“kiss me, rafe” she sighed, tears having dried away. his brows furrowed once more, looking at her as though he’d misheard.

groaning in anticipation, she balance on the ball of her foot as she leaned up to meet his lips, pulling him down to meet her halfway.

their lips connected with such passion, it was almost forceful, each had waited so long for this, yet the other never even knew.

his hand reaches into her hair, tangling his fingers as the other roamed her waist, yearning for closeness.

she smiled breathlessly into the kiss, pushing him backwards into a tree before he grabbed her thighs, hoisting her up. she cupped his face as neither wanted to let go, the kiss so frantic and desperate.

pulling away, a string of saliva remained between them as they beamed at one another.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that..” he chuckled, out of breath.

“you’re telling me!”

[factual-fantasy]

28 asks! Thanks ya'll!! :}} 🕸️

Thanks to you anon I finally found a way to make the Mega evolution work! Which inspired me to make this post!

And an Enchantment Seed to induce mega evolution.. that's genius!!

AW. I hadn't realized that each mega has a stone unique to their species! That adds an extra layer of difficulty 😔

Ah? :0 My name is not Jana..

Also I'm going through a reaaaly hard season in my life rn 🫠🫠I'm hoping with all my heart that its over soon.. thank you for asking! <:D

@candyglumboy

Sorry, I don't take drawing requests! <:D

That'd genius XDD Now to find the right stock images.. 🤔

You make a good argument ngl XDD

@scg4

Bonnie probably has some dialogue lined up in the event he encounters a crying child. All relating to his own role as a Bowling coach no doubt.

He might try to comfort him with things along the lines of "You did great." "Don't worry, you'll get it next time champ." "Don't give up, you can do it!"

But if those phrases don't relate to what Gregory is upset about.. Bonnie might not know what to say. He's not intended to be the chatty type.. He might give Gregory a gentle pat on the shoulder. Maybe a "Its gonna be okay, kiddo.." Probably just subtle things like that until Freddy or Foxy show up to better help comfort him. :'(

Indeed he is! I had my heart set on a Sylveon but I wasn't about to spend hours looking for a 12% spawn chance on a female Eevee <XDD

Plus drawing Sylveon to look more masculine is fun! And having his story be that he loved his friends so much that he evolved for them and they accepted him the way he was?? It makes the male Sylveon thing work for me XDD

@i-v-y67

Thank you so much!! And aww!! She's adorable!!! :DDD

SKNF BINGO REAL XDD

I'm feeling better than I did yesterday, but still not great.. 🫠Thank you for asking though! :)) I hope you are well!

I'm not familiar with any of the book animatronics.. though I'd like to imagine that Fazbear Entertainment was wise about the designs of the other glamrocks. It would make sense that each different location would have different themes. You know, to keep them from being same-y same-y.

What I mean by this- is while the Pizzaplex is very futuristic and space themes.. maybe other locations that have the Twisted wolf or Ella would be Ocean or Fantasy themed..?

Maybe the ocean themed place would be blue and have a lot of mermaids, pirates, boats, treasure, sea creatures, etc. The animatronics would be glittery and have long flowy designs perhaps?

@nootking

Thank you! I don't have a Patreon or anything.. but I have considered making one i the past.. 🤔

-- Also NOnononono, absolutely not- I don't draw NSFW 💀

@littlelightfish

XDD Tuna just be standing over you like "..Is.. is it dead? Oh crap its dead isn't it- I gotta get Louis to help me dispose of this body-"

Indeed he is! XDD

@flutehammer

ah? :DD You're welcome! (?) :00

THANK YOU SO MUCH!! :DDD That means a lot to me!! :}}] 💞💞

Now I'm taking a break from Octonauts atm- but I do have a headcannon I can share about the Vegimals at least! :00

So typically in Octonauts, we see only 5 vegimals total. These being, (from left to right) Barrot, Codish, Grouber, Tomminow and Tunip.

But in this screenshot from.. I forget the episode, we see 3 extra vegimals. A blue one, (Halibeet) another big purple one, (Sharchini) and a little green one (Pikato)

We almost NEVER see these vegimals. So I headcannoned that the main 5 Vegimals are all chefs and rather extroverted. While the missing 3 are rather shy and are the gardeners of the group. While you can go into the kitchen and easily find and talk to the 5 vegimals.. of you go into the garden pod you'll find the missing 3 all shyly humming together and gardening. :}

Its gotta be this one here <XDD

(Also good on you for steppin out! Proud of you for that :}}} 💪💪✨)

@skatermusic

Huh? Oh nono I don't ever delete or purge my artwork- it must be a Tumblr problem not showing my posts..? <:00

Also my pronouns are they/them for anonymity XDD so you're totally fine!

@longlivethedragons

WAAAAAHG THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! 😭😭💞💞💖💞

@emmetest

AWE!! :DD YOU'RE COOL!! THANK YOU SO MUCH!!! :}}}}

While he's in there can he eat all the insulation? I'm trynna let that cold rainy air, IN

@tallchest13-blog

Oh to have a Gengar in this summer heat indeed.. 😔

@chickenheadguy (Image is from this post)

The dude just loves his fwiends so much.. 🥺💞💞

@smithanonsworld

I have been laughing at this image for 25 minutes

@minnesotamedic186

Fr?? That's sick!! After a quick Google search-

"Inside Rayquaza's body lies an organ that contains the same power as a Mega Stone. A Devon Corporation scientist named this organ the mikado organ (Japanese: ミカド器官). By consuming meteoroids as it flies through the stratosphere, the organ will be filled with enough energy to enable Rayquaza's Mega Evolution."

Turns out he's a hungry boi XDD

@stupid-thatsme

Well Grimace isn't warm- Gengars steal the heat from their surroundings <XD But I'm sure he wouldn't mind a hug! :))

I'd like to think he encountered an Espeon at some point, Mostly because that's the only eeveeloution I remember encountering in game--

But considering Espeon's whole friendship evolution thing... maybe a Leafeon or Vaporeon encounter would be more likely? I wonder how that would make him feel.. seeing what he could have been.. you just gave me a drawing idea! 👀👀

[lailoken]

Rejoicing a Treasure Conserved

As some of you may know, I am currently dealing with an especially difficult Faerie Physic case right now—possibly my most vexing to date—and it has taken a lot out of me. Between this work, and my paying work that I still have to keep up with to make a living, I have been burning the candle at both ends. In this time of stress and danger, I felt strongly compelled to turn to my chief Herbal Ally—the Ghost Pipe.

Despite the population of Ghost Pipes that I spent years stewarding in a devotional capacity being entirely depleted last year in what I believe was an unethical foraging harvest, I felt a strong call to revisit the site and look for any plants that may have managed to survive somehow.

After making my way to the forested site mentioned above, I began my search along all the places I previously saw colonies growing, but dishearteningly, I found nothing. Finally, I remembered the time a year ago that I felt called to spread seeds from the previous year's pods along areas that I intuitively felt would support Ghost Pipe cultivation. At the time, I didn't realize how fortuitous this act of sowing would be, as it was only a few months later that the area was ecologically divested. Remembering this, I went to a particular spot that I remember spreading an especially large amount of seed powder in, and I was literally choked up to discover, not only a young colony of Ghost Pipes just beginning to peak their heads above the soil, but a small snailshell (which have an especially powerful and longstanding role in my tradition as Fae Omens of the wild).

After lowering myself to the ground in worship and offering up prayers of gratitude and joy, I carefully concealed the area with bracken ferns and marked it with a subtle arrangement of sticks that I implanted in a nearby mound of earth. As a lovely bonus, I stumbled upon a small patch of Gnome Plants while marking the area for later notice—with these plants often showing up in my Craft as meaningful Fae Omens in their own right.

I will be returning often to check on and nurture this population of nacent Ghodt Pipes, as well as doing whatever I can to conceal and protect it.

[mieanme]

Merman x Siren au

Hualian - (Part VIII)

First part: PART I

Previous part: PART VII

***

Xie Lian honestly hates how fast time passes when he needs to come up with something to please someone. Whether it's any type of gift or 'scrap commission', he always has a hard time deciding on what is going to be the best for someone and if it's not going to disrespect them in any way.

It's even worse now, when he's trying his best to think of anything that would serve as payment for the algae. The siren helped him a lot, so it's a big deal to treat him as he deserves. All in all, the siren's anger is the last thing Xie Lian needs nor wants.

However, the more he thinks, the less ideas he gets. As San Lang himself said, the pod doesn't have anything that would be of any value to him, so it seems almost impossible for Xie Lian to come up with anything.

After a few days he decides to just go with his first idea - if merpeople have nothing to offer, then maybe San Lang would be satisfied with something that came from humans! The creatures of the land lose all types of things underwater, so as a trash collecting merman, Xie Lian has gathered quite an amount of those actually interesting and useful things through the years.

He goes throughout his entire collection of scrap he considers valuable and picks some of his most treasured things, wanting to give only the best out of the best to the siren. He puts it on a thick cloth and wraps it to form a bag and after that he waits until it gets dark to sneak out of the mers' territory yet again.

It takes only a few minutes for him to hear the characteristic rambling clicks right behind his back, when he tries to manoeuvre between the smallest, unoccupied caves on the outskirts of the capital.

"And where do you think you're going?"

Xie Lian stops in place, dropping his shoulders and grinning as he turns around to face Feng Xin.

The other merman has his arms crossed on his chest, waiting for his friend's answer. His brown tail swings calmly, but what gives away his building up anger are the little twitches of his fin. He cocks his eyebrow when Xie Lian stumbles on his first few clicks.

"Well, I, you, I, uh, um—," he struggles to come up with a valid excuse for wandering around at night without notice. Again.

However nothing comes to his mind, so he just deflates with only a sigh.

Feng Xin's expression suddenly changes, when he notices the bag Xie Lian carries on his back. Xie Lian certainly does not expect his friend to turn from anger to fear in only a few seconds.

"You're... not trying to get away from the pod... Are you?" The bigger merman asks cautiously. "Has someone bullied you again? We've told you to come to us, if there's something happening! Do you not trust us to take care of it anymore? What happened?"

Xie Lian's eyes widen at the questions and he instantly feels guilty.

"No, no! It's not like that, I swear!" He waves his hands furiously to deny anything Feng Xin came up with, which leads him to almost dropping the bag with scraps for the siren. "I'm not getting away forever or anything! I'm just..."

He knows he cannot tell Feng Xin where he's going, because 1) the other merman will certainly not allow that, 2) he doesn't want anyone to know in the first place. However, in the current situation, how can he even excuse himself?

"Just tell me already. Are we not friends after all?" Feng Xin pressures although he doesn't mean to do so. It's just his worry and not him trying to take advantage of the "we're friends" card, Xie Lian knows him too well.

"I just need to get away from the capital for a few days. Just... A breather, you know?" Xie Lian tries, but Feng Xin doesn't seem convinced. "Nobody bullied me, I swear. Ruoye just happened to show me a coral reef that got super littered and it's going to take a while to get it all cleaned. And after the algae thing, I feel like everyone I come across looks at me as if I were a criminal, so... I just want to take a break for a while. Ruoye is going to accompany me for sure, so you don't have to worry!"

"Then I will go with you and help," Feng Xin clicks immediately, to Xie Lian's surprise and terror. "The merpeople who had fallen ill are already getting back on track, so those who took up their positions for a while are back in their guarding and hunting jobs as well. I can take a few days off and accompany you. It will sure be faster if it's the two of us."

That's exactly what I want to avoid, Feng Xin!

"No, really, I will go on my own! I'm the one in charge of cleaning up! Besides, it would be great if you could watch over my cave when I'm gone! I recently planted a new algae species and it needs a little extra care! It would be super helpful if you could do that!" Xie Lian waves his hands, spilling up nonsense after nonsense.

It's true that he has a new plant, but it could probably survive even in the total darkness of an oceanic trench! With Xie Lian's luck, no other plant could grow in his surroundings either.

"But... I have no idea how to take care of plants," Feng Xin says, dumbfounded. However, Xie Lian is already setting off, not wasting even a second of the confusion he managed to create.

"Then you can ask Mu Qing on my behalf! He has a hand for plants! Anyway, see you in a few days!" He exclaims, getting away from his friend.

It seems he managed to come out victorious of that encounter, since Feng Xin neither yells after him nor follows. It's probably thanks to the comment about Mu Qing - the other merman is probably still contemplating how in the Seven Seas would he be able to ask him specifically for help. Xie Lian sighs in relief, leaving the capital and swimming in the wrong direction at first to deceive any eyes that might be watching him. Only after a while he turns to his actual destination.

This time it takes him a lot less time to reach the algae forest and, finally, the oceanic trench. It might be because he already knows the way or because he... doesn't feel any fear at all, unlike the few days prior.

He is a little nervous though. He's not sure the siren is going to like any of the things he has brought, but he cannot back down now, can he? If San Lang doesn't find anything he has to offer worth keeping, Xie Lian will simply look for something else and eventually pay the siren back!

With those thoughts and unusual enthusiasm, he comes closer to the trench and looks around.

"San Lang?" Xie Lian clicks quietly, as if he really didn't want the siren to hear him. He reflects immediately and calls for him again, louder. "San Lang!"

However, nothing happens. The siren is nowhere to be seen.

'What should I do now?" Xie Lian asks himself. 'I haven't thought this through after all..."

He doesn't dare to cross the trench and wander deeper into San Lang's territory. Although he has a great reason to try and seek the creature there, it feels extremely rude. Xie Lian doesn't want to bring the siren's anger on himself after all.

After a while, he decides to swim to the edge of the trench and wait there. And then, just as he makes his mind and starts moving, he suddenly feels someone's presence.

Xie Lian abruptly turns around and lets out a quiet click of surprise when he sees the siren right underneath him. They're within an arm's distance, even though Xie Lian was certain he's alone here just a moment ago. The red-scaled creature looks at him from below, so the merman guesses that San Lang must have emerged from the trench when he lost focus.

"Hello, little merman. Did I scare you?" The siren greets him in that deep, chilling tone. However, Xie Lian doesn't feel even slightly threatened.

Maybe he has already lost his mind?

"San Lang, no! Not at all! I was just caught by surprise!" Xie Lian exclaims, happy that his wrinkle of staying or wandering has been resolved. "Good thing you showed up! I didn't want to bother, so I wanted to just wait for you here, but you came almost immediately, ha ha!"

The siren's smile widens into something slightly dangerous, almost a predatory smirk.

"How could I not come when this little merman called my name?"

Xie Lian cannot help but feel a little embarrassed. He smiles back sheepishly. Just in time he remembers why he even came here.

"Right!" He clicks too loud yet again, reaching out for the bag of valuable things he has brought. "I collect... pretty items I find in the ocean!" He says, watching as the siren's curiousity picks up. He decides to leave out the part where he collects trash though. It doesn't really sound good to offer someone scrap after all. "Some of them come from humans and are very useful, so I thought they might be to your liking. Come, come, I will lie everything down on the sand and show you!"

San Lang doesn't question him and follows.

Xie Lian opens the cloth and picks up the first item.

"This one would be great in the darkness! If you tap here, it creates light, like a little sun! Look," Xie Lian demonstrates, turning on the flashlight. He's careful not to flash the siren's eye. After all, he probably has a lot more sensitive vision than merpeople. "You probably see well in the darkness, but this can save some effort! It runs out of the light after some time though, so I personally save it for emergencies."

He doesn't dare to look back at San Lang in case the siren would look disappointed. Quickly, he picks up another item, carefully setting down the already switched off flashlight.

"This one is a little tricky, but I really like it! As you can see, it's like a knife, but has a few different blades and others! You can switch them up like this, and with this ending you can cut the algae effortlessly! I always had a hard time getting rid of tangled nets and so on, but this is my glorious saviour! I'm not sure about the use of these two endings, probably something only useful on land..." Xie Lian gets lost in his words as he shows San Lang the all-purpose knife with different endings that can serve as not only a blade, but also scissors, fork or even a tiny hammer.

He goes over all the things he has brought and only after he's done he realizes he has started yapping like a madman. However, the siren hasn't cut in on him at any point, and when Xie Lian finally looks over at him, San Lang only offers him a smile.

"So... do you want to take any of this?" Xie Lian finally asks with big eyes.

However, his excitement and hope deflates as soon as the siren speaks up.

"No."

Xie Lian thinks for a second that the creature is joking, taking into account his insincere smile that is probably more of a habit than mockery towards the merman, but even after a short while San Lang doesn't go back on his word.

"W-what do you mean? Really? Not... not even one thing?"

Xie Lian was certain the siren was listening to him because he was interested! The totally negative response is not what he expected.

"I don't need any of these, so why would I take those from you, when you can put them into better use than me?" San Lang responds, leaving the merman speechless.

Even if he has a point, it's still a little bit discouraging. That's not how Xie Lian wanted this meeting to go!

"Then... What would you like to receive? I don't think I can come up with a better idea than human stuff, since you stated there's nothing my pod can provide to satisfy you."

He can't help but sound a little pretentious. He's just disappointed in himself for not bringing even one item that's up to San Lang's taste, not to mention a thing that the siren would find useful.

The siren doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he starts swimming, his long tail gracefully following his toned body. Xie Lian at first thinks he's going to approach him, but right before him the siren changes his route and slowly swims behind the merman's back.

"What would I like to receive, you're asking?" The creature clicks, almost mockingly. Xie Lian can feel the water around them following the siren's movement, but he doesn't dare to turn around, feeling as he really shouldn't. "The answer is simple. What I want is..."

San Lang gets closer to him, his front almost touching Xie Lian's back. One of his strong hands seizes the merman's waist, when the other one gently makes its way through Xie Lian's hair to pet his cheek. His tail fin mischievously brushes under the merman's chin as he speaks right into Xie Lian's ear.

"...you."

Hi hi~ Hello! Another longer part, hope you liked it! ^*^ Thanks for your support, guys! (I hate it that you can't respond to a reblog, like, why TT) Lemme know your thoughts as always and see you next week!

***

Next part: PART IX

[normal-internet-user]

Hello! Can I plz ask for the ROTTMNT brothers (separately) react to their s/o being cute and innocent? Like they love watching animated movies, become a blushing mess if there's a kissing scene or in real life, love to draw, cook/bake, and dance, also are curious about everything. Oh, and they don't understand dirty jokes and if someone curses they put a hand over their mouth and look flabbergasted. They also are shorter than them and have small hands.

THIS IS GONNA BE SO CUTE I'M CRYING!!

RISE BOY'S WITH AN INNOCENT S/O

Mikey:

Oh mi gosh,

You two are the most wholesome couple this side of anywhere.

Literally two peas in a pod.

Disney movies every movie night,

You bake together,

You draw together,

And he loves watching you dance around.

One of your favorite things to do is to walk around the city at night,

Just to see what you'll find.

He loves how easily flustered you are,

He thinks it's just the cutest!

Mikey thinks it's hilarious how shocked you get when someone swears.

You'd think someone just killed your grandmother!

The first time it happened is a treasured memory for the whole family.

Leo had fallen off his skateboard and smacked his face on the ground.

"Shit!"

*Le gasp* "Language! Oh my gosh!"

Everyone just kinda looked at you then started laughing.

Mikey loves how much shorter than him you are.

I mean sure, it's only a few inches,

But he likes to rest his head ontop of your's.

Leo loves to make "That's what she said" jokes around you,

Mikey hates it,

He's scared you'll lose your innocence.

But everytime Leo goes, "That's what she said!"

You'll just look at him and say, "That's what who said? Who is 'She'? And why won't anyone tell me for gosh sake??"

"I'll tell you when you're older Cutie Pie."

You and Mikey are literally the sweetest couple, like, ever!

Donnie:

He finds your innocence impressive.

With the excistence of the internet,

He assumed there were no innocent teenagers left.

But you are on a whole new level of innocent.

And he thinks it's adorable.

Donnie does his best to shield you from Leo's jokes,

Because he is not about to let you be ruined by his brothers' crude sense of humor.

So imagine his surprise when you come ask him what one of these jokes mean.

He looks at you,

Then sighs,

You look at him confused as he stands up and grabs his tech bo

"NARDO!"

*Que screaches of fear*

Donnie loves that you dance too.

You guys have small disco parties every Saturday night.

He also loves how naturally curious you are,

Because it usually leads to him answering your endless questions about a ceratain topic.

But he doesn't mind.

He likes it when you ask him questions.

He also thinks its adorable how easily you get flustered.

Especially when it's over something as little as a movie scene.

He will tease you,

Just to fluster you even more.

And holy truffle mac & cheese,

You're so small!!

He has a habbit of resting his elbow on your head.

Kinda like how he leans on his tech bo.

You'll usually wave him off, and grab his hand instead.

Raph:

Raph loves your innocent nature.

It just plays into how sweet you are,

And Raph loves him some sugar.

He's more than happy to participate in your hobbies,

Especially if it means you're trying to teach him something new.

You just look so cute when you're concetrating!

Like Donnie,

He does his best to keep you from Leo's awful jokes,

And like you,

He isn't very fond of swearing.

He'll act just as flabberghasted as you if one of his brothers were to swear.

Like, ExCuSE mE??

WaTcH YoUr MouTh YoUnG MaN!

Now when it comes to how much smaller you are than him,

It really depends on the day for how he feels about it.

On the one hand,

You are so tiny and adorable and he could just hug you for hours like holy crap.

Then on the other hand,

He is terrified he'll hurt you.

Human skin is just so friggin fragile,

And he doesn't want to be the reason you're in pain.

Just make sure your sweet self reassures him,

He'll get over it pretty quick with your help.

Leo:

Oh my god, this boy teases you endlessly.

His favorite thing ever is to make you all flustered and stuff.

Whenever you two watch movies together he'll always pick some cheesy romance flick,

Just so he can watch you hide your face in your shirt whenever something romantic happens.

Leo loves baking with you.

Even if he's only allowed to watch.

(He set the kitchen on fire the last time he tried to actually help and in turn was perma banned from cooking.)

He likes trying all the sweet treats you bake up for everyone.

He also enjoys making jokes he knows you won't understand,

Because you look so cute when you're confused,

Your face gets all scrunched up while you try to figure out the joke,

And to him it's the cutest thing in the world.

Leo likes it when you freak out over swearing,

He thinks its funny.

You'll fan yourself with your hand all taken aback.

And your voice goes up an octave when you adress it,

"PARdon me?"

"I said fuck, (Name)."

"LANGUAGE!"

*Wheeze*

............................................

[lizzaneia-elizalde]

Hi, Goodmorning/night! how has your day been? :3 i hope it went well!

If its okay, can I request mermaid reader (preferably fem), dropping some stuff down to Viper? It can be small jewelry she doesn't quite like or anything REALLY shiny — because she thinks sending him stuff would make him less interested in her and more on the stuff she drops. Basically her doing an offering and praying Viper would take the items instead of her

Always rest! And can I be "🦪" Anon? Im mostly a huge fan of Viper and Damon, so i might ask a lot about them! Again always rest and take care of yourself!!

Yandere! Male! Deep sea creature x mermaid! Fem! Reader: Viper route 1

That's so cute! Okay cuz I think Viper has like some similarities to Orion. He's also a collector! So I just let my hands flow and see where it takes me. Also, welcome 🦪anon! It's so nice to have more familiar faces here!

Also a bit sick, so I'll probably slow down a bit till i'm healed. Sore throat plus a runny nose, plus A FEVER WHAT LIKE LET ME BREATH????

Writing puts my mind at rest from being sick anyways...

You pursed your lips and looked down at the void below the trenches.

It's been quite a while since you escaped Viper's grasp, and Viper has continued to try and fail to seduce you back to him with that dang light of his.

You're a curious fish, but not that curious.

You're even deliberating on moving out of the trenches and back to civilization again, but something's telling you to don't do it.

Deciding on taking your mind off of the deep sea merman, you dedicated your time in talking to Orion and knowing more about human technology. He's happy to oblige too, anyways.

But you can't help but glance back at the deep, dark void down below, telling you, whispering that you belong there.

Surely you don't.

You're a creature of light, someone who enjoys the sunrays reflecting on the blue, tranquil sea. Someone who loves looking at the boats passing by, cleaning up trash, finding little treasures that you stock up and design your little pod inside the trenches...

You're satisfied...

Are you?

You can't help but remember how cold yet warm the darkness was. How Viper coiled his long tail around yours, his body heat enveloping yours. You can still feel against your back, your skin, the way his torso pressed against yours flush and fit. Significantly stronger, can kill you with one bite and yet...

You shook your head as you shivered away the daydream. No. No no no!

Slapping your face, you grabbed your bag and zoomed back to the trenches to start your little... Littering.

You've been sprinkling these little gems, trinkets, and jewels down below to him. Sure, you might need them as it's currency, but you're self sufficient enough with a farm and an aquatic ranch. You rarely even go to civilization anymore to really use these.

So, as valuable as these treasures are, and would literally make you rich, you decided to dump them on Viper.

Sweet, little naive you thinks that this counts as littering. You really didn't want to throw down actual trash-- you're environmentally friendly, you don't want to do that. And Viper is still a merfolk despite how um, scary he is. Hope he sees it as a bribe too. Who knows? Maybe he'll leave you alone if you make him rich enough?

But then again, you're sweet, you're little...

And you're naive.

Didn't you really thought that this practice looks like you're giving him gifts?

No, a wedding gift specifically?

He did propose to you to be his mate, his eternal partner.

And you're doing this?

Oh, little one. You're too cute! Acting all shy and bashful-- you're so upfront at wanting to marry him by giving him what's equal to a dowry!

Viper collects them meticulously. Putting them in a giant pit that's slowly but surely making him richer by the second.

Should you and him move out of the trenches and back to civilization with this money? With all of these riches, both of you are basically at the upper crust now.

Then, he'll show to those pesky upperdwellers that one of them is his, and only his.

He'll show them how he owns you, loves you, and will have a family just to piss them off.

Oh, how it makes him shiver just thinking about it.

So yes, continue giving him the dowry, little one.

Sooner or later, he'll snatch you up and drag you back down to the abyss,

and live happily ever after.

That's what you wanted, right?

[malobo-wolf]

Found Family AU:

Barnius' Prologue

(Trigger Warning // Blood and Injury with one of the panels)

Barnacles had been alone at the Octopod for a while as everyone else was needed for a mission in one way or another.

Kwazii is with Calico Jack treasure hunting,

Peso is with Natquik giving checkups to all his penguin family back in Antarctica,

Dashi is cave exploring with Ryla,

Shellington is on a research expedition with Pearl,

Tweak and Bud is repairing Ranger Marsh’s station in the Everglades,

Professor Inkling went out with Min to map out an area somewhere in the Amazon Rainforest,

Tunip and the Vegimals are helping Selma tend to her plants,

And Paani is researching water samples from the melting glaciers in Iceland accompanied by tracker who’s birdwatching.

After their report, none of them seemed to be in need of any assistance, this left Barnacles with nothing to do in the Octopod especially since most of the crew won’t be back for at least a week. Out of boredom and feeling like he needs something to do, he decides to go out on patrol.

On his way back after the patrol, the Gup-A accidentally gets its lamp tangled with a fishing line, unable to stop in time, he heard a snapping sound and decided to surface and investigate. There he found a polar bear who has a striking resemblance to him, only differing from the eye color, The polar bear too was surprised to see him.

The two polar bears introduced themselves to each other with Barnacles finding it uncanny that even Barnius’ name sounds similar to his. Noticing Barnius’ mannerism, he was overly welcoming and optimistic as if he was the first person he’d talked to in years. Barnacles tried to apologize for breaking his fishing rod which Barnius immediately forgave him for and said that he could always just repair it. Still feeling guilty, Barnacles offered to give him some kelp cakes and fish biscuits until Barnius could fix his fishing rod.

Ever since that event, Barnacles would often visit Barnius in his boat and getting to know each other more and more, and since the rest of the crew wouldn’t be back for a while, this was Barnacles’ routine until they return. During their time together they realized that apart from their identical appearances, they also share the same hobbies and generally have a lot in common and their only other difference that separates them is their personalities, with Barnacles being more confident and serious while Barnius is more timid and mellow.

Barnius expressed how he’s been having trouble with food lately as there aren’t many fish or islands to gather food from. Barnacles shares the same problem with his crew that although they have the garden pod, it would be nice to have more sources of food just in case, especially since the food they make is both needed by them and the creatures they encounter as well. They have a solution, however, there is currently a problem they’re trying to resolve. Though Barnacles immediately changed the subject.  Noticing his discomfort, Barnius dropped the subject as well.

After a week passed, the crew eventually finished all their missions and returned to the Octopod. Thankfully, throughout their missions, nothing came up that would cause an Octoalert. but unfortunately, something else was upon them. From the storm tracker, Dashi mentioned that a huge storm is moving quickly towards their direction, Barnacles noticed that it would also mean that Barnius will be hit by it, and even if he moves now, he won’t be able to outrun it. Taking the Gup-A, he rushed to Barnius’ boat.

It was a little late by the time Barnacles found Barnius, his boat was thrown ashore by a huge wave and was broken in half. He found Barnius not far from the destroyed boat, heavily injured but awake. Barnacles immediately picked him up, calling the peso and the rest of the crew to prepare the medical bay. From there, Barnacles brought Barnius to the Gup-A and rushed back to the Octopod. Barnius, feeling safe in the Gup-A with Barnacles and unable to tolerate his injuries, lost consciousness during their travel.

Due to losing consciousness Barnius doesn’t remember much, regardless he’s still grateful for Barnacles rescuing him. After a few weeks, Barnius eventually recovered from his injuries, he’s still a bit lost on what to do since with his boat gone, he doesn’t have any other place to live in. Barnacles kept reassuring him that things would be alright and that he had an idea for where he can live but he’s keeping it a secret for now, claiming that he should fully recover first. During his time in the Octopod, Barnius got to meet new people in Barnacle’s crew, they kept him company until he fully recovered.

One of the Octonauts that approached Barnius was professor Inkling. Professor Inkling revealed that he was the founder of the Octonauts, and wanted to inquire on whether Barnius is interested in joining them. Surprised, Barnius couldn’t hold out his excitement, however, he was immediately overcome with worry explaining that he didn’t think he had what it takes to become an Octonaut. Inkling reassured him that he does have what it takes and that anyone can become an Octonaut as long as they put the effort into become one. With that Barnius accepted, happy to not only have a renewed purpose but also have new friends that he can work with.

Barnius was surprised when he saw the ship he was going to be working on from now on, it was huge, it was as big as the Octopod, if not bigger. Barnacles explained that they originally intended to just have his boat repaired, but now that he’s joining the Octonauts, they thought that it would be a great idea to make him the captain of their new ship, the Octoark. When he asked about his boat, Barnacles said that it was in the Octoark’s launch bay which shocked Barnius even more thinking that his boat which he considers large can comfortably sit inside the ship. When Barnius expressed his worries about being the captain of such a large ship, both Barnacles and Inkling reassured him that he’ll do fine especially since Barnacles plans on becoming his mentor to teach him how to be a captain.

With that said Barnius was not able to keep his emotions hidden, his happiness poured in, and he pulled both Barnacles and Inkling for a hug, thanking them for the opportunity they gave him. Both Barnacles and Inkling also showed their happiness for having Barnius be a part of their team. And from here on out the Octonauts have two captains, one above and below the ocean waters.

Resolving some (Possible) plot holes.

The Octoark was planned and started being built before Barnius even arrived.

The Octoark has a large farm and was the solution to their food problem as well as other facilities needed by the Octonauts.

Before Barnius arrived, the Octoark was crewless although some roles can be taken by the vegimals and some of the Octoagents, the main problem was it lacked a captain.

Barnacles, being the only captain at the time was also the only candidate, however he didn’t want to be transferred to the Octoark since he’s too attached to the Octopod (hehe barnacles pun). Hence his discomfort with talking about it. Barnius was the solution to his problem, he just didn’t know it yet until he joined them.

This is my first time writing a story, recommendations on how I can improve are welcome.

[mononijikayu]

time after time ━ gojo satoru.

He could feel the warmth of the sun as he and his beloved darling laid onto their backyard to sit upon the white brim chairs, while his lover read aloud to him. He could remember laying down in the grass with him, during a meteor shower as they embraced and spoke of the most useless things and marveling at the wonder that they are living a dream - being able to have the opportunity to see those wide skies.

note: i wrote this, remembering that december 24th was when satoru gojo faced sukuna and got nerfed by gege akutami. GEGE WHEN I GET YOU GEGE??? anyway, happy christmas &lt;3

Genre: Astronaut AU, Interstellar-esque;

Warning/s: Angst, Hurt and No Comfort, Death, Grief, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Marriage, Mentions of Space, Mention of Technology Failure, Possible Trigger to Astrophobia;

masterlist

play: time after time by margaret whiting

IT WAS HARD TO WATCH WHAT WAS HAPPENING. But it was even harder to comprehend that there was no more hope. Whatever he did, Gojo Satoru knew that the chances of survival were too good. As he peered through the glass of the oxygen meter, there was give or take five or ten minutes left of oxygen. Maybe even less than that.

The power station malfunctioning, soon enough going out of action, would not be able to tell. Satoru was certain that it was as if time had taken to slowing down on its own. Life flashed before his eyes as he pushed through the miniscule halls and into the outer chamber, where the escape pod readied for a venture for survival. 

He looked through the pod, making certain that the sleeping form within was still in the state of slumber. Satoru didn’t want to wake his lover up, he wished they wouldn’t wake up until the pod had already left. That’s all he could ask for. After all, Gojo Satoru did not have the heart to say goodbye.

As Satoru struggled to grapple with the harsh reality unfolding before him, the enormity of the situation pressed heavily on his shoulders. The dimly lit chamber, once filled with the hope of escape, now seemed like a confined space echoing the impending doom. Time itself appeared to slow down, each passing second carrying the weight of irreversible consequences.

He bit his lip, turning away as he tried to not let the tears fall. Satoru had always joked that he would not cry at partings. He’s never one to be willing to let his tears fall. They loved his smile more than anything. He knew that too well. He took a deep breath, gathering all the strength he had left in him.

Nodding his head, he looks at his lover with all the devotion that stemmed from his soul. He looked at them, as though they were everything he could ever dreamed of. As if they were all that sustained whatever is left of his being. His lover was life itself to Satoru. This was all he could ever have, this parting. He cherished each millisecond as though they were the treasure of the world. 

The white haired man couldn't shake off the bitter irony that lingered in his mind. Memories of his youth, spent in the embrace of his wonders of the universe and beyond. All the knowledge of his training had come through to him in fragmented pieces. During their training, they were assured that the escape pod would have little use.

There would be no need for it, rather it was precautionary. A chance of one to thousands of impossibilities. Gojo Satoru, with unwavering confidence, had embraced this belief. He had no reason to distrust those that had more knowledge in the infinity and limitless than he. Yet, little did he know that this conviction would become the bitter catalyst for their undoing.

The experts and the scientists who had designed the now-crumbling spaceship had boasted proudly of its indestructibility. Their vessel was hailed as impervious, capable of withstanding any cosmic debris that dared to threaten it.

The advancements in technology, the pinnacle of human achievement, had seemingly fortified their journey into the vast unknown. Yet, in the silent void of space, reality unfolded with merciless clarity. He can no longer contact them. But Satoru was certain that they could not offer any other remedies now. 

Technology, for all its progress, couldn't defy the fundamental truth of existence—nothing is truly reserved from destruction, and nothing can endure forever. The spaceship, once deemed the most indestructible, the most invincible of its kind, now succumbed to the relentless forces that governed the cosmos.

As the vessel disintegrated, it served as a stark reminder that even the most advanced creations of humankind were subject to the relentless passage of time.

The echo of history reverberated through Satoru's thoughts as he remembered the tragic tale of the Titanic. His lover had shared this piece of history during their shared days in the dormitories with fellow trainees at the space center. They often borrowed books from the space center’s library.

Often, they brought it back and read it to him and Suguru. At rare times, Shoko would come by and share a smoke with them. Satoru enjoyed the tone of his lover’s voice, narrating days gone by. Even the sound of their voice as they read through tragedy, he treasured it all. 

The voice of his lover echoed hauntingly in Satoru's mind, a relentless loop that reverberated against the confines of the escape pod. The imagery painted by their words unfolded like a vivid scene—a moonless night, an unforgiving sea, and the chilling embrace of hopelessness in the dark. The parallels between their current plight and the tragic history of the Titanic became an inescapable reality.

The hubris that had surrounded the belief in the Titanic's strength now cast a long shadow over Gojo Satoru's thoughts. The ship, deemed incredibly infallible, had dared to challenge the heavens and the mysteries beyond. It had arrogantly positioned itself as greater than the enigma of life itself.

As Satoru grappled with the impending doom of their own spaceship, he found himself drawn back to a time when he, too, had dismissed the notion of facing a catastrophic fate.

The echoes of shared laughter and camaraderie reverberated in Satoru's mind as he confronted the undeniable truth—their spaceship, once believed to be beyond the vulnerabilities of the past, now succumbed to the harsh realities of the cosmos. The comfort derived from the confidence in technological progress now stood shattered, replaced by the cold, unforgiving expanse of space that surrounded the escape pod.

As the remnants of their once-invincible spaceship drifted away, Satoru found himself grappling with the harsh reality that their journey had become a poignant testament to the consequences of blind faith in the face of the unknown. The escape pod, once an afterthought in their preparations, now bore the weight of their diminishing hopes—a fragile vessel adrift in the cosmic sea.

The memories of reassurance that Satoru had offered to his lover resurfaced. They had been each other's longest friends since youth, their bond stretching across shared dreams and countless hours of training. Satoru's conviction that there was nothing to fear had been a source of solace for his friend turned lover. It was a belief rooted in the collective dedication of years spent in rigorous training, relentless work, continuous learning, and dedicated study.

The commitment extended beyond personal aspirations; it was a collective endeavor for the betterment of humanity. Their sacrifices, the toil, the shared vision—they were all invested in the pursuit of excellence. The pursuit of adventure, of exploration. Of seeing the stars from where they sat in the vast vacuum of space. His lover smiled at the thought of doing it together.

Hand in hand, The exchange of love for the sight of the big blue sphere from afar. The spaceship, once conceived as a symbol of human achievement, the big wide wonder that his lover had given their devotion to, the home they had found themselves wrapped within, now stood as a testament to the inherent fragility of such endeavors.

Yet, in the face of impending doom, Gojo Satoru couldn't help but question the cosmic order that allowed the dissolution of their dreams. The once-sturdy vessel had become a victim of the unpredictable forces of the universe. The weight of hope alive bore heavily on Satoru's shoulders, burdened by the realization that his efforts, however earnest, couldn't shield them from the capricious whims of fate. 

Satoru's gaze lingered at one of the small window panes, the infinite expanse of space stretching out beyond it. The vision of stars, once a source of wonder and inspiration, now served as a backdrop to the unraveling tragedy. The space ship, with its precious cargo of dreams and love in one capsule that fit only a soul, floated aimlessly in the cosmic abyss—a stark reminder of the impermanence of human endeavors and the relentless march of time.

Life, with its unpredictable twists, can transform into a relentless adversary, especially when one basks too blissfully in the illusion of security. He realizes that he took too much for granted. The irony of this reality provokes a bitter laugh in Satoru, reminiscent of their friend Suguru.

Geto Suguru, a crucial part of the team responsible for calculating the intricate details of the space flight, had often navigated the delicate balance between optimism and the harsh truths of their mission. Satoru wondered if he was still asleep. Or if he was panicking that they couldn’t get any communication from the ship. He would have known by now that something was wrong.

"You’ve got to learn how to forgive me, Suguru. It seems I won't be joining you guys for that beer run." Satoru murmured into the air, surrounded by the slow and steady swirls of smoke within the chamber housing the escape pod. The power chamber overheated, he knew. Barely any time now.His words hung in the weighty atmosphere, a testament to the somber acknowledgment of an unfulfilled promise. 

“Man, you still owe me for that tab, don’t you? Pay that up! Don’t you dare let my darling pay for it, stingy bangs!”

Satoru coughed for a moment, feeling the pressure in his lungs. He felt a sense of gratitude that the remaining oxygen still allowed him to breathe in the shrinking confines of space. He was sure that Suguru would see it somehow. The ship records everything. With what power it has left, it would record. Suguru would see it. He laughs for a moment. At the very least his lover wouldn’t have to pay for more of the beer when they get back.

]However, the cruel reality persisted—the lifeline he clung to had an inevitable expiration point. His gaze fixed upon his partner, securely strapped into the chair within the escape pod, and Satoru's eyes, hollow and fatigued, conveyed a poignant mixture of regret and an unspoken farewell.

Prior to their departure, Satoru took meticulous care in ensuring his partner was securely fastened for the challenging journey back to Earth. Doubts lingered about the adequacy of the fuel gauges for the trip, but amidst the uncertainty, Satoru clung to the necessity of hope—that the escape pod would reach safety, anywhere but here.

"Sorry, darling. I’m really sorry." he murmured, his once-confident voice now laced with pain, his lips forming a small frown. Satoru's eyes shifted to a picture on the wall, a repository of precious memories shared between him and his partner.

While many of these memories had been stowed away in the escape pod beside his partner, a select few remained with him—a snapshot from their wedding day, another with their dogs, one with their families, and a cherished moment with Suguru in the training hall at the space center. “I hope you learn to forgive me again. Learn to live and forgive your loving fool."

Turning his attention to the pod's facets, Satoru meticulously checked every detail. He ensured an assortment of food, refreshments, and books awaited his partner upon their awakening, once all the protective measures were removed. Swiftly, he placed his partner's earphones and music player within reach. The cerulean eyed man looks at the music player for a second longer. He thinks if his lower will listen to the music and think of him. Of how they used to dance in the ship’s kitchen and laugh together. 

He shakes his head as he takes his lover’s hand. His  thumb threads through the familiar etches, the lines across each finger, of the palm of their hand. Gojo Satoru stared at the metallic sphere on their left hand. He huffed a laugh, tears falling tenderly, as he secured their wedding ring against his touch. Trying to breathe against the grain of space’s pressure, he started to take off his own ring and carefully placed it on his lover’s other ring finger.

Parting from the ring was the most painful part of all of this; His beloved lover had gifted it to him during a moment of unexpected revelation. All those happy years, his darling had out of the blue blurted their love for him. The scarlet blush upon their cheeks, the bright beam of love echoing in shaking eyes. Winter snow fell all around them. Satoru was beyond surprised, his clutches were all that was keeping him still and balanced. They never even dated before. Yet, they knelt beside him with all their might in their heart and soul, defying convention to be honest about love.

Gojo Satoru did nothing but laugh in the most beautiful of manners. That’s what his darling had told him. Under the pale bright snow, the beauty of his blue eyes shined the most. Almost like stars themselves. Satoru leaned forward to lean for the most passionate embrace. Their lips intertwined. He could taste wonder from the strawberry mochi, the smell of lavender perfume. Most of all, there was warmth. There was warmth in being so truly loved.

Satoru vividly recalled the disbelief etched on his beloved darling’s face as he later proposed. His darling was not one to hastily reveal their feelings, and yet, they had summoned every ounce of courage to express their love for Satoru. Their smile was everything to Satoru. It was almost like the sun, so wide and radiant.

It brought him back to life again. Just as much as the moment when  they accepted his marriage proposal. Their response became the confirmation of their love, and tears of happiness flowed freely as his beloved darling admitted that, since meeting Satoru, their entire being had been consumed by love. In that moment, His smiling love became all Satoru ever needed.

Their marriage, officiated by Suguru in a simple office setting, marked the beginning of a shared journey outside the space station. Shoko was there to be a witness, and she brought Nanami and Haibara with her. Though Nanami complained that he would be late for the training at the gravity center, he seemed happy enough to stay.

Haibara was the one that pointed that out, though. Suguru, having keenly observed their profound love, eagerly supported their union and played a pivotal role in navigating bureaucratic hurdles. Once the paperwork was signed, they relocated to a different place, just outside the space center.

Suguru diligently advocated to higher-ups that their commitment would not hinder their work. Satoru could have done it himself, with his connections and all. But, he was too enamored in his new found status as a married man to want to worry about the rest of the world. 

They had built quite a wonderful life together. That’s all he could think about. Those happy, fulfilled years sustained Satoru, he could feel the tears pour down the blinking screens. He longed for those days again. To have all those bright beaming echoes of the mundane life, of the white picket fence. Those dance parties, those late night drives, those meaningless banters. He wanted it all back. 

He could feel the warmth of the sun as he and his beloved darling laid onto their backyard to sit upon the white brim chairs, while his lover read aloud to him. He could remember laying down in the grass with him, during a meteor shower as they embraced and spoke of the most useless things and marveling at the wonder that they are living a dream - being able to have the opportunity to see those wide skies.

The playful times with their dogs down the park across their lovely home. Taking a small run around their neighborhood, even if his lover would complain about how hot and painfully long the trail was each time, they still did it and when the walking time gathered.

As long as Satoru smiled, it was all worth it. In all that moment, they held Satoru’s hand tightly. The small moments of talking about what they should eat for dinner, the pout on his lover’s lips at each imagining of their food. It was the wonder in his lover’s face which made him giggle every single time.

There were those wonderful weekends when they hosted barbecue parties for their family and friends, drowning in joyous feasting. His beloved darling, going around talking to everyone and socializing. The bright echo of the playing music kept everyone in a light mood. Suguru and Shoko looking around at the guests, enamored in guessing games. Nanami diligently manning the grilling station, Haibara pulling out the piles and piles of meat from the fridge. Satoru smiled at everyone he passed as he greeted them with drinks.

Every moment spent lazily making breakfast after a long tiring night at work, the loud laughter that could only echo between the two of them. The dogs kept them entertained as they played against the chair’s shadow in the morning rise. Satoru made faces as he followed up their play with a game of chase in the backyard.

His beloved darling would laugh at how silly it all was. For years, Gojo Satoru had pride in the idea that he was the only one that could make his lover laugh that way, that bubbly wondrous manner and each and every time, he was certain that it made him feel alive over and over. It made him fall in love over and over.

Every passing compliment spoken tenderly as they let the night drift in without complaint, their hands joined together in a way that made a whole of the world in their touch. Walking hand in hand on the boulevard, his shaded eyes full of devoted love as they walked towards the restaurants.

In those small impromptu dates that he would arrange for his darling, there was so much joy in seeing them so excited to try the new food. Satoru would stare so longingly, full of endless adoration and their eyes would meet. He would be watching his lover partner blush ever so shily, saying such words in return to him. 

Satoru's realization struck him like a harsh awakening, a sudden understanding that he had taken precious moments for granted, assuming an endless supply of time. He had often proclaimed with pride that he would age gracefully, enjoying the luxury of more years.

However, Satoru's proclamation proved futile; time slipped away inexorably. He wiped away tears, the wailing sirens from the main deck serving as a mournful backdrop. Warning messages blared from the ship's screens, each echoing the demise of the once-invincible features. Despite the rapid deterioration, Satoru strained to expedite his coding efforts, knowing that the salvation of his beloved darling depended on his speed.

Amid flickering lights and shattering electrical wiring, Satoru raced against time to enter the final codes. The engines sparked and caught fire as the ship's structure began to rupture. Fear gripped him—the fear of not being fast enough, of the coding for the red button lagging, risking the collapse of their ship into chaos. Satoru's determination surged; losing was not an option.

The sequence of calamitous events unfolded with the stealthy intrusion of an unseen dark asteroid rock, cruelly striking the side of the once-sturdy spaceship. In the initial aftermath, his cherished partner nonchalantly brushed off the impact, deeming it minor, while the ship maintained an ominous silence regarding any substantial concerns. In the eyes of his beloved, it appeared to be nothing more than a superficial scratch, evoking shared laughter and a tender kiss—a testament to their enduring bond.

Amidst the laughter and exchanged affections, plans were hatched to entrust the ship to autopilot, allowing the wearied couple to retreat to the embrace of their sleeping quarters. Bright tones of reassurance filled the air as promises of a peaceful night echoed through the dimly lit corridors.

Yet, the tranquility was abruptly shattered as his beloved left the lush confines of the greenery. An urgent alert pierced the air, thrusting their attention to a critical issue that demanded immediate intervention. The collision had wrought havoc on the ship's delicate equilibrium, compromising oxygen levels in the vicinity of the main power station. Responding with swiftness and determination, his beloved donned an oxygen suit and hastened to the scene, driven by an impending sense of foreboding.

The scene that unfolded before them surpassed the realm of nightmares. The asteroid's impact had ravaged the core of the ship, tearing apart the main power station with ruthless efficiency. For Satoru, the realization of this devastating development crystallized a long-dreaded nightmare, an eventuality that he had hoped would never materialize. As chaos and urgency enveloped the ship, the gravity of the situation bore down on them, leaving no room for denial or escape from the impending catastrophe.

Realizing the inevitability of the ship's impending shutdown, Satoru grappled with a profound sense of helplessness. Whatever actions he contemplated seemed futile in the face of an unstoppable, self-inflicted catastrophe.

That’s why he made a choice.

The love of this life had to survive.

Even without him.

But then that red button lights up. 

Satoru felt a glimmer of warmth return to his face as hope illuminated his eyes. Laughter, almost manic in its intensity, erupted from him—the kind of laughter borne out of sheer relief. There was hope. There was still a chance.

However, the sedatives that were meant to maintain his beloved darling's unconscious state seemed to have lost their grip. Their eyes fluttered open, dazed and confused, as if emerging from a foggy, drunken stupor. Satoru, taken aback, wondered if he had miscalculated the dosage in his panicked state.

Satoru had hoped to spare his beloved from the heart-wrenching farewell, to let them slip away peacefully in their sleep. But fate had other plans.

"Toru," his beloved murmured, their eyes struggling to focus. "Where...?"

Satoru hesitated, his finger hovering over the mic button, torn between the desire to shield them from the harsh reality and the need to be honest.

"My love," Satoru finally spoke, summoning every ounce of courage amid his own tears. Their partner's voice triggered a full awakening, their body straightening with a sudden realization. This wasn't their bedroom. Something was amiss.

The truth hit them, and Satoru saw the dawning comprehension in their eyes—the escape pod.

"Toru, why am I...?" their partner's voice wavered with worry as they looked at Satoru, who struggled to maintain composure. A sad smile, an anomaly on their usually joyful features, played on his lips. He was always smiling, a trait his beloved cherished.

"There's a lot happening, my love," Satoru said, trying to steady himself. He couldn't bear to see the worry etched on their partner's face. "I'm sorry you had to see it."

As the reality of their situation sank in, his beloved pleaded, "Satoru, why are you there? Why am I here?"

The anguish in their partner's voice tore at Satoru's heart.

"You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen," Satoru whispered, his own tears mingling with the weight of the impending farewell. "I was so glad to have met you that day when my ball went into that tiny broken corner of your house fence."

Their partner's eyes started to well up, realizing the gravity of the situation. Desperation laced their voice, urging Satoru to join them inside the escape pod. But Satoru knew they couldn't.

"You kicked the ball and motioned for me to kick back! You never really liked to speak then, but I guess I changed that, didn't I? I made you a chatterbox," Satoru reminisced, laughter tinged with pain. "I love you so much, so much. Ever since that day. I just never realized it then. But I do. I did. I love you. You are and always have been my world."

His beloved sobbed, their hands desperately working to break free from the constraints. Time was slipping away, and Satoru knew he had to act quickly. The ship was tearing itself apart, and their partner needed to leave now.

"In another life, there would be no fault in our stars," Satoru promised, a shaky breath escaping their lips. "I want you to live on and grow old, even without me. Find love again. I will find you again. I will meet you again. I will love you again."

The anguish in their partner's voice reached a crescendo as they pleaded, "I can't live a long, empty life without you."

Satoru felt the heaviness in his chest, choking on his own emotions. "I know," he whispered.

Finally free, his beloved forced their way to the door, pounding on it in a desperate attempt to override the programmed controls. Satoru maintained eye contact, their hands poised above the red button.

"We'll meet again," Satoru said tenderly, offering one last parting smile. The escape pod separated with finality, and as his beloved screamed in despair, Satoru walked away toward their inevitable fate. “I know we will.”

“Don’t do this to me.” His lover cried out, tears pouring faster than they could blink. “Don’t you dare.”

“I love you.” Gojo Satoru turned around, smiled tenderly. “I love you.”

In the dwindling moments, Satoru found himself standing at the threshold, caught between the vast expanse of space and the memories of a life abruptly cut short. With a heavy sigh, he cast a last lingering look at the escape pod, where his beloved darling looked at him ever so helplessly, banging through the glass. 

Once more, Satoru Gojo turned to face the cold reality in the ship.

The vessel, once a titan sailing through the cosmos, now surrendered to the inexorable grip of destruction. It groaned and convulsed, a lamentation echoing through the void—a symphony of demise composed in anguished creaks and shivers.

Satoru, on the precipice of the abyss, inhaled deeply, savoring the acrid cocktail of fear, remorse, and an unwavering resolve to carve a slender lifeline for his cherished one. His only one. The only one that was ever meant for him. Time unfurled like an eternal scroll, each moment an agonizing tapestry that Gojo Satoru faced with stoic acceptance.

In those final heartbeats, he imbibed another breath, a silent requiem woven into the vast emptiness of the cosmos. With a heart weighed down by the gravity of farewell, Gojo Satoru traversed the threshold and sealed the door of the command center—a poignant adieu etched in the frigid embrace of metallic confines.

He closed his cerulean eyes, humming that song. The one that played at their wedding. He couldn’t remember the title. But the thought of remembering the lyrics gave him strength. Because they were here with them again. They were together, always together.

“I only know what I know,” He sang softly, imagining they were beside him. As though they were just under the tree in their backyard. “The passing years will show, you've kept my love so young, so new.”

Amidst the desolate hush of space, Gojo Satoru knew that the escape pod was safe. He knew it had disentangled itself from the disintegrating vestiges of the once-mighty spaceship. His soul would survive with it, as much as his heart will. It embarked on a solitary journey, carrying with it the echoes of a life that had blossomed within the cosmic expanse. The most precious of all cargo in the world, in the universe. 

The universe, now a silent observer, bore witness to the tragic odyssey of Gojo Satoru, who, in the name of love, relinquished everything. Thus, he left behind a legacy, a poignant resonance that rippled across the celestial tapestry, eternally echoing in the cosmic winds.

“And time after time,” He grins in his final moments, opening his cerulean eyes.

He sees them, standing in front of him one last time, returning his grin with a bright beam.

He held out his hand. “You'll hear me say that I'm so lucky to be loving you.”