#at the end he was swaying like seaweed like just can’t be still

[hyunpic]

[robotstrategy]

Rewired • Part 2/2

TW: UNDERAGED DRINKING, VOMITING, RECREATIONAL MARIJUANA USE, AND SURVIVORS TRAUMA.

Previous Part

10 - Bad Trip

Hayden isn’t really sure when he wakes up, an hour, two hours maybe, all he knows is that when looks at Roland his eyes are completely bloodshot, and he’s got a really goofy expression on his face. 

“Hi yin-ass, are you enjoying my man-titties?”

The ridiculousness of whatever just came out of Roland's mouth makes Hayden sit up and burst out laughing.

“Oh? You think I’m funny?” Roland asks.

“Hah, well you put me there, so I think you’re even more of a yin-ass.”

“Well, you stayed there.”

“You wanted me there.”

“Man, I must really like weird boys like you.”

“Hey! I’m not weird.”

“Noooooooooo, I’m pretty you said your favourite food was Spam one time in the basement, so do you still like Spam, Spam-eater?”

“I do, but at least I eat it in style now.”

Roland laughs. “How can you eat Spam in style, that’s impossible.”

“Ever heard of Spam musubi?”

“No.”

“Well, it’s a slice of Spam on rice wrapped in seaweed.”

“That sounds, really fucking good. Anything sounds really fucking good right now.”

Hayden giggles. “Oh, whoops, I forgot to feed you earlier.” He feels Roland palm his face, putting pressure on his nose so that it goes up like a pig's snout. “Asshole,” Roland says.

Hayden moves Roland’s hand away from his face; he sets it down and moves all the way off Roland.

“Aww, don’t go.” Roland puts both his hands up and tries to grab for Hayden.

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m just getting off you.”

“But now I feel so lightweight, so empty, so incomplete.”

Hayden reaches over to pat Roland’s cheek. “Oh boo hoo, you’ll survive.”

Roland folds his arms. “You know what? I could live with you.” 

Hayden raises his eyebrows and smiles. “Really?”

“Yeah, I could do research with you, do rich people stuff with you, talk shit on your radio show, and go to parties with you.”

“I don’t think we’ve got the best history with parties. There’s that time I had so many microphones in my face, and another time a lot of girls tried to hit on me…”

“And that date.” Roland giggles. 

Hayden laughs “Yeah, that was pretty stupid.” 

11 - Party

Hayden becomes more and more tipsy as he drinks, it’s alarming because he’s only had one drink. Roland feels bad whenever he gives Hayden the cold shoulder, but he can’t help it if all he can think about is his ex. It’s honestly driving Roland miserable and insane. He looks back over at Hayden, who’s starting to act like Roland’s mother, well, when she’s drunk, at least he's not berating him.

Honestly, anytime he looks at that drunk person he’s just reminded of his mother and stepfather. That’s why he’ll never drink, he doesn’t want to end up hurting someone like they hurt him. 

Hayden hums a tune, it’s very off-key. 

“What are you humming?” Roland asks.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star.” 

“Really? Sounds more like you’re trying to summon a demon.” 

“Whatever hot stuff.” 

Roland won’t lie, all this flirting and complimenting is getting to him, but then it’s being constantly shrouded by all the flirting and complimenting Trevor used to do. He can’t even totally like the fact that Hayden got him flowers without thinking about how Trevor also got him flowers. At least with Hayden Roland likes him, even if they don’t end up together, it won't be awkward, they’ll just stay friends. Unlike Trevor, whom Roland couldn’t even bear to be in the same room as him after the assault. 

Hayden gently grabs his hand, swaying it back and forth. “Are you having fun?” He asks.

“We haven’t really been having fun yet, but the food is good,” Roland replies. 

“We can go dance.” He suggests. 

Roland laughs in spite of himself. “I think you're too drunk to do that now.”

Hayden gets up. “I’m not that drruuuuunnk.” He slurs, he grabs Roland by the forearm and leads him to a bigger part of the mansion that’s currently being used as a ballroom. “You wanna dance with me now?” Hayden asks. Roland looks off to the side, there’s a corner of the room that doesn’t seem so bright and noisy. “Could we dance over there?” Roland asks, pointing to the corner. 

“In the dark pit?” 

“That’s a corner, Hayden.”

“Oh, ok.”

Roland drags Hayden over to the corner, to his surprise when they get there Hayden slumps down into a squat. Roland kneels on the floor beside him. “Are you okay?” 

“I just want to sit down.”

“But you were just sitting.” 

“Hmm,” Hayden huffs, and he looks over to Roland. “Do you love me?” He asks. 

Roland is taken aback, he didn’t expect Hayden to be so blunt about it, but the next thing Hayden does shocks him even more. Hayden presses his lips against Roland’s, giving him a kiss. “Now you try.” 

Roland touches his lips in shock, he looks over at Hayden, who looks completely love-struck.

12 - Bad Trip

Roland’s eyebrows turn downward. “Yeah, it was,” He sneered. 

Hayden looks at Roland, puzzled and scared. 

“I thought we were going to hang out and dance together, instead you got yourself piss drunk and I had to drive you home.” 

Hayden, understanding that Roland is high out of his mind, tries to let him down easily. 

“You said you’d take me home.” 

Big mistake, Roland becomes more erratic. “I DIDN’T TELL YOU YOU COULD GET DRUNK BITCH!” He yells. “DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MISERABLE I WAS, NO, YOU DON’T, BECAUSE YOU WERE BUSY GETTING DRUNK BECAUSE YOU COULDN’T JUST LEAVE ME ALONE FOR TWO SECONDS!” 

Roland grabs for Hayden’s shirt, burying himself in it. 

“You reminded me of my parents, of my ex-boyfriend.” He cries. Hayden tries to pat Roland’s back, but he’s immediately met with a blood-curdling scream. “I thought I told you already, I’M SENSITIVE THERE!”

Roland gets off Hayden, stumbling over to the kitchen where he hides from his view between the counter and the island. 

Hayden gets up once he can’t hear Roland moving anymore, he goes over to the island and looks over it to see Roland. Roland wraps his arms around himself. “Go away, pervert!” He growls. 

“How am I a pervert?” Hayden asks. 

“Because,” Roland looks at himself, he then unwraps his arms and stretches out his legs. “Just go away!” 

Hayden goes back over to the couch and pretends to watch TV, in reality, he’s got a pretty good view of Roland from here even if Roland doesn’t notice. He wonders if Roland thinks the knobs on the drawers are eyeballs; it would explain the weird comment he got just now. 

13 - Party

“I, I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re drunk.” 

“But I want you to kiss me.” 

“Maybe another time.” ‘When I’m not thinking of my ex and you’re not completely and utterly drunk.”

Hayden frowns as he shakily gets up off the floor. “Then can we at least dance together?” He asks, annoyed. Roland quickly gets up to hold his hands, for the fear that Hayden might turn into something akin to his mother. 

As they sway Hayden looks lovingly at Roland, while he tries to avoid his gaze. Hayden tries to get closer, but Roland takes a step away. “Sorry,” Hayden whispers, at least he seems to be becoming more self-aware now.

Roland is embarrassed by Hayden, he thought tonight would awaken new feelings within him. Instead, he just sways half heartedly with his drunken date. “Mmm,” Hayden hums, he lays his chin into Roland’s neck. He starts to kiss it, and Roland can’t help but cry. He wants to enjoy Hayden’s affections, but with him being terribly drunk and Roland’s thoughts filled with Trevor, this experience is terrible. 

“I love you,” Hayden whispers into Roland’s ear.

“I know.” He cries back.

“Do you not love me back?” Hayden asks as he places another kiss on Roland’s neck, Roland doesn’t respond.

“Mmm, I don’t care anyway, I’ll love no matter what.” 

Now admittedly that sounded a little creepy, but Roland was happy he’d still have another chance with Hayden. Another time to actually love him back.

They sway for a little longer until Hayden’s face becomes noticeably red and Roland feels him sweating through his gloves. 

“Can we go to the bathroom?” Hayden quickly asks, Roland nods leading him to a bathroom nearby. Roland locks the door and braces himself for whatever he has to do to help Hayden. He turns around to see Hayden bent over the toilet bowl looking like he’s about to puke. Roland winces as he hears whatever Hayden ate coming back up and hitting the toilet water. He walks over to kneel beside him and starts brushing his hand on his back.

14 - Bad Trip

Hayden isn’t paying attention to what’s really on the TV, and he’s not really paying attention to Roland either. He’s busy dozing off until the appearance of Roland in front of him scares him awake.

“Do you like sharks?” Roland asks, Hayden looks him in the eyes, his scleras are light pink now, meaning he’s slowly coming off being high. Having a slight disagreement with him shouldn’t be such a hazard now.

“They're okay.”

Roland grunts, he looks at the TV, and Hayden looks up at it and realizes it’s playing a sea life documentary, right now it’s specifically talking about sharks.

“I like sharks,” Roland says, he goes over to the couch and climbs onto Hayden, he’s still looking at the TV. “I love sharks, I love…”

“Sharks?” Hayden tries to finish the sentence for him.

Roland lays down on Hayden’s chest, he stays silent for a moment or two. “Yeah.”

“Why did you come over here?” Hayden asks.

“The drawers were staring at me.” He responds, Hayden nods, having his suspicions affirmed.

Hayden starts combing through Roland’s hair as he watches the documentary, getting a little disappointed once they're done talking about sharks. 

“Are there any other sea creatures you like?”

“Nope, just sharks.”

“Hmm, I like seahorses, I think they look silly.”

“Don’t the guys get pregnant in that species?”

“I think so.” 

Roland shifts his head to look at Hayden. “I’m sorry I got mad at you.”

“It’s okay, you were pretty high.”

Roland frowns at him. “That’s not an excuse Hayden! That’s never an excuse!”

Hayden gets him to calm back down. “Alright, okay.” He tries to change the subject. “Earlier you said something about me reminding you of your ex.”

“Yeah… that’s kinda what was happening at the party. A girl told me that there’s a denial phase after an assault. I thought I had already gotten out of it before Lilian’s party, but I guess I didn’t.”

“Oh, Roland, we didn’t have to go to that party if you didn’t feel like it.”

“But I didn’t want to ruin it for you, and deep down I wanted to go too.”

“Still-”

Roland cuts him off. “Listen, I wanted to go to that party! I wanted to be in that mansion! And I wanted to be your date!” He sniffs. “Stuff like that happens every other day to you, I’m not going to give up on a chance to party at a mansion because my ex is making me moody.”

Hayden continues to comb Roland’s hair. “I wanted to be your date too, I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else if you weren’t feeling like it that night,” He looks him in the eyes. “And I’m sorry for getting drunk in front of you.”

Rolan looks away from him. “Is it bad that I’m about to sound like a hypocrite?”

Hayden laughs.

“I’m being serious,” He continues. “You only had one glass and your body just decided to screw you over.”

“Well, that’s why both of us have agreed that I should wait until I’m 21.”

Hayden sees Roland doze off and snap awake a few times. “Do you want to have a nap now?”

  “No, I want food.” He mumbles.

Hayden chuckles. “Alright,” He shifts Roland off of him so that he can reach his phone. “Does pizza sound good?”

“Anything sounds good.”

15 - Party

“I’m sorry,” Hayden heaved. “I didn’t mean to get this drunk.” He then hurls up more food. Roland combs back Hayden’s bangs as he keeps throwing up. At this point, it’s just water and spit coming out of Hayden’s mouth.

Hayden finally gets a few breaths in before weakly reaching up to the top of the toilet’s tank to hit the flush button. He then looks over all teary-eyed at Roland. “Are you mad at me?” He asks. 

“Why would I be mad at you?” 

“You, you said if I puked you’d be pissed.”

“Well, that was more for if you got sick in my truck,” Roland takes a tissue from the bathroom counter and wipes off Hayden’s mouth. “You didn’t sneak another few glasses past me did you?”

Hayden shakes his head, he then gets dizzy and grips back onto the toilet seat. 

“Careful!” Roland shouts. “I think your body just didn’t take it well.” He puts his hand under Hayden’s chin to get him to face him. “Next time let’s wait until you’re 21 to have alcohol.” 

Hayden softly nods, he gently pulls Roland’s hand from his chin and places it on his cheek. Roland sits there with him as Hayden closes his eyes, staying silent, almost as if he’s savouring the moment. He then opens his eyes and looks into Roland’s.

“I want to go home.” He whispers. 

“Ok.” Roland gets him off the ground and leads him out of the house. As they go through the main area Hayden winces and covers his ears from all the noise. Getting in the truck Hayden avoids making eye contact with Roland, something tells him that both he and Hayden are going to pretend this date never happened.

16 - Bad Trip

“This is the best pizza I’ve ever had. Is it authentic or something?” Roland asks as he shoves another slice down his throat.

“This is Dominos, you’re just still a little high.”

“Ah jeez, I’m gonna have horrible heartburn later.”

Hayden laughs. “I’ve got stuff for that if you need it,” He comes up to Roland. “What do you think about staying the night? We could watch a movie together in bed.” 

Roland blushes. “That sounds nice, but I don’t have anything to wear to bed.”

“I wouldn’t mind seeing you in the morning with nothing but underwear on.”

Roland scoffs. “Of course, you wouldn’t, fine, I’ll stay.”

“Great! Do you wanna watch a certain movie?”

“Yeah, a Hallmark movie.”

Hayden is taken aback. “Like, the Christmas ones.”

“Yeah, I hear they’re stupid funny.”

“Hah, yeah, they sure are cheesy.”

17 - Party

Roland settles Hayden onto his bed once getting him into his apartment, he grabs a glass out of Hayden’s cupboards and fills it with water. He sits with Hayden on the bed and makes him drink down the glass. Hayden clings onto him after finishing the glass of water, he holds him from the back, and Roland can feel Hayden’s forehead on his neck. “You should stay for the night,” Hayden mumbles.

“There’s not much of a place for me to stay,” Roland tells him. 

Hayden groans getting off the bed. “So you’re leaving then?” 

Roland nods.

“Then at least take the flowers I got for you home.” Hayden stumbles into another room before coming out with a little bouquet of blue flowers. Roland thinks they’re pretty until Hayden gets closer, only then does he realize what kind of flower that bouquet is made out of.

Hayden smiles. “They’re forget-me-nots because I never want you to forget about me.” 

Tears start welling in Roland’s eyes as he inches away from Hayden. 

“You can’t ignore me forever.” Trevor’s voice echoes in Roland’s mind.

“Do you not like them?” Hayden asks with worry in his voice.

“Get, get them away from me!” Roland yells.

“But there for you.” 

“I don’t want them!” Roland cries.

Hayden puts the flowers aside and sits back down with Roland. “I love you.” He tells him again. 

Roland looks away from him, he can’t take it anymore, and he starts getting up and walking to the door. 

“Roland come back!” Hayden calls out to him. 

Roland doesn’t even turn around to look at him one last time, he just opens the door, hearing Hayden call out to him for the last time before he closes the door behind him.

“I love you, Roland!”

18 - Roland

The movie ends in the predictable way all the movies do, they say ‘Merry Christmas’, they kiss, and the movie ends. 

“Wow, it ended just like we predicted,” Roland says sarcastically while nudging Hayden, no response. Roland looks over to see Hayden sleeping on his shoulder, Roland watches as Hayden’s unconscious body slowly goes forward, falling into Roland’s lap. Roland huffs, there’s no chance to sneak away into the guest bedroom anymore, he’s trapped.  

So he shifts himself downward into the covers. Looking at Hayden’s sleeping face he thinks up the idea of waking himself up early and leaving before Hayden wakes up. He pulls Hayden close and kisses him on the forehead.

“I love you too.”

[makoodlesarchive]

darling it’s better (down where it’s wetter)

i finally finished it omg lol, genuinely thought this would never be done

thank you so much to everyone for being patient with me and sending me all those cute little asks talking about the fic, that actually really helped with writing it!

For the love of all that is holy, please check out this absolutely incredible art of merbakugou by @crowolina​!

pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader

word count: 14k

warnings: mentions of drowning, explicit sex, interspecies (?) sex, that merman dick yo

 masterlist | tip jar

The humidity outside is so high that the air is sitting thick and stagnant -- it feels like it could be cut with a knife. It’s uncomfortably hot, and the air feels almost damp and sticks wetly in your throat as you breathe. Sweat pools in all the most uncomfortable crevices, until the desire to get into the water is less of a passing fancy, and more of an all-consuming need. You slip carefully down the hill, over the dry grass, until you hop down into the fine sand that makes up the little beach in the sheltered cove at the bottom of the hill.

The cove is protected by natural cliffs on either side, with the only access point being the hill that your uncle’s house sits on. It’s small, but the stretch of sand is soft and golden and clean, absent of any tourists and the debris that they tend to leave behind. It is, by all accounts, perfect, and a far better option than the significantly more crowded beach fifteen minutes away. Thanks to the hill and the natural caves, the air is cooler and easier to breathe in the cove. You set out your towel and water bottle near the base of the hill and strip down to your bathing suit, hefting your inflatable floaty up and preparing yourself to march into the ocean. After all the time spent inside your uncle’s grody house, the fresh air and fine golden sand feels like heaven.

When you finally work up the nerve to dip your toes into the water, you have to fight not to recoil from the cold. The temperature of the water is cool and chill, a direct contrast to the heavy, hot thickness of the air, and it takes a few minutes of psyching yourself up before you’re able to submerge yourself fully. Despite the chill, the sensation of being surrounded by water is a relief after the oppressive afternoon heat. You wade out further, keeping a mindful eye out for the reefs your uncle had mentioned, until the water comes up to your hips, then your chest, then your collarbones. You let the tension seep out of your shoulders as you float, buoyed gently by the waves. It’s the most peaceful you’ve been since your stay with your uncle began after he broke his leg; you don’t mind taking care of him while he heals, but you didn’t quite realise how much you needed a break until now.

The saltwater is like a balm; it takes some manoeuvring to actually get yourself up on the floaty, but once you’re settled and relaxed you think you could happily float on your back like this for hours, lost to the warmth of the sun on your skin and the waves rocking you back and forth. The fresh smell of the saltwater and the soft swaying of the floaty in the ocean waves lull you into a peaceful doze. 

Naturally, that’s when things start to go wrong.

As you fall into a light sleep you fail to notice the thick grey clouds rolling in and the tide pulling out. The waves creep higher and crash faster, and your floaty bobs rapidly along as you sleep, unaware of just about all of it. 

That changes when the floaty catches on a sharp rock jutting out of the water; awareness comes crashing back to you as the floaty tears right as a wave breaks over you, the acute chill of the water and the weight of the ocean pushing down over your head. The shock of the cold water leaves you momentarily stunned and in the brief moment before you start thrashing against the icy waves, a riptide catches your legs and tears you through the water.

Panic rears up in your chest, sharp and choking. Your chest is already aching from the lack of air since you hadn’t had the chance to get a proper breath before you had gone under, and you’re not able to thrash against the current with as much force as you need to be able to reach the surface again. You kick frantically against the water, muscles burning, but you’re so disoriented that you’re honestly not even sure if you’re swimming in the right direction; the salt burns your eyes when you try to open them, and everything is so dark that you can’t tell which way is up.

Your head crests the surface of the water, and you just manage to suck in a painful breath when another wave crashes down over the top of your head. As you struggle to right yourself and reach the surface again, you find your movements becoming sluggish. You’re panicking and running out of air, but even though you know that you still can’t manage to fight your way to the surface.

For a moment something pale cuts through the water in front of your eyes and you think that you’re about to emerge into the air again but you feel so impossibly tired. Your vision begins to go dark, and your limbs are so heavy that continuing to struggle against the tide is impossible. 

You know that you’re sinking, but there’s not a thing you can do to stop it.

Consciousness returns to you slowly and painfully. 

The first thing to register is the soreness in your chest and ribs -- every inhale is an effort, and it feels as though your lungs are actually bruised. You inhale sharply, which causes a chain reaction of hacking and sputtering and retching. The coughing, in turn, highlights how just about every part of your body feels as though it’s been battered continuously against a rock. When you finally crack open your eyes, you wonder for a moment if you might have gone blind, because your vision stays exactly as dark as when your eyes were closed. When you push yourself up into a seated position, however, you find that you’re sprawled on the wet, rocky floor of a cave. 

You move your head very slowly to take in your surroundings, feeling woozy and nauseous. You wonder if you hit your head, or if the nausea is a side effect of nearly drowning. Panic begins building again in your chest, and you have to make a concentrated effort to push all of your uncle’s warnings about delayed drowning out of your mind so you can focus on taking deep, even breaths.

The rocky floor that you’ve woken up on is a ledge of solid stone that makes up half of the cave; the other half is submerged in a pool of clear seawater, beyond which a large crack in the stone walls leads directly back to the ocean. The entire cavern is dimly illuminated by what seems to be phosphorescent algae growing in the water and along the dampest patches of the walls, glowing a muted, luminous blue. It's pretty, but you can’t concentrate on it because in the dim light provided by both the entrance to the cave and the algae, you can see the bottom of the water is littered with what looks like bones.

You look away quickly, because that is not conducive to staying calm. The bones are probably from some stupid large fish that got stuck in the cave and couldn’t figure out how to escape, and you are absolutely not going to look any closer to confirm that. A flash of colour catches your eye, though, and when you turn to look you find the deflated, torn plastic remains of your floaty hanging from an outcrop of rock. 

Amidst the enormous relief at being alive, there’s a growing sense of unease in the back of your mind -- how had you washed up inside the cave in the first place? The entrance to the cavern is nothing but a slash in the rocks, angled in such a way that it would be nearly hidden if not for the thin slant of light shining through. How had you not been dashed to bits by those viciously sharp rocks like your floaty? Even if you had miraculously been washed through the small gap and into the mouth of the cave, by all rights you should have ended up floating in the saltwater pool. How had you ended up on the ledge?

You cast another slow look around the cavern; if you weren’t so sore and scared, you think you’d be able to appreciate your surroundings a lot more. The cave is actually quite beautiful -- the algae in the water gives the pool an almost other-wordly, luminescent blue hue, and the stone ledge is devoid of slimy seaweed or sharp barnacles which makes for a somewhat comfortable place to sit, despite its dampness. The deep booming of thunder from outside the cave is what forces you to realise that you’re not going to be able to get out of here until the storm dies down, but at the very least you could have been stuck somewhere far worse. Other than the bones sitting at the bottom of the pool, the cavern is oddly clean.

It’s only when you realise that your whole body is trembling that you take the time to check yourself out. The cold has caused your circulation to slow, and your hands and feet are painfully stiff and bloodless. While the cave isn’t as chilly as you might expect, it’s still not exactly warm and you have no idea how you’re supposed to stop your shivering. You know that you’ve read survival advice regarding hypothermia before, but now that it’s actually necessary it seems as though all relevant knowledge has leaked out of your brain. 

Your eyes rove the cavern absentmindedly as you think, wracked with the occasional violent shiver. “Fuck,” you whisper to yourself, exhausted. Your gaze passes smoothly over the outcrop of rocks near the cave’s entrance, the red eyes staring up at you from under the water, the froth churned up by the waves spilling through the entrance and into the cave. Another clap of thunder booms from outside.

It takes a ridiculous amount of time for your brain to catch up to what your eyes had just seen, but when you finally jerk your attention back to the water, whatever you had seen is gone. Your breathing is laboured now and stings in your chest slightly, but you pay it no mind as you shuffle closer to the edge of the pool, staring intently at the now empty spot in the water. Maybe your near-drowning experience had resulted in more oxygen deprivation than you had realised, because you could swear you had just seen a man in the water.

“Hello?” you call. Your teeth are chattering, the tone of your voice both nervous and hopeful in equal measures. The cave echoes your voice back to you in a way that makes you feel distinctly idiotic. “Is s-someone there? Please!”

The surface of the water ripples, but you’re pretty sure that the movement is due to the waves rather than some mysterious man hiding in the pool. Feeling disappointed and a little dumb, you sit back and gaze morosely into the water. Were you really so addled that you were beginning to hallucinate?

Before you can begin to worry too much about your possibly declining mental state, the water ripples again. This time, you snap your head up in time to see something dart behind a large rock sticking up from the water. 

“Hey!” you blurt, sitting up and scooting closer to the edge. “Who are you? I c-can see you, asshole!” 

It occurs to you that it’s highly likely that you’re sitting here shouting at a scared seal or something else much less menacing, or human-like, for that matter. You only have a short moment to feel extremely stupid before whatever is out there moves again, and when a head pops out from behind the rock you fall totally silent.

It is a man! His shock of blond hair is wet and plastered to his head and most of his body remains hidden behind the rock, but there’s no denying that it’s an actual person and you can’t help the immediate relief that washes over you.

“Hey, d-did you get washed up in here too?” As soon as you ask the question, you realise that something isn’t quite… right. How had you missed him on your first glance around? It wasn’t as though there were all that many places within the cavern to hide, and there shouldn’t be any reason to hide in the first place; you had been unconscious, after all. Why was he still in the water?

And why wasn’t he answering you? His head is tilted slightly and his gaze is boring into you, but he makes no move to speak or to come out from behind the rock. It hits you then that you’re all alone in an isolated cave with a total stranger who’s positively glaring at you, and you’re wearing nothing but your bathing suit.

Cold unease settles deep in your belly, and you push yourself carefully away from the edge. His eyes follow the movement; you can’t be sure from this far away, but his irises look an almost unnatural shade of red. The hair on the back of your neck and all up your arms stands on end, and you can’t shake off the feeling that you’re in danger.

“I was just leaving,” you tell him, forcing a nervous smile to your face. “I’m just trying to figure out how to get out of here.”

The man doesn’t reply; in fact, he barely even reacts. He doesn’t even blink.

The smile slides slowly off your face, and your throat makes a dry clicking noise as you try to swallow. “Okay!” you say too loudly; your voice echoes throughout the cave, which only frays your nerves further. “I’m going!” Even as you say it, you realise that there’s no possible way out of the cavern without having to get in the water and swim past the man to get to the crack in the cave wall. Water spills through the crevice as waves crash into the side of the cliff, and another clap of muffled thunder reminds you that there is a storm raging outside. Even if you manage to get around this weirdo and escape the cave, you don’t know how far you’ve drifted from the cove. With the ocean so unsettled, it would be plain stupid to dive back out there without knowing where you are or how deep the water is outside of the cave.

The sound of water rippling catches your attention, and you look back at the man to see that he’s beginning to emerge from behind the rock. Your spine stiffens, alarmed at the sudden movement after so much uninterrupted stillness. He keeps low to the water, his face half-submerged, and as he slides out from the rock and begins to smoothly cut through the water. A flash of colour catches your eye and draws your gaze towards the side of his head. Right over the space where his ears should be is delicate soft orange and black webbing that almost looks like…  fins? They twitch a little in your direction, but otherwise hang limply so that they’re almost hidden by his mass of spiky hair.

The fins are distracting enough that it takes you a truly embarrassing length of time to notice that the man has an even stranger feature that his odd ears. As he gets closer, you finally catch sight of the long, lithe tail.

Your instinct is to draw back in both shock and disbelief, but as soon as you move the man (was this even a man?) lifts his head fully out of the water and bares his teeth at you as he spits out a low, sharp hissing sound. You freeze, overwhelmed; your eyes are darting from his teeth to his fins to the tail, but you’re having some serious trouble actually taking it all in. The oxygen deprivation from nearly drowning must have done more damage than you had first thought if you’re beginning to hallucinate shit like this. The tail is long and serpentine, ending in twin webbed fins and covered in dark scales. Combined with his disturbingly human torso, he must be nearly eight feet long. When he reaches the edge of the rocky platform, one of his hands comes up to grip onto the surface and you’re greeted with the sight of long and dark clawed fingertips. They flash in the low light like a threat, ensuring you keep as still and quiet as possible. From this close, you wonder how you possibly missed the fact that he is most definitely not human. 

Your breathing picks up as you struggle not to panic, and the fins on the sides of his head rotate towards you as the air sticks harshly in your throat. It’s undoubtedly a threat display; the way the fins splay out flat makes him look aggressive and frightening, and you want to cringe away but you’re also afraid to move. You just tense up on the spot and try to make yourself smaller, hoping desperately that he’ll lose interest once he realises that you don’t pose any danger to him.

“I’m just trying to get home.” Your voice comes out croaky and shaking with fear. You seriously doubt that he can understand what you’re saying, but the sound of your voice has his head tilting suspiciously at you. Even if he doesn’t understand your words, maybe your low and pleading tone will assure him that you mean no harm. “I don’t know where I am, I’m cold, and I’m sore, and I just want to go home.”

A translucent second pair of eyelids slide sideways in a blink, and you have to fight to suppress your shiver. From this close, he’s so obviously inhuman that it’s downright unnerving. His skin is smooth and blemishless, almost too perfect. His features, while human, are virtually flawless in a way that’s actually quite overwhelming -- he’s beautiful, once you ignore his fish half. And the blood-red, glaring eyes.

Predictably, he remains silent, though the fins on the side of his head drop low. You really hope that’s a good sign, and decide to keep talking. Hopefully, by familiarising him with your voice you lower the chance of him attacking you. “My uncle is probably so worried about me. He broke his leg a month ago in a boating accident, and I’ve been looking after him since. This is the first time I’ve taken any time to myself -- I don’t even know how long I’ve been gone for. He must know something’s wrong, or else I would have come home as soon as the storm hit.”

The creature just blinks that sideways blink, floating still in the water as he stares at you.

You sigh, and ease back slowly into a more comfortable sitting position. Those orange fins rotate towards you at the movement, but otherwise he doesn’t react. You take the lack of hissing as a sign of progress. 

“This is your cave, huh?” You keep your tone stupidly conversational, as if you’re having a friendly chat with a neighbour or something. “It’s nice. Pretty cosy, as far as caves go. Clean. Except for, you know. The bones.” Now that you’ve mentioned it, you can’t help your gaze from drifting to said bones. To your relief, you see that most of them seem to be the remains of various ocean creatures, though there are a few suspiciously large bones that are almost certainly human. Fear rises up through your chest and lodges in your throat, which makes it difficult to force your words out. “Wow. Yeah. The, uh. The bones are kind of gross.”

The creature follows your gaze, craning his head over his shoulder to see what you’re looking at. He pushes himself away from the ledge and dives in one quick, fluid movement, startling you so badly that you nearly overbalance despite sitting down. His tail is pure muscle, and it ripples as he cuts through the water. It’s only now as you watch him submerged beneath the surface that you realise this is a real mermaid creature that you have somehow found yourself trapped in a cave with. The realisation sends you reeling, but before you can spiral into a flat out panic attack, the creature bursts out of the water again. He pulls himself up onto the ledge and leans on it with his forearms, before slapping down an object right in front of you.

It is, quite unmistakably, a human thigh bone. You recoil in badly disguised horror, “Oh! What the fuck!”

The creature watches you, unblinking. He seems… expectant?

You look down to the thigh bone, then back to the creature. Is he threatening you? Is this his way of letting you know that he’s killed humans before, and is willing to do so again? You cringe away from the yellowing bone. 

“Oh shit. Fuck. Oh my god. Okay. Okay, um… I’m not a threat! I promise! I don’t even want to be here. Please don’t hurt me. Shit, you don’t even know what I’m saying, do you?” Your voice has grown thick with panic, and you try to choke it down. Your hands are trembling, and you run them nervously over your face in an attempt to do something with them. “Look. You, uh. You seem like a very nice… mermaid? Mer… creature. I can tell that you’re, um, very strong. And your claws are very intimidating.” You trail off, because you’ve ended up freaking yourself out and losing your train of thought.

The creature has lifted itself a little further out of the water, and appears to be puffing up slightly. You wonder if it’s another threat display, but he doesn’t seem to be overly aggressive. That is, until a clawed hand reaches out and snatches at your ankle so fast that you can barely follow the movement with your eyes. You yelp with fright a solid moment too late, but the pain that you had been expecting doesn’t come. Instead, those sharp, mottled black claws grip firmly at your ankle without actually piercing the skin; the creature appears to be peering closely at your feet.

“Those are my toes.” You tell him stupidly, as though he has any idea what you’re talking about. “They don’t taste good.” You wiggle your toes, and the creature jerks back and hisses at them. “Whoa! Sorry! They’re harmless, I swear! Please don’t kill me!”

When it becomes clear that your toes don’t present any immediate threat, he pinches your big toe between two fingers and squeezes it experimentally. The fear that had been so paralysing is beginning to steadily fade the longer this little exchange goes on without the creature hurting you. You could almost fool yourself into thinking that maybe he was harmless, but the bone sitting on the ground next to your hips suggests otherwise. Still, aside from his initial display of aggression, he doesn’t appear to be particularly hostile. Just a little… over-curious.

His grip on your legs is strong but gentle enough to not actually be causing you any pain, though that might also be thanks to the fact that your extremities have gone numb from the cold. Your shivering has eased up a bit, but you still feel exposed in your damp bathing suit. You’re a little self-conscious, but you’re pretty sure that the mermaid man is too preoccupied with your feet to even notice the fact that you’re in a state of undress; in fact, you’re not even sure if he has a concept of nudity, considering he’s half fish.

You’re so preoccupied with watching the creature rub at your shins that it takes a while for you to notice how quiet it’s gotten inside the cave. “Sounds like the storm has blown over.” You tell the creature, who just stares at you with his brow furrowed. You’re not entirely sure where to go from here; you have no choice but to start searching for a way out of the cave, but you’re not sure how to go about extracting yourself from the creature’s grasp. You don’t know if he’ll stay as docile with you once you’re actually standing and moving around. “How am I gonna get out of here, huh?” 

The grip on your leg disappears as the creature backs up before plunging back into the water with a quick snap of its tail. You can’t help but marvel at the sheer power hidden in that muscular lower half as he powers through water almost faster than your eye can follow. He disappears from view, and it takes you a few seconds before you realise that he’s darted down a passage that you hadn’t been able to see due to the angle. 

As soon as you realise he’s gone, your stomach clenches. “Hey!” You call, suddenly nervous. It might be stupid, but at least when he was here you weren’t entirely alone. “Hey, wait! Please don’t leave me here!”

There’s no sound but the gentle tinkling of water against rock. You sit back with a gusty sigh and shut your eyes. While he wasn’t the most chatty of companions, there was something slightly reassuring about the fact that you weren’t entirely alone in this cavern. Maybe him leaving was for the best though; if he was the one responsible for the mass amounts of bone littering the bottom of the pool floor, then it would be safer for you now that he’s gone. It looks like you’re going to have to get back into the water and swim to the entrance, and while you fill with dread at the thought of having to return to the cold water, it’s probably significantly safer to do so now that the creature is nowhere to be seen.

You slip off the edge of the ledge and into the saltwater pool, hissing as the cold water hits your skin. It’s deeper than you had initially thought; your feet aren’t even close to touching the bottom. You clutch at the ledge and breathe, even though the deep breaths feel like they’re slicing into your lungs. Your feet feel oddly heavy, as though they’ve been carved from blocks of ice, and you feel doubt stab at you; are you going to be able to swim like this?

The water ripples, signalling movement behind you, and you realise that the creature has returned. You have a split second to panic -- if he decides to attack, you’ve just put yourself right in his path -- but then you catch sight of what he’s pulling behind him. It looks like a surfboard that’s been broken in half.

“Oh, wow!” You gasp, reaching out for it. It’s faded and corroded by time, disuse, and saltwater, and there are several deep gouge marks on it that look like suspiciously like claw and teeth marks, but it’s buoyant and definitely more than enough for you to paddle out on. “Amazing! Oh, you’re such a good boy! Thank you!”

Talking to him like he’s a dog probably isn’t the best idea, but his fins rotate towards you and even though he bares his teeth, he doesn’t look entirely displeased by your tone. He also doesn’t move to try and eat you, though his exceptionally sharp teeth are still pointed in your direction. You hope very much that it’s just posturing and that you’re not misinterpreting his body language; the last thing you need is to get torn apart right when you’re trying to make a break for the exit. He lets you take the surfboard and watches as you attempt to drag yourself up on it. It’s easier said than done, considering it’s been broken jaggedly in half and you can’t touch the ground. You might even be embarrassed by how much you’re struggling if there was anyone else around to see it; as it is, you feel like even the creature is judging your flailing legs as he bobs in one place effortlessly.

Apparently, he gets sick of watching your ineptitude very quickly. “Woah!” You yelp as a sharp, scaly hand lands on the curve of your ass. “What the fuck!” The hand pushes at you, shoving you up on the surfboard from behind. You don’t even have the presence of mind to be surprised at his strength, because you’re too focused on the hand on your ass. “Woah, woah, okay, buddy, no groping please!”

The creature’s tail lashes in the water as he stares blankly at you. His hand doesn’t move.

You try to squirm away, but there’s nowhere to go and he is technically helping. “Fucking hell.” You groan. It’s not as if he understands that he’s groping you; he’s a fish. “Okay. Okay, fine. I will overlook this so long as you help me get out of here.” 

The creature shows no sign that he understands your attempts at bargaining. In fact, as soon as you speak he releases his tight grip on your ass and begins to loop slow, lazy circles around you. You sit up, straddling the broken surfboard as you watch him circle you. Now that you’re next to him, you realise that he really is huge -- his tail is long and practically ripples with powerful muscle, and his human half sports well-defined abdominals and bulging biceps, too. His lazy movements and the way that his gaze never once strays from you, not even to blink, sets your hair standing on end. This creature is a predator, and you’d be naive to let your guard down for even a second.

You swallow, and pray that he can’t smell your fear. When you begin to paddle your way towards the cave entrance, the creature perks up and begins to follow. He keeps up with the circles even as you paddle, and you can’t help but scowl at him. “That’s kind of obnoxious, you know.” you tell him, and receive another toothy grimace. If it weren’t for the way his lips peeled back off his sharp teeth, it might have looked almost like a grin.

Watching him in the water is surreal. He moves through it so fluidly that it’s almost mesmerising, and you have to redirect your attention back to paddling several times after getting distracted. Apparently your progress is too slow for him, because the next time he circles around, he reaches out and curls his claws into the board. Wood splinters under his grip, but he doesn’t seem to notice as he yanksat the board insistently. You sit back as the board is pulled through the water, happy to let him do all the work. 

Maneuvering the makeshift raftthrough the narrow entrance takes some effort, but you mostly allow the creature to work you and the board through the gap. And with that, you’re out of the cavern and into the open ocean. The sky is a dull, purple-tinged grey, the sun having already sunk low beyond the horizon; it’s evening time, which means you must have been in the cave for hours. You twist on the damaged surfboard and crane your head around to look back at the cavern; the entrance is barely noticeable, merely a crack in the face of a towering cliff. 

Your heart jumps as you realise that you recognise this cliff. Your eyes follow the length of it, and sure enough you can see the cove in the distance and the shape of your uncle’s house sitting on the hill. “Ah!” you exclaim in delight, a relieved smile breaking over your face. Home! You’re so close! When you glance down at the creature, you see that he’s followed your gaze. He looks back to you, and his tail lashes the water. You point towards the cove. “There. That’s where I need to go. My home is over there.” You only feel a little stupid for talking to him like he can understand; he might not comprehend your language, but he’s obviously intelligent and he’s brought you this far. It’s not too far-fetched to hope that he might bring you just a little bit further.

Your optimism pays off -- the creature dutifully begins pulling the board in the direction you had pointed. In the twilight, you can see that the scales on his tail are an iridescent black colour, flashing deep orange as light reflects off him as he twists and turns in the water. It’s pretty, and you watch in silent admiration. When he begins pulling you faster and splashing through the waves with unnecessarily large flourishes of his tail, you realise that he’s showing off.

You laugh, delighted with the display and giddy now that most of the danger seems to be behind you. “Yes, yes, very impressive. Your tail is beautiful.” 

Obviously pleased with your admiring tone of voice, the creature preens and flexes as he cuts through the waves. With his speed, what should have been a fifteen minute swim is cut down to barely five, and he releases his grip on the board as you begin to approach the shore. As soon as the water is shallow enough for you to stand, you slip off the board and curl your toes into the sand. You turn to grin at the creature, elated, and see that he’s retreated into the waves so that all you can see of him is his eyes and the top of his head.

“Thank you!” You call, grinning as you stagger out of the sea and back onto dry land. “You’re amazing!”

In a flash of scales, he disappears into the waves. You stand on the beach for several long moments, watching the place he had been and wondering if you had just experienced some kind of extremely advanced auditory and visual hallucination. You stay until you start to shiver again in the cold evening air, then stumble your way back up the hill to your uncle’s house.

Predictably, your uncle is a healthy mixture of angry and terrified. It seems you really worried him, and he had no way to contact anyone since he doesn’t own a cellphone. Despite your exhaustion, it takes the rest of the evening to calm him down and assure him that you’re fine. Eventually, you get to slip away for a warm bath and then to bed. 

Lying in bed staring at the ceiling of your uncle’s guest bedroom, you’re sure that it will take you ages to get to sleep. Your brain replays the events of the day over and over again, until the details become murky and your thoughts slow. The last thing you think before you slip off into sleep is how lucky you are to be alive, whether you were hallucinating or not.

You’re an idiot. A total, complete imbecile.

That’s the only explanation for how you’ve managed to find yourself back at the jagged mouth of the cave yet again. It’s been almost a full two weeks since you washed up here during the storm, and in those two weeks you could swear that you had seen a blond head bobbing in the waves in front of your uncle’s house multiple times. It was pretty hard to convince yourself that the whole mermaid-slash-sea creature thing was a product of your imagination after a scary and traumatic event when the hallucination kept appearing right outside where you live.

So, you had borrowed an old surfboard from your uncle (a full, undamaged one this time), and paddled your way back out to the cliff face. You notice almost immediately that the tide is strong here, and it’s difficult to keep yourself from being dashed right against the jagged surface of the cliff. It does confirm your suspicions, though - there’s no way that you could have washed up inside that cave by chance. It takes a significant amount of effort to pull yourself inside the mouth of the rocky structurecave without being crushed into the sharp stone slabs decorating the outside like some sort of deadly decorrocks, but you manage to do so without hurting yourself. 

Inside, the cave looks exactly the same as last time, though this time it’s empty. You paddle forward, the movement significantly easier now that you have a full-sized surfboard. Peering around, you see no sign at all that anything living might have occupied the cavern. That’s when the doubt starts to come creeping in. You’d had the odd invasive thought over the past two weeks that maybe you had imagined the whole mermaid creature (because it was, admittedly, insane), but then you had seen that blond head floating in the ocean breeze on several occasions. You could have sworn he was watching the house! Now that you’re here and facing the complete absence of evidence, you start to feel a little silly.

You paddle further into the cave, straddling the board so that your legs can kick out through the water. You admire the phosphorescent algae growing up the walls, amazed at the natural glowing light. When you turn your attention back to the bottom of the pool, though, you go still. 

It’s empty. The floor of the pool, previously littered with bones, is totally pristine.

You sit still on the surfboard in the middle of the pool, gazing down into the water. Despite how crazy the whole situation was, you had been sure that you weren’t imagining it. But now, faced with the complete absence of evidence, you’re forced to consider the fact that maybe the whole thing really had been in your head. You have such a vivid memory of the silt-covered bones blanketing the floor of the cave that now seeing them missing has completely thrown you off.

A bark sounds behind you, rough and deep like a seal, and you jerk hard in surprise.

Whirling around, clutching at the board beneath you to keep your balance, you catch sight of the creature floating by the entrance to the cave. He’s watching you intently, having obviously been monitoring you since you first managed to float inside.

The relief that slams into you feels like a physical punch -- the spikey hair, red eyes, and tail are exactly the same as you remember. It’s real. You laugh, and it feels like the sound has been ripped right out of your chest; the situation is almost overwhelmingly surreal, but the endorphin rush of knowing that you’re not delusional has you grinning at the creature, wide and bright.

“Hi!” You say, trying to keep your voice as level as possible despite your elation. You may have been delighted to see him, but you have no idea if he even remembers you from two weeks ago; you can only hope that he doesn’t decide that he’s hungry today. “Wow, look at you! You have no idea how good it is to see your face! And your tail! God, I am so glad to see your tail! It’s real, holy shit.”

One of the creature’s webbed fins twitch on the side of his head, rotating towards you as you ramble. In a single, smooth movement he pushes away from the entrance of the cave until he’s right in front of your surfboard, his face half-submerged in the water. He seems pretty docile today, his movements strong, but relaxed. The aggression he had displayed that had scared you so badly the first time is completely absent, and he begins to loop circles around you in a manner that is almost playful. You don’t bother to hide the awe in your expression as you watch his serpentine lower half undulate through the clear water. 

“Wow.” You breathe, your cheeks stretched wide by your goofy grin. “It’s amazing.”

He must feel your gaze on him, because his lazy looping begins to become more elaborate. The extra flourishes he makes with his tail as he circles you splashes water all over your thighs and stomach. You squeak in surprise, but as you relax again you start to laugh.

“Are you showing off?” You ask with a grin, watching his body roll through the saltwater pool, never straying too far from your surfboard. “You’re just a giant puppy, aren’t you?”

His circling gets faster and faster, until watching him nearly makes you dizzy. It’s a little reminiscent of being stalked by a shark, but you don’t sense any aggression or animosity from him at all. The little hairs standing on end on the back of your neck serve as a reminder that he is, undoubtedly, a predator, but you don’t feel as though he poses any particular threat to you right now. It’s a dangerous game you’re playing, treating him like a harmless puppy dog, but you have a feeling that his bark is probably worse than his bite. At least, you hope so.

“Help me get to the ledge?” You ask, beginning to paddle over. He catches on to where you’re trying to get to almost instantly, and pushes the surfboard effortlessly over to the rocky platform. 

Once you climb out of the water and turn to him, he pushes his upper half up onto the ledge and leans on his folded arms. The intensity of his gaze has lessened, or maybe you’ve just gotten used to it, because it doesn’t feel as though he’s trying to eat you alive with his eyes anymore. His tail swishes through the water, creating gentle waves rippling over the surface as he watches you with a sort of attentive stillness reminiscent of a cat.

“You saved me last time, didn’t you? When I was drowning?” You ask absent-mindedly. Your voice subconsciously takes on the same artificially high-pitched tone you use when you’re talking to animals and babies, but judging by the way his fins rotate downward and flatten to the side of his head he doesn’t like that. “Thank you.”

You’re taking a massive chance even making an attempt to touch him, but you take a deep breath and then hold your breath as you reach out to him. He flinches from your outstretched hand and bares his sharp teeth at you, but there’s no animosity behind it and he makes no move to stop you from placing your hand on the top of his head. His hair is coarse with sea salt, which probably explains its spiky texture, and is still dripping wet. As you ruffle his hair, your fingers curl into the chaotic blond spikes -- though you had originally intended to simply give him a pat on the head, you end up playing with his hair and scratching at his scalp.

You weren’t sure how the creature was going to react to your bold decision to give him head scratches, but he seems to like it -- his eyes go half-lidded and droopy, and he presses his head lightly into your touch. You grin, encouraged by his reaction, and let your hand trail cautiously down to one of his fins. It’s soft to the touch and delicate, with an almost silky smooth slippery texture. It twitches beneath your fingers, and you notice for the first time that the soft orange colour is interspersed with milky streaks of black. 

“Pretty.” you murmur to him, stroking a finger down the length of the fin before returning your hand to his messy mop of hair.

A harsh, rumbling growling sound erupts out of the creature’s chest, and you whip your hand back in shock. The creature’s head jerks up to look at you, equally startled by your sudden movement. It takes you a moment to realise that he wasn’t snarling at you, he was purring.

“Oh!” you breathe, surprised. “You like me playing with your hair?”

The creature obviously doesn’t answer; instead, he reaches out and grabs your wrist, his sharp claws cautiously guiding your hand up to plant right back into his hair. You laugh, startled by his sudden boldness, but obediently start scratching at his scalp again. That snarling, chain-saw like purr starts up again, and you can’t help the breathless giggle that bubbles out of you at the sound of it. 

The minutes tick by as you play with his hair, his grumbling purr echoing throughout the cave. His body has gone mostly lax, with his upper half laid out on the ledge in front of you and his lower half floating in the water. It’s kind of exciting being so close to a creature that could probably kill you with a single swipe of his claws but has instead chosen to let you pet him. Like this, lying relaxed by your legs, you could mistake him for a regular man. So long as you didn’t allow your gaze to drift lower, at least.

Your stomach decides to end the moment by letting out a rumbling growl of its own, which surprises even you since you had eaten before you left your uncle’s house. The creature draws back, squinting suspiciously at your torso.

“Sorry,” you say sheepishly, embarrassed despite yourself, “I’m not actually hungry, my stomach doesn’t know what it’s talking about.”

The creature blinks one of its creepy sideways blinks at you, and then in one quick movement disappears under the water with a flourish of his tail. You catch a streak of colour darting out of the cave and sigh as the water settles, disappointed that the moment has been brought to such an abrupt end by something as stupid as your tummy rumbling when you weren’t even particularly hungry. You settle back and wonder if you should take that as a sign that it’s time to get out of there.

The cave is beautifully peaceful, silent but for the sound of the waves lapping against rock. You could probably stay there for hours, but it doesn’t feel right to be there without the creature; it feels as though you’re infringing on his private territory, somehow, and it makes you feel a little uneasy. In the end, you don’t get much time to overthink -- the creature re-enters the cave nearly soundlessly, and you barely notice his presence until he emerges out of the water and hauls himself up on the rocky platform next to you.

“Oh!” You blurt, startled by the sudden movement. “You’re back!”

The creature doesn’t react to your words at all, instead dropping something in front of your folded legs. You blink at it, bewildered, as it wriggles on the stone platform.

“It’s… a fish.” You point out redundantly, at a loss for anything else to say. When you look back up you find that the creature is watching you carefully, a hint of impatience on his face. He nudges the fish towards you, and you cringe back as the fish flip-flops helplessly. “Gah!”

The creature’s brow drops into a frown, clearly unhappy with your reaction. He pushes the fish towards you more aggressively this time, but when the fish leaps into the air it’s only instinct for you to smack it away in a panic. The fish bounces once and then makes a bid for freedom, jumping straight into the water. The creature snarls and leaps after it.

The poor fish doesn’t stand a chance; the creature snatches it back up within seconds, and then it’s dumped in front of you again. “Uh. I don’t really… want this?” You stare at it, and then lift your head to look at the creature. He’s still frowning, and when you make no move to take the fish he reaches out to pick it up himself with a grunt of obvious irritation. You relax a little once he takes the fish, wondering what the hell that had been about.

Smack.

You screech as the fish slaps into your face, recoiling so violently that you overbalance and fall flat on your back. “What the FUCK!”

The creature rears back, obviously surprised by your reaction and all the yelling. He spits out a hissing sound as the fish makes another escape attempt, and dives after it. You’re too busy scrubbing at your face in disgust to keep track of what the hell he’s doing now, but when something wet and slimy smacks into your arms you realise that he’s just pelted you with the fish again!

“Why would you do that!” You yell, distressed. You would never be able to forget what a fish to the face feels like, now. “Fucking- That’s fucking gross!”

A low grumbling starts in the creature’s chest, but his brow is furrowed and his head is tilted so he doesn’t seem angry. If anything, he just seems confused. The fish is still wriggling where it’s stuck in his clenched, clawed fist, but its movements are getting progressively weaker. 

“Don’t you dare throw that at me again,” you threaten, glaring his way and injecting as much authority into your voice as you can manage, “Or we will have a serious problem.”

Your tone must have been pretty clear, because the creature doesn’t try to launch the fish at your face again. Instead, he lifts the fish up to his own mouth and takes an enormous bite, ripping the head right off and chewing it between his razor-sharp fangs.

You gag at the sight of guts and viscera falling to the cavern floor, and then turn to retch as wet chewing sounds reach you. “Oh fuck, that is nasty. Why? Ah, Jesus-” The creature proffers the chewed up fish carcass, scowling when you turn your face away to gag again. “Stop shoving that at me! I will get sick on you!”

The creature grunts, confused and annoyed by your behaviour. When it becomes clear that you will not be taking the remains of the fish to eat yourself, he tosses the carcass to the side. It lands with a sad little ‘thwunk’ and then lays forgotten as the creature turns back to look at you. Your stomach rolls as he starts to pick raw meat out of his teeth with a clawed fingertip.

“On that note, I think it’s time for me to leave.” You climb to your feet, stubbornly refusing to look at the dead fish. “That’s enough weirdness for me to deal with for one day.” As soon as you make a move for the surfboard, the creature starts making sharp barking noises at you. You turn to scowl at him, irritated, and see that he’s dragged himself after you along the ledge. “What do you want?”

The creature looks almost constipated for a long moment, before he huffs a sharp breath of air out his nose. “Stay.”

It feels like the world stops turning. You think your heart might have actually stopped in your chest. You were surely hallucinating this time. “Did you just speak?”

The creature’s tail lashes impatiently as he scowls up at you from the ground, obviously displeased at your sudden difference in height. “Will you fucking sit down?”

You drop back down to the floor, jaw hanging open. “What the fuck?” You whisper to yourself. It feels as though your brain is functioning several steps behind its usual pace, and all you can do is stare dumbly. “You can fucking talk?”

“Are you an idiot?” The creature snaps at you, scowling. A dusting of light pink blooms high on his cheekbones, “I’m talking right now, aren’t I?”

“I’ve been talking to you this whole time!” You yell, horrified. You cast your mind back desperately, struggling to recall whether you said anything embarrassing at any stage. You definitely have, you just know it. “What the fuck! Why did you never answer?!”

The creature clicks his tongue, and an infuriating little smirk settles over his perfect features. His voice is smug when he speaks next, “I’m a good listener.”

That does it. 

“Oh, fuck you.” You jump to your feet again and march to your surfboard, ignoring the scrabbling sounds against the rock as the creature pulls himself after you.

“Hey! Wait! You said you’d stay, asshole!”

“No, you told me to stay! I never agreed to shit!” You snap, embarrassed and annoyed. You fumble with the board, and the creature takes that moment to shove it away from you. You gasp in outrage as you watch it float out into the middle of the pool, then round on him. “What the hell!”

The creature glares at you, his cheeks stained red. It looks as though he’s seriously struggling with something, until he finally says, “Stay… please.” It sounds as though the word has been forced out of him, like it actually grates him to say it.

You should probably leave. But then again, how many chances in a lifetime are you going to get to meet a fantasy creature (and one that can actually speak to you!). Your curiosity gets the better of you (and the embarrassed but hopeful look on the creature’s face doesn’t help), so you reluctantly sit back down once more. You don’t miss the way he seems to relax a little now that you’re not going anywhere. “Only for a while.” you warn him half-heartedly.

The creature scoffs as if he doesn’t care, as if he didn’t literally just plead with you to stay. “Whatever. Why didn’t you like the fish?”

“The-?” You glance over your shoulder. The fish carcass lies abandoned several paces away, stinking and leaking everywhere. “Uh…”

“I thought you were hungry.” he presses, sounding distinctly as though he’s accusing you of lying.

“You were trying to feed me?” You ask, raising your eyebrows so high they nearly vanish into your hairline. That’s what smacking you in the face with the fish was all about?

The creature’s tail twitches again, sending waves rolling across the surface of the pool. He looks embarrassed, though he’s making a pretty valiant effort at pretending to be unaffected. “Yeah, so what? It’s not my fault that your fingers are all blunt and useless. Can you even kill anything with those?”

You squint down at your fingers, then frown at him. “I don’t know, I’ve never tried! Humans don’t eat raw meat, anyway!”

“Yes, they do!” The creature shoots back, “I’ve heard of sushi!”

That effectively renders you silent as you blink at him. Where had he heard of sushi? “Okay, fine!” You concede grumpily, “Some people eat sushi! That is not the same as catching a fish and eating it live!”

The creature makes a face and lies out on his back, stretching leisurely. “Damn, you’re high maintenance.” He complains, though he doesn’t look all that annoyed. If anything, he looks stupidly pleased with himself. “Whatever. Tell me what you like, then.”

“I don’t know,” You shrug, chewing your lip, “Normal food, I guess. Like, from the store.”

The creature frowns at that, obviously displeased but thinking hard. After a moment he grunts, shrugging. “We’ll work something out.” He says vaguely, then moves on before you can respond. “You’re staying with Aizawa now, right?”

You blink in surprise. “You know my Uncle Shouta?”

“Your uncle?” He asks, avoiding your question.

“Well,” you amend with a shrug, “We’re not blood-related. He’s always been a close family friend. How do you know him?”

The creature shrugs, muscled chest rippling in a way that’s frustratingly distracting. “He’s always hanging around in his stupid little boat.” There’s an underlying current to his voice that sounds like begrudging respect. “He’s helped us out a few times, I guess. He’s alright.”

“‘Us’?” You repeat, eyes wide. “Are there more of… you?” You gesture at his tail, unsure of what to actually refer to him as.

The creature must decide that he’s said too much, because he changes the subject. “What am I supposed to call you, anyway? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘dumbass’.”

You scoff, slightly offended at that, but tell him your name anyway. “What do I call you?”

“My name is Katsuki,” he grins at you, displaying his rows of very white and very sharp teeth. “But you can call me whatever you like.”

The low, easy rumble of his voice sounds almost flirtatious, and for a long moment all you can do is blink at him. There’s no way you’re reading the situation correctly, you’re sure of it. “Um. Katsuki is fine.”

Katsuki snorts, but doesn’t push the matter. Instead, he rolls onto his side so that he can watch you more closely. His gaze is searingly intense, so much so that you genuinely have difficulty meeting his stare. His attention is overwhelming, and so you find yourself looking around the cavern in an effort to distract yourself. Your surroundings are more or less unchanged from the last time you were here, with one exception -- though the cave was clean before, now it seems to be immaculate. The absence of the bones littering the floor of the pool makes the water seem deeper and clearer, light reflecting off the surface and dancing in ripples along the rocky ceiling. Any seaweed or lichen that had been growing around the rocks or up the walls is gone now, leaving the stone surfaces looking as though they’d been scrubbed clean.

For lack of anything better to say to fill the silence, you say, “Your, uh, cave looks great. Very… tidy.”

Katsuki appears to puff up at that, proud that you noticed. “Yeah? You like it?”

“Oh, yeah. Definitely.” You nod absently. “It’s… um, cozy.”

“Cozy?” Katsuki repeats. He’s edging closer, almost imperceptibly, but the dragging sound his scaly lower half makes on the ground gives him away. His gaze has sharpened, and you feel distinctly hunted.

“Uh,” You laugh, nerves pitching your voice several octaves higher than normal. “Yeah, I guess. That’s some very nice, uh, algae. It really… pulls the room together.”

The algae, in all its phosphorescent glory, is nice, but Katsuki doesn’t turn to look where you’re pointing. The tip of his tail drags in the water, where it thumps softly from side to side. “Want to see the rest of the place?”

Something about his tone of voice has you hesitating; it sounds pointed, as though his words are heavy with significance that you don’t understand. Still, you don’t want to be rude, so you smile nervously and say, “There’s more? Sure, I’d like to see.”

Katsuki inhales sharply through his nose as an anticipatory grin spreads slowly across his face. His features, handsome anyway, are intimidatingly good looking as his cheeks dimple with his smile, and you only have a moment to wonder what exactly you’ve just agreed to before he pushes himself back into the water in one smooth movement. “Come on.” He says, reaching a hand back up to you and waiting impatiently for you to take it. 

You pause for a moment, before throwing any lingering sense of self-preservation to the wind and taking his outstretched hand. He’s mindful of his claws as he helps you into the water, but it’s impossible to miss the way his palms drag over your arms in a way that can’t be mistaken for casual. 

It’s only when you’re floating in the water next to him that you’re able to fully comprehend the sheer size of him. While his torso is mostly human in both shape and proportion, he’s still built like a damn bodybuilder, with solid abs and rolling biceps. Even without the tail he’s pretty big, but with it? You guess it must be about eight feet long, and it curls around you in the water like a thick, dark snake. He smiles at you as he keeps you afloat, and his teeth glint in the low light. It’s border-line terrifying, and for a long moment you wonder if you’ve just made a very serious mistake.

But then his tail undulates and he’s cutting through the water, dragging you with him. You laugh, startled, and cling onto his neck as he swims through the pool and down the mostly concealed passage he had disappeared through the last time.

The passage is completely submerged in water, and narrows before widening into an even larger cavern area. You gasp quietly as you realise that this is definitely his living space.The layout is pretty similar to the previous cavern, with a shelf of rock jutting out of the wall of the cave just above the height of the water, but unlike the previous cavern this rocky shelf is covered in soft dry moss. You wonder if this is where he sleeps.

The luminescent algae is far more plentiful in this part of the cave; it grows all up the walls and along the ceiling, where it glows in the dark like stars. You crane your head all the way back so that you can gaze open-mouthed at it all, awed by the surreal beauty of it. “Wow,” you breathe in delight, “It’s stunning!”

Katsuki grunts out a pleased rumble in response. In the position you’re in, you can feel it vibrate in his chest. When he reaches the platform, he grips you by the hips and boosts you up onto the rock. The sheer strength takes you by surprise, especially considering the way in which his expression hardly changes as he lifts you with ease.

Once you’re comfortably seated on the moss-covered stone, Katsuki heaves himself up to join you. His tail slaps against the water and coils close to your legs, rubbing gently against the skin of your legs. The sensation of wet scales should feel a little gross or uncomfortable against you, but they feel silky soft as they brush your skin. You lay back against the moss, gazing up at the glowing blue algae painted across the ceiling.

“Your home is beautiful.” You murmur, keeping your voice low. It feels as though the moment is fragile, and you don’t want to break the peaceful atmosphere in this little grotto.

Beside you, Katsuki gives a smug little shrug of his shoulders. He’s sitting way too close to you to be entirely casual (his tail is practically draped over you at this stage), but he doesn’t seem to think anything of the closeness so you write it off as a mermaid thing. “Obviously. What, are you fuckin’ surprised?”

You ignore that, sighing happily as you get comfortable. You can feel Katsuki’s gaze settle like a weight over you, but you simply refuse to look over -- lying comfortably on the cushioned cave floor and gazing up at the fantastical luminescence of the walls and ceiling is a kind of peace that you’ve never experienced before. You feel like you could stay like this forever.

However, Katsuki does not like to be ignored. Your attention has only been directed away from him for a few moments before he starts shifting irritably beside you. You can feel the muscles in his tail moving as it rolls, his clawed fingers tapping impatiently against his abdomen. It seems as though he’s waiting for something in particular, but you have absolutely no idea what this could be. 

After another few moments of impatient shuffling, you finally turn your head to frown at him. “Is something wrong?”

Katsuki frowns back at you, and you see a brief hint of uncertainty flash in his eyes before it’s snuffed out. “No. I’m being fucking patient.”

“Patient?” You parrot, confused. “What are you waiting for?”

For the first time, you notice the flush crawling up the back of his neck and spreading over his cheeks. Swearing quietly, he looks off to the side and shuffles a little on the spot. Eventually he speaks again, though he still doesn’t meet your eye. “Am I reading this wrong?”

“Uh-?”

He continues before you can properly answer, his jaw clenched tight. “I tried to show you that I’m a good hunter and a strong opponent, but you didn’t like any of the bones. I wasn’t sure if you were interested or whatever, but then you showed me where you lived.” The emphasis he places on his words makes you realise that there is some special sort of significance that has gone right over your head, “Then you came back to my cave again, so I figured we were on the same page. But then you refused the fish-”

“I-” you start, bewildered, but Katsuki just keeps going as he works himself up into a mini rant.

“-Even though I know you’re hungry! And you said you liked the changes I made to the place after I got rid of the bones, and you kept calling my tail amazing and beautiful and shit-” He ignores the way you choke a little at that, though he seems to run out of steam, “I just-- fucking, tell me if I’m reading this wrong. I don’t know shit about humans. I thought you were accepting my advances.”

Advances? You inhale so sharply that you nearly choke all over again. There’s no way he means what you think he means. There is no damn way. “Are you- are you coming onto me?”

Katsuki stares back at you, before his face crumples into a scowl. “Hah? Are you fucking dumb? I brought you to my living space and gave you bones! I tried to feed you fish! Of fucking course I’m coming onto you!” His voice drops then and takes on an uncertain edge to it, “I thought you were accepting my mating advances.”

Your jaw drops, and you honestly can’t find the strength to close your mouth. Mating advances? “I-” you start, then cut yourself off. It feels like the world has tilted just slightly off to the side, throwing you off-kilter. You have absolutely no idea what to say. “Give me a minute.” You blurt, darting to your feet and turning away from him to pace. 

You quickly encounter a problem, in that there’s nowhere to pace to; the ledge is only so large, so all you can really do is march from the edge to the wall. Overall, it’s only about ten paces long, and the whole time you’re focusing on not slipping on the moss. It doesn’t exactly give you a lot of space to think, but your mind still goes into working overtime.

You sneak a peek at Katsuki -- he’s lounging exactly where you left him, but his eyes are sharp and alert as they follow your movements. Not for the first time, you take notice of how unnaturally handsome he is; his features are perfectly formed, his skin clear and flawless where it stretches and swells over his finely muscled form. He looks like a handsome prince from a storybook, and you hate that you’re feeling sparks of attraction towards someone who’s half fish.

Katsuki clearly notices you looking at him, because he stretches out to display his body in a way that’s distinctly suggestive. You look away quickly, embarrassed at having been caught staring. How would that even work?

You can’t believe you’re even entertaining the idea.

“I’m not gonna fuck a fish.” You breathe, eyes clamped shut. “I’m better than that.”

“Who the fuck are you callin’ a fish?” Katsuki snaps. His tone is heated, but the way the split fins at the end of his tail slap a steady rhythm against the ground reveals his excitement. He must have caught on to the fact that you’re actually considering it, because the fins on the side of his head have begun to wiggle a little in anticipation. “Will you stop overthinking it and come over here?”

You hold onto your pride and dignity for another few seconds before abandoning them altogether and padding back over to him. You fold yourself down into a sitting position in front of him so that you’re facing each other. Katsuki sits up quickly, his lips beginning to turn up in a grin. You ignore the anticipation flashing over his face, and ask, “So, how does this, um, work?”

Katsuki inhales sharply, obviously excited. His fins flap softly against the side of his head. “Let me show you.”

“Right, okay. Yeah.” You say stupidly, eyes widening as Katsuki leans in. Any further rambling is cut short as he presses his lips into yours.

The kiss is a little clumsy at first -- Katsuki is careful with his sharp teeth, but the feeling of them pressing against your mouth sends a little frisson of excited fear down your spine. It’s only when he’s pressed up against you like this that you realise there’s a stark difference in your body temperatures; Katsuki’s skin is cool and soft, which feels amazing pressed against your rapidly heating body.

He pulls away from the kiss, leaving you blinking stupidly after him, and then pushes at your shoulders to guide you down onto your back. The moss underneath you acts like a cushion, so it’s significantly more comfortable than you had been expecting. This ends up being a good thing as Katsuki lowers himself down on you, his weight pinning you to the floor.

“You’re so warm.” He murmurs, nuzzling into your throat before nipping softly at it and snickering when you jerk at the sting. His hands skim over your sides, his clawed fingers dragging harmlessly over your vulnerable skin.

You hate to admit it, but there’s something about the danger of the whole thing that’s really getting you going. You recall the bones that had previously cluttered the whole cave floor, and know that Katsuki not only could rip someone apart if he felt like it, but had done so before.  You squirm beneath him, pressing your thighs together as he kisses at the sensitive junction between your throat and ear.

Apparently unhappy with the position, Katsuki leans back a little so he can pry your legs apart. As soon as you drop your knees open he squirms into the gap and presses himself right along the line of your body, dropping aggressively eager kisses all up your chest and throat. “Take this off.” He rumbles, tugging irritably at the strings to your bikini top.

“Um.” You say, thoughts a little hazy. Every time Katsuki moves the muscles in his tail shift and roll, and his tail is pressed right in between your legs. “Off. Right.”

Katsuki watches as you tug the fabric off, his eyes bright and impatient. No sooner have you tossed your bikini top to the side than he’s on you again, thumbs rolling over your nipples as he pushes his face into your breasts. “What the fuck,” he mutters, squeezing curiously at one breast and licking a stripe over your other one, “You’re so soft.”

 Desperate to touch back, you reach up and run your hands through his salt-coarse hair. When you accidentally brush against one of his head fins, his reaction takes you by surprise – his whole body jolts, pressing into you harshly, and he groans a little into your ear. You do it again, grinning as Katsuki’s hands abandon your tits so he can grab you by the hips.

Maybe your own excitement causes you to forget yourself, but you can’t help but grind your hips up into Katsuki where he’s pressed in between your legs. Katsuki laughs a breathless, snarling laugh before grinding back into you, the base of his tail just under where his human half ends pressed flush against your covered pussy. Katsuki, still gripping you by the hips, grinds repeatedly against you – the scales on his tail create an almost ribbed texture, and every time they drag over the front of your bikini bottoms you can’t help but twitch your hips back against them.

It doesn’t escape your notice that you’re virtually dry-humping a merman on the floor of a cave, but you simply push that aside for now; you can feel yourself getting wet, and you know that most of your critical reasoning skill go out the window when you’re horny.

You’re so distracted by the nipping, stinging kisses and the way Katsuki’s tail grinds and wiggles against you that it takes a very long moment to realise that the feeling of his tail pressing against you has… changed, somehow. You pull back, breathing a little heavy, and look down to try and see what’s different, but Katsuki is pressed so closely to you that you can’t see past his chest. You don’t get a chance to look properly, either, because then Katsuki begins to slide down your body until his head is between your legs.

He tugs at your bikini bottoms, but his inexperience with legs becomes clear as he tries and fails to successfully remove them. “Fucking- take these off!”

You snort at his impatience, but obediently wiggle your way out of them. It’s actually a relief to be out of the wet swimwear, but you don’t have much time to appreciate it before Katsuki’s face is in between your legs and pressed right up to your now exposed pussy. He inhales deeply as you squirm, mortified. “Don’t- stop fucking sniffing me there, oh my god!”

“Hah?” he squints up at you, “Why?”

“It’s embarrassing!”

Katsuki frowns, clearly not understanding what the big deal was. “You smell good.”

You’re pretty sure that you don’t, considering virtually nobody’s genitals smell good (especially not after being trapped in a damp swimsuit for hours), but his tone is so matter-of-fact that you can’t bring yourself to argue. He doesn’t wait for a response anyway, burying his face between your thighs again and huffing as he inhales your scent. You cover your face out of sheer embarrassment, but don’t make any effort to pull away.

When his tongue starts to prod at your clit, your whole body jerks in surprise. His tongue is cool, a stark contrast to the heat pooling in your folds, and it feels startlingly good as it squirms against you. Your hips twitch and chase after his touch, but he keeps you firmly in place with his grip on your hipbones.

“Humans are pretty different down here,” Katsuki says conversationally, his words vibrating against your pussy lips. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Oh yeah?” you say absently. Your thighs flex around his head from the effort of not clamping down hard around his skull.

He hums, then licks at your slit unashamedly. He grins, apparently pleased with the taste. “I’ll get used to it.”

“Can you- there’s, um, a spot. Higher up. Could you-?”

Katsuki doesn’t take direction particularly well, and it takes a couple of moments for him to actually locate your clit. When he does find it though, he licks and sucks at it so eagerly that your back actually bows right off the ground.

“Shit!” You gasp, wriggling against Katsuki’s face. “Oh!”

Encouraged by your noises, Katsuki just doubles his efforts. The wet, slurping noises are obscene, and your moans echo around the cavern in a way that sounds distinctly eerie; you’re so thankful that there’s no one else around for miles to hear.

“You’re so warm,” Katsuki murmurs, sounding slightly breathless, “Are you this hot on the inside, too?”

“Oh god.” You whimper, head swimming. Without even really knowing what you’re asking for, you whisper, “Please.”

Katsuki perks up at that, then drags himself back up so that his face is level with yours once more. This close, you can see how shiny his face is after being buried against your wet pussy for so long. When he kisses you, you can taste yourself on his tongue. It makes you whimper again, pressing into him eagerly. Katsuki is breathing pretty hard too, and when he presses his torso against you, he groans long and low.

This time, with the base of his tail pressed against the bare flesh of your cunt, you know for sure what you’re feeling; there’s an honest to god bump that definitely wasn’t there before, right where you might expect a dick on a human male. Katsuki notices where your attention is straying to, and brings one of his own hands down to massage the bump. It’s only then, as you peer closer to get a better look at what he’s doing, that you see what looks like a vertical slit positioned a few inches down from where his human half ends and his tail begins. His clawed fingers dance around it, rubbing at the swollen flesh around it without touching the slit itself.

Your curiosity gets the better of you, and you reach out your hand to stroke at the same place Katsuki is. The pads of your fingers run over the textured scales, earning a soft grunt as he presses eagerly into your touch. You repeat the same massaging motions Katsuki was doing, and as you watch, the slit seems to open wider.

It happens slowly, then all at once. As you rub at the sides of the opening, the tip of what appears to be Katsuki’s penis begins to slowly distend. You nearly pull back from surprise, but then Katsuki lets out a quiet, soft little moan, and you can’t bring yourself to pull away from him. You run the tip of your index finger around the inside of the slit, and find that it’s soft and almost rubbery, reminiscent of what you imagine sealskin must feel like. At your touch, his penis extends the rest of the way.

 You blink, then sit back. “Oh.” You say stupidly, gazing at his dick.

Katsuki straightens up and sits back smugly, clearly proud of what he was packing. He seems to miss your growing alarm entirely. “Like what you see?”

You purse your lips and take a moment to collect your thoughts. “It… moves.” You say faintly.

Katsuki doesn’t look very impressed with your analysis of his penis. “Yeah. Obviously. C’mere.” 

His dick is significantly pinker than his own skin tone, thick at the base and then narrowing along the length. It’s big, uncreased and smooth, and when you wrap your palm around it (ignoring Katsuki’s desperate thrust into your fist) you find that it has the same almost rubbery texture as the skin around the slit. It’s just a few shades warmer than the rest of his body, though still significantly cooler than a human; it’s odd, holding a dick that feels almost cool to the touch.

Katsuki’s tail lashes agitatedly at the ground behind him, though he doesn’t do much more than press a little harder into your hand. “Done looking?” he grinds out, clearly beginning to run out of patience.

“No.” You say absently, giving his dick a few pumps and watching him hunch over with a choked moan. His dick is practically prehensile, and wriggles in your hand like it has a mind of its own.

It’s completely unnerving and alien and really, really weird, and you hate yourself because all you can do is wonder how it would feel inside of you.

“Y/N,” Katsuki grunts, his tail slapping agitatedly against the floor behind him, “Can I? Please, can I?” The please sounds as though it’s been pulled unwillingly from him, though it seems no less genuine because of that, and he leans down to nip impatiently at your shoulder.

“Yeah.” You breathe, relinquishing your hold on his dick and watching it slap against his abdomen. You lie back onto the moss, breath hitching as Katsuki eagerly drags himself up the length of you.

 The sensation of his thick heavily muscled tail nestling in between your legs and shifting with every one of Katsuki’s little movements has your head swimming, and your knees fall open even wider. His head drops to your chest and his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, humming as your head falls back with a pleased sigh. You can feel the hardness of his cock on the inside of your thigh, can feel the tip of it moving just slightly, tracing the sensitive flesh close to the crease of your hip.

When Katsuki looks up to meet your eyes, you’re not prepared for the level of franticness in his gaze. He looks needy, his proud features twisted in desperation even as his eyes burn. “I’m going to mate you now.”

“Okay.” You say dumbly, clutching weakly at the moss beneath you.

The tip of Katsuki’s dick is unexpectedly soft as it presses into you, and far slicker than you had expected. You peer down at his hips, and notice for the first time that the slit that his penis is protruding from is leaking some sort of membranous fluid. You wonder if maybe you should feel grossed out by that, considering the foreign fluid is being pressed inside of you, but all your brainpower is being diverted to the slow, wet slide of his dick stretching you open.

Katsuki moans, long and low, as he clutches at your hips. “Fuck!” he hisses, baring his rows of sharp teeth. He’s obviously trying very hard to hold himself back and enter you slowly, but he’s practically trembling from the effort.

“Okay, okay, okay.” You chant, breathing heavily. Katsuki’s dick is big, and the pressure of the stretch is just bordering on painful despite the slick slide. You wonder if you’re going to feel the ache of this for days or weeks.

And then he’s all the way in, the rough, textured scales of his tail pressed flush against the backs of your thighs. Both of you have to take a moment, panting. The pain of the stretch begins to fade, and you begin to feel like you’re just on the right side of full.

You want to feel Katsuki move, and so you wrap your thighs around his hips. The scales scratch a little at the delicate skin on the inside of your thighs, but it’s so worth it for the way Katsuki groans, and the way the fins on the side of his head flap minutely. One of his palm’s plants itself firmly in the moss by your head, the other clasped tightly over your hip.

The muscles in his tail ripple and his dark scales flash in the low light as he pulls his hips back only to slide back in, smooth and fast. It’s hard to catch your breath, because the slickness of his cock sliding in and out of you is at once foreign and desperately arousing. Katsuki seems to feel the same way, because his mouth is dropped open and his brow scrunched, eyes half-lidded as he humps into the slippery heat of your pussy.

“You’re so hot,” he groans out with a huff as his hips stutter, “Feels like you’re burnin’ me.”

Dazedly, you sympathise with him; his body is several degrees lower than your own body temperature, and the coolness of his dick inside of you has every one of your nerves hyper-aware and attuned to it. It feels beautifully refreshing against your own heated flesh, the contrast almost overwhelming.

Katsuki pets absently at your hip and thigh as his thrusts begin to come faster and harder; he builds up a steady rhythm, one that seems to seek as deep inside of you as possible and quickly renders you speechless. The only sound filling the cave is the wet slapping sounds from where Katsuki is pounding into you and the grunts and pants and moans that each of you make without shame.

You feel each thrust and slippery slide inside of you so acutely, as if every one of your nerve-endings is straining towards him. The texture of his cock inside you feels so alien, and you could swear you feel it actually aiming for the spot inside of you that makes your limbs turn to jelly. You wonder if your own body feels as strangely foreign to him; you’re guessing it does, judging by the way he pants and humps into you with that wild look in his eyes. Or maybe that’s just how he usually is during sex. It’s not like you have any sort of frame of reference for sex with mermaids.

You reach down to rub at yourself, jolting a little as your warm fingertips come into contact with your heated clit – you’ve become adjusted to the cooler body temperature of Katsuki,  and now your own warmth almost feels like too much. You wonder how the heat of your cunt isn’t completely overwhelming for him, but considering the dark flush overtaking his face and chest and shoulders, and the way that his jaw hangs open and his eyes have gone glassy, you think maybe it is.

He hikes your thighs further up on his waist without pausing his thrusting, the scales scraping oddly along your bare calves. “I’m gonna-” he grunts, pushing his face into your necks as his tail slaps harshly against the ground every time he fucks into you, as if he’s lost control over it.

You rub harder and faster at your clit, gasping as Katsuki bites down on the tender skin of your throat. It’s not hard enough to break the skin, and seems more like he’s trying to keep you in one place, but the threat of his sharp teeth against such a vulnerable part of you sends you hurtling towards the edge.

It only takes a few more strokes, and another twist of his cock against your g-spot, before you come hard and silently, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.

“Fuck, yes.” Katsuki groans throatily into your neck, his movements only becoming increasingly intense. It feels as though he’s trying to plow you right through the rock (which is actually an incredible turn-on, though you don’t want to admit it) and you whimper and gasp as you begin to pass into the realm of oversensitivity.

Katsuki’s upper body goes taut as his powerful tail pushes him forward into you one last time, so deep that you swear you feel the tip of his dick moving against your cervix, and then he comes with an honest to god snarl. You sigh as you feel the slick gush of his cum inside of you, thicker than you’d expected, and flop bonelessly once you know he’s done.

“Holy shit,” You breathe, staring wide-eyed at the cave ceiling. The glowing algae twinkles back at you as Katsuki breathes slowly and deeply into your neck, his thick arms winding around your waist and shoulders. As the haze of your orgasm begins to fade and reality starts to set in again, you’re struck with the fact that you’ve just fucked a mythical creature, and his very weird fish dick is still inside of you. “Oh my god.”

Katsuki grunts, clearly not pleased that you’re ruining his afterglow with delayed panic. “Shhh, s’fine.” He mumbles, rubbing at the bitemark on your neck in what he apparently thinks is a reassuring manner, “You’re mine – ain’t nobody gonna hurt you.”

The two of you are clearly on different wavelengths, but you don’t bother to think to much about that particular statement. “I just fucked a fish.” You breathe. It sounds just as ridiculous out loud as it did in your head.

“You liked it, too.” Katsuki says smugly, not denying the fish part this time around.

“Dickhead! Get off me!” You say irritably, embarrassment beginning to sink in.

“No.” Katsuki mumbles childishly, snuggling into your neck and holding you tight so you can’t struggle. His dick shifts inside of you, and he grunts as you automatically clench down around it. “Stay.”

The moss is comfortable, the cave is pretty, and Katsuki’s arms around you feel better than you’d like to admit. You relax, the weight of him laying on you more soothing than you had expected, and close your eyes. “My uncle is gonna kill me.” You say, an afterthought flitting through your mind. He was so worried the last time you disappeared into the sea like that, you can only imagine what he’s going to say once you come home late after doing it again.

Katsuki snorts and kisses the base of your throat, and you feel like you could probably lie in this cave forever, listening to the sound of the ocean ebbing and flowing just outside the rocky walls. “If he’s gonna kill you,” he murmurs, lips dragging over your skin, “I’d hate to see what he’d do to me.”

[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt AU: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

PART 6: Age 18 

“California is pretty far away,” Percy says softly into the night as Annabeth lays on the rooftop by his side. He hears her shift so that she can look at him, and he mirrors her, looking at his reflection in her pale eyes. 

“2914.9 miles,” she answers. 

“You really had to choose the farthest college from me didn’t you?”

Annabeth snorts and shakes her head. 

“Yes Percy, I chose it purely because it’s the furthest from you in particular.” He pouts and pushes himself up on an elbow so he can look down at her. 

“Why are you leaving me?”

“I’m not just leaving you Perce, I’m leaving everyone else as well. My Dad, my brothers, Thals, Grover...not just you.” Her face shifts and he sees sadness replace her joking smirk. 

“Yeah but I’m special...I’m your favourite.” Percy is half-joking but he wishes with all his heart that the first part of his sentence is true, that he is in fact special to Annabeth. Special in the same way that Annabeth is special to him. 

“Don’t let Thals hear that,” Annabeth says, rolling her eyes but Percy leans in closer, poking her repeatedly until she’s laughing. 

“You’re only saying that because it’s true.”

“Shut up.” Percy notices how she doesn’t deny it and it brings a smile to his face. 

 “I’m going to miss you.” His heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze as his voice softens and his smile drops. Annabeth gives him a sad look and pokes his chest trying to get him to look at her properly. 

“Don’t get all sappy on me now Seaweed Brain, we’ve still got summer.”

“And then you leave and forget me, and find a cool Perry Johnson to be your new best friend.” He says and dramatically throws his head back, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead like he’s about to faint. 

Annabeth groans and pushes him away so he falls back on the blanket they’ve laid out. The other two aren’t due to arrive for another hour, but Percy has been spending so much time at Annabeth’s house already, that it made no sense to go back to his last night, so he stayed over and helped set up the apartment rooftop for their sleepover under the stars. 

He thinks they’ve done a pretty good job for the two of them, there’s an array of pillows, blankets and sheets all over the floor, and plenty of snacks to last them through the night. A couple of years ago, way back when they were younger, Mr Chase set up fairy lights along the edge of the roof, so they’re not in complete darkness, not that New York can ever be truly dark. The lights illuminate Annabeth’s features as Percy turns his head to her, she looks like a goddess and Percy swallows deeply when she returns his stare. 

“What are you looking at?”

Percy shrugs and sits up so he can rearrange snacks that don’t need rearranging to hide his blush at being caught. 

“Oh, I nearly forgot! Can you sign this, you never did?” Annabeth says changing the subject and tugs on his arm so he can come back and sit with her. 

He looks at her confused until she brings out her yearbook. Their school emblem shines on the front cover, and she places it in his lap, pressing herself to his side, so she can flip the pages, looking for an empty space to write. On the back, there’s an entire blank page and she smooths the paper down and hands him a marker. 

“All yours.” She says and watches him expectantly. 

“Are you going to watch me write in it?” He twirls the pen uneasily and rubs the back of his neck, slightly uncomfortable under her intense gaze. 

Annabeth huffs. “Do you want me to leave?” 

“Can you?” He asks half-jokingly. 

“You’re such an idiot. Fine. I’ll go check if there’s anything we forgot downstairs. Do you want anything?” He grins as she shakes her head, pretending to be annoyed. 

“Anything blue.”

“Of course,” she mutters and gets up, using his shoulder to steady herself. He leans into the touch and tries to ignore the way his body misses her warmth when she leaves.  

When she leaves Percy flips back to the front, reliving their senior year, one page at a time. He skips past the photos of the people in his grade and goes straight to the events. It starts with homecoming, and there’s a photo of Percy, Annabeth, Grover and Thalia all dressed in black suits. Percy smiles fondly at the close-up photo of Thalia and Annabeth posing together, in matching suits and corsets. Since Thalia broke up with Luke, she’s reintegrated back into the group with no issue, and it’s like she never left. 

He turns the page, skipping through the other homecoming photos, and pauses at the one of him and Annabeth. It’s a candid, and even though he’s already seen it, his heart still stutters, because in the photo she’s fixing his hair in the photo right before the official photos like she always does, and Percy can’t help but think about how much they look like a couple. 

He keeps turning through the pages, trying to find more photos of their group. They’re not a very social group, preferring to hang out with each other than go to school events, but they’re at all the major ones. 

There are small snippets of them at the football games, student fairs and pep rallies, it’s not till the end where there are photos that focus more on students not part of clubs that he sees more pictures of his friends. 

There’s one of them all laying on their back enjoying the sun looking up at clouds the way they used to when they were kids (completely unaware that someone is taking photos of them). There’s even a photo of Grover with Thalia on his shoulder as she tries to climb a tree with toilet paper in her hand from prank day. The next one is a blurry photo of Percy completely wrapped in toilet paper and chasing Annabeth. 

Moments from their senior year have been captured and immortalised in these pages, and Percy’s heart heaves at the thought of leaving this all behind or watching people leave. 

Tears start to prick at his eyes as he reaches the graduation and prom photos. There’s a huge shot of his entire grade, a choice of a few students throwing their caps up. In the corner on the page before the prom photos, there's a small snapshot of the four of them, their arms thrown around each other, heads pressed together. He remembers this moment vividly. All of their names are relatively close together in the roll, so as soon as they were announced, he had bolted straight to Grover, who had bolted to Thalia, who had bolted to Annabeth, and they had all ended up screaming and jumping into each other's arms. 

He’s going to miss this. 

He finally comes to the prom photos, and he’s not surprised when his breath catches in his throat when he sees Annabeth in her prom dress again. It’s a deep blue, the colour of the sky above his head, and it makes his stomach flutter each time he sees it. In the photo, she’s posing with Thalia again, but she’s mid-laugh and Percy would be lying if he said it wasn’t one of his favourite photos of her. He has copies of photos from the night on his computer, but the ones taken at the venue are better quality, it’s almost like he’s back there in the moment. 

Thalia had come with a date, once again wearing a tight-fitting suit, a girl on her arm and Grover had brought Juniper, his girlfriend. Percy and Annabeth had agreed to go together, just because it was easier. 

“Platonically,” he remembers telling Grover. He remembers Grover laughing and shaking his head. 

“There is nothing platonic about you two but okay. Have fun, Perce.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Grover had never explained what he meant and it still haunted Percy. 

There isn’t a photo of the two of them at prom together, at least not in the yearbook, but he asked for a favour from a friend in the yearbook committee and has the photos that didn’t make it on a USB drive back home. His favourite is his wallpaper, and it’s of him and Annabeth dancing their heads bent close together. It’s not obvious it’s them two but he can recognise her blonde hair anywhere. That’s another moment he holds close, them dancing and swaying to a song they don’t recognise, whispering to each other in the night. He’d almost told her that night. Told her everything, about what he felt, about how he would always feel, but when she let go, he realised that he didn’t want to risk losing what they had. It was too precious to him. 

Percy finally reaches the page that Annabeth initially brought him to and he uncaps the pen, tapping the back of it against the page a couple of times trying to think of a message. It’s not an accident that he didn’t write in Annabeth’s yearbook. When they were all doing it, Percy had purposefully avoided her because he knew that what he had to say to her couldn’t be said like this. 

He sighs as he begins a doodle instead. A little owl because he knows that they’re her favourite, and a dolphin because they’re his. His mind is still blank at what to write to her, but he knows she’s not going to let him get away with not doing it this time. 

He hears footsteps coming up the staircase and he writes the first thing that comes to his mind. The only thing that never leaves his mind when he’s around Annabeth. It’s not a long message so he’s finishing it just as Annabeth sits back down. He slams the book shut and chucks it behind him so that she can’t immediately read it. She notices and raises an eyebrow. 

“Read it later. It’s embarrassing,” he says sheepishly. She laughs and hands him a bag of sour blue candy stripes. He tears open the package and starts eating as he hears other footsteps. Grover and Thalia appear in the doorway, holding pillows and even more bags of snacks. 

“Let’s get this party started!” Thalia exclaims and drops her stuff unceremoniously on top of Percy, burying him under the wright. Everyone laughs at him as he sputters his way out. 

Thalia plugs in some music and Annabeth helps pull Percy to his feet, and they start the feast of snacks. Grover helps Percy set up a projector for their movie and it’s nearing midnight when they finally settle on Disney’s Hercules. 

As always Grover falls asleep halfway through the movie, murmuring about how his tummy hurts in his sleep. They take group selfies with him, and Percy grabs the marker next to Annabeth’s yearbook so that he can draw on Grover’s face. He’s holding back giggles with Thalia as they pose next to him and Annabeth takes a photo of them. 

He pulls both girls close to him when he falls back and squeezes their shoulders. 

“I can’t believe my favourite girls are leaving me to deal with this idiot,” he says and nods to Grover who has started snoring. Thalia scoffs and pushes his face so that he lets go of her. He gives in but doesn’t take his arm off Annabeth, and he swears that Annabeth cuddles just a bit closer to him. 

“We’re not dying, Percy, we’re just moving to the West Coast,” Thalia says as she opens a can of coke and Percy briefly remembers how he first met Annabeth and how she had protected him from Nancy. He exchanges a look with her and sees that she’s already smiling at him, knowing exactly what he’s thinking. 

“Betrayal. That’s what this is,” he says and squeezes Annabeth’s shoulder again. She threads their hands together and Percy tries not to react and turn to her again. 

Thalia catches his eye and smirks at their interlocked hands. 

She stands up and brushes her pants. 

“I need to go pee, do you two need anything from downstairs?” 

They both shake their heads and she nods before carefully stepping over a sleeping Grover and leaves the two of them. 

Percy and Annabeth stay like that, leaning on each other, hands interlocked and Percy wishes he could freeze this exact moment. 

“Did you write something?” Annabeth asks softly as she pulls away from him, but doesn’t let go of his hand. Percy nods tightly and she smiles as she reaches across from him and grabs the yearbook from their makeshift table. She skips straight to the back and opens to his page. She gave him an entire page to write on, but there’s only one sentence in the middle and two small doodles. She stares at it for a moment, rereading it before she looks up. 

“You’re my number one,” Annabeth reads, holding the yearbook open at his page, “What does that mean?”

Percy swallows, suddenly terrified. There’s no time like now to tell her, and he has no real doubts about loving her, but with her unflinching gaze on him like this, it’s hard not to be nervous. He tries not to overthink and takes a deep breath, speaking the truth that he’s kept under wraps for years. 

“There’s only one meaning, Wise Girl, what else could it mean?” He says with a shrug and reaches for her hand. She lets him take it. “My Mom once said that people who have a big heart have a lot of love in them to share, but they’ll always have their number one, and that’s you. That’s been you for years, my entire life probably.”

He takes another breath and waits for Annabeth to respond. When she doesn’t he continues, suddenly full of words. “You’re the one for me. The only one that I could ever want. The one I put before everything. You’re my-”

“Do you mean that?” Her face is full of doubt and Percy brings their joined hands up so he can press his lips to the back of her hand. 

“Of course,” he breathes, and pulls her closer. He’s barely breathing when she puts the yearbook down for a moment. They stay frozen like that, pressed against each other, foreheads touching and breath mingling.  

“I think I was made for loving you,” he whispers and carefully pushes her hair back. 

The smile she gives him is one to rival the sun that is going to rise in a few hours. 

“If that’s so, then I was made for loving you just as much.”

She kisses him, and he almost forgets his name. He brings his hands up to cup face and bring her closer and she smiles against his lips and-

“Seriously? You two couldn’t wait until after I was asleep. Jeez.” 

Annabeth jerks away from him and they both stare at Thalia who is giving them a tired look from the rooftop doorway. Percy can’t help it and starts laughing, shortly after Annabeth joins and falls onto his chest, laughing too hard to keep herself up. Eventually, Thalia sits back down and bites her lip trying not to laugh, but the more she tries to keep it in the funnier it gets. 

By then all three of them are laughing so hard their stomach hurts and Grover stirs awake. 

“What’s going on?”

“This,” Annabeth says and proudly holds up her hand that is still firmly clasped in Percy’s hand. 

Grover blinks sleepily at it and shrugs like it’s not a big deal. 

“About freaking time,” he says and lays back down. 

Percy and Annabeth look at each other again and he smiles at her before leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to her mouth. 

“It was worth the wait.” 

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

[tempenensis]

Jujutsu Kaisen Light Novel #2

Firstly, @bonsai62​ provides me with raw text of this - so thank you very much! This is the first eight pages of the first chapter from the second light novel. That being said, I don’t know how much I get this translation right, but enjoy anyway. Though this is cut at bad point lol

The title of the light novel is Thorny Road at Dawn. Text in bold means that it is spoken in English. 

Chapter 1: Nobara and Toge

.

“About Toge?”

August has begun.

Under the overlapping form of trees in the schoolyard, Panda asks back to Kugisaki who he has been holding on his arm and turning over 180 degree.

For the upcoming exchange event, Fushiguro is also working hard to train as participating first year.

He is in the middle of training with assumption that one-vs-one sorcerer combat can break especially during the fight.

Even though she is training, Kugisaki is now thrown towards Panda – repeatedly thrown towards him in a stage. But because it seems that her motivation is high, she’s become into it, as long as in the end she can be successful facing Todo and Mai even just a little bit.

“Yes. I understand Maki-san is worth of my respect. I also know that Panda-senpai is sorcerer with ability.”

“I also want you to say the same thing about me like Maki.”

Kugisaki answers as she stands up and brushes away leaves attached to her jersey.

“I respect you. I’m not saying bullshit about Panda-san.” (1)

“Well, if you become able to chat while being blown away, I’ll praise you.”

“My body can easily remember just blown like this.”

“Hooon. Then”

Panda looks around, confirming that Toge who went to pharmacy has not come back.

“What about Toge?”

“What kind of senpai is he?”

“Eh, you don’t know from talking to him?”

“Not that I don’t understand. Well, I know he is not a bad person, but if all his vocabularies are riceball fillings, talking with him will be limited, right?”

“We already get too used to it, right Maki?”

“Aah. Now that you say it, it naturally becomes question.”

Maki is spinning around a staff, sending a sympathetic look to Fushiguro after she lightly avoids Fushiguro’s attack and land a small hit on his head.

“It hurts…”

“You are thinking too much again with your head.”

Maki joins the conversation as she glances at groaning Fushiguro. Out of breath but clean of dust, she circles around Panda calmly.

“Among us maybe he is the best at taking care.”

“Yeah, he has a bright personality (2). If you exclude Yuuta, then he is the number one good person in our year.”

“His flaw is that he can get carried away a little.” (3)

“Is he?”

“You are the one who always get carried away when we are together, that’s why you don’t know.”

“That’s unexpected. We are not like that though. We like to join in the fun.”

Kugisaki’s body fitness is finally reaching that point where she can chat while doing her training. Even then, the second years who are lightly talking among them without difficulty remembers existence of Kugisaki of August (4) in the nearby stage.

Just a bit when Panda’s attention is at Maki as they converse, Kugisaki tries to do a feint from the side and mixes it with an upper but—

“Anyway.”

“Geh.”

Panda sways easily, then he hesitates a little before swipe Kugisaki’s feet in sobat-like (5) kick.

Kugisaki, whose pivot foot collapses, falls down rolling. Her body becomes totally irresponsive. In several weeks here, it’s a movement that she kept thought she could do.

That said she becomes irresponsive and she can’t win the match.

As he looks down at Kugisaki who makes a discouraged face, Panda opens his mouth.

“Toge is a good guy. That alone you should know.”

“….I see.”

More than that, her body has become irresponsive and her back is hurting.

The frequency of her falling down sloppily has not reduced, also buying a replacement jersey have also becomes necessary -- Kugisaki at summer time thinks with melancholy.

.---.

The story continues when it has turn to fall.

After the incident of Yasohachi has passed, there’s a brief spare time.

At that day, Kugisaki is alone in Shibuya.

Fushiguro is locking himself up and reading in his room as he is still exhausted after he overexerted himself.

Itadori has gone out to watch a maniac movie in a cinema currently doing a whole-building screening.

Maki is currently on a mission different from Yasohachi bridge, so she can’t meet her conveniently in a while. Kugisaki who completely doesn’t have a plan, aims to go shopping to make-up and clothes shops which are hard to go with boys, then buy daily necessities.

“Winter clothes set, winter shoes, inner and foundation and…”

Grasping paper bags in both hands, she lifts them up as she confirms her haul today.

She doesn’t think she bought too much, but she has walked more than she had planned. Maybe wearing the pin heel boots she bought the other day is a bit mistake.

But it is a rare chance that she gets to go out and shop alone. There’s a lot she still needs to buy.

Kugisaki is thinking to go looking for bags next as she walks in traffic jam.

When she had just arrived in Tokyo, it all seemed to be glittering scenery. After around three months has passed, she gets used to it a lot, used to hearing noisy sounds.

That being said, it is a backside of being busy and lively. It’s a thing that’s called taste of convenience.

“And that, it is really a masterpiece.”

“Doesn’t it make you angry?”

“Hey, hey. Girl, are you alone? Are you free?”

“I’m in a hurry.”

“Salmon.”

“We’re opening a new shop! Please take care of us.”

“Are you not going to eat?”

“How much are you going to eat?!”

“It’s damned boring, how about we skip work today?”

“Mama, buy me that!”

A lot of voices. It’s an intersection where a lot of life collides.

There are daily life as many as the number of people, there are worlds as many as the number of people. In the city where many wills and voices flying around, of course there will be a lot of people who is feeling gloomy – but not Kugisaki.

For her who has a firm sense of self, she understands that everyone has their own way of living in the hustle bustle of the city, it even feels like a kindness.

Now that she thinks about it, the village where she comes from was suffocating.

An exclusivity that imitate the people who had come before (6). An ecosystem long existed that doesn’t recognize individuality of a person. A closed world that gently rot — exists there in that village, Kugisaki thinks.

Compared to the crowd of the city, it is tough yet she can live with freedom.

In the city, someone says that the concern towards other people is weak. Kugisaki laughs, thinking that is wonderful. She has her own way and won’t blame anyone over it. She will stand and walk with her own foot.

However, mixing in the city crowd during the holiday, a mysterious chance can happen.

“Hm?”

Kugisaki who walks towards the direction of Shibuya Hikarie (7) in the lane across the street, makes a face of remembering something as she found him. It is the only one of her acquittances who hides lower half of mouth with closed overly long collar.

It’s Inumaki Toge.

There is also another one. A male foreign tourist with thoughtful blue eyes who can’t be someone familiar. Kugisaki becomes interested on the exchange between the foreigner and Inumaki.

“What are they talking about?”

Kugisaki changes her destination, then crosses the road when the traffic lamp changes at the right timing, and strolls towards Inumaki. When she is near them, she overhears their talk.

“I’d like to go to SHIBUYA109.” (8)

“Salmon salmon.”

“Could you tell me where I can get a taxi?”

“Salmon roe.”

“Ah… Which way should we go?”

“Seaweed.”

“Ah…I, want to go. 109 (9). Please. Ok?”

“Salmon.”

“Shake?” (10)

“….Salmon?” (11)

“….Salmon!? Why?”

“Okaka…..” (12)

“Ee…?”

For some reason, in Kugisaki’s guess ten times over, it has become a troublesome situation.

She knows that Inumaki, who is a cursed speech user, only speaks in onigiri fillings to avoid sudden outburst of curse. How come that he is asked by foreigner tourist for direction.

No, Inumaki can use Inumaki’s way of showing the way – he points his finger and gestures using his body and hands. With that, she wonders if the foreigner becomes impatient (13) as Kugisaki decides to get in between the two of them.

“What are you doing, senpai?”

“Tunamayo.”

“It can’t be ‘tunamayo’. Jeez.”

“Oh! Geisha girl!”

“Who the heck is geisha girl?!”

.

.

--- tbc (hopefully can do more)

(1) More literally, she is saying things about Panda that “doesn’t smell like fairy tale” (2) “His root is bright” is the literal translation (3) 悪ノリ (akunori) is a bit hard to be translated. It’s like, getting carried away in mischievous manner. (4) Overheated Kugisaki lol (5) Sobat : back kick in wrestling (6) literally “To follow the right” (7) A skyscraper in Shibuya (8) A department store in Shibuya (9) Spoken in broken Japanese lol. (10) Shake = salmon. He repeats what Toge said to him. In Inumaki’s language means “yes” (11) Salmon, as in engrish lol (12) Okaka = chopped katsuobushi, in Inumaki’s language means “no” (13) literally, “becomes hot”

[tainbocuailnge]

im really fond of saionji because he’s just so objectively pathetic like i hesitate to even call him outright evil the way akio is and touga by extension is for copying akio, he’s not actively looking to hurt or exploit people to feel powerful he’s just a moron and easily swayed so when akio is like hey if you buy into my illusion of masculinity and power you will get social prestige and influence he’s like oh boy, social prestige and influence! and because saionji is so bottom of the barrel he makes it really easy to see how pathetic that masculinity is because at his level you don’t buy into the illusion of power, but that also means it’s easy to dispel the illusion on his end because that system chews him out all the time too and that is in fact what starts happening near the end of the show where he grows more of a spine.

he’s not actively evil so much as maliciously ignorant so when he gets expelled and stays with wakaba for a while and effectively gets told “hey moron, it’s possible and in fact normal for people to help each other instead of constantly attempt to control each other to get ahead” he’s like ohhh okay. so even after mikage puts him back in the student council saionji doesn’t buy into it as much as before and akio has to take him on a sex car drive to remind him that women don’t have rights, actually, because he was already starting to drift away from that system but he’s so useful as a goon. he keeps questioning touga on whether touga really wants to keep dancing to akio’s tune.

by the end of the show he still doesn’t have enough of a spine to leave the way utena and anthy do but he no longer believes that this system will ever benefit him and is simply resentful about his inability to leave, and probably also resentful that the touga he looked up to so much as someone who has the answer to eternity can’t see that this whole system is a crock of shit which is why he strangles touga in their version of the sword drawing pose. presumably saionji’s parents were perfectly average bc they’re never brought up so he doesn’t get why touga keeps buying into this chain of abuse because he doesn’t know that touga literally has never met a functional non-abusive adult in his life. but on some level he did know something was off about touga so i think that also makes him hesitant to leave without touga. and in the end they’re back on their childhood bike pedaling for their lives but hardly moving forward.

they don’t even interact in the movie but you can still see that effect on him there too because touga wears all black to show he’s dead but both saionji and utena wear half black (while juri and miki have their signature colours) because they’re mourning him, and utena switches to her white duelist uniform halfway through (and then becomes anthy’s hot pink car) but saionji stays in black. he’s with juri and miki on the towcar to help anthy escape because like the two of them he doesn’t buy into the system anymore either, he’s just grieving touga’s death and unwilling to leave (the memory of) him behind so he too participated in the duel games meant to fill the void that the dead prince left.

anyway. i like the loser seaweed man. i won’t fix him he can fix his damn self. ten years from now he will lie awake haunted by the way he treated anthy.

[kuroopaisen]

10:31 pm || miya osamu

➵ osamu won’t stop making his damn onigiri. 

wc: 1400

warnings: gn!reader, the slightest bit suggestive  

a/n: @starrysamu i’ll be honest, it’s a while since i’ve written something and been happy with it. but i wanted to give you something on your birthday to say thank you for being so lovely to me :( (i know i’m technically late but shhh...) you’ve been so kind to me, and i can’t thank you enough for all the light you’ve brought into my life (both intentionally and inadvertently). and i know i’m not the only one -- you’ve brought life and laughter to so many people’s lives, and i just want you to know how loved and appreciated you are. this was originally planned as a fluffvember piece dedicated to you but Stuff Happened and it never got written and try as i might, this was the most i could drag together in celebration for remy day. i’m so sorry i couldn’t do more, but regardless i hope you had the best day possible :( i adore you

“Osamu,” you huff, butting his arm with your head.

He ignores you.

“Osamu,” you whine, a little louder this time.

He continues to ignore you, moulding a rice ball with both hands.

You duck down and pop back up between his arms.

Osamu bites back a smile this time, but once again – he ignores you.

You know he’s doing it on purpose. He’s not like his brother; he doesn’t get so lost in what he’s doing that he completely loses track of his surroundings. No, he’s doing this to wind you up. Because you’ve made it too obvious that you want his attention.

Although, you don’t usually have to fight for it.

He’s not the kind of guy to spend a lot of his free time ‘doing’ things. Time at home is time to relax. If he wants to play around with recipes, then he’ll just stay an extra hour at work. If he needs to work off some steam, he’ll go to the gym. Time at home is time to relax – or, more aptly put, time to annoy you.

But sometimes, Osamu’ll be consumed by a relentless urge to create. All he wants to do is make new combinations of ingredients, stuffing his onigiri full of stuff that you wouldn’t possibly think would go together. But Osamu seems to have a sixth sense for this sort of thing; even the strangest sounding combinations end up being surprisingly satisfying.

You’re not about to complain about this quirk of his. You’re his trusty taste-tester, the lab rat for all his new creations. That’s quite the honour – one of the benefits of being part of Osamu’s life. The whole ‘having a professional chef prepare you dinner every night’ is also pretty good.

(You joked, once, that the only reason you kept him around was because he was just so damn good at cooking.

He’d been so genuinely pouty about it that for a moment it felt like you were talking to his brother).

But tonight, that stroke of creativity had hit at nine in the evening. And honestly, you can only eat so much rice.

He’s been at it for the past hour or so, throwing together this and that while a gentle Spotify playlist provides ambient noise. It’s the sort of music you’d listen to in an attempt to wind down – something that’s certainly not doing much for your fatigue.

“I’m tired,” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his waist and burying your face in his chest. He’s warm, like he always is. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to sleep as soundly as you do with him next to you. He’s too much of a fixture in your life now. Too much of a comfort.

Osamu chuckles, his thumbs smoothing languid circles over your waist. “It’s only ten at night.”

“I know,” you whine, lifting your head up to look at him.

Frankly, he should be glad you’re tired this early. Kita’s always chided you for your erratic sleep schedule, and Osamu’s been given a talk or two about how he should be looking after you better.

“Osamu,” you huff, pouring all your menace into that one word.

It’s not very effective.

“Hm?” He sounds amused more than anything.

“Please come to bed.”

A familiar grin crosses his face. “Want me that bad, huh?”

You butt his chest with enough force to knock him backwards. “Shut up.”

He’s not wrong, but it’s certainly not what’s on your mind right now. And he knows that.

“Ah, so you’re not denying it,” he grins. Stupid relentless Osamu.

You punch him in the stomach with what might just be the world’s weakest fist.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Osamu chuckles, shaking his head.

You pout up at him, doing your best to look as pitiful as possible.

“You can’t fool me,” he grins.

It’s true. Osamu knows you well; some would say too well. But that’s what you get, being romantically involved for so long. And while he may know you well enough to save himself the burden of feeling guilty in the face of your faux misery, you also have a carefully catalogued library of every lame and embarrassing thing he’s ever said.

It’s a fair enough trade.

One song ends and another begins.

It’s similar in style to the one before – a soft tune, an indistinct voice crooning over the music, a soothing yet bittersweet tone underlying the tune.

Osamu stills, a strange tenderness melting over his face. He slips one arm around your waist, making sure that his hand stays away from your shirt. It’s still covered in the gelatinous residue of the rice.

“Didn’t this play at your sister’s wedding?” He asks softly.

You nod. He remembers that? Hell, it’d taken you a moment to rifle through your (admittedly hazy) memories of that event to try and recall if this song had even been on the playlist.

Osamu reaches for one of your hands, lacing his sticky fingers with yours. You open your mouth to protest, but before you can his other hand slips round to hold your waist.

“But my shirt,” you whine, well-aware that you’re going to have to change it before going to bed. Unless you wanted gritty bits of dried rice to work its way onto your sheets, of course.

“Just borrow one of mine,” Osamu mumbles, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.

Your lips are free, but it feels like he’s sealed them shut.

Osamu isn’t a man of many words. But he is a man of gentle touches, quiet moments, little affections you might miss if you’re not watching closely enough.

He pulls you towards him, taking a step away from the kitchen countertop. You almost stumble as you let him lead you in the sway of the music. He’s a bit off beat, but he’s never been very good at keeping to one. You remember having to learn ballroom dancing in P.E.; for all his innate talent at volleyball, Osamu has none for dancing.

If he cares about that, he makes no indication. He just holds you close to him, fingers digging into your waist gently as he moves. You lean into him, resting your cheek against his chest.

The song ambles on, an offbeat soundtrack to this tiny tenderness.

You pull your head back and look up to him.

He’s smiling.

It’s not his usual smile, that lazy, sardonic half-smirk. It’s gentle, fond, loving. It’s a smile you don’t get to see often – and one you certainly don’t get to see in public. But it’s another tiny sign that he loves you; a sign that he trusts you with all his vulnerability, even if he can’t put it into words.

He leans in and you wonder if he’s going to kiss you.

“Let’s go to bed,” he murmurs, breath tickling your ear.

“What about the mess?” You ask, turning to look at the kitchen as if he hadn’t just made your heart race.

There’s rice everywhere, wrapped in seaweed and in bowls and in flecks all over the counter. You’re sure you’ve never seen this much rice before in your whole entire life – and you’ve cooked for Osamu’s high school volleyball team before.

“I’ll deal with it in the morning,” Osamu says, totally unbothered.

“But ants,” you pout, eyes anxiously scanning the wide variety of perishables strewn over the kitchen. Something’s going to go off by the morning. And that isn’t even accounting for the hoard of uneaten onigiri stacked up in a Tupperware container.

“It’ll be fine,” Osamu shrugs, tugging you out of the kitchen.

“No, it won’t!”

“We haven’t had ants yet.”

“You still shouldn’t leave food out overnight—”

Osamu chuckles, sealing your lips with a kiss. It’s not just any kiss, either; he kisses you exactly how you like to be kissed, in the way that always makes you tick. Unfortunately, it’s an effective way of shutting you up.

Stupid Osamu and his underhanded tricks. He knows just what makes you tick, just how to get under your skin.

But being known is a part of being loved. It means having every little thing about you tucked neatly in someone else’s memory, regardless of if you want it to be or not. Words barely matter. In most cases, they don’t.

It’s a fact you just have to come to terms with.

Osamu already has.

[nomadthor]

NEIGHBOUR - BUCKY BARNES

prompt: after a bad day, bucky invites his neighbour in for a few drinks words: 1485 warnings: some swearing, drinking, kind of steamy but sfw notes: gender neutral reader | i’m also aware bucky can’t canonically get drunk but let’s ignore that for this scenario

if you have any ideas or requests please send them to my ask so I can write them!

Finding an eviction notice on your door was just the perfect embellishment to an already monotonous and substandard day. You grumbled and expelled any remaining air from your lungs although being out of breath from clambering the several flights of stairs to reach your floor. The dreary and frigid stairwell echoed your frustrated, mumbled cursing whilst you bitterly fumbled for your keys in your jacket pocket which now only seemed to feel like a bottomless abyss. 

“Shit day?” A recognisable voice investigated the situation, pivoting your head to notice your next-door neighbour standing in his doorway with a sympathetic frown. Admittedly, you were apathetic and lacked any discernable energy to continue the conversation, sleep was undoubtedly enticing but every interaction you’d shared with him was affable so ignoring him would only burden you with guilt. “Something like that,” You stated with a wry expression as you took a brief break from finding the keys that resided in your void of a pocket to point to the note on your door.

He gave you a pitying look before briefly looking to the floor to avoid eye contact as he proposed a question, “I mean, did you want to come in and have a few drinks? Our landlord’s an asshole, we can talk shit about him together,” he fumbled a smile as he awkwardly scratched the side of his head, wincing at the sentence that had just escaped his lips. His uncertain and somewhat charming tone remarkably procured a smile as you couldn’t help but become giddy that maybe today wasn’t going to be as bad as you thought; wallowing in self-pity nor crying for the rest of the night was as satisfactory as this unexpected offer. “Actually, I think that’s exactly what I need right now,” you huffed with an unfeigned grin. It was a struggle to not become hilariously captivated by his stupefied expression, presumably stunned that you had accepted his offer. 

Your neighbour stumbled on his words before inviting you into his apartment, gently shutting the door behind you in a flustered manner. “What do you drink?” He asked with masked nervousness. “I’ll have whatever you’re drinking,” you replied nonchalantly to the man who was now lingering beside the fridge that was emitting a muted static buzz. “Make yourself at home, by the way,” he added, the sound of bottles clinking together as he grabbed a green bottle and traipsed towards you. 

“I don’t want to sound rude but I’ve completely forgotten your name,” you chuckled as you grabbed the bottle and finally took a seat on his notably tidy and cushion speckled couch. He snickered in response before taking a swift gulp of the beer from his seaweed coloured bottle, “I don’t think I’ve told you actually,” he admitted whilst comfortably reclining into his seat, “the name’s James but you can call me Bucky.” 

“Y/N,” you stated with a raised brow before you followed suit and took a substantial swig of your drink. Bucky nodded in acknowledgement, “the name suits you, it’s a pretty name,” he gave a wry smirk whilst the lip of the bottle loitered near his mouth for a few staggering seconds before he continued to chug his drink with the corners of his lips still curved. 

“Do you flirt with all of your neighbours that you invite over?” You inquired, not being able to conceal the smile that would not abandon your lips. Bucky’s eyes widened as he let out a composite of a laugh and stifle of cough which was a result of the beer going down the wrong way as he deeply inhaled in response to your statement. “I’ll try to be a bit more inconspicuous next time,” he joked as he draped one of his arms over the back of the couch to make himself more comfortable. 

“It wasn’t a complaint,” you plainly stated before sipping the beer in an attempt to keep up with the same pace of drinking as him but you were unfeasibly outmatched. Bucky nodded slowly with a countenance that could only be described as the textbook expression for touché. With ease, he polished off the bottle with a satisfied groan as he placed it down on the coffee table. The atmosphere had completely shifted in the short time period that you had been sat down but you certainly didn’t have any grievances. 

“Want another?” He generously asked whilst he was already beside the fridge once again. Hurriedly you swallowed the last few drops that eventually cascaded from the bottom of the bottle before eagerly nodding which elicited a soft chuckle from the man before he grabbed as many as he could curl between his fingers. “What made you get an eviction letter if you don’t mind me asking,” Bucky interrogated, snapping the metallic cap from the bottles which provoked a hushed hiss to effuse from the bottle top. 

“In all honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I think he’s just had it out for me the day I moved in,” you disclosed. “Well then let’s celebrate,” Bucky smirked, which resulted in a confused expression to immediately form on your face, “let’s celebrate you finally being able to move out of this shit hole,” he continued as you both tittered before clinking your bottles together and simultaneously swigging the contents of the bottle. 

From what was originally proposed as a few drinks eventually and evidently turned into a quantity much larger but you could not recall as you had carelessly lost count halfway through. Empty bottles scattered the coffee table alongside tacky stains from where you had both haphazardly managed to spill the beer. Bucky had music resounding from the speakers that would get him in trouble with the aforementioned landlord, not due to its volume but because the walls were so thin sounds travelled tremendously. Over the course of the night, you had both ultimately wound up seated closer than you were when you arrived; you had somehow ended up tucked between him and the arm he had resting over the couch. It was so you could hear him over the music, or so that is what you told yourself at least. 

“I’m just glad I could at least make your night a bit better,” he smiled as he longingly stared into your eyes. His gaze was slightly glossed over from the alcohol consumption but he was still present, just slightly tipsy.  “I just needed to forget about how shit today was. And it was nice to have some company,” you noted as you gazed back, “your company,” you added in an attempt to fan the flame of the sexual fire that had engulfed the room. His head shot back with a fervent grin as a short exhale of air left his nostrils, “I’m flattered,” he sarcastically jested.

You were surprised at the excitement that was beginning to course through your body as his gaze fell nothing short of soul-piercing, but not in an unsatisfactory way. It made you feel giddy like you’d never felt before and the flutter of your heart and nervous yet excitable shortness of breath were just some of the symptoms. 

Bucky’s attention flickered between your eyes and your lips discernably. He subtly ran his tongue along the surface of his lips before he ever so slightly trapped a portion of them between his teeth. It was unclear whether he was just dragging everything out to tease you as it was probable that your willingness and enthusiasm were palpable or maybe he didn’t want to ruin the moment. “Just hurry up and kiss me already,” you stated with a smile as you marginally leaned towards him, placing a delicate hand on his lap. The smile that you had completely become enamoured with over the past few hours returned. His hand found its way to your chin as he softly cupped it, he inched closer and pressed his soft lips to yours as they glided together unhurriedly. It was a perfect combination of affectionate yet indulging in desire. Bucky shamelessly swayed closer to you as the vigour of his lips briskly became more intense, his thumb was now resting on your cheek whilst his fingers curled along your face and by your ear.

The pair of you only pulled away so you could catch your breath but you still remained in each other’s vicinity as you steadily opened your eyes to be greeted with unyielding lechery and hunger. Assuredly, it wasn’t desperation and it was clear that he was anticipating this moment for a while. He was fervent and had become starving from waiting for so long that it had almost completely overcome him. Yet he was complaisant and was shamelessly overjoyed when a smile soon appeared on your face. Nothing was said when he gazed into your eyes once more but it said a thousand words as you both leaned in to pursue what you had started.

-

= masterlist =

[wallgirl]

The Little Nereid Part 11

Record of Ragnarok fanfiction

Poseidon x OC

Word count: 2,100

Dynamene, youngest of the 50 Nereids, has lived most of her adolescence as a servant alongside her sisters at Poseidon’s palace. But with her coming-of-age birthday and other developments, what she initially thought was just admiration of her master blossoms into something stronger and more passionate… and painful.

Categories and warnings: Romance, angst, unrequited love, coming-of-age, earn-your-happy-ending, slow-burn (ish); no sexual content. There will be some graphic violence in the future.

Starting a temporary hiatus; will have about ?17? parts total.

---

Dynamene could hardly see through the dark, brackish water that surrounded her on every side. She was too upset to pay attention to where she was going; she swam straight on until her tears had stopped. When she had finally slowed to a halt, she didn't recognize the ocean around her. The water was colder and the coral reefs had disappeared. A heavy stillness and silence pressed about her. She allowed herself to drift down to the bottom, her gentle landing stirring up clouds of silt. She was completely alone now. This part of the ocean was largely devoid of sea life; any way she turned, she saw no movement. It was only her and the swaying kelp that stretched as far as her limited vision could see.

Sniffling quietly, she removed her bracelet and cradled it in both hands. It didn't shine in the hazy water, but the colors remained the same. She stared at it, wishing that the same strong hands that had gifted it to her could appear now to caress her cheek and tell her that everything would be alright.

But they would not. She was all by herself, with no one to count on or turn to. She didn't dare go back home now, where they would surely lock her up on account of keeping her safe. She couldn't go back to his palace either; that would be the first place her family would look for her. Her face crinkled up again in despair, but no tears emerged; she had cried them all out long ago.

What do I do? Where do I go? I'm alone now. And I have the feeling that, no matter where I go, people will discourage me from following my heart. She squeezed the bracelet tight.

I want to see you. Won't you come here, so I can talk to you? I want to hear you explain things in your calm, logical way. I want to hold your hand and feel how strong its grip is around mine. I want you to hold me until I feel better, and this ache goes away.

Her lower lip quivered, and she allowed herself to sink down onto the coarse sand. She curled up, squeezing the bracelet to her chest with both hands. But you won't.

Maybe my feelings are hopeless after all. I have no way to act on them. I can't tell him what I really feel, and my family won't let me be with him. It's all useless. It's all for nothing.

She sensed something moving in the seaweed nearby, and quickly turned. A small pike was poking its head out, watching her puzzledly.

"Oh, excuse me, my lady," the pike said quickly. "I wasn't expecting to see one of you Nereids way out here, especially so late."

"No, it's okay," Dynamene sat up straighter. "I hope I didn't disturb you." She brushed the sand from her cheek.

"Not at all. I was just settling in after a hunt." It swam forward curiously, its immobile little face and dark eyes an almost humorous clash with its sympathetic voice. "Are you alright? You sounded upset."

"I..." Dynamene covered her face in both hands. "I am. It's been a horrible night. I've ran away from home. I got in an argument with my older sister... I don't know where to go from here."

The pike rested against her leg sympathetically. "I'm sorry to hear that. Family quarrels are never fun. Do you want to talk about it? It might not be much, but I can listen."

Dynamene took a deep breath. "I... I've fallen in love with someone that my family doesn't approve of."

"Oh, dear. That's no good."

"No. I want to be with him, but they won't hear me out. They don't like him at all. I don't know what to do. I love him, but it's hopeless. Nothing will come of it." Dynamene wiped at her eyes, despite the fresh tears bubbling away in the water.

The pike was quiet for a moment, flicking its tail in thought. "I might have some advice, if you'd like."

Dynamene looked at it in surprise. "You do?"

"Yes. About thirty miles from here, overlooking the coast on a tall hill, is a temple of Aphrodite. Perhaps she could counsel you."

Dynamene jerked back in surprise. "Aphrodite?! I'd never even considered..."

"She can be temperamental, but it's said that she loves a good love story. She might see fit to help you. You can get there from here by following the north star."

Dynamene mulled this over briefly. Temperamental... I already knew that from gossip over the years. But if there's even the slimmest chance that she can help me, I have to try. She had never spoken to Aphrodite, only seen her from a distance during formal events. Aphrodite was not one to often lift a finger for mortals who asked for her help. But Dynamene was a Nereid, and part of Poseidon's court. Perhaps she would be willing to speak to her. Dynamene's expression began to brighten with hope. "Thank you so much, friend. I truly appreciate it."

"Not at all. I hope your luck improves, Nereid." The pike brushed its face against her hand before returning to its home in the weeds.

Dynamene took a deep breath, her spirits slightly lifted. A door had finally opened for her; she had a spark of hope to embrace now. That spark had lit a new resolve within her, flooding out the dark hopelessness that had weighed her down previously. But it was so late, and she was tired. There was no way she could make the long swim to the temple on her limited energy. She began to walk the ocean floor, the current gently pushing against her body. She just needed to find a good place to rest for a while.

Her approach stirred up a school of silvery blue fish from the weeds, and they scattered in every which way about her. She stopped to watch them swirl about her. Their color was a perfect match for Poseidon's eyes. The ache returned to her chest, and she reached for them, her fingertips brushing against the slick scales.

I wish I could see you right now. Are you asleep at the palace? Or have you returned to the Indian Ocean, seeing to your duties? Even if we're miles apart, the idea of you being awake as well comforts me...

I love you. I want to be yours. I want you to be mine. I want to wake up next to you in the morning and see the sun shining in your fair hair. I want to cling to your arm as we attend events together; you and I, as lovers. I want you to take me all across the ocean, showing me everything you know, everything you see.

If that can happen, then one night alone on this cold seafloor isn't so bad.

A dip in the silt ahead seemed like a reasonable spot to stop. She curled up in it, her body just small enough to fit comfortably. She waved her fingers, and the surrounding seaweed gently bent over her to weave themselves into a delicate shelter. Taking comfort in her new course of action, she quickly faded off into a deep sleep filled with visions of slender lips and strong arms.

---

Hundreds of miles away, Poseidon stood before a towering underwater wall of craggy rock. Focusing his energy, he slowly rose his arm and tightened his hand into a fist. By his will, the rock groaned in an ear-splitting crack before separating. Giant segments of the wall began to fall slowly through the water, narrowly avoiding the sea god. He didn't blink. He knew they wouldn't touch him.

The last of the fault was finally broken up; at least that of it which had been causing the disturbance. Given another year, the grinding of the plates might resume. Even he couldn't stop the movement of the Earth's giant tectonic plates, but he had no desire to. It was simply another cycle of nature. That being said, he also didn't like the idea of the friction leading to disaster. He'd have to have one of the lesser sea gods keep an active eye on it for the time being.

His work finally finished, he leapt from his perch to land on the ocean floor. One task was done; now he had another to focus on.

"Come to me," he spoke. His words were at a casual volume, but they resonated over hundreds of meters, reaching out to the sea life nearby. At once, the animals stopped what they were doing and began to flock towards him, his words an undeniable command. Like a scene from a painting, fish, cetaceans, and crustaceans of every sort formed a colorful crowd about him in the pristine blue waters.

"The largest of you, find me more of these." He held up an opened oyster in his hand, showing them the mother-of-pearl interior. "Only oysters that are this size or larger will do. Quickly."

The sea life scattered, the biggest animals rushing out obediently to find what he'd asked for. Some of the oysters they fetched were broken from being opened by other animals.

"No, not the cracked ones," he told a whale who brought him a large oyster that was nearly trisected. He gently placed his hand on its head. "Only those that are intact. I need them for jewelry."

The whale looked at him with its intelligent dark eyes before hurrying away once more.

Why am I doing this? I promised her a bracelet. I don't need these many oysters.

A necklace and a tainia for her hair will be much more visible. No one will miss them. I'm sure she'll be over the moon with delight. Such a simple girl.

But a bracelet is a rather pathetic gift. So low-brow coming from one of the greatest gods. So easy to miss on such a slender wrist.

A heap of oysters with shining interiors quickly began to pile up next to him. "That's enough," he told his subjects. "Thank you."

He summoned a bag, and as if they'd returned merrily to life, the oysters hopped one by one inside. He fastened the bag and was about to return to the surface when he saw a humpback dolphin steadily approaching from far off in the blue void.

"What is it?" He asked the animal as soon as it came within range. He recognized the intricate golden markings on its back immediately as a sign that it was part of the court of the Nereids' family. "My day is busy enough as it is."

"I apologize for... interrupting you, sire," the dolphin began apologetically. It was completely out of breath, as if it had raced the entire way here. Poseidon's brow furrowed. If the dolphin was arriving just now in the morning, it had to have left its palace in the dead of night.

"You're nearly incomprehensible. Surface first, then tell me."

"Lord Poseidon, it's an emergency. The Nereid Dynamene has run away overnight."

Poseidon froze. His jaw clenched tightly. "...Run away?"

"She had a quarrel with one of her sisters last night, and escaped into the ocean. She hasn't been seen since. Her family is... is worried for her."

Poseidon's lip began to curl. Those idiot Nereids. I allow them to remove her from my palace, and they can't even keep hold of her for one day. Worthless sisters. I should have never let them leave. "Where do they think she might have gone?" He managed to ground out. Cracks began to form in the seafloor beneath his boots.

The dolphin shrank away from him, his anger apparent from the way the water was beginning to simmer about his body. "They haven't any idea, my lord. They wondered if she might have returned to your palace."

"That would be the logical idea." His cool words barely concealed his rage. "Return to them. I will return home and organize a search on my end immediately. If she has returned to the palace, I will send word."

"Yes, my lord." The dolphin quickly swam towards the surface to take a breath before making its return journey.

Poseidon stood there, fuming, as he formed a plan of action. The sea life nearby quickly scattered, not wanting to get caught in his growing wrath. Stupid child. She'll get herself killed. She's far too naïve and weak to traverse the ocean alone. So like a young girl, to let her emotions rule over her. The water around him was boiling now, bubbles hissing in his ears.

Eyes snapping, he waved his arm in a sweep before himself. The water began to roar as it swept quickly all about him. For her sake, she'd better be at the palace.

The turbulent current dispersed, and he was gone.

---

AUGHHH

I listened to On My Own from Les Misérables. The 25th Anniversary Samantha Barks version. That's what I thought of with Dynamene by herself.

Is Poseidon even capable of loving another person? Or is owning someone like an object the closest he gets to affection?

I will be taking a brief hiatus from writing this to refill my writer juice, no longer than 3 weeks. I love this story, but I'm losing energy for writing it. I need to give it some space to regain that emotional drive. I will see you all soon!

[thegraystreaks]

i just read your fics on ao3 and they were so good, i love missing moments from canon! Idk if you ever take prompts but if you do i would really love to read a different way for percabeth to get together in canon?

anon, the way you got me to write something for the first time in ages….

anyway this is super self indulgent but I had a lot of fun writing it!! thank u for your kinds words I would die for you probably!!

this takes place during botl, the day Percy comes back from Ogygia, sometime after Annabeth storms out of the Big House.

-

“Annabeth glared at me. You are the single most annoying person I’ve ever met!” And she stormed out of the room.

I stared at the doorway. I felt like hitting something. “So much for being the bravest friend she’s ever had.”

-

He finds Annabeth in the arena. It’s empty save for her — everyone knows by now that sparring with her while she’s like this never leads to anything good. So she’s taking on a dummy, her anger apparent in the rigid lines of her body, fury in the force behind her blows. She rolls and kicks, dodging imaginary attacks, and Percy could swear that the air is thick, charged, like the feeling before a thunderstorm. Which is stupid — it’s camp, and the magical borders keep the sky cloudless as always. 

As he approaches, the only acknowledgement of his presence is her intensified rage, the way her blade slashes and hacks with renewed vigor. They’re gonna need to replace that dummy, he thinks.

“Can we talk?”

She wheels to face him, thunder in her eyes. For a moment, he’s scared he’ll need to pull out Riptide. She turns to the dummy one last time and stabs it straight through the heart. “You wanna talk? Then go ahead.”

He swallows nervously. Now that he’s got her attention, he doesn’t quite know where to start. His mind flashes to last winter, and how distraught he was when she had been kidnapped. How he’d have done anything to get her back. How he just knew that she couldn’t be dead. He reaches out hesitantly, but pulls his arm back when he glances at the hilt of the blade, still sticking out of the dummy. 

“I was thinking about how upset I was last winter, when you were kidnapped. That, um — well, ‘sucked’ doesn’t really cover it. That was awful. I really am sorry that I worried you.”

Something shifts in her eyes, and he can see the hurt dripping through the cracks of her anger.  “You couldn’t send an Iris Message? I thought you were dead, Percy.”

He scratches the back of his neck. “Drachmas were a bit hard to come by on the island.”

“Ha,” she laughs drily. She pauses to wipe at the sweat on her brow. “What was she like?” The words drip with contempt.

“I don’t — who?”

“Don’t play dumb,” she scoffs. “Calypso. What was she like?”

Air rushes out of Percy’s lungs. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but it wasn’t that. Chiron was right, then. She had figured out where he’d been. 

“Does it matter?”

“Well, you spent two full weeks there, so I can’t imagine she looks like the ancient hag she is. How old is she again? Two-thousand? Or is it three?”

“Annabeth—”

“Two weeks, Percy!” she cries.

“I’m sorry, okay? Time was weird there!” 

“Oh, time was weird, that’s your excuse?”

“Yeah, that’s my excuse!” he shoots back.  “And I wasn’t just laying on a beach being fed grapes or something, I was recovering! From being blown up!”

That seems to drain some of the fight from her. She looks away, and her voice shrinks down: “I’m sorry you were hurt. I—I hate seeing you hurt.” 

In the silence that follows, he thinks inexplicably of Aphrodite coming to visit him last winter, the limo so out of place in the desert. The way that she had appeared, if only for a second, like the girl in front of him. How she had promised she wouldn’t let his love life be “easy and boring”. Gods, why couldn’t it be? The rest of his life is crazy enough. 

He had hoped, briefly, that Aphrodite might’ve forgotten about her promise when they’d returned to Olympus. He remembers a slow, sad song, and his hands on Annabeth’s waist as they had swayed. How it had felt like the pieces were maybe finally starting to fall into place. The memory seems worlds away.

“Annabeth, listen. I’m sorry I was gone so long. But I didn’t choose to be sent there. And—and I came back.”

“Duh, Percy,” she rolls her eyes. “That’s her curse.”

“Okay, you’re right.” She turns away. He reaches out, more confident now, and takes hold of her arm. “But curse or not, I chose to come back.”

She pulls her arm out of his grip. “Yeah, so that you could tell me I have to bring some mortal girl to lead my quest!”

“What does Rachel have to do with this?”

“Are you fucking serious?” she shouts. He can see the walls building back up, the storm returning in her eyes. She whips around and yanks her dagger out of the sparring dummy, kicking up dirt as she begins to stalk away.

This was not how he wanted this to go, not his intent when he came to find her. Of all the ways returning to camp might’ve gone, he had never imagined it like this. He tries to reconcile the girl that kissed him in the mountain with this one, who can’t go more than a minute without yelling at him, that won’t stop running off. Why is this so complicated? She kissed him, right? Isn’t that supposed to be it? The happy ending? If movies told him anything, it was that the kiss means you get the girl. It shouldn’t be this hard. It wouldn’t be, he thinks bitterly, if she would quit storming off.

“Gods, would you stop running away when we’re talking?” he shouts after her. “Would it kill you to stick around and listen to me?”

He’s taken aback when she actually turns around, arms crossed and foot tapping. “Well?” 

Percy blinks. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. Shit, what is he trying to say? “You know, Calypso offered me immortality. I could’ve escaped the prophecy, I could’ve lived in paradise forever—”

That probably wasn’t what he should’ve led with. “If you want me to ‘stick around and listen’, you’re off to a terrible start,” she seethes.

He steamrolls on anyway: “—but I didn’t, I didn’t take her offer, because — well, because of Grover and Tyson, and the quest isn’t over yet, but also because—” he stops. He’s rambling. Focus. How can he say this? “Did you really kiss me back there, or did I make that up in my head?” 

She freezes. Silence stretches out between them, and Percy kind of wants the ground to swallow him whole. But it’s out there, now. Might as well go all in. “I really hope you did, because I’m gonna feel insanely stupid if it was just some volcanic-explosion-induced fever dream.” 

Slowly, she unfreezes. Nods. “Uh. Yeah, I did.”

He takes a step closer. “I don’t care about ‘some mortal girl’. At least, not the way I care about….about you.” He can feel the blood rushing in his ears, can feel his heart beating painfully fast. She’s still just standing there, staring and staring but not moving. She’s not saying anything, why isn’t she saying anything?

“Gods, can you throw me a bone, Annabeth? I feel like I’m dying here—”

He’s cut off when she lunges forward and kisses him. It’s like their first kiss in two ways: it’s over before he can even react, and it leaves him staring, dumbfounded. How is it that she’s caught him off-guard with this not once, but twice now?

“Think you’ll remember that one was real?” she asks, still only inches from his face. Her breath smells of strawberries, and her eyes are puffy from his almost-funeral, but the storm in them begins to clear. 

He laughs, bright and full. “You should probably kiss me one more time, just to be safe.”

“Hmm,” she considers, arms coming up around his neck. “Should I count down so that you can be ready this time?”

He groans. “You are so not making this easy.”

“I am never, ever going to make things easy for you, Seaweed Brain. Get used to it.”

“Gods, you’re insufferable. It shouldn’t be this cute.”

“Three, two—”

He’s on her before she reaches one, one hand pulling her closer at the waist and the other finding her cheek. When their lips meet, it feels like everything he’s been waiting for. Like the clouds parting, like sunshine, like warmth, like happiness.

It may not be their first kiss, but it’s their best yet.

[sweetbunnykook]

Ink (M)

A half-chapter for “You’re My Clyde, Am I Your Bonnie?”

Criminal!Hoseok x Prostitute!OC

Warning: hint of smut (biting, grinding), angst (mention of death), and a molecule of fluff

Word Count: 1,515

Synopsis: Hoseok hopes one day you will be capable of moving on without him.

“Is life supposed to be this hard?”

Hoseok traces his fingers up and down your bare arms, softly, like he’s stroking a newborn kitten. You adjust your head back onto his inked shoulder, sniffling when he breathes out a puff of smoke from his cigarette-clad lips. He doesn’t answer immediately. Maybe because he’d entertained your thoughts one too many times after making love; your morbid, solemn talks that hangs over his head like a dark cloud when he wakes up the next morning to a pounding headache.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, placing the cigarette back between his bandaged fingers. He jerks his wrist back when you reach out in hopes of taking a drag. He watches your hand fall back down over his taut stomach before he gets the chance to ask if you were smoking behind his back again in those dingy cum-stained motels you clean.

Sometimes customers leave behind a fresh pack of smokes. Lucky for him. But sometimes they arrive in his hands with a few too many missing and he later tastes the ash in your mouth. Not so lucky for him. Maybe it’s time for you to learn how to pick pockets. You’d probably make more anyway.

“It’s dumb luck.” He brings the cig back to his lips and draws as much smoke as his lungs can hold before crushing what’s left on the rusty nightstand. He exhales out of his nose, the smoke falling down to your hair. “Some have it easy, some have it hard.”

“That’s unfair, isn’t it?”

He traces your arm once more, looking down only when you bring a leg over his waist and begin tracing the snakes on his navel. Your fingertips are rough, no doubt from work as the fuckers you call your managers won’t even give you a pair of rubber gloves to wash the sheets. Hoseok runs his tongue over his teeth at the thought of putting a few bullets in their heads. Two per capita, just because.

“What’s unfair, baby?”

“That we’re on the road while real thieves work in companies, buy diamonds, and hire whores like me when they get sick of their wi-”

Hoseok grasp your cheeks between his fingers and yanks your head up to his gaze. “What did I fucking say about calling yourself that?”

You whine, moving your head from side to side but his grip is persistent; he keeps you pinned and keeps his grasp steady.

“…I’m sorry.” You murmur at last and his hold relaxes, giving your flushed cheeks a loving swipe with the back of his fingers.

“Don’t do it again.”

“Okay.”

“You’re not a whore. Not anymore.”

“…Okay.”

You nuzzle closer to him, keeping your eyes down as he combs his fingers through your soft wavy tresses in a silent apology.

Your thoughts continue, this time softer as it leaves your cherry lips.

“Did you know that octopuses have three hearts? But all three hearts are weak. That’s why when you watch an octopus at the bottom of the ocean they crawl rather than swim. They don’t have the energy…or something like that. I can’t remember…maybe it’s not true. But I think if I were to be born again, I’d like to be an octopus. I can use two arms to work at the ocean motel,” you giggle, “another two arms to make love to octopus you, then two more arms to fight octopus cops, then the last two arms to take care of our octopus babies.” You look up at him. “How does that sound?”

Hoseok sweeps your fringe out of the way and plants a kiss between your eyebrows, on the tip of your nose, and then on your lips. Your soft mewl makes him tighten his arm over your chest and he takes one of your heavy breasts in his hands, circling your butter soft areolas with his thumb.

In a blink he maneuvers you underneath him as he props himself on one elbow. He brings your leg over his waist, moving between to feel as much of your skin against his. You circle your arms around his nape, craning your head to let him bury his face in the crook of your neck where he exhales and grunt as you press your sore sex up to his semi-hard length.

“Is our life so painful for you that you’re already dreaming of a better one?”

Your skin is warm, soft, pliant. Hoseok presses his lips underneath your earlobe where he then takes the skin between his teeth and bites.

“Ouch,” You gasp, your limbs tightening around his body. “It hurts…”

He pulls away to admire his work on your neck before flopping back down next to you with a sigh, head turned away. If he’d kept his gaze on the ceiling you would probably be able to see laughter spiral in his deep ebony eyes. As annoyed as he seems, as harsh as his touches – his words – are, Hoseok treasures these nights like you might disappear the next morning. He listens and seldom reply, almost afraid that if he showed how much he thinks about your pillowtalk, you might stop and it might drive him crazy even more.

You’re a little strange like that; poking the sleeping bear with a stick to reveal that his love is conditional despite him proving otherwise.

“I liked you even before I first saw you.”

Hoseok keeps his head turned away as you rub the bite on your neck and lean into his shoulder. It’s going to sting for a while and the bruise will blossom beautifully, like lavender and lilac, by next morning. The cheap satin pillowcase rustles underneath as you inch closer to him, wrapping your arms around his bicep.

“The girl you were sleeping with before me talked about you all the time but I couldn’t piece together what you looked like above the waist. When you asked for me instead of her…again and again, I thought I was the luckiest girl. You had pretty hands and you were nice to me and said I was cute. I thought it was a lie, but I took it to heart anyway. So…no, I don’t dream of a better life. Just one where I’m not always afraid of you running into cops to get me a necklace.”

Hoseok turns his head towards the ceiling and then back down to you. The sheets and the pillowcases rustle once more as he brings his hand to the necklace dangling from your neck and rubs the gold between his fingers. You keep his other arm locked in your embrace, suddenly bashful when he lays the cool gold between your breasts and watches your bare chest rise and fall. Everything about you is soft – your skin, your breathing, your thoughts.

It’s this softness he would miss the most when you’re gone. While it lasts, he wants to cherish it, wants to remember every inch of your body and the tremble in your voice before he ends up in a ditch somewhere. He’d be glad that he’s dead then because then you’d have no choice but to find someone better than him, who can give you that pretty house with the pretty garden, who can give you a necklace that isn’t stolen, who doesn’t make you tremble with anxiety when he’s only a few minutes late from his usual arrival time.

Before that man comes and lifts the veil from your eyes, he wants to keep listening. He wants to memorize how long you stretch your vowels and the little accent you have with your consonants.  

“Tell me more about our life in the ocean.” He asks, his throat tight. “What does our home look like?”

“We’ll live in a giant rock with little colorful corals and shells inside. You don’t like seaweed, so we can find a place somewhere barren and light surrounded by rocks. It’ll be just us two. I’ll make a hole big enough for us to crawl in together and you can,” you yawn, “gather food while I clean and…make our home nice and cozy…”

You yawn once more and Hoseok brings his hand over your eyes, the warmth of his palm soothing your burning eyes. He can feel your breathing slow and your words becoming softer and softer like clouds drifting away in the wind.

“It’ll be like paradise…just us two…no one else…just us…”

Hoseok keeps his palm still.

That night he dreams of your hair swaying under water. You’re sitting just beneath the surface, looking up at the sunlight casting a golden glow over a pile of rocks beneath you. Your white dress is tattered and your eyes are sad. Your gold necklace floats around your swan stretched neck. Tucking your legs beneath you and bringing your head down to your knees, you wait and wait through cold nights when the moon doesn’t shine and days when the sun brings light but not warmth.

He can hear all three of your hearts beat into words only he can hear from miles away.

“Don’t leave me, don’t leave me, don’t leave me.”

[vulturhythm]

until the blue ocean turns green - part one

There’s a man with golden eyes who sits beside Jaskier’s sea sometimes.

His hair is the silver of the seafoam, and it glows in the moonlight, when it isn’t made red with blood.

It’s red with blood quite often.

His eyes are like the coastal wolves’, bright and cunning.

Sometimes they’re black.

He comes to the shoreline now and then, at least once or twice in a moon cycle.

When he comes, he sits on a fallen tree, one that Jaskier remembers being struck by lightning many cycles before. Half of it is charred black, and the rest is saltwater pale, gnarled with age.

He sits on the fallen rock, and he merely… sits. Jaskier watches him from behind a rock far out in the water, watches him watch the waves.

The sea is usually calm, only ever riled by storms. Jaskier suspects that’s part of why he enjoys watching.

The sea isn’t fickle and upset like rivers and streams, and it’s a sight prettier than lakes, Jaskier likes to think.

Not that he’s seen many lakes - it’s hard to get to them. Rivers have a habit of becoming too narrow or shallow before he can reach a lake, so he’s stuck with tales from the gulls.

It’s from the gulls that Jaskier learns more of the man.

He learns that his name is Geralt, and that he rides a horse he calls Roach.

He learns that Geralt kills creatures like him for coin.

Jaskier knows coin - he’s heard travelers on the shore talking about it, sailors above water talking about it… the gulls tell him it’s currency, like the seashells where he comes from.

The gulls tell him that humans love coin, and Jaskier thinks them foolish for it, because the most seashells can buy down below is passage from one sea to the next, only sometimes the harpies and the selkies don’t honor the toll, and they sic a shark on you, and you make it away bleeding and poor, without ever getting where you meant to go, and you’re alive, but you’re missing half a fin off your beautiful, beautiful tail -

Well.

The gulls tell him the man is something called a witcher, and they tell him he’s right - the witcher always looks sad.

- -

Jaskier isn’t sure how many cylces pass with Geralt sitting at his shoreline.

“Months,” the gulls correct him, over and over, but Jaskier tells them, quite flippantly, that the merfolk measure by the moon, and they ruffle their feathers, and squawk at him but give up quickly enough.

Geralt comes to his shore wounded one night.

It’s the scent of blood that draws Jaskier up from the sea floor, away from the counting of his shells (he hopes, perhaps, he can buy his way up the northern river, the one guarded by the meanest of the sirens and the toughest of the sharks, and follow Geralt into the mainland).

He’s made a habit of lingering close to the shore when nightfall draws near, just in case his witcher comes.

Tonight, his witcher is hurt.

Watching from behind his stone, Jaskier feels his heart ache at the sight.

Geralt moves with caution, with obvious care, and he moves with one hand pressed to his side, and in the moonlight, Jaskier sees, quite clearly, the blood on his beautiful hands.

His heart aches.

Geralt remains for hours, staring out at the waves. Jaskier isn’t even sure he knows what his gaze is upon - he looks lost, and he looks sad.

He always looks sad.

--

Nearly a year passes before the sadness begins to fade.

“He’s in love,” proclaim the gulls, and something within Jaskier snarls. “He’s met a woman.”

Primarily, Jaskire believes them wrong.

The sadness is merely fading - it isn’t gone.

--

Two cycles later, Jaskier has enough for the northern river toll.

He has enough, and the harpies take the shells he hands them in the seaweed bundle, and he shudders at the sight of their wicked talons and human faces, and he swims past them as they sneer.

The gulls, flying overhead, keep watch.

Harpies aren’t known to honor their word, and the sharks circling down below look awfully hungry.

He makes it less than a ship’s length ahead before he feels the water shift, feels it ripple with the motion of something drawing near - drawing near too fast for him to get away.

--

He makes it out alive.

Only barely.

His tail is bitten deep, meat exposed, nearly to the bone. The fins along the sides are torn, and the fan at the end, the beautiful fan he’s adored his entire lifetime, is ragged now, ragged and bloody and raw.

Deep blue scales are flaking off his tail and arms, glistening as they drift away.

If his kind could cry, Jaskier’s tears would be blending with his blood in the water.

He bleeds silver, like the unicorns of the land.

Coiled into the side of his stone below the sea, Jaskier watches as it rises to the surface, glistening there in the moonlight. It clouds up and fades away soon, and yet, still he bleeds.

Geralt does not come that night, nor the next.

Still he bleeds.

--

Jaskier grows weak.

Without food to eat or plants to bind his tail, he bleeds, and he grows weak.

He bleeds, and he grows weak, and his grip on the rock is lost.

The sea fades to black as he drifts upward, toward the moon hanging low in the sky.

His heart aches.

--

He wakes up numb.

He wakes up numb, with the night air on his skin.

He wakes up numb, and he wakes up with the night air on his skin, and he wakes up with a hand on his chest.

Jaskier's world is foggy when he opens his eyes, but he manages it regardless, and for a moment, he only stares, because that's...

That's a pair of eyes overhead, and they're -

they're yellow.

They're yellow, and they're sad.

"Geralt?" he breathes, and those sad, sad eyes go wide...

... and Jaskier sinks back into darkness, Geralt's voice deep and rough and low and like home in his ears.

"How?"

--

He wakes up next when the sun is in the sky.

This time, he can feel water lapping against his sides, cool and comforting and familiar.

He breathes in deep, opens his eyes and blinks at the glare of the day.

It takes a moment for the rest of his senses to return.

He's resting in a little tide pool, deep enough to submerge his tail, his lower torso. Another second passes before he realizes he's laid across one of the rocks at the pool's edge, head propped on his folded arms. There's a damp towel laid across his back, lessening the heat of the sun.

Jaskier groans as he tries to move, pushing himself up on his arms to glance around. He knows this tide pool - it's not that far from where he surfaces to observe his witcher at night. Confusion knots his brow when he glances down and sees what appears to be an animal hide laid across the rock, cushioning his slumber.

"Don't move too much."

He jerks in ill-concealed surprise, finally looking up, and -

he goes still.

Geralt is seated nearby, crosslegged on a mostly-flat rock at the outer edge of the tide pool. He's watching him, golden eyes locked with deep blue, and Jaskier cannot breathe.

He can't breathe, because he is beautiful.

"What attacked you?" asks the witcher, and he speaks softly, as though he's trying to keep the merman from shying away from - from him, from the most beautiful thing Jaskier has ever seen.

Jaskier sucks in a breath, feels the gills along his throat tremble, looks past Geralt to where his red mare is standing still in the sand. "Sharks," he replies at last.

Geralt hums, low, and that's that. He moves with a heavy sigh, motioning for Jaskier to look back, down at his tail.

He obeys.

His tail is bound in white cloth, stained murky platinum with his blood. Geralt had taken obvious care, binding the fins along the sides as gently as possible. Jaskier moves cautiously, giving his tail an experimental sway, and he grimaces at the pain, but it lets him look at the fan at the end, resting in the sand.

Still ruined.

"There's nothing I can do," comes Geralt's voice, and he sounds apologetically resigned. Jaskier nods, tries not to let his face fall. "I treated everything with potions, the wounds should heal in time - they'll scar, and I'm afraid the fins might not regrow, but you won't feel the damage. Your, ah... the fan, though..."

Jaskier is having trouble following along, the majority of his attention devoted to the sound of Geralt's voice, rather than the words.

He catches just enough to know that his fan is lost.

Part of him - that vain, bitter part - hurts with the knowledge.

"Thank you," he says at last, his voice just as soft.

Geralt is quiet, but when Jaskier looks back at him, he nods, golden eyes on his tail.

--

Geralt comes back for him every day for - four, five months?

(Geralt calls them months, like the gulls, and so, finally, Jaskier gave up.)

Jaskier stays in the tide pool for the first bit of that time.

Eventually, Geralt begins to lift him from the stony area, sets him down in the ocean proper, lets him sink below and soak.

He keeps his arms around him the entire time, refusing to let him strain his tail.

When Geralt returns him to the tide pool, he always re-soaks the cloth draped over him, the deer hide laid out beneath him, and offers whatever food he's brought along.

Human food is... intriguing.

Jaskier develops quite the taste for rabbit.

Every couple of days, Geralt changes out the bandages, reapplies the potions he carries hanging off a belt.

It's very nearly maddening, Geralt's touch so gentle and caring on his scales.

Never once does he touch his skin, not with his palms.

Only ever with his arms, strong and torturous around his chest to support him in the shallows.

Jaskier yearns for his touch.

--

Geralt tells him stories, every day.

At first, it's extremely grudging.

Jaskier coaxes tales of slaying selkiemore and drowners and cockatrice and banshees from his witcher, and for the first couple of weeks, it's an agonizing process.

Geralt doesn't like talking about himself.

When Jaskier reminds him that he's the only source of entertainment available to a virtually bedridden merman, he becomes less reluctant.

A little.

One day, Jaskier asks if he's ever slain merfolk.

Geralt doesn't answer at first. He merely looks at him, and there's sadness in his eyes, just as profound as ever.

He nearly laughs - a low, weary exhale - and turns his head away.

"I won't kill you," is all he says, at last.

Jaskier believes him.

--

They play games, sometimes.

Well, Jaskier invents the games, and Geralt tolerates them, at best.

They play "count the seagulls" and "hide the seashell" and "braid your hair," only it's difficult to count the gulls when they always fly away in a rush as soon as they get wind of the fun, and there's only so many places to hide the seashell where Jaskier can reach it from his confinement, and Geralt's hair is the only hair long enough to braid, and he takes it with...

With...

Well.

He takes it.

Jaskier sings to him, most of the time.

He sings him the songs of his kind, and he sings him the songs he's heard from the sailors going by above, and he sings him the songs he's learned from the travelers at his shore.

Geralt teaches him some of his own kind - well, the human kind.

Drinking songs, he calls them.

Jaskier decides he loves them.

--

Geralt tells him about the woman, eventually.

Her name is Yennefer, and Jaskier loathes her immediately.

She's a sorceress - something like the sea witches Jaskier's kind fears.

They met while Geralt was after a djinn - he won't explain why, not even when Jaskier cocks his head to the side and causes Geralt to derail in an attempt to explain. He doesn't even notice that Jaskier is stalling.

One day, Jaskier asks if he loves her.

Geralt doesn't answer, not then.

Two days later, out of nowhere, Jaskier cradled in his arms so he can enjoy the sea, he says, "No. I don't."

Jaskier decides he loves him.

--

It's a long while before Geralt removes the bandages to reveal healed wounds.

There's raised lines of new flesh where there had once been deep gouges, and Jaskier's scales have grown back a brighter, truer blue, standing out against the deep shade of the rest.

The fins are intact, only the smallest notches in the edges indicating their trauma.

As for the fan, the wide, flowing, beautiful, gossamer, ghostly fan Jaskier had prided himself upon his entire life...

The edges of the bites are healed, no longer raw and sensitive to the sting of the sea, but the bites themselves are still apparent.

His fan is ruined.

Laying there in the tide pool, propped on his elbows to survey his tail, Jaskier wishes he could cry.

He lifts his tail, thwacks it against the water, feels no remorse when he splashes Geralt in the process.

Geralt doesn't seem to care.

Not about the water, at least.

It's as Jaskier's about to hit the surface once more that Geralt reaches for him, props a hand against the backside of his tail, holds him firm and meets his gaze.

Jaskier goes still.

His chest is heaving, fear and shame and pain clogging his throat, and he wishes he could cry, but he can't, and so he doesn't.

He stares back at Geralt, stares back at those wolf-gold eyes, stares at him until he lets his tail go slack. The weight of it is no doubt immense, but Geralt supports it like nothing, lays it down gently in the water and sets his hand on the underside instead.

"I'm sorry," he says aloud, smoothing his hand along his scales, down and down and down until he's tracing along the edges of the fan, of the ruined fan, once Jaskier's pride and joy... he traces the edges, and he watches his own hand, and he says, "I tried to save it."

Jaskier doesn't answer.

He's too busy trying to breathe.

--

Geralt sets him back in the sea that night, tells him to try swimming close to shore, stick close by, rest if he needs, he'll be back the next day...

Jaskier merely nods.

When Geralt pulls away, his fingertips graze across Jaskier's skin, across the point where scales fade into flesh along the v of his waist.

He shudders.

Geralt goes rigid, and yet he doesn't say a word.

He eases him into the sea, says goodnight, waits on horseback until Jaskier dips below the surface and doesn't rise again to leave.

Jaskier comes back when his scent has worn thin.

He floats there, near the tide pool, until his newfound strength begins to wane.

He falls asleep resting against the stones at the rim of the tide pool, Geralt's scent hanging heavy in the air.

--

Geralt doesn't come back until nightfall the next day, but he brings food, so Jaskier can't fault him.

His tail isn't powerful enough yet to drive him deep below and back home just yet, and the seaweed and crustaceans near the shore are nowhere near as satisfying.

Geralt sits crosslegged in the sand, watches with attentive eyes as Jaskier ducks and dives and whirls...

... as Jaskier shows off, twists and arches and writhes, lets what's left of his fan splay in the water in the closest thing to a mating dance he's ever fucking done, and he's always winded by the time he surfaces again, and Geralt...

... Geralt doesn't care.

He makes Jaskier come closer, wades out far enough to feel over his tail, over his fins, making sure they aren't strained and raw and split open.

They aren't, but maybe Jaskier plays up his exertion, if for nothing else than to have Geralt carry him back into the tide pool, sit down at the edge and knead into the muscles of his tail until it takes everything within him not to moan aloud.

--

This continues for another week.

Geralt is always watchful, golden eyes following Jaskier through the water so he doesn't grow weak, and at the end of every night, he carries him to the pool, massages the nonexistent ache from his tail and lets Jaskier sing.

One night, Jaskier asks if he likes his singing.

His witcher looks him in the eyes then, just for a moment, and looks away, the faintest of smiles on his face.

He doesn't answer, but Jaskier gloats regardless.

--

One night, Geralt comes looking... almost happy.

He tells Jaskier he's found Yennefer again.

(Jaskier didn't realize that she was lost, let alone worthy of finding.)

She's moved on, living in another town, in another kingdom. Geralt had gotten word from a traveling merchant, one he's known for years.

Jaskier should be happy for him.

He knows he should.

He knows this, and yet, when Geralt looks at him more closely, asks him what's wrong, he spits out, "Do you love her?"

Geralt goes still.

He's standing at the very edge of the tide, arms crossed.

Jaskier is floating just far enough out that the sand brushes his chest when he settles lower in the water, close enough to talk to his witcher with ease.

"Do you love her?" he repeats.

Geralt's jaw tightens, and he starts to speak, and when he does, it's a low and frustrated snarl.

"I knew her first."

Jaskier's tail hits the surface of the water with enough force to send a ripple through the current, to send a wave toward the shore, lapping at Geralt's boots.

"Jaskier, you can't leave the water, you know you can't - "

"There has to be a way, you see magic all day long, Geralt - "

"I'm not taking you from your home - "

"I haven't seen my home in months!" he nearly screams, and his voice is raw and wrecked and honest, and it hurts to yell, and it hurts to breathe, and, "I haven't gone back below since I met you, Geralt, you have to know that, you are my home!"

Geralt falls silent then.

Jaskier's voice gives out as he cuts himself off, and he falls quiet, and he waits, and he trembles there in the water, his witcher out of reach.

When Geralt speaks again, it's with his eyes averted, and he sounds...

"No. I don't love her, but I can't love you."

He turns away, and Jaskier starts to protest, to call out, to beg for him to stay - but his throat is dry, and so he says nothing.

He stays there, motionless in the water, and watches as Geralt mounts up on his mare and walks away.

He stays there until the sun is rising in the eastern sky.

He stays there until the daylight wears away at his skin and his head is pounding with the atmospheric heat.

He stays there until he grows weak.

He grows weak, and he turns away, sinks below the surface, dives down, down, down... down until the water is dark and he doesn't know if the shadows just beyond his reach are creatures come to kill or merely rock formations lurking in the void.

His heart aches, and he wishes he could cry.

--

The gulls tell him Geralt has moved on, farther north.

They tell him he's accompanied by a woman with hair as black as the abyss, a woman who heals his wounds with magic and keeps him warm at night.

Jaskier looks to the ruined fan at the end of his tail, to the fresh and brighter scales that mark Geralt's care.

He looks to the ruined fan, and he doesn't say a word.

--

The gulls tell him Geralt travels alone now.

They tell him that he left the woman in a kingdom called Cintra, and they tell him he's angry now, angry and just as sorrowful as ever.

Some bitter part of his heart is glad.

--

They tell him they've lost track of Geralt.

It's been years.

--

It's been years, and still, Jaskier waits close to the shore.

Geralt's scent has long since worn off the stones where they used to sit together, where they used to talk and laugh and sing and play... where Jaskier fell for the man with wolf-gold eyes and seafoam-pale hair.

His heart aches.

[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt AU: Childhood Best Friends to Lovers

PART 5: Age 16 

Luke and Thalia break up on homecoming night. 

It’s only an hour into the night when Percy watches Luke drag Thalia out of the hall and into the parking lot. Even though it’s been months since Percy has hung out with either of them, he keeps an eye on the two, watching as their silhouettes point accusatory fingers at each other. 

Annabeth and Grover, who he came to the dance with, are swaying playfully on the dance floor, but he waves them over and nods to the open door that Thalia left, exposing her and Luke as they shout at each other. 

“Should we check on them?” Grover asks, biting his thumb anxiously. Percy shrugs and watches Annabeth. Well, at this point, he’s always watching Annabeth, especially tonight because she’s in a dress he’s never seen before, and it’s the colour of the sea, his favourite. 

“Annabeth?”

“It’s not our business,” she says softly, but her eyes never leave the couple. Percy nods, and keeps his eyes trained on them, worry growing in his throat as Thalia steps closer to Luke, getting in his personal space. 

Even from here, Percy can feel Luke’s anger, it’s potent and vile and he almost doesn’t recognise it on his old friend’s face. He’s about to tell Annabeth that they should intervene when someone lightly taps him on the shoulder. He whirls around, surprised, and forces a smile onto his face when he sees that it’s Rachel Elizabeth Dare. 

“Hey Percy.” 

Her voice catches Grover and Annabeth’s attention and they both turn to look at her as well. She doesn’t buckle under their gaze, keeping her bright eyes on Percy like she’s on a mission. 

“Hey Rachel, what’s up?”

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to dance?” She says it confidently, but as soon as she’s done, she bites her lip and starts swaying back and forth on her feet like she can’t stand still. 

Dread fills Percy’s body and he struggles to come up with a nice way to say no because he really does not want to dance, not right now. 

Rachel must see it on his face because she gives him a sad smile and nods slowly. More dread fills his body and he glances anxiously to his friends at his side who are also waiting for an answer. Annabeth is frowning deeply and Grover has this sort of amused look on his face. 

“Right, that’s okay, uh, have a nice-” She starts and begins to walk away. Percy sighs and quickly reaches out, grabbing her wrist, when she pulls back he lets go quickly and holds his hands up in surrender. 

“Wait- Rachel. Sorry,” he stutters unsure of why he stopped her. He can feel his friends gaze on him as he speaks to Rachel but he doesn’t turn, “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” Rachel asks, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. 

“Yes, I’ll dance.” Her face instantly brightens and he holds out a hand, which she takes. 

Before he properly leaves, he quickly turns to Grover and Annabeth, whose mouth is wide open. 

“Come get me if something happens with Thals and Luke.” Grover nods but Annabeth just stares after him like he’s speaking another language. He ignores the tight knot in his stomach and lets Rachel lead him to the dance floor, placing his hands lightly on her waist. 

“What made you change your mind?” 

“Hmm?”

“You weren’t going to dance with me, what made you change your mind?” Percy blushes at the bluntness of her words and tries to come up with another excuse. As they’re swaying to the music, he steps back and spins her a bit as the song reaches the chorus.

When he can’t think of an excuse he tells the truth. 

“I wanted to see if I would feel a difference.” Rachel frowns and tilts her head at him confused. “I- uh, like someone else, and I’ve been trying to stop. I thought maybe if I danced with someone else I would feel different about them.” 

“Why do you want to stop liking them?” Rachel doesn’t even seem fazed that he’s just confessed he likes someone else. 

“Because she, I don’t know, I think she likes someone else, but she doesn’t realise it. So it’s just easier if I don’t like her.” Rachel loops her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, so close he can smell her floral perfume. It matches the brightly coloured flowers on her dress. 

“Well if I’m not mistaken, Annabeth hasn’t taken her eyes off of us the entire dance so I think you’re all good Percy.” 

“What?” Instantly he pulls his gaze away from Rachel and turns around wildly to look at where he last saw Annabeth. She’s not looking when he sees her, but he does catch sight of her flicking quick glances at him in between her conversation with Grover as the song ends and as Rachel walks him back to them. 

“How’d you know?” He asks Rachel, trying to figure out what gave him away. 

“Just a feeling. You should tell her.” When Percy doesn’t answer Rachel smiles and wiggles her fingers as a goodbye. “Thanks for the dance Percy, I’ll see you around.” 

He lifts a hand up as well, still too surprised at how easily she was able to read him. 

“Have fun?” Annabeth asks with pursed lips. 

Percy shrugs, “Yeah I guess. She’s pretty cool.” 

“Hmph.” 

Annabeth turns back to facing the door so that she can watch Thalia and Luke (who are still fighting) while Percy turns to Grover behind her back and tries to ask Grover what her problem is via extreme facial expressions. Grover scrunches his shoulders up and shrugs, saying he doesn’t know and Percy sighs, running a hand through his hair. 

Out of nowhere, Annabeth’s hand slaps his wrist. 

“Hey!”

“Stop messing up your hair.” She says, without turning to him. 

“Who are you, my Mom?” He asks and keeps messing it up because it feels weird all gelled down and sticky. 

“No but you never have your hair like that and I want nice photos of us later.” 

“I look like an idiot.”

“That’s because you are, Seaweed Brain.” 

“Whatever.”

“Oh shut-”

A loud crack catches both of their attention and they both turn to the direction of the sound and see Thalia standing at the doorway, her fury tangible in her stance as she walks towards them. Behind her Percy barely glimpses a look at Luke who is cradling his face, blood seeping from his nose, where Percy assumes Thalia has just punched him. 

He doesn’t even fully register that she’s come up to them until she’s talking. 

“I know you probably hate me right now, but I can’t be here anymore. I’ll explain everything, but can one of you take me home please.” 

Annabeth is already opening her purse and handing the keys to Percy. He’s the better driver out of the two, and she’s already wrapping her arms around Thalia, who is fighting back tears. 

In less than 5 minutes the four of them are packed in Annabeth’s Dad’s old car and Percy is carefully pulling out of the parking lot and taking them to Annabeth’s house. 

Thalia doesn’t speak until they’re all situated in Annabeth’s room. Percy has taken off his second-hand suit jacket, loosened his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, and Grover is pulling clothes from Annabeth’s drawer, throwing pieces at Percy so they can both change into comfier clothes. 

As he’s about to change Annabeth pokes him sharply. 

“Photos Percy!” She reminds, and he rolls his eyes, rebuttoning his shirt. 

Thalia waits for them to settle, Percy and Annabeth on her bed, and Grover on the window sill before she speaks. 

“Okay, so I want to start by saying sorry. It’s been months since I’ve spoken to any of you and I totally get if you hate me for that, but I do have a reason, but also it’s okay if you don’t forgive me because I wouldn’t forgive me either.” 

“Thals,” Annabeth whispers. She looks like she’s about to cry and Percy can see her hands fidgeting like they want to move and grab something. He reaches over to her bedside table and gives her a fidget toy, and then carefully takes her other hand, rubbing soothing circles around the top of her palm. 

She doesn’t say anything, but she squeezes his palm in thanks. 

“Let me talk first Annabeth before you say anything. I want to make sure I say this all right.” 

So she talks. Thalia starts from the beginning, how she’s always loved Luke, and how when he moved, she called him each day, and they never lost contact, and how him turning up wasn’t a surprise to her because they’d been talking about it for months already. She talks about how it was her first relationship with someone ever, and she’d never liked someone this much in her life, so she didn’t realise that spending every breathing moment with him wasn’t normal. At one point Thalia takes off her suit jacket and loosens her own tie. Annabeth offers a change of clothes but Thalia shakes her head, determined to continue with the story. She continues to say that Luke started acting differently when they officially started dating, started telling Thalia not to hang out with them because he only wanted to spend time with her, and that they were saying things about her behind her back. 

“I knew it wasn’t true, but I didn’t want to fight with him, everything felt so perfect when we were together. I just wanted us to not fight. So I let him pull me away from you guys.” 

This time when Annabeth squeezes Percy’s hand, it’s in warning, because he realises that he’s using her hand as a stress ball. He apologises silently by letting go, and loosely threading their fingers together so that he doesn’t accidentally hurt her. 

“It didn’t get bad until last summer when I told him that I missed you guys and that I wanted to be friends with you again. It got even worse when I told him that I might like girls as well as guys.” 

Percy sees her hold her breath as she says the last part and feels his face split open into a grin. 

“Me too,” he says simply and the smile that Thalia gives him back is enough for Percy to forgive her of everything. I’m proud of you, he mouths so that he doesn’t interrupt her story. 

“I don’t know why it was such a big issue, but he kept bringing it up. He never went a day without saying something about it, and it was never nice. I hated it. He made me feel like I wasn’t allowed to like both, and I realised that I just wasn’t happy with him. I was so sad all the time, and all I wanted was to talk to you guys but he was always there. At the gym tonight, I knew that the only way he’d actually let me break up with him was if it was public. So that’s what I did.” 

Annabeth pushes off the bed and throws herself onto Thalia. Percy and Grover are quick to follow until they’re a tangle of limbs, suits and dress (in Annabeth’s case) on the ground. Grover and Thalia are crying and holding each other tightly, and Annabeth has wrapped her arms around Thalia’s torso. It kind of reminds Percy of a koala and he pulls out his phone to take a photo of the three of them, immortalising this moment. 

“So what did he think when you showed up wearing that?” Percy asks, nodding at the fitted suit Thalia wears, “Looks awesome by the way,” he adds.

Thalia scoffs. 

“I thought his head was going to explode.” They all laugh and Percy rejoins them on the floor, ending up laying in Annabeth’s lap as they all hold onto each other, making up for time wasted. 

“I can’t believe Luke is such a jackass,” Percy says with a shake of his head. 

“Do you think he had a particular reason why he was like that towards you Thals? Is there something happening at his home?” Annabeth asks and Percy turns to her with an incredulous look. 

“Wise Girl, come on, no matter how crappy a person's home life is, that doesn’t mean you can project that onto someone you care about. Like look at me, you don’t see me being an ass to you just because Gabe was the worst step-father in the world.” 

“What happened with Gabe?” Thalia asks, sitting up abruptly when she hears his name but Percy waves her off. 

“Nothing important. He just wasn’t a good person, but we don’t live with him anymore. Mom’s dating Paul and she’s happy and that’s all that matters to me.” 

Thaila looks like she wants to say more but Annabeth cuts in. 

“I’m not trying to make excuses for him, I just wanted to ask because that really doesn’t sound like the Luke I know,” she pauses when she sees Thalia’s face fall, “That doesn’t mean I don’t believe you...I really do. I just- I want to hear his side of it too you know? But I’ll stand by you no matter what.” 

Thalia nods slowly and takes Annabeth’s outstretched hand. 

“The Luke you know is very different to the Luke that I dated Annabeth. He’s changed a lot. He pretends he hasn’t, but he has and none of it is good. Even if you get his side of the story, I don’t think he’d tell the truth. I swear, on my brother and on my Mom, everything I’ve said is true. But if you want to ask him to double-check, I won’t stop you.” 

Annabeth does end up asking Luke for his side of the story, and her decision still baffles Percy to this day, but Thalia reassures him that it’s for her own sanity. 

“Luke and Annabeth were a lot closer than you remember I think. It really hurt Annabeth when he stopped talking to her. I think it hurt him too, I never knew why, but I think he had a thing for her at one point, but he chose me.” 

That old familiar sting of jealousy holes up in Percy’s stomach as he waits for Annabeth to come back and meet them at her car. 

“Do you think he still does? Like her, that is?” The words are like cotton in his mouth, suffocating and hard to speak around. 

“Maybe. Wouldn’t be surprised if she does too. She never told me, but I always had a feeling.” 

Oh.  

Percy nods, unable to bring himself to say anything and waits in silence. Annabeth comes walking down the steps, wiping her eyes and Percy’s instincts kick in, and he’s running to her, pulling her close to his chest and holding her there. 

“What did he do? Are you okay?” He asks when she finally pushes him away slightly. Her eyes are still watering but she smiles and pokes him in the cheek. 

“I’m okay. Let’s go home.”

She lets him lead her into the car, he drops Thalia off first before pulling up at Annabeth’s. 

“Come in?” 

He nods and follows her soundlessly to her room. He unwraps his scarf and hangs his jacket on a hook, like he has many times before and sets himself on her bed, playing with her old stuffed toys as she slowly undoes her coat, clearly distracted.

“Thals was right. Luke is- I don’t know who that Luke was.” Annabeth admits. 

A selfish part of Percy sighs in relief, and he holds out his arms as a peace offering to Annabeth. She smiles and sits down with him, not quite in his arms, but close enough that Percy isn’t complaining. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault.”

“Because you’re sad and I don’t like seeing you sad, especially when I can’t do anything about it.” 

“Seaweed Brain you can’t make everyone happy.” She says with a teasing smile.

“I don’t want to make everyone happy, just you.” The words come out before he fully processes thinking it and he swallows thickly when Annabeth stares at him, slightly dumbfounded. 

Finally, she moves, and leans down, ever so softly pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

“You do make me happy. You always have, don’t doubt that.” Percy can’t help but close his eyes and relish in the warmth she gives him. When he opens his eyes again she’s staring right back at him, like she can see into his soul. He secretly wishes her eyes weren’t so beautiful, because then he wouldn’t have such a problem with looking away, but they’re not, they’re the most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen and he never wants to stop. 

“You make me happy too.” More than you’ll ever know.

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

[chironshorseass]

melted ice cream sandwiches

Thanks, @silenabeth​, for subconsciously adding your presence into this jksdhoisfjs. This one’s for you. Sorry it’s angsty, but oh well.

In which Percy and Annabeth have an argument, Connor Still chops off Annabeth's braid with a sword, and then she and Percy have a talk. It doesn't nearly go as planned, but at least they ate some ice cream sandwiches.

Rated T for language.

Read on ao3

(The Hero's soul, cursed blade shall reap)

A baby is born

Crying out for attention

The memories fade

Like looking through a fogged mirror

Decision to decisions are made

And not bought

But I thought this wouldn't hurt a lot

I guess not

“I’m your friend, of course I care!”

“You shouldn’t be my friend! That way it wouldn’t hurt so much!” Annabeth says.

It had started off as a simple comment, nothing too serious. Something about Annabeth not wanting him to help with reports—but Percy’s beginning to realize that anything can explode into an argument.

“What are you talking about?” he demands. Luckily, they’re near the woods, so at least no demigod can hear them. Not like last time.

“Just—I’m tired of you going away! You can’t have it both ways, Percy. Either you’re not my friend and forget about all this shit, or you stay here and fight him.”

“Why can’t I have it both ways? Last time I checked, I’ve spent enough time at camp to train. And why are you suddenly all gloomy and shit about being friends with me? Do you just...want me to be Luke? Make you feel better? Do you even give a shit about what he did?”

Her face reddens. “Why would any of this be about Luke?”  

“Because that’s all we fight about! You seem to have it in yourself to see him as this amazing hero when he’s the entire opposite of that!” Percy knows that what he’s saying is slightly ridiculous, and that she’s right; this has nothing to do about Luke, but he doesn’t particularly care at the moment. “Because the last prophecy was about him! You ‘lost’ the bastard to Kronos and you want him back, is that it?”

“What? Yes, I want him back—but, no, I—”

“He’s hurt you so much, Annabeth. You seriously care for him? You seriously don’t want to be my friend because you—you hate that I hate him?”

“Yes, I care for him! You didn’t know him when I did—but you mean so much—”

“He wanted to kill you!” Percy grabs her by the shoulders so they’re face to face, so she understands exactly what he’s talking about. “He doesn’t fucking care! Why can’t you see that?”

“All I see,” Annabeth seethes, shoving him off, “is a scared little boy who wants everything to be black and white.”

“You’re one to talk, telling me that I have to either stay in New York or stay at camp. I’m trying to make that work—”

“Work how, exactly? So that everyone here takes on the weight of the war while you go off and act all ‘normal’? Here’s a quick disclaimer: you’re not normal, Percy!”

“Don’t you think I know that? I’m this close to probably dying, so forgive me for wanting to cool off a bit.”

They’re nose to nose now, and Percy can feel Annabeth breathing heavily, nostrils flared.

“Shut up,” she says.

“What?”

“Just, shut up!”  

She storms away before he can say anything else. The early singing of the birds doesn't sound so sweet anymore.

He can see her wipe at her face angrily as she runs to gods know where. He knows that she won’t let him see her cry.

:

He’s in the archery class, trying not to kill anyone, when he hears commotion by the arena.

“No! I’m fine!” a familiar voice keeps insisting—Annabeth.

She stomps past a very concerned-looking Connor. Her hair is pulled into two braids, as it was earlier in the morning. She’d been experimenting with different hairstyles—it probably had something to do with Silena’s influence—but now, Percy realizes that one of her braids is missing. It had been cut off, by the looks of it.

He lowers his bow, walking over to them. Something had happened, and it hadn’t been good.

“I’m so sorry, ‘Beth,” Connor says, this time truly sounding sorry. “I didn’t know that you wouldn’t block me—if there’s any way to repay you—“

She stops her fast-walking and turns towards him. “You’ve done enough.”

“Okay but I—”

“Hey!” Percy calls out as he approaches them. “What happened?” Annabeth suddenly starts walking again.

Connor stares at him sheepishly. “I sort of, um, cut her hair.”

Percy ignores him. “Annabeth? Come on! Don’t walk away—I’m asking you something!”

“And I don’t care to answer.”

“Can I help? In any way?”

“I don’t need your help, either.”

He sprints over to her anyway, grabbing one of her shoulders. “Come on, why—”

She shoulders him off.

Percy hears the steady footsteps of someone right behind them: Connor.

“Annabeth. Please,” he pants, running ahead and facing her. He walks backwards while she walks forward, a mule with a job in mind. “I’m so sorry. But where are we going?”

“‘We?’” she mutters, not looking at either of them. “None of your fucking business, assholes. Now leave me alone!"

Annabeth shoves them out of her path and runs. Runs before either of them can catch up. She’s always been faster than both of them.

What hits him there in the middle of a summer day, staggered with only a son of Hermes as a companion, is the pain he heard in her voice. And Percy has a feeling that it’s more than just her missing braid.

No, he is the cause of that pain—he’s the one to blame. And he feels like dying a little.

:

He sits by the canoe lake, the sun reaching further west because of the time. But even with the sun not directly above him, it still feels like laser beams down his neck.

Silena meets him there. Her camp shirt is tucked into her shorts in a stylish way that very few people can achieve, hair perfectly in place and without even a slight sheen of sweat on her face

Percy doesn’t know how she does it. It’s the middle of July, after all.

She sits down, pulling her legs into her chest and leaning in, watching him.

“Everything okay?” he asks.

She sighs, though it’s barely noticeable. “I came to talk to you. About Annabeth.”

He catches her gaze, but for the first time, Percy can’t tell what she’s thinking.

“She’s fine. If that’s what’s worrying you. Well, not exactly ‘fine,’ but—like, she’s not hurt. Physically.”

“That’s reassuring.”

Silena snorts and follows his eyes towards the swaying trees on the other side of the lake. They look so peaceful there, almost as if they’re dancing. Maybe they are. Maybe they don’t care about wars or drama.

Good for them.

“No,” she muses. “I guess she’s hurting, and not just because I had to cut so much of her pretty hair. Almost made me want to cry. She didn’t say much, but I can always tell when you two had a fight.”

“If you’re here to lecture me—”

“Oh, come on. I may be close to her, but I’m not the type to meddle. I just came here to tell you that you should talk to her.”

“Then you are meddling.”

She laughs. “Okay, maybe I am. And maybe I also talked to her about it. She’s not that mad at you. Mostly sad. It would do you both good if you actually worked things out.”

“Trust me, she hates me at the moment.”

“And trust me, she doesn’t. She wants you to go to her.”

They stare at each other, both gazes challenging, until one of them loses.

Percy breathes out a sigh of defeat. “Fine.”

Girls are so weird, he thinks.

But maybe he says that part aloud, because Silena rolls her eyes. “I heard that.”

“Of course you did.”

She winks at him. “Maybe you should give her an ice cream sandwich. You know, as a truce. I heard that the Hermes cabin stashed some from their last raid.”

“Um, I thought Annabeth wanted to talk to me. Why would we need a truce?”

“Oh, she certainly does. But ice cream never hurt anyone.”

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

“That’s the spirit,” she grins.

:

Percy finds her at the beach, in the part where grass is more common than sand. It’s dry and brittle, yellowed from scarce rain—but next to her it looks like golden thread.

Her hair is cut just above her shoulders, like a bob. He’d never seen her with short hair before, but he thinks that it makes her look older, in a way. Changes from that pretty girl he’d met nearly four years ago to a beautiful young woman. At least that’s what she’s making him feel.

Gods, she’s too good for me.

Percy takes a deep breath and clears his throat. Hopefully this can end well, because just by looking at her makes him nervous.

Annabeth had probably heard him coming, since she doesn’t startle at the sound.

That could be a good sign.

“Mind if I join you?”

She says nothing, but she also doesn’t protest when Percy sits down next to her.

“Uh…” He takes out the ice cream sandwiches that were in his pocket. “Do you, like, want any?”

She nearly smiles. Nearly. And she nods hesitantly, snatching one from his hand.

Good.

He doesn’t care that she still can’t meet his eyes. Or maybe he does care. And maybe he also cares that the space between them feels like the wind holding its breath, how her skin looks so warm, but instead of feeling it, he feels the grass tickling his legs.

“Um, it—you look pretty, that way…” he says, mainly to break the silence, but now he wants to slap himself. “Not that your hair wasn’t pretty before or anything. Well, not your hair, I mean—you were pretty before. Uh, not that you’re not pretty now—”

“It’s okay, Seaweed Brain. I get it. My haircut isn’t that bad.”

He can see her smiling from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t remember the last time she called him by his old nickname, least of all smile. Hopefully he isn’t blushing as much as he thinks.

“Silena helped. Before, it looked like half of my hair had been chopped with a sword—which it had, I guess. I’m still planning my revenge.”

“For Connor?”

Annabeth turns to Percy. “Yes. Connor… ” her gaze falters. She stares longingly out at the ocean, eyes blinking rapidly.

They don’t say much for a while, but rather listen to the song of the birds and the wind and the ocean. The grass between them flutter like butterflies, slight touches against their legs.

Annabeth rips the plastic off the ice cream sandwich and takes a big bite. He slips off the package of his own sandwich as well, but stops to notice how the vanilla melts under her fingers and how it oozes from her mouth and down to her chin. His own hands are covered in the soft feeling of the chocolate cookie, sticky and gross; his sandwich is almost melted in the harsh sunlight. He doesn’t wipe his hands away or feel like eating it anymore, and she doesn’t care to clean her chin up, either.

They’re both a mess.

The vanilla ice cream softens in his mouth, and an explosion of chocolate sweetness ensues after, but not before a big portion of the sandwich falls into his shorts and slips into the dry grass between his legs.

He hates ice cream sandwiches.

Why it was a good idea to share some in Long Island, during the warm days of summer, he has no idea. But the spray of salt that kiss their cheeks alongside the cacophonous roar of the waves make the situation not that horrible. At least in Percy’s opinion. Also Annabeth not mad at him anymore is a plus. Or perhaps she is. Their fight earlier in the day wasn’t exactly pretty.

She finishes her sandwich and licks some of the chocolate off her fingers.

“I just,” she says, taking a deep breath. “I’m tired. Of the same thing. Over and over. It’s not even Connor’s fault. Hell, this time it’s not your fault, either. I’m just...stupid.”

“Hey. Don’t ever say that. You are many things, Annabeth Chase, but stupid isn’t one of them.”

She must feel his heated gaze on her, because she meets his eyes. She quickly wipes away her tears.

“Maybe I wasn’t before. But now, I kind of am. I—I get carried away by you and how you’re never here, and I don’t even think about how close we are to the end, and then I can’t even fight well anymore—so Connor fucking Stoll cuts off one of my braids.

“And then I look weird and I can’t even cut my hair properly, so Silena helps and she looks at me like I’m...like I’m some poor creature! And I’m not! I just want things the way they were with my hair the way it was and with no wars and no prophecies and no shitty feelings and no...no traitors! I don’t care about quests, or glory—I can’t even fucking do that right because you almost died and Luke is now freaking possessed—and I...I want everything back the way it was!” she sobs into her hands, smearing her face with the remaining ice cream and chocolate.

Percy doesn’t know what to do. He wants to hug her, pull her close and tell her it’ll be alright. Kiss the top of her head and reassure her that they’ll make it out alive. But he doesn’t. Or at least, he doesn’t say any of those things.

But he does scoot closer, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and placing her head against the crook of his neck. He lets her weep until there are no tears left, lets her wrap her own arms around his neck. That way, they can hold each other properly.

“I’m sorry,” he says after her breathing has calmed down. Her short hair feels like silk against his hands.

“What are you sorry for? You’re the one that will...who will…” She hiccuped. “Gods, you don’t even know, and, and everything is supposed to be fine anyway!”

“What do I not know? You can tell me, ‘Beth. I’m your best friend.”

She shakes her head, mouth tightly closed, but soon her face contorts into another sob, and her hand comes up to her mouth to cover it. He holds her closer to his chest, not caring about how much ice cream has been smeared in the process.

“No, no,” she cries. “I—I can’t say. It doesn’t matter, anyway.”

After a few minutes, her tears run warm and her breathing relaxes once again. The waves calm to the soothing sounds of water meeting shore. He obviously had a hand in that. But everything stops to a halt, and it comes down to Percy and Annabeth, holding each other. Just like in Siren Bay, only now things aren’t so simple. They know more than they should.

“If anyone should be sorry,” she whispers against his shirt, “it’s me.”

His hand tightens against her shoulders, but he doesn’t protest. It’s no use to try and contradict her right now.

Slowly, her arms loosen their hold on him and she sits down like she was before, but now she’s significantly closer to Percy, hips touching.

Annabeth breathes deeply, staring at her hands. They’re a mess of ice cream and grass; she wipes them away with her shirt. Then, she tries to do the same with her face.

“Here, I uh…brought some napkins.”  He fishes around in his pockets until they come up, offering some to her.

She grabs a handful. “Thanks.”

He looks at her while she works, until finally he says, “None of that is your fault.”

Her hands stop moving. She closes her eyes.

“But it is.” Percy almost doesn’t hear her. Almost lets the roaring winds drown her down, under the waves. A whisper amidst the sound of thunder.

Of course, he does hear.

“Why would all of this crap be your fault?”

“Because I couldn’t convince Luke to stay at camp. I had my chance, and I didn’t take it. Because I almost let you die.”

“First of all, you could never have changed Luke. I know you hate me saying it, but he’d already made his decision. And...well, I made my decision as well.”

“Like how you’ll make your decision to go to New York? During the summer?” Her voice isn’t accusing or angry, but desperate and soft.

“No, I won’t.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yeah I do. I won’t visit New York in a while, if...that’s what you want.”

“Of course it’s what I fucking want!”

He silently cringes at that. Wrong thing to say.

She sniffles the last of her tears and glares at him, eyes red.

“You’ll leave me anyway, sooner or later. Everyone leaves, and—and you’re no exception, Perseus Jackson. You hear me? You are not the exception!” As she says every word, she rips out the grass stems around her; they make popping sounds as the roots come off the ground. Her lips tremble and her eyes shine with fresh tears, but she doesn’t stop.

“Fuck, I don’t care if you go out to that wonderful city of yours with your pretty girlfriend to forget about your problems. That’s great—I wish I could do that. But your problems are very much real, and the people here are counting on you. Has it ever crossed your mind that they miss you? That I miss you? Why is staying here for a bit longer so bad?”

Something in Annabeth’s tone makes Percy feel like he’s stepping on a floor filled with broken glass.

“I—”

“No,” she shakes her head. “I���m sorry. It’s—you’re not the problem. I don’t want to argue anymore. I just want to...spend more time with you.” She takes a rattling breath and looks at him directly in the eye once again. Her face is a wet sheen of tears, despite wiping them off with a napkin earlier. “All I meant to say is that we don't…” her train of thought stops; she stares at her hands. “We don’t have forever. And maybe you don’t think that you’ll leave me, but you don’t know that.”

“No one has forever. Unless you’re a god.”

She laughs bitterly. “That’s my point. If we don’t have forever, then why won’t you stay here? With us? Spend what little we have together.”

“Okay.”

She glances at him, stunned. “Okay? Just like that?”

“Yeah, why not? We’re at a summer camp. I’m supposed to enjoy things. Not leave. I’m...sorry about that.”

“No, I,” she sighs, “I get why you’ve been leaving. But, yeah, it would be nice if you could stay.”

“That’s what I’m planning to do,” he gins, content that for the first time in a while, he’s made Annabeth happy.

“Thanks for the ice cream sandwich, by the way.” She smiles, and some could say that it’s a weak attempt to seem grateful or content, but Percy knows that it’s genuine.

“Yeah. No problem.”

:

That night, Percy lets Sally know that he won’t be coming home in a while. For now, he is home. And Annabeth is his best friend, and so is Grover. And he can count on Beckendorf and Travis and Connor. They’re part of who he is, he realizes. And camp feels like belonging and the warmth of a thousand fires and a thousand starry nights.

But the missions and war preparations begin again.

And they both end up fighting. Nothing Percy says to Annabeth is right. Being without her hurts, but staying hurts even more.

He leaves the next morning.

Maybe after the summer is over, they can confront the feelings they have. Maybe they can fix whatever is broken between them when the war ends, and if they’re ready, be more than just friends. Maybe he’ll never have the courage to tell her that. Or maybe he’ll die. Maybe Kronos will win.

As Percy trudges up Half-Blood Hill, he feels someone watching him. He turns around, and there she is, her arms crossed and golden hair loose; it still hasn’t grown enough for her to put it in a ponytail. He can’t make out the look on Annabeth’s face, but he waves at her awkwardly all the same.

She doesn’t wave back.

When he sees Peleus’ smoke coming from Thalia’s tree, he looks back again. But she’s gone.

He hates ice cream sandwiches, but he hates his life more.

[heroprose]

just offshore;

a/n. forewarning for monsters and sexual themes.

ship. hitoshi shinsou x reader

summary. mermaid au. there’s something lurking under the surface and you know it.

//

you’ve always been told to stay away from the beach in the area you knew as your home. everyone was, really. there was hardly a sandbank to begin with and if one waded some meters into the sea from the shoreline, they’d take a great plunge into a mysteriously deep and dark region who knows how deep. 

there is even a rusted metal sign out front staked out in the dirt, just before the trail into that secluded beach area, that occasionally redirects tourists and town inhabitants alike to the more gentler, nearby beaches. you wonder why the trail was even made to begin with and why it was never blocked off if it’d concluded as a failed project.

not only that, but this beach near your home was a perpetual riptide zone too if you just swam past the lip of the trench-- and you’ve always mused on the fate of being swept out to sea on one of these fast currents, so fast that you wouldn’t even have the time to cry for help before saltwater filled your throat and lungs.

not that crying for help would do you much good, as it is an area not many visited anyway.

it is a frightening scenario, certainly, but you cannot help dip your toes in the quiet waters every once in a while anyway. 

in any case, those were only the dangers on paper, because ever since you’ve moved here and squinted out into the horizon from the gravel sandbank, you’re certain you’ve seen other things in the water. things that make you less concerned about the riptides and more skeptical of whatever’s lurking just beneath the surface.

you know humans can’t swim this current, for one thing.

and for another, when dark shadows in the water do appear, there is only ever one of them at a time.

one time in the evening, you gave something of a wave when you thought you saw it break surface some ways’ away-- you’re not sure, it may have been a mirage-- and it simply took a glance and slipped back underneath. 

maybe. 

it was what you’d suspected had occurred, at least. with the sun shining behind it, you could never tell if what you saw was a fin or a head or just a bobbing piece of junk.

it is low tide the first time you visit the beach in a very long time, and the skies are overcast. 

it had rained profusely the night before, harder than you had suspected, given how the soil was loamy and soft underneath your sandals and all the overhanging trees dripped with dew as you walked down the path. it’s slightly sloped downward, so you pace yourself slower to not stumble and scrape your uncovered knees on the grit and gravel on the shore.

and in spite of the overcast weather, it is immensely warm-- you feel it through the thin fabric of your t-shirt and spread across your back and the crown of your head. it’s only going to get worse, you’re certain, later at noon, and if you decide to stay out here long enough the salt will be all you taste in the air too. 

spreads of dark algae lay on the shore that’s normally covered meter deep in briny ocean during high tide and you step over them carefully. you are deliberate in not disturbing the wildlife here, doing your best to only leave your shoe prints in the ground and nothing else. you peel your shirt off and hang it over a low branch before turning your attention to the horizon.

you don’t make it a habit to swim with your sandals on but here it was practically a necessity to avoid accidentally stepping in jagged clam shells or sharp rocks.

farther into the water, just before the lip of the plunge, is a rock large and flat enough to support several people. it resembles a cliff or even a diving board, the way it gradually inclines upward to a tip, pointing towards the horizon. you’re never here during low tide but you do sometimes see just the tip poking out during high tide, breaking waves into halves.

of course, you feel inclined to step towards it now. you wade into the sea, sucking in a breath at the icy plunge. you don’t fear swimming this length-- it’s only beyond the rock you hesitate with. the sides are studded with pale barnacles and dark tunicates, and you have to hoist yourself up from the water. 

the crashes of the ocean against itself and the rock are nice on the ears and mind. you’ve come today with little purpose-- you had the time, the inclination. but there is of course, the small voice in the back of your head that still keeps your hackles up.

you kneel on the rock’s tip, and it’s wet and cold with waves lapping just underneath and you’re strangely at ease. leaning over, you extend your fingers back into the cold water, that’s now pleasant to the touch.

you are both surprised and not so much when in the distance, just beneath the waves, a dark form appears. it moves across the waves before slowly, as if only being pushed by the currents themselves, moving towards you.

you wait with bated breath, unable to look away towards the shore. it would take you no more than five minutes to take a running start and swim back to land, but you can’t bring yourself to do that. 

you’re the closest you’ve ever been to the riptide and to the shadow both. you wipe the saltwater off your bare arms, determined to get a better look. even now, you’re skeptical of what you can see. you want it to break surface, even if it shouldn’t and you end up regretting it immensely-- you need it to break surface. 

it’s an unspeakable desire that roots itself in the obscure and you’re kneeling with your back ramrod straight before you know it. 

“hey,” you shout, raising a hand to the side of your mouth, in case it is in fact a rogue swimmer that you’ve been observing all this time.

it doesn’t break surface. it also doesn’t help that it hasn’t coming up for air. 

you feel a little sick now. 

here you are, in nothing but your sparse swimsuit and sandals, sitting on an algae-covered rock, with solid meters between you and the shore.

you do want to see it break surface still, but not at the expense of your life. is it a shark you’re seeing? a huge manta ray? it can’t be-- you see no prominent back fin and it moves too seamlessly, its tail appearing to move up and down--

and it stops. you think it’s stopped moving just at the edge of the trench and you relax your shoulders a little. unsure of whether to call out again, you keep silent. for a beat, nothing happens and you lick your bottom lip, catching residual salt from the ocean when you swam.

for the first time (that you’re certain of), you can finally see it with some semblance of clarity-- its head breaks the surface first, far enough you can see how broad its shoulders are. it doesn’t bother wiping the rivulets of water that drip down its face from its mesmerizing purple hair, and it tilts its head to the side at the sight of you, jutting its chin up.

he looks almost human, if not for the dark silver ear fins on the sides of his head, webbed and translucent purple on the inside skin of the webs.

maybe it’s his ambiguous stare that’s rendering you a bit nervous or the fact he even exists, but you don’t think you could manage to call out again just yet. would it even matter, if he couldn’t understand you?

in any case, it’s too late to turn tail now-- he’s much too close. clearing your throat, you submit to your fate, whatever it may be, and wave. 

there is no immediate response. then, he blinks and his gills splay open from the sides of his neck momentarily before he dives back underneath, making you jolt. you hadn’t even noticed the slits until they flared like that. you find yourself placing a hand over your own neck for a beat and glancing back at the shore.

it looks the same as you had left it-- your shirt on a low hanging branch, patches of dark seaweed strewn about the shore. if you were to vanish all of a sudden, you suspect it wouldn’t be long until someone noticed you’d been down here, a known abandoned beach, and put two and two together.

you sniff, longing to go back into the water but knowing you couldn’t-- not when you don’t yet know whether this creature will tear you apart the moment you step away from the rock. 

you hardly get to decide though.

when you turn your chin back to the sea, he’s only a meter away, staring up at you with a countenance that simply read indifference. 

the water isn’t entirely clear, now you could see so much more transparently the contours of his arm muscles as he lifts a hand up to push his defiant and wet hair back from his forehead this time; and that underneath him, a massive, dark tail keeps him upright, fins swaying against the current. 

that is all you can see when you startle with a short-lived cry, pulling yourself up off your knees in a haphazard hastiness that’s doomed to work against you on algae-covered rocks. the squishy tunicates don’t help you either when you stumble off the side of the rock and grapple for something, anything, and end up with fistfuls of air. 

you squeeze your eyes shut the moment you hit the water to avoid the familiar sting of salt. you knew you’d fallen just off the rock’s side but when you extended your arms, your fingers only brushed the farthest-reaching barnacles. were you moving further already?

you gasp when you come up for air, going for a doggy paddle as you glance about your surroundings, particularly at the location where the mermaid used to be, in front of the cliff. 

but there’s no one around you and for some strange, strange reason, your heart deflates. instead of being relieved that you aren’t about to be drowned, you bite the inside of your cheeks.

oh no. you’ve not only embarrassed yourself in front of a mermaid, but you’ve gone and scared him off too. 

you take a deep breath and let yourself sink a little until the waves came up just over your nose. now you could just relax, if he really did leave. hypothetically.

knowing you wouldn’t be pulled into the rip current from this distance, you shut your eyes and--

and something heavy wraps itself around your torso, just below your rib cage, forcing your eyes to snap back open. it’s an arm, riddled with scars of varying depth and thickness.

he never left.

he never left. panic seizes you. 

before you have a chance to even open your mouth, the mermaid swiftly swims round the rock at a speed that makes your sopping hair flutter and pushes your body onto the lowest part of the slope with both hands. his claws poke into your skin but you’re in too much of a daze to really care that he’s tearing your swimsuit. 

“uh, what--” you start in a baffled garble.

to his coaxing with a webbed hand on a shoulder, you let your back lie flat against the rock wordlessly. he watches from the water as you breathe deeply, your chest raising and dropping like you’d exerted energy yourself. bringing his arms up to rest against the rock, he says nothing as he looks up at you, mouth still largely neutral. 

a noise of hesitation leaves you as you try to understand what just happened. you suppose he thought you were drowning. eyebrows tense, you refuse to meet his gaze just yet. the sky is clearing, you notice. in an hour, the clouds will part and it will be nothing but blue for the rest of the day. with that thought, you hold your breath, keeping your chest still.

sure enough, he pokes your thigh and for the first time, makes a noise you’re not to ignore.

“so you’ve returned,” he says plainly-- his voice is absolutely guttural, as if speaking required muscles he scarcely used; but entrancing all the same.

at the sound of him, you jerk to an upright position and really take a good look at him this time. his dark eyes are alight at the sight of you, crinkling slightly but otherwise keeping an indifferent visage. 

“what?” you breath out without thinking, and his ear fins flex and stretch to the sound.

“you returned.” when he speaks again this time, you see flashes of sharp teeth.

you blanch a little. “you recognize me?”

he blinks and his tail swishes slow behind him, causing ripples. “humans don’t come here often. you did.” 

well, he’s not wrong about the usage of past tense. you did manage to stay away for quite some time now, nearly an entire year even, so you’re surprised he still remembers you, even from ever afar. “yeah,” you admit. “i always looked for you every time i came.”

you’re hyperaware of the hand resting on your thigh now, just above your knee. there’s some pressure and you don’t know whether or not he’s intentionally squeezing, but the feeling is there either way.

“and i... i always wondered if you had the courage to come closer,” he replies. “i suppose you do, don’t you? in spite of some setbacks.”

he must be supremely curious about your legs because this time, his long fingers grab at your thigh, palm now on your inner thigh and thumb on top.

you don’t whether to focus on his face or his movements but for now you settle on his face. his eyelashes are so long, and the way his dark gaze doesn’t leave yours even as he kneads your flesh has your heart thrumming in your throat.

you swallow. “was it always you that i saw? no one else?”

“were you expecting someone else?”

you shake your head vigorously, missing the amused glint in his eyes. “no! no, i was just curious, because, well-- yeah. i just wanted to make sure.” your words topple over each other in awkwardness and he only offers you a small smirk to indicate he understands.

“it was always me,” he answers eventually, withdrawing his hand from your skin. 

“what’s your name?” you find yourself whispering. when he pauses, you blurt out your own.

he repeats your name slowly with a nod. “hitoshi,” he tells you. “you can call me hitoshi.”

when he lifts himself on the rock to lay beside you, his back muscles ripple and you force your gaze away. lifting your hand up to scratch the back of your head, you feel for heat on your ears and cheeks.

hitoshi slides up next to you and lies down, elbows back to prop him up. 

“you’re huge,” you can’t help but say and you know it sounds weird right off the bat. your gaze travels down: past his gilled neck, past his glistening pectoral muscles, and past his bellybutton to his tail. 

as you’d expected, hitoshi’s tail is massive-- longer than his upper body-- and gleams a solid dark purple on the back with silver underbelly scales. he’s mesmerizing and it’s so obvious now that you’re staring. the growth of scales began right at his v-line and grew downward all the way to his tail fins. 

even though he managed to pull himself sitting next to you, part of his tail still remained submerged. 

“scared?” he asks and it’s a loaded question but you don’t miss a beat when you reply.

“no-- impressed. i guess i’m surprised how someone your size could go undetected up until even now.”

hitoshi is quiet for a moment while nursing your remark, his gaze unwavering when he does respond. “the ocean is a big place.”

if the scales shine even in the gloom, you wonder how they look sparkling under the sunlight of a warm afternoon. they dazzle and you want nothing more than to lean forward and--

“touch me. go on.”

your eyes shoot back up to his face but you don’t ask twice. you draw closer, setting a hand on his hip and sliding down, feeling the region where his skin became spotted with iridescent scales. his entire body is firm, tough; but there is certain delicacy in his scales and the way they glitter. 

your thumb rub circles on the softer pale underbelly scales and even though you don’t know whether he can feel your touch, you liked to think he did. his eyes stared down at your simple hand motions until you spoke.

“you’re so pretty, hitoshi,” you exclaim. “legs are nowhere as impressive.”

“hmm,” he says, although it was hard to tell if it was indicative of agreement or denial. “i don’t know.  they have their perks. come here.”

you scoot back to him.

“when i was young,” he says, “i always wanted legs. even though we had to hide every time humans came, i wished i was human sometimes. foolish, isn’t it?”

it felt a bit insensitive to admit that when you were young, you lowkey wanted to be a mermaid. so instead you raised your hand and rested it on hitoshi’s chest; his skin is cooler than expected but not unpleasantly so. as you slid it down his abdomen, he gave no verbal reaction but you hear his tail slap the water loudly.

“i don’t know,” you say. “but i like you like this.” 

there’s a sharp inhalation of air this time when you dip your head and kiss him on the skin where his heart would be. hitoshi’s hand comes up from supporting his body to holding your wrist, and he tugs you onto him. 

you hook a leg over to the other side and shift until you’re properly sitting on his abdomen, feet pressed against the sides of the widest part of his tail. his dark eyes are soft as they trace your body from the bottom up, moving in tandem with his hands. 

there’s bright interest in your thighs because he continues to squeeze them, and you let your eyes flutter shut as he does.

“soft...,” he says under his breath-- or at least, you think he does.

they stop, however, when they reach the edge of your bathing suit. hitoshi’s eyebrows furrow skeptically as he slides fingers underneath the stretchy fabric. 

“i will never understand the purpose of this...,” he grumbles low. a claw pokes through the fabric and you clutch at his hand to stop him. 

“woah! don’t tear it-- otherwise i’ll have to go home naked.”

“so what?” he mutters in a deadpan, his strain of whining.

you only laugh as he clutches your hips in spite of the fabric, and to soothe him  you take his hands in yours and bring them up your chest instead, and he immediately finds purchase in holding what he can in his hands instead. 

eagerly, he experimentally rolls your nipples and gets excited when you moan, his tail hitting the surface of the water explosively again.

pulling forward, he brings his mouth to your right nipple, laying his tongue flat against it and swiping. you groan loud and promptly clap a hand over your mouth, but hitoshi only glances up with half-lidded eyes. 

“we are alone,” he reminds you. “this place is ours.”

the second time, with your left nipple, you are a little more lax in your noises.

hitoshi’s hands snake across your back and drag you down flush against him and while it’s not the most comfortable place to kiss a lover, your fingers grip his hair as you kiss him. 

he’s careful not to hurt you with his teeth, but you’re a little more reckless. hitoshi grunts when you bite his bottom lip and when you finally move apart, he pants a little, lips flushed. you are amused to find that he tastes like the sea.

and you’re surprised when he traces your cheek with his knuckles and suddenly looks at you with strange, dizzying wistfulness in his eyes.

“what?”

“don’t,” hitoshi says, “don’t leave me again for so long.”

“i won’t,” you tell him. you tell him this again and again and again for the rest of the morning, and by the time you part, the skies are a brilliant azure blue.

[midnightmagicx]

Happy Birthday @pon-ee​ ! I know we’re giving you your gift a whole day early but... LOL shenenagians. Here’s to another year of discord friendship. @soraofskye and I collaborated to put this together- I’m sure you can figure out who did what... and if you can’t, then it’s a mystery.

In celebration of your birthday and the birth of Ume, please enjoy the drawing and story of Siren Ume and Sea Monster Levi. ------

“I told you not to touch Ruri-Chan!” Leviathan exclaimed, his anger clearly showing as his second brother’s hand ran across his display of figurines. “Don’t touch anything on the shelf! I don’t want your filthy hands on it.”

Mammon rolled his eyes, “It’s just a toy, Levi. You can get another one.”

Leviathan stamped his foot in frustration. These normies just did not understand, “This is a limited edition figurine that I waited 5 hours in line for. DO. NOT. TOUCH.” 

Of course, Mammon, The Avatar of Greed did not want to listen. No one tells THE Mammon what he can or cannot do. Grabbing the figurine off of the shelf, Mammon dangled it in front of Leviathan’s face, “Whoops, my hand slipped.”

And that was all that it took for a fight to break out. In a quick flash, the other brothers were in Leviathan’s room, holding Mammon and Leviathan apart from each other. Lucifer sighed and shook his head, “One day of peace… that’s all I ask.” Then he looked up at the both of them, “Both of you, OUT. Until you’ve cooled yourselves down, do not come back.”

Now Leviathan found himself walking towards the outskirts of Devildom without a destination in sight. The quiet night did nothing to calm the anger that was buzzing through his mind. Leviathan sighed and shoved his hands into his pocket. Stupid Mammon. It was all his fault, why was Leviathan blamed in this? If Mammon had only listened, he would’ve still been at home playing his newest game.

Walking around aimlessly, Leviathan found himself staring into the depths of the ocean when the cold water hit his feet, shaking him out of his thoughts. “Maybe a swim will help me calm down,” Leviathan murmured, mostly to himself. He closed his eyes and summoned his demon self, a sense of relief flooded through him as he felt his horns and tail emerge. 

Leviathan sunk into the cold water, stretching himself out, allowing the water to flow seamlessly along his scales on his body. Yes, this was what he needed. Diving deeper, Leviathan allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark waters. In his true form his amber eyes seemed to glow along with the purple scales on his tail. The other fish in the sea started swimming in the opposite direction, as if they sensed a stronger presence around them. That didn’t bother Leviathan. He usually enjoyed swimming alone; it allowed him to clear his mind. 

Diving deeper into the ocean, Leviathan started swimming towards the forest to his favorite spot. It was a secluded spot a few miles away from the shore. Not many demons knew about that area. Leviathan swam slow, humming his favorite song while gliding through the ocean. A few moments later, Leviathan emerged to the surface, moving towards the rocks on the shallow end of the shore that started to come into focus. The lower half of his body rested in the water, as he propped himself up against the rocks. Leaning back and looking up at the night sky, Leviathan was already in a much better mood.

Leviathan sighed. Eventually he was going to have to go back home. It was still so unfair. He groaned, sinking his face back into the water in frustration. Leviathan pouted underwater. He folded his arms across his chest and took a deep breath and began counting. 1… 2… 3… 4…

His meditation was cut off when he heard a soft voice in the distance. Opening his eyes curiously, Leviathan’s head turned the direction of the sound that was coming from deep within the forest. Who was out there? No one knew about this place but him. 

The words he heard sounded foreign. Gliding closer to the sound, he focused on the lyrics on the words.

Follow the siren’s song To face this empty cycle Searching the darkest nights Searching the silence

Leviathan’s eyes widened as he slid behind the tree trunk. Sitting on a rock ahead was a siren. The moonlight shining down on her body. Beautiful green eyes staring up at the moon, with pink hair flowing down to her waist. Her tail was a magnificent dark blue, with long fins, that swayed under the waters. As she continued singing, Leviathan found himself entranced with her voice. Unable to look away, he stayed; mesmerized by her beauty and drawn in by her voice. No wonder why they say sirens are dangerous creatures. 

Leviathan shifted himself, causing the water to ripple through. Noticing the movement the singing stopped. The siren glanced over at Leviathan’s direction, “W-Who’s there?” She asked hesitantly, slowly moving her body back into the waters.

“Sorry,” Leviathan grumbled, turning a slight red from being caught, “I didn’t know someone else was here. I just heard you singing.” He moved from his hiding spot and swam out where the siren would be able to see him. 

The siren blushed, “Well, this is embarrassing,” she let out what sounded like a frustrated laugh. “My name is Ume.” She offered, looking at Leviathan. 

“Leviathan, but you can call me Levi.”

Ume gave a small smile, “So… do you come here often?”

Unable to look away from Ume, Leviathan shrugged, “Sometimes, when I need to get away from my brothers. They can be annoying.” 

Ume chuckled, but it sounded bitter, “I know what that’s like.” She sighed, “I needed to get away from my sisters,” she confessed, “And when I stumbled upon this place I thought it would be perfect.”

Leviathan nodded, unsure of what to say next. An awkward silence filled the air between them. Think of something to say! Leviathan cursed silently at himself.

“I’m supposed to be working right now,” Ume spoke again after the moment of silence, “But… I’m nervous and I ended up coming here instead.” Her voice trailed away with a twinge of regret. 

Curiously, Leviathan looked at her, completely mesmerized by the beautiful green eyes that looked back at him, “What’s your job supposed to be?”

Ume giggled, she found him endearing. A little awkward, but very endearing. “I’m a siren,” she said thoughtfully, “So I should be in the human realm with my sisters right now, seducing men and dragging them into the depths of the ocean.”

“Somehow you don’t sound excited to do that,” Leviathan countered, noticing the sadness on her face.

Ume sighed, “I’ve never done it before,” she said quietly. “What if my voice isn’t good enough to draw in attention? What if I let the person get away?” She blinked quickly, almost as if she was forcing her tears back. “My sisters… They’re all good at being sirens. They’re seductive, enchanting… and they get the job done. What if I... can’t?” 

“You managed to seduce a sea monster and you’re doubting that you could seduce a human?” Leviathan muttered under his breath. His face turned a bright red when he realized he spoke loudly enough for her to hear. 

Ume blushed, holding her hands up to cover the small smile on her face, “... D-Do you really mean that?”

Leviathan nodded, his eyes gazing around at anything but her. Ume smiled, her gaze at Leviathan softened, “Maybe… You can come and help me practice.” She said quietly.

“Help?” Leviathan asked quizzically. “How would I help you?”

“I wouldn’t mind having more practice singing… and maybe we could role play what could possibly happen if I went out to the human realm.” Ume suggested, “Maybe that would help me out.”

Did he just manage to score a date with a siren? Leviathan nodded, not trusting his words. Ume smiled brightly at him, “Great! I’ll see you back here tomorrow, same time! Thanks Levi!”

Waving at him, Ume dipped down below the waters and began swimming the other way. Leviathan watched her leave, his heart pounding loudly in his chest. 

—-

And this was how Leviathan found himself anxiously waiting for the days to end so he could leave the house at the same time every night, swimming over to the secluded forest where he would find Ume.

Every night she would be there, greeting him with the biggest smile on her face, “Hi Levi!” And he would listen to her singing. She never failed to capture his attention, her voice, her smile, her movements underwater… Leviathan found himself looking forward to these meetings every night. 

“Levi, if you were a human… would you come during my song?” Ume asked one night. She was laying down on the rock, playing with some seaweed that was tangled up on her tail.

Leviathan nodded, “Absolutely.” He swam around, folding his hands and resting his chin on the space next to her. He gazed up at her, a soft smile playing on his lips, “It would be like one of the anime’s that I have watched… a human hears a siren sing and he just can’t help but go towards her. And when the siren pulls him down the ocean with her, he leaves with no regrets.”

Ume beamed, reaching over to tuck a strand of his hair away from his eyes, “Thanks Levi. Practicing with you makes me feel like I could actually do this.”

Leviathan blushed, “Want to practice again?” He quickly asked, wanting to avoid the embarrassing feelings that were threatening to spill from his heart.

Ume nodded enthusiastically. Leviathan swam over to the other side of the lake. Aside from listening to her sing, they practiced every night. They would role play a scenario where Leviathan would pretend he was a human taking a swim in the ocean and would eventually be secluded by the siren he came across.

Ume began to sing, her voice steadily filling in the quiet night. It’s strange, Leviathan thought to himself. No matter how many times he heard her song, it always felt like the first time. He was mesmerized, enchanted, addicted to her voice. Maybe even addicted to her; her voice was like a drug that kept drawing him in. He felt his body flow naturally, swimming over towards her gently. It took no effort at all. It seemed as if her voice called for him and his body had no choice but to respond.

As Leviathan approached Ume, she leaned over to him, reaching a hand up to caress his face. His heart thumped wildly as his head leaned into her touch. Leviathan allowed her siren spell to take over him. Gazing into her green eyes he felt like he was in a trance. One that he never wanted to leave. Maybe this was why the victims of sirens left with no regrets. The feeling was euphoric; Ume could sing to him everyday and he would never tire of it.

Ume caressed his face, noticing how soft he felt against her hands. Her eyes interlocked with his amber ones as she noticed a passion burning in them. Ume felt her cheeks grow hot, but continued her song. She leaned in closer, drawing his face closer to hers. Their foreheads touched, and without breaking eye contact, Ume continued to venture, pulling him closer and closer. Both of them moved in so slowly, Ume gasped, realizing how close their lips were before pulling away. She blushed, unable to look at Leviathan who was conveniently looking the other way.

“T-That was good,” Leviathan broke the silence. “Y-You’d definitely be able to seduce a human.” 

“Thanks,” Ume murmured back quietly. She snuck a glance at him, heart beating quickly at the sight of his flushed face and the sincerity she felt from him. “Do you think… you could come with me to the human realm tomorrow?” She mumbled..

Leviathan finally looked up at her, “What do you mean?”

Ume took a deep breath, “I think… I’m ready to give it a try…” Then she turned and looked at him, “But I was hoping you could be there with me. After practicing with you… It’s made me more comfortable. I was hoping that you could kinda be there as… support?”

Leviathan nodded. Of course he would be there for her.

“You are the best,” Ume gushed with relief lacing her voice. “I’ll see you back here tomorrow and we can swim over together.” Gathering up the courage, Ume swam over and gave Leviathan a soft kiss on his cheek, “Thank you,” she murmured, before diving down and swimming away.

Instinctively, Leviathan reached up and touched the cheek she had kissed. A little dazed by what just happened, Leviathan stayed in place, watching her swim away. A wide smile began to form on his face as the heat began to spread. 

He couldn’t wait for tomorrow to come.